#How to spy on text messages for free

[mandoalorian]

to be yours [bucky barnes x f!reader]

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

“nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart.”

inspired by the song turning page — sleeping at last.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

synopsis: when you break up with your boyfriend, you seek comfort and solace in the arms of your best friend, bucky barnes.

warnings: 18+ explicit content (unprotected p in v, f receiving oral, m receiving oral, fingering, body worship, bucky is obsessed with you) mdni, lots of pining and slow burn, friends to lovers, a smidge of angst in the middle, mentions of alcohol, bucky is in therapy, allusions to a toxic ex boyfriend, bucky comforts you through a bad breakup. set post endgame, pre tfatws.

w/c: 11,600>

masterlist

The Brooklyn skyline flickered through Bucky’s window, a jagged line of lights against the autumn dusk. Inside, his apartment was quiet, save for the soft crackle of a vinyl record spinning on the turntable—some old jazz standard Sam had insisted he’d like. Bucky didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t the music that held his attention. It was the phone in his hand, the screen glowing with a photo he couldn’t stop staring at.

You and him, last summer, sprawled on a picnic blanket in Prospect Park. You were laughing, head thrown back, eyes crinkled in that way that made his chest ache. He’d been mid-eye-roll in the shot, pretending to be annoyed at your bad joke about his “grumpy cat face,” but the corner of his mouth had betrayed him, curling into a smile. Sam had snapped the picture, saying something dumb like, “Y’all look like an old married couple.” Bucky had brushed it off, but the words had stuck, burrowing deep.

He set the phone face-down on the coffee table, like that could shut off the feeling. It didn’t. Bucky leaned back on the couch, running his flesh hand through his hair, the metal one resting heavy on his thigh. The apartment felt too big tonight, too empty. He’d gotten used to the quiet since moving back to Brooklyn after the Blip, after Wakanda, after everything. Therapy, amends, trying to be a person again—it was a routine, but it wasn’t a life. Not really. Not without you.

He’d known you for two years now, ever since Sam introduced you at one of those post-Blip support group things. You’d been volunteering, handing out coffee with that smile that could light up a room, and Bucky, fresh off his Wakandan reset, had barely known how to talk to you. But you’d made it easy, teasing him about his gloves, asking if he was hiding “super-secret spy gear.” He’d mumbled something sarcastic, and just like that, you were friends. Best friends, eventually. The kind who texted at 3 a.m., who showed up with takeout when the other needed it, who knew each other’s silences as well as their words.

And somewhere along the way, Bucky had fallen for you. Hard. Stupidly. The kind of love that made him feel like a kid again, all nerves and hope, but also like a fool, because who was he kidding? You were bright, whole, alive. He was a hundred-and-nine years old in a body that didn’t age, with a rap sheet longer than the Brooklyn Bridge and nightmares that didn’t quit. You deserved better. Always had.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of it. Your name lit up the screen, and his heart did that traitor thing—skipping a beat before he could tell it to calm down. He grabbed the phone, swiping to open the message.

You: Hey Buck, you free this weekend? Things with Josh are… kinda weird. Could use some bestie time.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. Josh. Your boyfriend of eight months, the guy who’d swept you off your feet with his easy charm and lawyer job. Bucky had met him a few times—dinners, game nights—and every time, he’d had to swallow the urge to say something. Josh wasn’t bad, not exactly, but he didn’t see you. Not the way you deserved. He didn’t notice how your laugh changed when you were nervous, or how you’d ramble about your day when you were happy, or how you’d curl your fingers into your sleeves when you felt small. Bucky noticed. He always noticed.

He typed back, fingers steady despite the knot in his chest: Yeah, I’m free. Name the time, I’m there. You okay?

The three dots appeared, then vanished, then appeared again. Finally: Not sure. Just… need you. Talk soon?

Need you. The words hit like a punch, soft but deep. He wanted to be everything you needed—friend, protector, more—but he’d settle for what you gave him. He always did.

Always, doll, he replied, the old nickname slipping out before he could stop it. He hoped it made you smile.

He set the phone down and stood, pacing to the window. The city hummed below, indifferent to the war in his head. He’d never told you how he felt, not once. At first, it was because he didn’t trust himself, didn’t think he could love anyone without breaking them. Then Josh came along, and Bucky had locked his feelings up tight, because your happiness mattered more than his. But every time you hugged him, every time you fell asleep on his couch during movie nights, every time you looked at him like he was more than a ghost of a man, it got harder to keep quiet.

He pressed his metal hand against the glass, the cold grounding him. Maybe he was selfish, hoping things with Josh were falling apart. Maybe he was broken, wanting you to need him in a way you never had. But he couldn’t help it. He loved you in the quiet way he did everything—fierce, steady, unspoken.

The record skipped, pulling him back. He crossed the room, lifting the needle and setting it back gently. The music started again, a saxophone weaving through the melody like a sigh. He sank onto the couch, staring at the ceiling, and let himself imagine, just for a moment, what it’d be like to hold you. Not as a friend, but as something more. Your head on his chest, his fingers in your hair, your breath against his skin. The thought was so vivid it hurt.

He closed his eyes. One day, maybe, he’d be brave enough to tell you. But not tonight. Tonight, he’d wait, like he always did, ready to be whatever you needed.

A sudden knock at the door jolted Bucky upright, waking him in an instant. It was sharp, desperate, not the casual rap you’d usually give. His heart kicked up a notch, and he crossed the room in three strides, the metal arm whirring softly as he moved.

He opened the door, and there you were—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to your face, mascara streaking down your cheeks like dark rivers. Your eyes were red, swollen, and you were shivering, arms wrapped around yourself like you could hold the pieces together. Bucky’s breath caught, a pang of something fierce and protective twisting in his chest.

“Jesus, doll,” he said, voice rough with worry. “Get in here.”

You didn’t move at first, just stood there, lips trembling. “He’s gone, Buck,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Josh… he just—ended it. Said I’m too much, said he’s done.” A sob choked out, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, like you could shove the hurt back inside.

Bucky didn’t think. He reached for you, pulling you inside and kicking the door shut. The rain had soaked through your jacket, your shirt, leaving you dripping on his hardwood floor, but he didn’t care. He grabbed a blanket from the couch—a soft, gray thing he’d bought because you’d once said it looked cozy—and wrapped it around your shoulders, guiding you to sit. “Stay there,” he said, softer now, but firm. “I’m getting you something warm.”

You nodded, barely, your eyes distant as you sank onto the couch, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. Bucky moved fast, filling a kettle, digging through his sparse kitchen for the chamomile tea you liked. His hands were steady, but his mind was a mess—anger at Josh, worry for you, and that selfish, nagging ache that always flared when you were this close. He shoved it down, like always.

When he came back with the steaming mug, you were still shivering, staring at the floor. He set the tea on the coffee table and crouched in front of you, his flesh hand hovering near your knee before he pulled it back. “Talk to me,” he said, voice low, like he was coaxing a scared animal. “What happened?”

You swallowed, eyes flicking to his, and the raw pain there hit him like a punch. “I don’t even know where to start,” you said, voice small. “It’s been bad for weeks. He’s been… distant, snapping at me for nothing. Tonight, we fought, and he just—he said I’m too emotional, too needy. Said he can’t deal with me anymore.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, ashamed. “Maybe he’s right.”

“He’s not,” Bucky said, sharper than he meant to. He softened his tone, leaning closer. “He’s a damn idiot, and he never deserved you. You’re not too much. You’re…” He stopped himself, the words you’re everything catching in his throat. Instead, he said, “You’re enough. More than enough.”

You gave a shaky laugh, wiping your eyes with the edge of the blanket. “You’re biased. You’re my best friend.”

Friend. The word stung, but he forced a small smile. “Yeah, well, doesn’t make me wrong.” He stood, grabbing one of his hoodies from the armchair—a navy one you’d stolen before, the one he secretly loved seeing you in. “Put this on. You’re gonna catch pneumonia.”

You took it, fingers brushing his, and he felt that spark, the one he always tried to ignore. You peeled off your wet jacket, and he turned away, giving you privacy as you changed. When he glanced back, you were drowning in his hoodie, the sleeves too long, the hem hitting your thighs. His heart did a slow, painful flip.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pulling the blanket back around you. You picked up the tea, cradling it, and patted the couch beside you. “Sit with me? Please?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He sat, close but not too close, though every nerve screamed to pull you into him. You sipped the tea, then leaned your head back, eyes closing. “You’re too good to me, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be fine,” he said, but his voice was rough, betraying him. “You’re tougher than you think.”

You opened your eyes, looking at him with something he couldn’t quite read—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper. “I don’t feel tough right now.”

He wanted to say a thousand things, but instead, he reached out, his flesh hand resting lightly on your arm. “You don’t have to be. Not tonight.”

You set the mug down and, without warning, shifted closer, curling into his side. Your head found his shoulder, your body pressing against his, and Bucky froze. The blanket slipped, and you were so close—too close—your warmth seeping through the hoodie, your breath soft against his neck. His body burned, every muscle taut as he fought the urge to wrap his arms around you, to pull you even closer. She’s hurting, he told himself. She needs a friend, not you losing it.

But then you tucked yourself tighter against him, one arm sliding across his chest, and he was done for. His heart pounded, and he was sure you could hear it, feel it. Your fingers curled into his shirt, and you sighed, a small, broken sound. “Can I just… stay here for a bit?” you whispered.

“Long as you need,” he managed, voice low, almost a growl. He draped his arm around you, careful, like you might break, but you only nestled closer, your legs curling up under the blanket. His metal arm stayed rigid at his side, afraid to touch you, afraid of what it’d mean.

The storm roared outside, but inside, it was just the two of you, the quiet stretching until you spoke again. “You ever feel like… you’re just going through the motions?” you asked, voice soft. “Like, no matter how hard you try, you’re stuck?”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He knew that feeling too well. “Yeah,” he said, staring at the rain-streaked window. “More than you know.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him. “Your therapy… is it helping? You don’t talk about it much.”

He stiffened, caught off guard. He hadn’t planned to go there, but your eyes were searching, and he couldn’t lie to you. “It’s… something,” he said, exhaling. “Dr. Raynor’s got me journaling, making amends. Says it’s supposed to make me feel like I’m moving forward. But most days, it feels like I’m just… checking boxes. Like I’m still the guy who did all those things, and no amount of talking’s gonna change that.”

You frowned, your hand tightening on his shirt. “You’re not that guy anymore, Buck. You’re not the Winter Soldier. You’re you. The guy who makes me tea at 1 a.m., who remembers I hate olives on my pizza. The guy who’s here, right now, when I’m falling apart.”

He swallowed hard, your words cutting deeper than you knew. “You make it sound easy,” he said, a bitter edge to his voice. “Like I can just… be normal.”

“You don’t have to be normal,” you said fiercely. “You just have to be you. That’s enough for me.”

His chest ached, and he looked down at you, your face so close he could count the flecks in your eyes. You were still curled against him, your body warm and soft, and his control was fraying. He wanted to kiss you, to pour everything he felt into it, but you were raw, broken from Josh’s cruelty. So he just held you, his flesh hand stroking your arm in slow, soothing circles, even as his body screamed for more.

“You don’t know how much that means,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “You… you’re the best part of my day, you know that?”

You smiled, small but real, and it was like the sun breaking through the storm. “Right back at you, Barnes.” You shifted, your head resting heavier on his shoulder, and within minutes, your breathing slowed, your body relaxing into his as sleep took you.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t dare. You were asleep in his arms, your warmth seeping into him, and it was everything he’d ever wanted and everything he couldn’t have. His heart was a warzone—love, guilt, need, all fighting for space. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, so light you wouldn’t feel it, and whispered, “I’m here, doll. Always.”

The rain kept falling, but for the first time in a long time, Bucky didn’t feel alone.

The first morning you woke up in Bucky’s apartment, the smell of coffee hit you before your eyes even opened. You were curled on his couch, still wrapped in his navy hoodie, the blanket tucked around you like he’d checked on you in the night. The storm had passed, leaving a soft gray light filtering through the windows, and from the kitchen came the clink of dishes, the low hum of Bucky moving around.

You sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and caught sight of him—hair pulled back in a messy bun, wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his shoulders, his metal arm glinting as he flipped a pancake with surprising finesse. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and for a moment, you just watched him, this man who’d become your anchor. The ache in your chest from Josh’s betrayal was still there, sharp and raw, but seeing Bucky—steady, quiet, there—made it feel like maybe you could breathe again.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he called without turning, his voice warm but teasing. “Thought you’d sleep till noon.”

You grinned, despite yourself. “Not all of us are super-soldiers with no need for rest.” You stretched, the hoodie riding up, and caught his quick glance before he busied himself with the coffee pot.

“Pancakes?” he asked, sliding a plate across the counter. “Figured you could use some comfort food.”

You padded over, barefoot, and leaned against the counter, peering at the stack. “You made these from scratch? Who are you, and what’d you do with Bucky Barnes?”

He chuckled, low and rough, and the sound warmed you more than the coffee. “Sam’s fault. Kept going on about his mom’s recipe. Had to learn it to shut him up.”

You took a bite, and damn if it wasn’t perfect—fluffy, just sweet enough. “Okay, Barnes, you’re hired. Personal chef from now on.”

He smirked, but his eyes were soft, watching you like you were the only thing in the room. “Deal. Long as you keep stealing my hoodies.”

The next few weeks blurred into a rhythm you hadn’t expected to feel so… right. You’d gone back to your place once, just to grab clothes and essentials, but the apartment felt haunted—Josh’s cologne still lingered on the couch, his half-empty beer in the fridge. You’d packed a bag and fled back to Bucky’s, and when you’d mumbled something about not wanting to impose, he’d just given you that look—half-exasperated, half-tender—and said, “Stay as long as you need, doll. I got you.”

So you stayed. His apartment became your sanctuary, a bubble of quiet warmth against the world. Mornings were coffee and pancakes or sometimes just cereal, the two of you bumping elbows at the tiny kitchen counter, trading sleepy smiles. Evenings were takeout or Netflix marathons, you sprawled on the couch with your feet in his lap, him grumbling about your cold toes but never pushing them away. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, his blue eyes soft but guarded, like he was holding something back. You didn’t push, though. You were too raw, too afraid of what you’d find if you looked too close.

But the moments piled up, small and intimate, stitching you closer. One night, you burned popcorn in his microwave, and he laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch, teasing you about your “culinary skills” until you threw a pillow at him. Another day, he taught you how to shadowbox, his hands guiding your wrists, his voice low and patient as he corrected your stance. His touch lingered a beat too long, and you both pretended not to notice.

Then there was the morning you almost broke him.

You’d showered, forgetting to grab a clean towel, and figured you could dart to the linen closet without being seen. Bucky was out getting groceries—or so you thought. You stepped out of the bathroom, damp hair sticking to your shoulders, a towel barely wrapped around you, and froze when you heard the front door click open. Bucky stood there, bags in hand, his eyes locking onto you before he quickly turned away, cheeks flushing red.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered, staring hard at the wall, his jaw tight. “Didn’t know you were…”

“It’s fine!” you squeaked, clutching the towel tighter, your own face burning. You bolted for the closet, grabbing a towel and scurrying to the guest room—his room, really, since he’d insisted you take the bed. When you emerged, fully dressed in his hoodie and your jeans, he was in the kitchen, unpacking groceries like his life depended on it.

You tried to laugh it off. “Guess I owe you for the heart attack, huh?”

He snorted, not meeting your eyes. “Yeah, warn a guy next time.” But his voice was strained, and you caught the way his hands shook slightly as he shoved a carton of milk into the fridge. You didn’t know it, but his mind was a mess—your bare shoulders, the water droplets on your skin, the way the towel had clung to you. He’d spent a decade as a weapon, trained to stay calm under pressure, but you in a towel? That was a mission he wasn’t equipped for.

That night, you sat cross-legged on the couch, a pizza box between you, some old rom-com flickering on the TV. You were quieter than usual, the weight of the breakup creeping back in. Bucky noticed—he always did. He set his slice down, turning to you, his knee brushing yours.

“You okay?” he asked, voice soft but searching. “You’ve been… off tonight.”

You sighed, picking at the crust. “Just thinking about Josh. Not him, exactly, but… how I didn’t see it. How I let myself feel so small with him.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it, hated how fragile you still felt. “I keep wondering what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, a flicker of anger in his eyes—not at you, never at you. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he said, firm but gentle. “He didn’t see you, not the way you deserve. You’re…” He stopped, swallowing hard, like the words were too big, too dangerous. “You’re incredible, you know that? The way you light up a room, the way you make people feel like they matter. He was too weak to handle that.”

You looked at him, eyes glassy, and something shifted in the air—something heavy, unspoken. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” he said, and his voice was so earnest it made your chest ache. You reached for him, needing the comfort of him, and he didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, your cheek against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear. You wrapped your arms around him, sinking into the warmth of him, the familiar scent of cedar and soap that was so Bucky.

His body tensed for a split second, like he was bracing himself. You were so close, your arms tight around him, your breath warm against his shirt, and it was torture. His flesh hand rested on your back, fingers flexing like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. His mind was screaming—she’s hurting, she’s your friend, don’t ruin this—but his body wasn’t listening, heat pooling low in his stomach, his pulse racing. He’d dreamed of holding you like this, but not like this, not when you were broken and he was supposed to be your safe place.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmured, voice muffled against him. “I don’t deserve you.”

He laughed, a low, shaky sound. “You got that backward, doll.” His metal arm stayed rigid at his side, afraid to touch you, afraid of what it’d mean if he let himself feel too much. But you didn’t notice, just held him tighter, and he let himself have this moment, even if it was all he’d ever get.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were softer, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for letting me crash here,” you said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anytime,” he said, and he meant it—every word, every syllable, every beat of his heart that belonged to you, even if you didn’t know it.

Weeks had gone by and the storm outside persisted, thunder cracking loud enough to rattle your nerves. Inside, the tension was worse—a coiled, unspoken thing that had been simmering all evening, growing sharper with every glance, every forced smile. You sat on the couch, legs tucked under you, your phone gripped too tightly in your lap, the screen dark but burning with the memory of Josh’s text from earlier that day: Still living with Barnes? Figures. You were always his, even when you were mine. No wonder you’re alone now.

The words had sunk their claws into you, dragging up every doubt, every fight you’d had with Josh about Bucky. “You’re obsessed with him,” Josh had snapped once, months ago, when you’d canceled dinner to help Bucky through a rough night. “It’s not normal, you know? You’re too close, and he’s too screwed up to be just a friend.” You’d defended Bucky then, furious, but now, weeks after the breakup, living in Bucky’s apartment, leaning on him for everything, Josh’s voice echoed louder. Were you too much? Too needy? Had you pushed Josh away by being too close to Bucky? And worse—were you dragging Bucky down with you, burdening him with your broken pieces?

You glanced at Bucky, who was in the kitchen, drying dishes from your earlier dinner with that quiet focus you’d come to rely on. His hair was loose, brushing his jaw, his henley clinging to his frame, the metal arm glinting under the soft light. He was beautiful, you’d realised weeks ago, but tonight that thought felt like a betrayal—of Josh, of your friendship, of yourself. You didn’t deserve Bucky’s kindness, not when you were such a mess, not when Josh’s words made you question everything about who you were to him.

“You’ve been staring at that phone like it’s gonna bite you,” Bucky said, his voice cutting through the silence, light but tinged with concern. He leaned against the counter, towel slung over his shoulder, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

You forced a shrug, setting the phone face-down on the couch, but your fingers twitched, betraying your nerves. “Just… nothing. Stupid stuff.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, the metal one whirring softly. “You’ve been off all day, doll. Don’t give me that ‘nothing’ crap. What’s going on?”

The nickname—doll—hit you harder than usual, warm and familiar but laced with something you couldn’t name. You looked away, your chest tight, Josh’s text looping in your head. “It’s Josh,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “He texted me today.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching. He stepped into the living room, sitting on the coffee table in front of you, close enough that his knee brushed yours. “What’d that asshole say?” His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the anger simmering beneath it.

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. Telling Bucky felt like opening a wound, but his eyes were steady, waiting, and you couldn’t lie to him. “He said I’m still… living with you. That I was always yours, even when I was with him.” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, forcing the rest out. “He said that’s why I’m alone now.”

Bucky’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles whitening. “He’s got some nerve,” he growled, leaning forward. “He’s the one who hurt you, and now he’s throwing this shit at you? He’s wrong, you know that, right?”

But you didn’t know that. Not anymore. The doubt had taken root, and it was choking you. You stood abruptly, needing to move, pacing toward the window where the rain streaked the glass. “What if he’s not wrong?” you said, voice rising, sharp with self-loathing. “What if I am too much? Too clingy, too dependent? He always said I was too close to you, that I leaned on you too much, and now look at me—living here, eating your food, crying on your shoulder every damn night. Maybe I pushed him away because I was always running to you.”

Bucky stood, his boots heavy on the hardwood, and you could feel his presence behind you, solid and warm. “That’s his poison talking,” he said, voice firm but strained. “He wanted to control you, make you feel small. You’re not too much. You’re—”

“Then why did he leave?” you snapped, spinning to face him, tears burning your eyes. “Why did he say I was never really his? Because of this—because of us, because I can’t seem to function without you! And now I’m here, dragging you into my mess, making you deal with me when you’ve got your own life, your own demons. I’m screwing this up too, aren’t I? Just like I screwed it up with him.”

The words poured out, raw and jagged, and you saw the hurt flash across Bucky’s face, his eyes widening like you’d slapped him. He stepped back, his expression tightening, and your stomach dropped. Oh god, what did I just say? Your inner voice was screaming, replaying your words, realizing how they must’ve sounded—like you blamed him, like your closeness was the problem. But it wasn’t him, it was you, always you, ruining everything.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice low, almost dangerous.

“You think you’re screwing this up?” he said, stepping closer, his eyes blazing with something you’d never seen before—anger, yes, but something deeper, more desperate. “You think being here, being with me, is some kind of mistake? Because let me tell you something, doll, I’ve been carrying this for years, and I’m done pretending it’s nothing.”

Your breath caught, confusion and fear mixing with the pounding of your heart. “Carrying what?” you whispered, but you knew, deep down, you knew, and it terrified you.

He laughed, a bitter, broken sound, running his flesh hand through his hair. “You really don’t see it, do you? I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, and every single day since has been me trying to be what you need without asking for anything back. But hearing you say you’re dragging me down, that we’re the problem? I can’t take it anymore.”

The words hit you like a thunderclap, stealing your air, your thoughts, everything. You stared at him, his chest heaving, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and your mind reeled. He loves me. The realisation crashed through you, shattering every doubt, every wall you’d built. You thought back to the nights he’d stayed up with you, the mornings he’d made you laugh, the way his touch lingered, soft and reverent. Josh’s accusations had twisted it, made you question your bond, but now it was clear—Bucky wasn’t just your friend. He was your home, your heart, and you’d been too blind to see it.

“Bucky,” you said, voice trembling, stepping closer, but he shook his head, backing away like your nearness hurt him.

“Don’t,” he said, voice rough, his hands clenched at his sides. “Don’t come closer, because if you do, I’m not gonna be able to stop myself. I’ve been holding this in for so long, and I can’t—I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”

Your heart was racing, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you hated yourself for hurting him, for making him think he was anything less than everything. Josh’s words were ash now, meaningless against the truth standing in front of you. You’d been running from your feelings, afraid of ruining what you had, but now you saw it—the way your heart leapt when he smiled, the way your body craved his touch, the way you felt whole with him in a way you never had with Josh.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, stepping toward him, ignoring his warning. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not blaming you—I’m blaming me, because I’m scared, Bucky. I’m scared I ruined everything with Josh, and I’m terrified I’m going to ruin us too. But I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, because…” Your voice broke, and you took another step, close enough to feel the heat of him. “Because I love you too.”

He froze, his eyes searching yours, like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “What?” he whispered, voice raw, vulnerable.

“I love you,” you said again, louder, surer, the words spilling out like it was the purest thing you’ve ever known. “I was too stupid to see it, but I love you, Bucky. I’m in love with you.”

He stared at you, his breath ragged, and then he moved—fast, desperate, his hands cupping your face as he crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was fire, years of longing and pain pouring into every press of his mouth, his teeth grazing your lip, his tongue sweeping against yours like he needed to taste you to believe you were real. You gasped into him, your hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with everything you had. His metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you felt the hard planes of his body, the heat of him, the way he trembled like he was afraid you’d slip away.

You stumbled back, his arms steadying you, and you hit the wall, his body pressing into yours, pinning you there. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, hot and urgent, and you moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m sorry,” you gasped between kisses, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He pulled back, his forehead against yours, his breath coming in sharp pants. “You didn’t,” he said, voice rough but soft, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re here. You love me. That’s all I need.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, deep and tender, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his hands, the way he held you like you were everything. Your heart was still racing, but it wasn’t fear anymore—it was certainty, love, the kind that burned away every doubt. “I’m yours,” you whispered against his lips, and he groaned, kissing you harder, his hands sliding under your hoodie, his touch setting your skin alight.

“Bucky,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt, needing more, needing him, but he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire but searching, checking.

“You sure?” he asked, voice strained, like it was killing him to pause. “Because I’m all in, doll, but I need you to be too.”

You nodded, your hands framing his face, thumbs tracing his jaw. “I’m sure. I want you. I want us.”

He exhaled, a shaky, relieved sound, and then he was kissing you again, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the bedroom, the storm outside fading as you fell into each other, ready to claim what you’d both been denying for too long.

His kiss was a wildfire, consuming, years of unspoken love and longing poured into every slide of his mouth, every graze of his teeth. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he pressed you against the doorframe, his metal arm holding you effortlessly, his flesh hand gripping your hip like you were his lifeline.

“Bucky,” you gasped, breaking the kiss, your forehead pressed to his, your breaths mingling in the dim light. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but beneath the hunger was something softer—reverence, awe, like he couldn’t believe you were here, in his arms, saying you loved him after all this time. “I need you.”

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that sent heat pooling in your core, his lips brushing your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with need, his teeth grazing your pulse point, a soft nip that made you shiver, your hips rocking against him instinctively. “I’ve wanted you for so long, doll—every day, every night, for years.”

His words were a spark, igniting something deep inside you, a mix of love and desire so intense it stole your breath. You tugged at his henley, your fingers clumsy with urgency, needing to feel his skin, to know he was real. He set you down gently, just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow across his chest, illuminating the hard planes of muscle, the faint lines of old wounds, and the stark, jagged scars where his metal arm fused with his shoulder. He froze, his breath hitching, his eyes flickering with a shadow of doubt, like he expected you to pull away, to see the broken parts of him and flinch.

You didn’t. You stepped closer, your hands trembling as they reached for him, your fingers tracing the raised scars with a tenderness that made his breath catch. The skin was uneven, a map of pain and survival, and you felt a lump in your throat, not from pity, but from love—so fierce it hurt. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice thick, “these don’t make you less. They make you you. And you’re beautiful—every part of you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “You’re gonna ruin me, doll,” he said, his voice raw, almost broken, and when he opened his eyes, they were glistening, a mix of desire and vulnerability that made your heart ache. “You don’t know what it means… hearing you say that.”

“I mean it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady thump of his heart. “I love you—all of you. The scars, the past, everything.” Your fingers traced the line where metal met flesh, and he shivered, a low sound in his throat as you pressed a soft kiss to the scarred tissue, your lips lingering, reverent.

He exhaled shakily, his hands—flesh and metal—finding your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, but there was no conviction in it, only wonder, and then he was kissing you again, slow and deep, his lips soft but urgent, like he was trying to memorise the taste of you. His hands slid under your hoodie—his hoodie, the navy one you’d claimed weeks ago—and he paused, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, his eyes searching yours for permission.

You nodded, lifting your arms, and he peeled the hoodie off, slow and deliberate, like he was unwrapping something sacred. The air was cool against your skin, your bra the only thing left, and his gaze was searing, drinking you in like you were a dream he was afraid to wake from. “Fuck,” he breathed, his hands hovering, trembling, before they settled on your shoulders, tracing the curve of your collarbone, the dip of your throat. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. I’ve imagined this so many times, but you’re… more.”

Your cheeks flushed, your body humming under his touch, and you reached for him, needing to feel him too. Your hands roamed his chest, mapping the planes of muscle, the faint scars from battles long past, the warmth of him that felt like home. You traced the line of his metal arm, marveling at the smooth, cool vibranium, and he watched you, his eyes dark with something like awe. “You don’t mind it?” he asked, voice low, almost hesitant, nodding toward the arm.

“No,” you said, firm, your fingers curling around the metal, feeling its strength, its weight. “It’s you. I love every part of you.” You pulled his metal hand to your lips, kissing the knuckles, and he groaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said, but his voice was thick with emotion, and he pulled you closer, his hands sliding down your sides, exploring every curve, every inch of skin like he was committing you to memory. He unhooked your bra with a flick of his fingers, letting it fall, and his breath caught, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you gasp. “So perfect,” he murmured, his lips following his hands, kissing the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking against your skin, teasing but reverent.

You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the contrast of warm flesh and cool metal under your palms. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need, and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, raw and unguarded.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl, his hands stilling on your hips. “Anything, doll. I’ll give you anything.”

“You,” you said, your hands sliding to his face, framing his jaw, your thumbs brushing his stubble. “I want you. All of you.”

He groaned, kissing you again, his hands roaming lower, tracing the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your jeans, teasing but not yet undoing them. He was taking his time, savouring every touch, every gasp you let out, and you could feel his obsession, the way he worshipped every inch of you like you were a miracle. Your hands explored him too, sliding down his back, feeling the ripple of muscle, the faint scars, the way his body tensed under your touch.

He pulled you toward the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his, the denim of his jeans rough against your bare skin. His dog tags dangled between you, cool against your chest, and you tugged at them, pulling him into another kiss, deep and slow, your tongues tangling as you pressed yourself closer. His hands roamed your back, one warm, one cool, and you shivered, the contrast driving you wild.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding to your thighs, squeezing gently, then up to your ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “Dreamed of touching you, feeling you like this.” His lips moved to your neck, kissing, nipping, a soft bite that made you moan, your hips rocking against him, feeling the hardness of him through his jeans.

“Bucky,” you gasped, your hands sliding to his chest, your fingers brushing his scars again, and he tensed, his breath hitching. You pulled back, meeting his eyes, seeing the flicker of insecurity there. “Hey,” you said softly, your hands framing his face. “These scars? They’re proof you survived. They’re proof you’re here, with me. And I love you for it.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes glistening, and he pressed his forehead to yours, his hands tightening on your hips. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, but you shook your head, kissing him softly, your lips lingering on his.

“You do,” you said, fierce, your hands sliding to his shoulders, tracing the scars again, kissing them, one by one, until he was trembling under your touch. “You’re everything, Bucky. Everything.”

He groaned, flipping you gently onto the bed, hovering over you, his dog tags brushing your skin as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire and love. “I’m never letting you go,” he said, his voice rough, and then he was kissing you again, his hands exploring every inch of you, slow and deliberate, like he was worshiping you, like he’d never get enough.

You reached up, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently to pull him closer. “I’m here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “And I want you, Bucky. Every part of you.” Your hands slid down his shoulders, tracing the scars where his metal arm met flesh, a reminder of his past, his survival, his strength. He shivered under your touch, his breath hitching, and you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to the scarred tissue, your lips lingering as you murmured, “You’re perfect to me.”

He groaned, a sound that vibrated through you, and kissed you deeply, his tongue sweeping against yours, slow and deliberate, tasting of desperation and devotion. His hands roamed your sides, warm flesh and cool metal igniting every nerve, and you arched into him, needing more, needing him. He pulled back, his lips trailing down your jaw, your neck, nipping softly at your pulse point, the sting of his teeth making you gasp, your hips bucking against his.

“Need to taste you,” he rasped, his voice almost pleading, his hands moving to the button of your jeans. His eyes flicked to yours, asking permission, and you nodded, your breath shaky, your body already aching for him. He unbuttoned your jeans with deft fingers, sliding them down with your panties in one slow, deliberate motion, his hands grazing your thighs, your calves, as he bared you completely. You kicked the jeans aside, vulnerable under his gaze, but the way he looked at you—like you were a goddess, like he’d worship at your altar—made you feel powerful, desired, loved.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands settling on your thighs, spreading them gently as he knelt between your legs, his eyes drinking you in. “You’re… everything. So goddamn perfect.” His voice was reverent, his fingers trembling as they traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing, exploring, making you squirm. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your hipbone, then another, lower, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above your core, his breath warm and teasing. “Wanted to make you feel good, to show you how much you mean to me.”

“Bucky, please,” you whimpered, your hands fisting the sheets, your body already trembling with anticipation. Your inner voice was a whirlwind, marveling at the intensity of this moment, at the man before you who’d held your heart for years without you realising.

He didn’t make you wait. His tongue flicked out, a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds, and you cried out, your hips bucking as pleasure sparked through you. “Oh, god, Bucky,” you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, tangling in the dark strands as he groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of heat through your core. His tongue circled your clit, teasing, then flattening, licking with a reverence that made you feel cherished, worshipped. His metal hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady, while his flesh fingers traced your entrance, teasing but not yet entering, drawing out your need.

“You taste so good,” he murmured between licks, his voice muffled, raw with desire. “Sweet, perfect, mine.” He sucked gently on your clit, and you moaned, your body arching, your mind blanking as he lavished you with attention. His fingers finally slipped inside, one at first, then two, curling just right, finding that spot that made you see stars. He pumped them slowly, matching the rhythm of his tongue, and you felt the coil tightening, your body trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Bucky, I’m—” you started, but the words dissolved into a moan as he grazed his teeth softly over your clit, a hint of a bite that sent you spiraling. Your orgasm crashed over you, sudden and intense, your body shaking as you cried his name, your hands tugging his hair, grounding yourself in him. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working you through it, drawing out every shudder, every gasp, until you were oversensitive, trembling, pulling him up to kiss you.

You tasted yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your heart race, and you kissed him harder, your hands roaming his chest, his shoulders, needing to feel him. “Your turn,” you whispered, your voice husky, your fingers trailing down his abs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. You reached for his jeans, your hands fumbling with the button, and he chuckled, low and shaky, helping you push them down with his boxers, freeing him.

He was thick, hard, the sight of him making your mouth water, your core clenching with renewed desire. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, feeling the velvety heat of him, and he hissed, his hips bucking into your touch. “Fuck, doll,” he groaned, his head falling back, his hands gripping the sheets like he was holding himself back. You looked up at him, his eyes dark with need, his chest heaving, and felt a surge of power, knowing you could unravel him like this.

“I want to taste you,” you said, your voice firm, and his eyes widened, a mix of awe and desperation. “Let me, Bucky.” You pushed him gently, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he obeyed, his hands trembling as they settled on your shoulders. You knelt between his thighs, your hands spreading them wider, and he watched you, his breath ragged, his dog tags glinting against his chest.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a soft bite to his inner thigh, making him gasp, his hands tightening on your shoulders. “Jesus, doll,” he breathed, and you smiled, kissing the spot you’d bitten, then higher, your lips brushing the sensitive skin near his base.

“I want to,” you said, echoing your earlier words, and then you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the salt of him. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, his hands tangling in your hair, not pushing, just holding, like he needed the anchor. You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, bobbing slowly, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach. His thighs tensed under your hands, his breath coming in sharp pants, and you moaned around him, the vibration making him curse, his grip tightening.

“God, your mouth,” he gasped, his voice rough, his hips twitching like he was fighting not to thrust. “Feels so fucking good, doll.” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the way he looked at you—like you were his everything—made your heart swell, your movements growing bolder. You took him as deep as you could, your tongue pressing against the underside, and he groaned your name, his hands trembling, his control fraying.

You pulled back, licking a slow stripe along his length, your hand pumping him as you kissed the tip, teasing, drawing it out. “I love you,” you whispered, your lips brushing against him, and he shuddered, his eyes glistening with something more than desire.

“I love you too,” he said, voice breaking, and you took him back into your mouth, working him faster now, your hand and lips in sync, determined to make him feel as good as he’d made you. His groans grew louder, his hips bucking slightly, and you felt him tense, his breath hitching. “Doll, I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained, but you didn’t pull back, wanting to give him this, to show him how much you wanted him.

He came with a groan, hot and sudden, spilling into your mouth, and you swallowed, your hands stroking him through it, drawing out his pleasure until he was shaking, pulling you up to kiss you. His kiss was desperate, messy, tasting of both of you, and he held you close, his hands roaming your back, your hips, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, his forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

You smiled, kissing him softly, your hands framing his face. “Good, because I’m not going anywhere.” Your body was still humming, your desire for him burning hotter, and you knew this was only the beginning, the storm outside a mere echo of the one you’d unleash together.

Bucky pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes dark and glistening, pupils blown wide with need but softened by something deeper—love, raw and unguarded. His dog tags dangled between you, brushing your chest, cool against the flush of your skin, and you reached up, tugging them gently, pulling him into another kiss, slow and deep, your tongues tangling as you savoured the taste of him, of us. He groaned into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sent heat pooling in your core, and you pressed yourself closer, your thighs straddling his, feeling the hardness of him against you, still bare from the jeans you’d stripped away.

“God, doll,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost broken, as he kissed along your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I can’t believe you’re here, that you’re mine.” His hands slid down your sides, warm flesh and cool vibranium tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, like he was memorising every inch of you, worshipping you with every touch. His lips found your neck, nipping softly, a hint of teeth that made you gasp, your hips rocking instinctively, seeking friction.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice shaky with desire, your hands roaming his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle, the faint scars, the warmth of him that felt like home. Your fingers brushed the jagged lines where his metal arm met his shoulder, and he tensed, just for a moment, his breath hitching. You paused, pulling back to meet his eyes, seeing the flicker of vulnerability there, the fear that his past, his scars, might still push you away. “You’re so beautiful,” you said, fierce and sure, your hands framing his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

He exhaled shakily, his eyes glistening, and leaned into your touch, his metal hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was soft but searing, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion, and you smiled, kissing him deeper, your hands sliding to his shoulders, tracing the scars again, grounding him in your love.

“I love you,” you whispered, and he groaned, flipping you gently onto your back, the mattress dipping under his weight as he hovered over you, his dog tags brushing your skin. His hands roamed your body, slow and deliberate, one cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple, making you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. His lips followed, kissing the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking against your skin, teasing, reverent, before trailing lower, nipping at the sensitive skin just above your hipbone.

“Need to feel you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading, his hands settling on your thighs, spreading them gently. His fingers—flesh first—traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing, making you squirm, your body already aching for him. “Gonna take my time, doll,” he said, his eyes meeting yours, dark with promise. “Wanna make you feel so good you forget everything but me.”

Your breath hitched, your inner voice a whirlwind of love and desire. He’s here, he loves me, and he’s looking at me like I’m his whole world. The thought made your heart swell, your body humming with need, and you reached for him, your hands tangling in his hair. “Please, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling, and he smiled, soft but wicked, his fingers finally slipping between your thighs, brushing your folds, already slick from your earlier release.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, his voice rough, his fingers teasing your entrance, circling but not yet entering, drawing out your need. “All for me, doll?” His eyes flicked to yours, and you nodded, biting your lip, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more. He leaned down, kissing your thigh, his teeth grazing the skin, a soft bite that made you gasp, the sting blending with pleasure. Then his fingers—two, warm and sure—slipped inside you, slow and deliberate, curling just right, finding that spot that made you see stars.

“Oh, god,” you moaned, your hands fisting the sheets, your body arching as he pumped his fingers, slow at first, then faster, his thumb circling your clit in perfect rhythm. His metal hand gripped your hip, holding you steady, the cool vibranium a contrast to the heat of his touch, and you felt the coil tightening, your body trembling under his attention. He watched you, his eyes dark and intense, drinking in every gasp, every shudder, like he was committing it to memory.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. “So fucking beautiful, falling apart for me.” He leaned down, kissing your stomach, his lips soft but urgent, his fingers relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. “Come for me, doll,” he whispered, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, and you did, shattering beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you, your body shaking as you cried his name, your hands reaching for him, needing him closer.

He worked you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing out every wave until you were trembling, oversensitive, your breath coming in sharp pants. He kissed his way up your body, his lips soft on your ribs, your breasts, your neck, until he reached your mouth, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You’re so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire, his fingers slipping out, leaving you empty, aching for more.

“Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands sliding to his back, feeling the scars, the muscle, the warmth of him. “I need you—now.” Your hips rocked against him, feeling the hardness of him, and he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut, his control fraying.

“Gonna give you everything,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl, as he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands guiding your legs around his waist. He teased you first, dragging the tip of himself through your folds, slick and warm, making you whimper, your body desperate for him. “You sure, doll?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his voice strained, like it was taking everything in him to hold back.

“Yes,” you said, fierce, your hands framing his face, pulling him into a kiss. “I’m sure. I love you.” Your words seemed to break something in him, and he pushed in, slow and deliberate, inch by inch, filling you, stretching you in a way that was perfect, overwhelming. You both groaned, your foreheads pressed together, his breath ragged as he stilled, letting you adjust, his hands gripping your hips like he was anchoring himself.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice breaking, his lips brushing yours. “So tight, so perfect, like you were made for me.” He started to move, slow and sensual, every thrust deep, deliberate, hitting that spot inside you that made you gasp, your nails digging into his back. His hands roamed your body, one cupping your breast, the other sliding to your thigh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Bucky,” you moaned, your hips meeting his, matching his rhythm, your body humming with pleasure. His lips found your neck, kissing, nipping, a soft bite that made you cry out, the sting blending with the heat building inside you. He was everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his body—filling you, consuming you, and you wanted it all, wanted him in a way you’d never wanted anyone else.

“Love you,” he gasped, his thrusts growing faster, harder, the slow sensuality giving way to something raw, desperate. “Love you so much, doll.” His metal hand slid between you, fingers circling your clit, and you arched into him, your body trembling, the pleasure building to a crescendo. His other hand gripped your hip, hard enough to bruise, and you loved it, loved the way he held you like you were his, like he’d never let go.

“More,” you gasped, your hands sliding to his ass, pulling him deeper, and he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts rougher, the bed creaking beneath you. He bit your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but enough to make you moan, the sting sending you closer to the edge. His fingers on your clit were relentless, his thrusts primal, desperate, like he was pouring years of longing into every movement.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice rough, possessive, but there was love in it, a vulnerability that made your heart ache. “Say it, doll.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your body clenching around him, the pleasure overwhelming. “I’m yours, Bucky.” Your words seemed to push him over the edge, his thrusts erratic, his breath coming in sharp pants, his fingers circling faster, pushing you both toward release.

“Come with me,” he groaned, his lips crashing into yours, his kiss messy, desperate, and you did, shattering beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you, your body shaking as you screamed his name. He followed, his body shuddering, his release hot and deep, his face buried in your neck as he gasped your name, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you’d slip away.

You held each other, trembling, the storm outside a distant hum as your breathing slowed. He didn’t pull out right away, staying close, his lips brushing your temple, your cheek, soft and reverent. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice raw, his eyes searching yours, and you nodded, your hands stroking his back, feeling the scars, the sweat, the warmth of him.

“Perfect,” you said, smiling, and he laughed, a soft, shaky sound, rolling you both so you were on top, still connected. You leaned down, kissing him slow, deep, tasting the salt of sweat and tears—yours, his, it didn’t matter. His hands traced your spine, gentle now, and you felt cherished, worshipped, loved in a way you’d never known.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his eyes soft, and you believed him, every word, every touch, every beat of his heart against yours.

By the time morning crept into Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment, soft gray light filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets. You woke slowly, your body heavy with a delicious ache, every muscle humming with the memory of last night—Bucky’s hands, his lips, his desperate, reverent love poured into every touch. He was still beside you, his arm draped across your waist, the cool vibranium a soothing contrast to the warmth of his bare chest pressed against your back. His breath was steady, soft against your neck, and for a moment, you just lay there, savouring the weight of him, the reality of us.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, but his arm tightened, pulling you closer with a low, sleepy murmur. “Where you goin’, doll?” His voice was rough with sleep, laced with that familiar warmth that made your heart flutter, and you smiled, turning in his arms to face him.

His eyes were half-open, blue and soft in the morning light, his hair a messy halo on the pillow. The dog tags rested against his chest, glinting faintly, and you reached out, tracing them with your fingers, feeling the engraved letters under your touch. “Nowhere,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Just… looking at you.”

He chuckled, low and lazy, his flesh hand sliding up your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. “Creep,” he teased, but his eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners, and you laughed, the sound light and free in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Guilty,” you said, leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow, your lips lingering against his. He hummed into the kiss, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and for a moment, it was just this—just you and him, tangled together, the world outside a distant hum. The kiss deepened, a spark of last night’s heat flickering, but you pulled back, grinning. “Careful, Barnes. You’re gonna start something we don’t have time for.”

“Who says we don’t have time?” he murmured, his voice low and playful, his metal hand sliding to your hip, squeezing gently. But his eyes softened, and he leaned his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your lips. “You okay? After… everything?”

You nodded, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “More than okay,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “Last night was… perfect. You were perfect.” You traced the scars where his metal arm met his shoulder, a habit now, and he didn’t tense like he used to, just watched you with a quiet intensity. “I love you, Bucky. I’m just… still wrapping my head around the fact that this is real.”

His expression faltered, just for a second, a shadow of doubt flickering in his eyes. “Real enough for you to stick around?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he was bracing for an answer he wasn’t sure he could handle. “I mean, you’ve got your life, your place… I don’t wanna hold you back, doll. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the way he still thought he might not be enough, even after last night, after you’d poured your love into every kiss, every touch. You shifted, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him fully, your hand framing his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Bucky, listen to me,” you said, fierce but gentle. “You’re not holding me back. You’re my home. I don’t want to go back to my place, not if it means leaving this—leaving us. I’m all in, okay? For you, for us, for whatever comes next.”

He stared at you, his eyes glistening, and for a moment, he didn’t speak, just swallowed hard, his hand tightening on your hip. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice rough, and you nodded, leaning down to kiss him, soft and sure, pouring your certainty into it.

“Every word,” you said, pulling back, your thumb brushing his cheekbone. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere unless you’re with me.”

He exhaled, a shaky, relieved sound, and pulled you into his arms, rolling you both so you were tucked against his chest, his lips pressing to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your hair. “’Cause I don’t think I could let you go now, even if I tried.”

You laughed, the sound muffled against his skin, and nuzzled closer, relishing the warmth of him, the way his arms felt like the safest place in the world. “You’re stuck with me, Barnes,” you teased, and he chuckled, the vibration rumbling through you.

“Worst punishment I ever heard,” he shot back, but his voice was warm, playful, and you swatted his chest lightly, grinning.

You lay there for a while, tangled together, the drizzle outside a soft backdrop to the quiet intimacy. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, and you let your hand wander his chest, feeling the scars, the steady rise and fall of his breath. The weight of last night—of your confessions, your fight, the way you’d finally given in to years of love—settled over you, not heavy but grounding, like a promise you both intended to keep.

“So,” you said eventually, your voice soft, playful, “what’s the plan now, super-soldier? You gonna keep cooking me pancakes every morning, or is that just a temporary-roommate perk?”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and rolled you onto your back, hovering over you with a grin that made your heart skip. “Pancakes are a lifetime deal, doll,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But I’m thinking we upgrade from roommates to… something else. What do you say? Wanna make this official?”

Your breath caught, not from surprise but from the joy that flooded you, the certainty that this was right, that he was your future. You reached up, tugging his dog tags to pull him closer, your lips brushing his. “Official sounds good,” you whispered, smiling. “Boyfriend has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Boyfriend,” he repeated, testing the word, his grin widening. “Yeah, I like that. Long as you’re my girl.”

“Always,” you said, and he kissed you, deep and slow, like he was sealing the promise. The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, until your stomach growled, loud and unromantic, and you both burst out laughing, the tension breaking in the best way.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Bucky said, rolling out of bed, and you couldn’t help but admire him—his broad shoulders, the way his muscles moved under his skin, the scars that told his story. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on, and caught you staring, smirking. “Keep looking at me like that, and breakfast is gonna have to wait.”

You grinned, sitting up, the sheet clutched to your chest. “Tempting, but I’m starving. You promised pancakes, Barnes. Don’t make me regret this whole boyfriend thing.”

He laughed, tossing you his navy hoodie—the one you’d claimed weeks ago—and you pulled it on, the familiar scent of cedar and Bucky wrapping around you like a hug. You followed him to the kitchen, barefoot, the hardwood cool under your feet, and leaned against the counter as he started pulling out ingredients, his movements easy, practiced.

The morning unfolded like a dream—Bucky flipping pancakes with that super-soldier precision, you stealing bites of batter and teasing him about his “grumpy cat face” when he pretended to scold you. You sat at the counter, knees brushing, trading stories about nothing and everything—memories of your friendship, plans for a real date, the quiet hope of a future together. He reached over at one point, brushing a smear of syrup from your lip with his thumb, and the simple touch sent a spark through you, a reminder of last night, of the love that had finally broken free.

“So,” he said, setting his fork down, his eyes soft but serious, “you really wanna stay here? Not just crash, I mean… move in, make this our place?”

You paused, your heart swelling at the question, the way he said our like it was a prayer. “Yeah,” you said, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I want that. This feels like home, Bucky. You feel like home.”

He smiled, a rare, unguarded smile that lit up his face, and pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you, his lips brushing your temple. “Then it’s yours,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll make it ours.”

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in weeks, the ache of your breakup, the doubts Josh had planted, felt like a distant memory. With Bucky, you were whole, loved, and ready for whatever came next—pancakes, late nights, fights, and all.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world @positivenergy @cherriesnmango @navs-bhat

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future works<3

[kawhh]

Dark!Quinn when he finds out someone doesn’t like you

the way I would submit to this man!!

Love your work!

it’s also okay if you don’t want to do this.

(I remember when this was sent and I thank you endlessly for it)

Warnings: need everyone to ignore the fact that security probably wouldn't do this lmao. Spying on your phone. Hinted violence. Stalking mentions.

He'd be an absolute bloodhound out for revenge the minute he had even the slightest hint that someone doesn't like you.

It wouldn't matter how far their dislike runs - if they hate you, if they threaten you, if they say a singular bad word towards you, he's treating it all as the same.

In person, online, at a game, on any of the websites he knows you like to spend your time on.

You wouldn't be able to hide it from him either, he spends all of his free time watching you - he knows when your emotions change, when something new happens, the way your usual smile downturns when you think he's not watching.

Even if you aren't willing to let him know exactly what's happened, he'll find out.

If it happens at a game when he's on the ice, he's making his security demands known at the bench. He's the captain, they won't not do something for him. It wouldn't be that hard to get them escorted away from you, security promising them that they'll get the chance to talk with a player after the game - not realising that said person will be Quinn alone with them.

If it happens online? He's looking through every single app on your phone while you sleep, holding it in front of your face to unlock it.

The minute he finds a hateful message towards you? He's being ruthless. His eyes narrowing as his gaze trails across your face. He won't let anyone sit there causing you this much emotional damage.

A text? He's 'borrowing' the number. He has a few little messages he'd like to send back. A few little casual threats. He wants them crying. Wants them to experience double the emotional damage they've done to you.

If it happens when you're out in public? He's not letting it go. If they're being an asshole to you, there has to be something he can use against them. He's taking pictures of them when you aren't looking. Making excuses to wander away from you for a few minutes, trailing them to their car.

He might not be able to act when you're out with him, but nothing is stopping him from making a note of the license plate. He knows he can get someone to find the car. To find his location. He'll do anything to make someone pay for disliking you. He'd like them to be tough when he turns up at their door.

[doomedmoth]

Not fast, just furious

Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Warnings : use of y/n, smau, unhinged behavior, alcohol and cigarettes consumption, kys joke, suggestive texts, chaotic fluff, grumpy x sunshine, lando getting bullied

Synopsis : During his winter break in Australia, Daniel meets a barmaid with a big heart and a bigger mouth. When she starts following him during the races, fans are a bit unsure of how to deal with her unhinged behavior and total lack of media training. Daniel loves it.

Moth’s prophecy💡: Hi friends ! Pls be kind, it’s my first attempt at a smau and I’m on mobile, so the formatting might be weird. Also sorry if your name is Malva, it was the first one that came to mind lol.

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername Walking in the club like we regulars

Liked by yourbff, melbournemirage and others

view all comments

yourbff leaving the club like an overworked mom

Liked by yourusername

melbournemirage our favorite employee 🤩

Liked by yourusername

yourusername wouldn’t mind a raise then 🤪

user1 gorggggg

yourbrother stop drinking on the job bitch

yourusername get a job before judging me bitch

*****

[Twitter] f1.driv.updates just posted

*****

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

[Instagram] daniel3.jpg has added a story

*****

[Messages] Daniel has sent you a text

*****

[Instagram] wagupdates just posted a photo

wagupdates New wag alert ?? Daniel Ricciardo has now been seen a few times with an unknown woman around Melbourne and Perth during his winter break. At first thought to be a childhood friend, sources say they met at the bar where the young woman is working, and they have been getting quite cozy 👀 What do you think ??? 📸 via Australian celebrity press

view all comments

danyfanclub she looks cuuuute

user1 anyone got her @ ???

user2 apparently he been hanging out at melbournemirage so maybe she works there ???

malva she looks messsyyyy, doubt it’s gonna last till the season starts…

danyfanclub stay mad

*****

[Instagram] daniel3.jpg just posted a photo

daniel3.jpg Aussie adventures before going back to vroom vroom

Liked by lando.jpg, yourusername, and others

view all comments

maxverstappen1 honey come home the kids miss you

Liked by daniel3.jpg

user1 what camera do you use ???

wagupdates do we spy the new girl on the 4th and 7th slide ??? 👀

user2 THANK YOU I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE

user3 sneakyyy

danyfanclub can’t wait to see her in the paddock ‼️

landojpg we missed you at karting mate 🥺

daniel3.jpg sorry, too busy drinking cocktails 🤪

*****

[Messages] Your coworker has sent you a text in Charlie’s Angels

*****

[Instagram] melbournemirage just posted a photo

melbournemirage Today we mourn the loss of our best bartender, yourusername . She had been with us for a little over a year now, and was the light of Melbourne Mirage, our pride and joy. She always won employee of the month, and not just because she created and awarded the title herself. A gathering in her memory will be held tonight at 9pm, everyone who knew and loved her is free to attend 💔

Liked by daniel3.jpg, yourbrother, and others

view all comments

yourbff LMAOOOOO

yourusername WHY THE FUCK DO YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE I’M DEAD I JUST QUITTED ???

melbournemirage sometimes we can still hear her voice… 💔

daniel3.jpg don’t worry I’ll take good care of her 😇

yourcoworker you better 🔪

user4 DANIEL ???

danyfanclub finally we have the @ !!!

*****

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

[Instagram] daniel3.jpg has added a story

*****

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername last month stuff

Liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe and others

view all comments

yourbff damn girl, money suits you well 😍

yourusername right ???

malva wow, gold digger much…

danielricciardo thank you for getting Max to fly us around babe 🥰

maxverstappen1 as if I was not offering after every race…

landonorris why don’t you offer me after every race ???

maxverstappen1 you can walk

landonorris TO SILVERSTONE ???

user1 from barmaid to wag, girl is living the dream life

user2 smoking is not cool girl…

yourusername minding your own fckn business is tho

*****

[Twitter] paddockwags just posted

[Twitter] yourusername just posted

*****

[Messages] my sun 🌞 has sent you a text

*****

[Instagram] daniel3.jpg just posted a photo

daniel3.jpg Sorry my cat bites, I found her in the streets. She’s a good girl irl.

Liked by yourusername, carmenmmundt and others

view all comments

yourusername don’t reveal my secrets 🙄 (love you)

daniel3.jpg the world has to know ❤️‍🔥 (love you more)

lilymhe I can confirm the good girl part

yourusername I’ll be the best for you 🥵

alex_albon HM EXCUSE ME ???

danyfanclub ppl love to hate on her because she’s not trained like a nepo baby but honestly relatable queen !!

user1 boy is simping so hard

user2 she looks so fun to be around, finally a wag that doesn’t look fake

malva yeah she definitely got the street cat look…

user3 OMG GET A FUCKING LIFE GIRL

danyfanclub being this salty won’t make him like you go get a grip

*****

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user1 replied to your story :

Did you and Daniel break up ???

malva replied to your story :

fucking finally, so looooong

danielricciardo replied to your story :

have fuuuun, I’ll call you when my plane lands 🐶

******

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername Back where everything started. I know I sound like a bitch sometimes, but to my love, my sun, my pup, I am so glad I met you 6 months ago. You turned my life around and I can’t wait for more shenanigans with you. You make any place feel like home. I love you. To everyone else, especially those who thought we broke up because I had the audacity to go home two days before him : Fuck you all ❤️

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourbrother and others

view all comments

melbournemirage we were so happy to have you back, even for just a night ! Soon a #speeddating night at the Melbourne Mirage everyone ? 👀

Liked by yourusername

yourusername stop promoting yourself on my account

maxverstappen1 glad to have met you this year bro

yourusername #mates4life

user1 I didn’t know they were so close !!

danielricciardo my love ❤️‍🔥

yourusername my sun 🌞

user2 highway looking pretty good for a nap rn

user3 goooosh they are so cute I’m gonna kms

danyfanclub FROM THE MAIN ACCOUNT TOO ‼️

malva still not buying it

This user has been blocked

yourbrother you did not have to come back so soon

yourusername jeez ���� at least pretend to be happy for the gifts you little shit

yourbrother thx I guess

yourusername you’re adopted

landonorris can you bring me back some Tim Tam ? 🥺

danielricciardo no ❤️

yourbff no ❤️

yourusername no and kys ❤️

landonorris damn 🥺

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Finding out Joe is lowkey into D&D 🤭

I'm answering this early because I love you and because this is now stuck in my head.

Roll For Initiative--Part 1

Joe’s managed to keep the lock down about his limited knowledge on Dungeons & Dragons. He won’t say he learned about it because of you.

It only takes one text message though for the truth to start to unravel. If slaying dragons and BBEGs isn’t the place to confess feelings, where is?

Joe Burrow x Black!Reader

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

______________________

Your phone shakes against the table. The pencil you've had poised in your hand, eraser end singling out your DM, Jeremiah, drops as you spy the contact name. Burrowed. It's a stupid joke. One that you established with Joe back in his OSU college days, about how he seemed burrowed in, focused and lasered in on proving his move from Ohio was a good one, that he was better than just a back up.

Joe hates that he loves the nickname. You don't use it often to his face, knowing that each time you do he'll roll his eyes, even if he does smile just a little. It's the soft one, where only part of his mouth lifts up high and his eyes soften just a little.

Another text shakes the device.

Burrowed: If you're free of course....the preview cuts off the rest of the message.

"This isn't over," you shoot to Jeremiah. Your college group of friends has reunited for the next 3 days because of a wedding. Though you've managed to stay local, the group of you has spread far and wide.

Jeremiah laughs, holding his hands up. "I wait with baited breath. That important?"

You unlock your phone to read the previous messages. The entire group knows you've been dancing on the edge, waiting for your mother to call you with the results of the latest biopsy, an ongoing saga on whether or not her thyroid is fine or not.

Burrowed: I know this invitation is a little late. But I'd love to catch up, get some dinner tonight or tomorrow.

Burrowed: If you're free of course. I hope your mom's test results come back benign. Let me know if there's anything I can do.

Though you weren't there at LSU for the roller coaster ride of Joe's career, the two of you bonded deeply in your OSU days and your shared Art History course. The class seemed easy, but the constant barrage of dates, artist, cultures proved to be a tough challenger. When Joe wound up sick, a bad case of food poisoning that left him down for a day and a half, he asked you for your notes for the class he missed on the day he returned to class. That's all it took before the two of you begin your friendship--your long winded explanation for your color coded hand written notes and how you'd be happy to type them up for him if he couldn't read your handwriting and slightly not perfectly cooked food.

"Just one second," you return to Jeremiah and the table. Joe's not your mother level of important, but after the particularly challenging season you know he's been a little too inside his own head. You snap a picture of your character sheet and the dice tower, fingers flying over the keyboard. Thank god for autocorrect, you think to yourself as you watch the words flip over time and time again.

Can't do tonight. But I'm free tomorrow. Want to do 7? Pho?

The text lifts, then settles. Delivered listed below the bubble and you set the phone back down. Joe stayed in his own circle and you stayed in yours for the most part. He invited you to games, to a few parties here and there. You guys exchanged numbers, as a part of a group project, and you attempted as best as you two could to take at least one class together each school year. The kind of friendship that felt like it would always dance on something more, but never fully committed to it.

You know that your job in this wedding is just to show up. Kimberly, the soon to be first wife of the group, chose Ohio as the location given all that's here, all the drunken nights, and tears, and joys. She met her fiance at the Denny's she worked on the side during her OSU days. So while you don't have wedding duties, you are doing what you can to help pick people up from the airport, grab last minute items and such when it comes up.

You could skip the dinner tomorrow if need be as you don't want to force Joe to socialize if he's not up for it.

"Now, back to this spell," you start, turning your phone up side down again. "I think given the fact that I am a cleric is a good enough substitute for the fucking silver needed."

Jeremiah laughs. "You said you wanted to play stricter with this one-shot."

"Not that fucking strict," you huff and then review your sheet again. You had to have something else to help get your friends out of this mess. You settle for your cantrip instead and it manages to do enough damage that you can take care of two kobolds threatening your barbarian.

Your phone shakes again, but you don't check it immediately. You're too enthralled with the throw of the dice, spewing witty one liners that you know in any other setting you'd never be able to come up on your own. In the end, your party's left haggard and bloody but with the estranged and hidden daughter of the Ice Queen returned to her people.

"Fuck you, Jeremiah," your party roars, high from the victory of the short campaign.

"Fuck that wizard too!" you laugh. He was a formidable opponent but particularly nasty about your deity of choice and for that, you cannot forgive the old man.

Jeremiah laughs, clapping all the same. "Proud of you guys."

Clean up is relatively short, a shuffling of dice back into bags and papers shuffled together. Your group shuffles out of your apartment with multiple round of hugs and thanks for you hosting the one-shot. Tomorrow and the day after will be a mad dash trying to get everything ready for the wedding on Saturday, but you're thankful that you were able to squeeze in just a little bit of time like this again.

You're especially thankful for the eight seater dining room table that you managed to snag off the curb too. You take the two bags of trash out--pizza boxes, cans of sodas, paper plates, and paper towels stuffed into the bags.

When you settle back into the apartment, flopping onto the couch, you read through the text messages left behind. There's a text message from your favorite clothing brand that you thought you unsubscribed from but apparently you hadn't, a text from Joe, but none from your mother.

Burrowed: I didn't take you as the type for a cleric. Assumed you'd like the chaos of a rogue better. Tomorrow at 7 works. Pho is perfect. See you then!

Your mouth drops. What the fuck did Joe know about D&D? He'd never mentioned it to you previously, even though you definitely mentioned your ventures into the tabletop game back in undergrad. You immediately tap on his contact, before tapping at the icon for a phone call.

"Everything okay?" Joe asks when he answers.

"What the fuck do you know about Dungeons and Dragons?" you return. There's no time for pleasantries or to even answer his own question.

"I know a little something about a lot of things," Joe laughs.

"No, no, you don't get to Joe Cool me and coyly answer. When did this happen?"

"Tell me first if you actually like playing a Cleric?"

"That was in homage to my first ever character, Zebela. I played as her great-great-great-great-great grandchild tonight."

"Uh, I forgot about Zebela. Dwarf right?"

"Yes," you hiss out. "Now when did you pick all this up?"

His laughter is deep and soft. "When you first talked about it, I had another friend of mine into it. I asked him some questions. Listened to you rant about it. Dunno. It sounds interesting. How'd the adventure tonight go?"

"You are blowing my mind, Joseph. You know about D&D." You laugh as you speak but recount to Joe about the perils, the tight wins. He hums and interjects with "ouch!" when you talk about the damage you took. He cheers when you talk about the damage you dealt.

"Sounds like a hell of a time," he returns by the time you finish.

"It was. Did you eat yet today?"

"Yeah, grabbed lunch with Tee and Ja'marr. I'm debating if I really want what was meal prepped or if I want to make a sausage biscuit, like you taught me."

You snort. "That's a struggle meal. You're not struggling anymore."

"I think if I eat any more fucking chicken I'm going to start laying eggs."

"Bawk, bawk," you tease. "Save me a dozen though. Eggs are getting expensive."

Joe snorts, the sound crackling over the receiver. "Will do."

"Have you ever thought about playing? D&D I mean?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it. O-line would absolutely never let me live it down, but I don't really know anyone to hosts it or how to help us set up and stuff."

"I could do it," you offer. Though Joe and you still kept pretty separate worlds, you'd be happy to help. You hadn't DM'd much yourself. You dabbled once and managed to do it well enough. The thing you'd have to work on is building a story that would keep most of the boys focused.

"Let's marinate on it and talk more tomorrow. DM'ing seems like a big ask on your part."

"We can marinate." There's a sizzle in the background, the sound of something hitting a hot pan. "You literally have a chef," you laugh at the sound.

"Fucking sue me. I wanted a biscuit! It's the off season now. I'm allowed to indulge just a little."

"By all means," you laugh, "indulge."

[danieyells]

@mayoigotokurousagi asked for a few more of the home screen dialogues I liked from a couple of characters, so here's Leo! Also included are the Japanese versions of the text for this one.

I LOVE HIM HE'S SUCH A LITTLE SHIT. . . . Once again this is nearly now all of them because this mfer has such personality lmao his also go with a few other characters', so there's i think one for Romeo and two or three for Sho in there too.

Also as a warning. . .i got a little horny in my commentary for some of these. But it's not my fault, Leo's the one who's saying things like that lol

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Nice timing, Honor Roll. Give me your hand. Come on, just do it." あ、���待生サマちょうどよかった。手、貸して。早く早く

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, your messages are piling up. Hurry up and open them, it's annoying." ねぇ、さっきからずっと未読の通知来てんじゃん。うざいから早く読んじゃってよ

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Ugh, you're so loud. Ask for permission if you want to talk to me. ...Nope, denied." うるさ……オレに話しかけんなら先に許可取ってくんない？ ……はい駄目

This isn't the only time he complains about volume. Maybe his ears are always sensitive even without using his stigma?

"I'm thirsty, go buy me a drink. What kind? Why don't you take a guess?" 喉乾いた。ジュース買ってきて。 なに系がいいって？ じゃあ、オレが飲みたい味、当ててみてよ

he likes spicy stuff, do you think he likes bitter stuff too? Maybe lemonade? Do you think he's one of those influences who's like 'i never eat anything bad for me' so he either drinks diet soda or no soda at all? I feel like he wouldn't be able to handle restrictions like that--also he loves Painfully Spicy Food so. . . .

Hey Honor Roll! ...Don't make that face at me. I'm being totally genuine right now. ね、特待生サマ♡ ……なにその顔。別になんも企んでないよ

We were deprived of a cute heart in his localized text to emphasize how saccharine he was being. How dare they.

"Have you seen Cap? Ugh, bet he's lurching around lost again..." ねぇ、うちの寮長サマ見なかった？ ……あいつ、また迷子にでもなってんじゃないの

the real question is, does Leo then go look for him himself, wait for him to come back on his own, or get Sho, the PC, or someone else to bring him back for him?

"We're fighting again? Which house? ...Ugh, pass." ……なになに、また揉めてんの？どこの寮？ なんだ……つまんな

I wonder which houses he wouldbe up to fight. Probably Hotarubi since he's kind of invested in Subaru's suffering? Maybe Frostheim since they already have beef--on the other hand, maybe that'd be boring for him. But man he seems pretty ready to go with that, Sho wasn't kidding when he said they got kicked out of every club in Shibuya because Leo's always picking fights.

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh, I'm so tired... I'm done with these classes already. I'll just show up for tests and skip the rest." は～……ねむ…… なんか怪異の授業も飽きたし、テスト以外もう出んのやめよ……

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm starving! Huh? Where'd Sho go? I swear he was here a second ago... Whatever. I'll make that NPC go buy something for me." お腹空いた～。 あれ、翔ちゃんは？ここにいると思ったんだけど…… ま、いっか。モブ女に購買行かせよ

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"That fucking himbo left me behind again..." あのポンコツ朴念仁……またオレのこと置いて行きやがって

he really wants to get involved in the spy situation huh. That or it's something administrative. Even at affinity 3 Alan leaving him out of something interesting upsets him a bit, which is interesting.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Right now? I'm programming an app. I'm not doing anything that complex, just making an ordering system." 今？　アプリのプログラミング中。 別にそんな難しいことしてないよ。オーダーシステム作ってるだけ～

Of note, this is Sho's Affinity 7 line:

"Nice, got an order. More demand than I thought. Getting Leo to make this app was a good call." お、出前の予約が入ったわ……思ったより需要あってよ。 玲音に予約アプリ作らせたの正解だったな

So he made Sho an app for his food truck! Probably not for free of course--good to get the occasional reminder that Leo's both really smart and really good with technology lol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh... Cap smashed my woofer. I was just playing music in the Pit since we can't go clubbing..." だっる……クラブ行けない代わりに地下で音楽流してたら、寮長サマにウーハーぶっ壊されたんだけど……

That was kinda mean on Alan's part haha

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Who's DMing me? Oh, it's this account. Huh... Now that's interesting."

the tea has arrived, piping hot i see. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey, over here. Give this tabloid to that national treasure wannabe in front of the food truck. Just do it!" キミ、こっちこっち。 あのキッチンカーの前にいる国宝気取りに、この週刊誌渡してきて。いいから早く！

My guy does not like Subaru huh lmao or rather he loves tea and wants to set Subaru off or something. . . .

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey, Cap, could you open this bottle for me? Do it yourself? I can't, that's why I'm— hey! Where are you going?! ねぇ寮長サマ～、このペットボトルの蓋開けて～♡　 いや、無理だから頼んで…… ちょっとどこ行くの！？

Leo really said 'i need a big strong man in my life' and Alan said 'good luck becoming one' kekw ONCE AGAIN DEPRIVED OF HEARTS

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Time to see what the bug I planted in his car picked up... Huh? What the fuck?! Someone broke it!!" さてと、あいつの車に仕込んだ盗聴器の収穫は～…… は？　なにこれ！壊されてんだけど！！

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"This pillow mist? I only bought it because it was trending, but it's better than I thought it'd be. Ro-Ro's hooked on it too." あ、この寝香水？　バズってるから買ったんだけど、意外とよくてさ。ロミサマもハマってるみたいよ？

Romeo's Affinity 8 line references this:

"You're smelling the bedtime fragrance I bought from Kurossa earlier. He has a good eye, so I often ask him to pick things out for me." この香り？　さっきクロッサから買った寝香水だよ。あいつセンスいいから、よく見繕ってもらうわけ

"Kurossa" obviously being from "Kurosagi", Leo's surname. These two became fast friends, huh. Maybe they already knew each other from social media, since Romeo has an Instagram too. I bet they take the prettiest selfies.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Night, then. What? I haven't slept yet. Unlike you, I actually have shit to do." じゃ、おやすみ～…… なに？　今から寝るんだけど。オレ、キミと違って忙しいの

Sho also stays up pretty late lmao. I assume Leo does much of his hacking in the dead of night. . .then again why's he using his sleep mist before he goes to bed?

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Why is this place so overrun with fucking losers?! My eardrums are going to burst!! ...I'm going back to the garage to play with Cap." どこいても雑魚どもがうっさい！！この学園、マジどうなってんの！？ ……ガレージ戻って寮長サマで遊ぼ

The word "雑魚" which was translated as 'loser' means "nobody" or "unimportant person" lol which means Alan is someone of greater importance than others to him? Or just more bearable? Or maybe just likes that he's quieter or finds him more entertaining lol it's kind of nice to see that they're "getting along" in the loosest sense of the term i guess. . . .

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh... The little kabuki prince's sister married an actor from a different troupe? Bet there's something going on there." ふ～ん……梨園の御曹司サマには、別の屋号の歌舞伎役者と結婚した姉がいる…… なんか、超匂うわ～……

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"You think I smell good? It's L'Occitane body lotion. I just throw some on after showering in the morning." この匂い？　ロクシタンのボディーローションだけど。 朝シャンの後、ぱぱっとつけてるだけだよ

the pc mentions that Leo's hair smells floral, so I bet he smells super nice. And I guarantee you he's not using men's fragrances either, he wants to smell pretty, leave that hypermasculine shit to Alan and Sho.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Okay, okay, I'm coming... Ugh. Calling the whole house out at the ass crack of dawn... What is wrong with that himbo?" はいはい、行くってば…… はぁ。朝っぱらから寮生集会とか、あのポンコツ朴念仁なに考えてんの？

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Ugh, I totally missed out on that ultra-spicy chicken thing they had in Shin-Okubo. Guess I'll read the reviews and get Sho to recreate it." あ～新大久保の激辛チキン、完全に食べ損ねてる…… ネットのレビュー調べて、翔ちゃんに再現させるか

I feel like, if not for that it'd have all the flavor sucked out of it from the spiciness, Sho would probably have a good time replicating flavors like that. He likes to make different cultures' foods after all.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Wow, so late already. Better get a bath going and get ready for bed. Here you go. It's for scrubbing the bath." やば、もうこんな時間じゃん。さっさと風呂溜めて寝る支度しよ。 はいこれ、風呂掃除用のブラシ♪

If you do a real good job of cleaning the tub for him, he may even let you have some of his bathwater! Isn't he generous?

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"That dumb video got over 10k interacts? God, you're all so basic... Muting." あんな適当な動画が万バズとか、本当ちょろすぎ……うるさいから通知切ろ……

No respect or love for his fans is2g

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I can touch you, but you can't touch me. That's how this works, got it?" オレからキミに触るのはオッケー。キミからオレに触るのはダメ。 いい？　これがオレたちのルールね

This is probably so much more innocuous than it sounds--like literal touching, or maybe him holding his fame as an influencer over you--especially since he's saying it with a straight face but. . .it's so easy to imagine this as Leo cuffing or tying your hands and when you ask what he's doing he climbs in your lap and moves your clothes out of his way and says this. . .and at this point you've probably never fucked or kissed or anything before so it's a little out of the blue but you can't really stop him and he just toys with you until he's satisfied. . .one of my favorite of his lines just because it's a little dirty lol

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"There she is. Hey, Honor Roll! You free? There's something I was really hoping you could help me with." あ、いたいた。ねぇ特待生サマ～、今日って暇？　 ちょっと付き合って欲しいことがあんだけど♪

given this is his expression in the first line(and the little music note with his second line) he's probably up to no good lol there's either something he really needs to hear or something he really wants to do to you specifically. in Japanese he says "I just want you to keep me company for a while♪"

BUT MAYBE I'M ASSUMING TOO MUCH MAYBE HE JUST DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO ASK YOU TO HANG OUT OTHERWISE. Like how the PC asks Sho if they need help on the food truck and he immediately clocks "you don't have to offer to help just so you can spend time with me you know"

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey, Honor Roll, come sit down. Not over there, next to me. Good, you're comfy. Don't move, I'm taking a nap." 特待生サマ、ちょっとここ座って。 違うよ、オレの隣。 あ～気持ち～♡しばらく昼寝するから動かないでね

Lap pillow hours! Whether you like it or not! He said no touching him, so no moving him off your lap, either! He might make an exception for having his hair pet though.

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"They went to the Pit again? Must really get a kick out of it... Like big, dumb animals throwing themselves at each other." あいつら、また地下に行ってんの？好きだね～本当…… やってること、虫相撲とほぼ変わんないじゃん……

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"The whole demon nickname? People can call me whatever they want. I know who I am." 悪魔って呼ばれてること？ 別に、好きにすればって感じ。オレが何者かは、オレが一番わかってるもん

His expression saying this is his default one where he's smiling, so I guess it really doesn't bug him, which is good. He probably gets a kick out of it.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Stay like this till I tell you to leave, okay? Got it? I didn't hear an answer." オレが行っていいって言うまで、キミはずっとこうしててね♡ ……わかった？　返事は？

Again, this one's a little dirty which makes me like it a lot hahaha. . .this is a late night one(it's labeled "GoodNight" and only pops up between 10pm and midnight) is he telling you to sit still while he sleeps on your lap or uses you as a body pillow? Is he making you sit still with a toy in you while he ignores you or pretends he's not tormenting you sexually? SORRY I FIND SEXUAL THINGS SO AMUSING BUT HE'S MAKING IT SOUNDS SO HORNY. The audio doesn't sound as horny as i'm making it sound off but like LOOK AT IT.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Wanna make a bet, Honor Roll? Over which will come first—me falling for you, or you getting hooked on me." 特待生サマさ、オレと賭けない？ オレがキミを好きになるのが先か、キミがオレに沼るのが先か

I think it's a little late for you, sweetheart. I think you've already caught the feels and that ship is sailed.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"Why the hell would I go to class? I already learned all the first year material." 授業なんて出るわけないじゃん。１年で覚えなきゃいけない範囲は、もう全部やっちゃったし

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Cap really puts the "him" in "himbo..." Look at him, he's got a flower stuck in his hair." 寮長サマってさ、あんな見た目してなんでポンコツなんだろね…… ほら見てよ。頭に花くっついてるし

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Quick Honor Roll, stand over there. Perfect. Now hold my phone. You're the cameraman." ちょっと特待生サマ、そこ立って。そそ、いい感じ。 で、オレのスマホ持って。はいキミ、カメラマンね

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Can't believe how many gross dudes this account keeps reeling in. AI-generated pics make it so easy! "Could you send me some more money ♡?” Send." このアカ、変態ジジイ釣れすぎなんだけど。ＡＩ美女画像マジ便利～！ もっとペイペイちょ～だい♡っと

I find it funny that they use AI generated images for their backgrounds and also have a character who scams people with AI generated images. . . .

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"That rule about having to wear your academy or house uniform on campus is so outdated. I'm going to die wearing all this crap in this heat." 学内は基本、制服か寮服じゃなきゃ駄目ってさ、今時そんな校則あり？ 暑くて死んじゃうんですけど

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I can't believe Sho seriously ran out of my Killer Sauce. It's summer, this is when I want to eat spicy stuff." 翔ちゃん、オレのキラーソース切らしてんのマジあり得ないんだけど。夏こそ辛いもん食べたいのに

well maybe if you didn't dump so much of it on whatever you ate. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I keep telling Sho we should let off some fireworks and he keeps saying no! You want to do it too, don't you, Honor Roll?" 翔ちゃんに花火したいって言ってんのに、全然付き合ってくんないの！ 特待生サマも、やりたいもんね～？

One of Sho's summer lines references this:

"Leo won't shut up about wanting to let off fireworks, but no way am I doing that shit with him again. I'm sure you can guess why." 玲音が花火してぇってうるせぇんだけどよ、俺は二度とあいつとはやんねぇって決めてんの。わかんだろ？

I guess Leo isn't a very responsible fireworks user.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Yeah, apparently there's more anomalies around in summer. Statistically speaking. It's just fucking annoying more than anything else, really." ああ、なんかこの時期って、日本は怪異が増えるらしいね、統計的に。 普通にめんどくさいだけなんだけど

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Thought I could have some fun here at Japan's most elite educational institution. What a let down." 日本有数の名門校なんて言われて、期待して入ったのにさぁ。 結局この学園も、つまんないやつばっか

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sports? Hard pass. I hate getting sweaty. Ask Sho instead." スポーツ？　パス。オレ、汗かくの嫌いなの。 翔ちゃんでも誘ってきなよ

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Sho hurt himself playing basketball? How unfortunate." 翔ちゃんがバスケ中に怪我した？ へぇ、そうなんだ。大変だね

He gives so few fucks about his best friend lmao then again they're ghouls, Sho'll probably be fine in like two hours.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh, I want to go clubbing... We should make one in the Pit. Sinostra's got a casino, can't be that hard to get a permit." あ～クラブ行きて～…… いっそさ、地下改造して箱にしちゃうのどう？カジノがありなら余裕じゃない？

Leo pointing at sinostra: if the criminals in there can have a fucking casino there's no way it's hard to get a business permit here. They kill people like on a weekly basis and no one's shut them down. The standards must be in the ground.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"This coat? Cute, right? I knew it'd look good on me, so I bought it." ああ、このアウター？可愛いっしょ。絶対オレに似合うと思って買ったんだ～♪

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm freezing... I'm having a carbonated bath tonight. Wanna join, Honor Roll? Of course I'm serious." あ～、さぶ。今日の風呂は強炭酸にしよ…… 特待生サマも一緒に入る？ 別に、マジで言ってんだけど

This one happens regardless of affinity which is kinda funny to think about. then again, Japanese bathhouse culture probably means that's not super weird if you have a tub big enough, maybe? Then again a bathhouse and just having a bath with someone are different things. I bet he has lots of baths with Sho.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey, everyone! It's me! Ugh, my throat's all dry from the cold. I'll just stream tomorrow..." こんばんは。ＬＥＯだよ～！ ……やば、乾燥で喉死んでるわ。配信は明日にしとこ……

Of note here, Leo's online handle is just "LEO" in Japanese. In English his name probably had to be given just as Leo to prevent this being lost in translation, because his actual name, in kanji, is 玲音, which is pronounced "Reio"(the same as 'leo' but with an r). But "Leo" is stylized since Japanese doesn't have the L sound and the R sound is closest. So in Japanese he says "It's LEO!" whereas in English he just says "It's me!" since his handle and his name are the same. Although, as someone who follows streamers, introducing yourself again at the top of a stream isn't too uncommon i think? But I also don't watch the influencer types, so the culture is probably very different haha.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The ghouls won't listen to you? No shit. You realize we were hand-picked by demons, right?" グールが言うこと聞いてくれない？そんなの当たり前でしょ。 だって、オレたち悪魔に選ばれた人間よ？

He's one of the only ones who mentions something like this on the homescreen(off the top of my head Haku is the other one who really mentions how none of them are normal). And he's absolutely right--they were chosen by demons, made pacts with those demons, and ultimately overcame them somehow. Most of them are gonna be kinda stubborn. A demon probably wouldn't choose someone who'd be influenced easily. . .except the demon who chose Kaito apparently. Probably just looking for easy pickings, that one. Or maybe Kaito wasn't always such a coward. . . .

His birthday (Year 1): (May 23rd)

"You got me a birthday present? Oh, thanks. Just put it over there, I'll look at it later.  I will, I promise." オレに誕生日プレゼント？　あ～、ありがと。そこらへん置いといて。 大丈夫だよ、後で見るってば

Rude ungrateful little shit lmaoooooo "yeah yeah my fans sent me a bunch of gifts already. I'll get to it."

His birthday (Year 2): (May 23rd)

"Yeah, it's my birthday. What do I want? …How about you give me your bank card?" そう、オレ今日誕生日なの。 なにが欲しいって？ ……じゃあ、キミのキャッシュカードちょ～だい♡

he's gonna be so jealous of that Taiga just hands you his wallet and goes 'get yourself something nice' lmao LEO YOU ARE A FAMOUS INFLUENCER AND A HACKER AND A SCAMMER YOU DO NOT HAVE TO ASK HER FOR MONEY LMAO i love him so much chat

Your birthday (Year 1):

"It's your birthday? I'll help you celebrate.  Meet me behind the garage later." へぇ。今日キミ、誕生日なんだ。 そうだ……オレが祝ってあげる♡後でガレージの裏においで

Your birthday (Year 2):

"Hey, Honor Roll. Heard it's your bday. I'll make you one of those surprise birthday videos. Shut up, just go stand over there." ねぇ特待生サマ。今日キミの誕生日らしいね♡ 　じゃ、サプライズ動画撮るから。 うるさい。そこ立って

i know the surprise is probably whatever the gift is and not the video itself but when he announces it it sounds like so much less of a surprise lmaoooo and then he's snippy with you like you are not going to ruin my video for you

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year! I prefer digital payment.  What do you mean, what do I mean? I'll be nice to you again this year, so pay up." ハッピーニューイヤー♪　はい！ なにって……今年も仲良くしてあげるから、お年玉ちょ～だい？

He's referencing otoshidama, money you're given on new years(usually as a child) but it sounds like you've just got a recurring subscription to Leo's friendship lmaoooo "We can still be friends, so compensate me monetarily" lolol i swear if he weren't vice captain i wouldn't be surprised if he eventually transferred to Sinostra in his second or third year. I think he'd fit in.

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"This is that ultra-spicy chocolate they only sell this time of year... I'm actually genuinely stoked right now." これ、毎年この時期にしか買えない激辛生チョコレートじゃん…… え、普通に嬉しいんだけど

White Day: (March 14th)

"Here, as thanks for the chocolate. You're not going to tell me you don't know Godiva, are you? All right, now we're even." はい、これお返し。キミ……まさかゴディバ知らないわけないよね？ じゃ、これで貸し借りはチャラね

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Ha ha. You were photobombing one of my pics so I uploaded it and said I had a new girlfriend. 10K interacts in less than an hour. Suckers." あはは。新しく彼女できましたって特待生サマのこと匂わせたら、一瞬で万バズしたんだけど。嘘なのに～

Comments section like "gee Leo how come your boyfriend lets you have two partners?"

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat!  Ugh, the only good thing about this dumb event is the video content it provides." トリックオアトリート！ 　って……こんなくだらないイベント、動画のネタになるだけマシなんだけどさぁ

Not much of a halloween guy. . .even though this is Sho's halloween dialogue???

"You really need an explanation? Leo made me wear it! Shit, why am I always the girl..." ああ？　言わなくてもわかんだろ。玲音に着せられたんだっつの！ クソ、なんで毎年女装なんだよ……

You're making your boyfriend best friend crossdress for your halloween vids? When you don't even like Halloween? And this is a REGULAR occurrence??? Like I get that he doesn't like sweets I guess but lmaoooo

Christmas: (December 25th)

"This Christmas-themed food Sho made might pull some traffic.  All right, uploaded. You can eat the rest, Honor Roll. Say "ah"!" 翔ちゃんのクリスマス映えごはん、適当にあげて…… はい終わり。後は特待生サマが食べてね。あ～ん♡

what you want him to eat all of that? and mess up his figure?

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Was that on purpose?  Are you seriously ignoring me right now?" あのさ、それわざと？ キミ今、オレのこと無視してるよね？

(13 affinity and above)

"Ugh, everyone's so loud.  I'm putting my headphones on, so tap here if you need me, okay?" はぁ……どこもうるさ…… オレ音楽聴いてるから、なんかあったらここ触って呼んでね～♡

oh no he's becoming self aware i like that he's not like. 'hey pay attention to me!!' instead he's like 'okay we can sit here in silence that's fine, i'm gonna listen to music so if you want something let me know'. Parallel play with Leo! He's content to just vibe out with you--and he likes you enough that he'll give you attention if you ask too.

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Who are you? Ah ha ha! I'm kidding. Have you got a good excuse for why you've been gone so long?" ……キミ、誰？ ……あはは！冗談だよ。 で、しばらく来なかった言い訳、ちゃんと用意してきた？

MAN THAT TOOK A LONG TIME. He really just has a lot of personality lol or maybe i just like his personality a lot? Either way I like a bunch of his lines so that's honestly like 90% of them. Bit of a goober. I'll do Sho's in a few hours! Since i already have his japanese file open from doing Leo's lol this is now all of his lines, and Sho's is partially done as well as of writing this! I love Leo so much haha

[misty-235]

Modern headcannons for the sawyers, if they had internet lol

TW: mentions of war, mentions of dead animals, Lots of sweet sweet cringe mentions of sexuality

Modern headcanons:

Bubba:

He watches those sensory videos of people cutting up bits of soap, along with makeup tutorials, religiously. It makes him really happy.

Definitely has scented candles and fairy lights everywhere.

His pet chicken has her own instagram account, and he treats her like a queen. She’s managed to become somewhat of an e-celebrity.

He’s probably able to talk to a degree, write and use sign-language, having gone to some sort of school, since education for those with learning difficulties has progressed a lot since the 1970s.

A brony, but fortunately of the wholesome variety that just unironically likes a television show about cute talking animals.

Overall, he doesn’t use the internet nearly as much as his chronically online older brothers, and probably shares a computer with Drayton.

Nubbins

Is a furry. There is nothing anyone can do about it, and although Drayton regularly tells him he’s a degenerate, he refers to his hands as paws. He has an extremely mangy fur suit that he made himself, out of real animal pelts, and looks like some sort of rabid dog type thing, although it's virtually unidentifiable.

Made a YouTube tutorial on how to collect the best roadkill, and promptly got roasted for it online. However, he literally doesn’t care, and just giggles whenever anyone sends him a strongly worded email.

He has been the subject of about 5 Kiwi farms threads, and has somehow managed to become a full fledged lolcow. Again, he doesn’t give a damn and is just living his best life. He’s the definition of “cringe but free.”

Definitely posts his photography on deviant art, complete with out of pocket titles like “Headcheese” and “dead skunk :D.”

For some reason he knows all of the brain rot slang there is to know, and uses it in everyday conversation, much to everybody’s chagrin. Also ends text messages with “Rawr XD.”

Robert/ Chop Top

Total emo, complete with a bizarre haircut and neon green highlights. Of course, this is just a wig; he was injured in Afghanistan, and got his head plate when he got almost blown up by a landmine. Owns a lot of kandi bracelets.

He lurks on 4Chan, and seriously believes he’s well on his way to finding Bigfoot, and pigeons are malicious government spy drones with poisonous droppings. Also occasionally trolls random people.

Instead of loving In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, he listens to Nyan Cat on repeat.

Unfortunately, he’s also a weeb. May or may not own a body pillow, but hides it well whenever Drayton’s around. He owns at least one katana and sometimes just sits in his room making anime sounds and waving it around.

He doesn’t have a Discord kitten, he is a Discord kitten. He’s shameless, and will sell pictures of any part of his body for a few dollars. Bro is broke.

Has watched literally every shock video he can get his grubby hands on. Lemon party, Goatse, blue waffle (by the way, don’t look these up, you might need eye bleach) he’s here for it. Cackles like a maniac whilst watching, too.

Most of his search history consists of the aforementioned shock videos, “how to talk to females IRL” and “feet pics pretty.”

Drayton

“What is a mee-mee?”

Starts random beefs with other chilli competition contestants on Facebook. These get really heated, to the point of death threats.

Has been hacked about a dozen times, because his password is always “password.” He thinks this is really clever. Sometimes his brothers go onto his account post cursed stock images and ruin his credibility.

Has like 50 tabs open on his search engine at any one time. His computer is permanently on the brink of death, but stubbornly hangs on.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Malaysia, July 21st, 2023

DISCLAIMER: Here is the requested piece in support of the boys' decision today. I decided it needed to be a one shot cuz I couldn't do it justice in just a few words. I've based the conversations in this piece on similar things Matty has said about gender. GENDER AND SEXUALITY ARE NOT THE SAME THING, THOUGH. So, if any of it comes off in bad faith, erroneous, or in any way harmful, its not my intention to do so, and PLEASE feel free to let me know INSTANTLY!

Warning: nothing. but idk how i feel about the writing quality given that it was written on the spot. I mean, I'm not necessarily aiming for ART here. just an appreciation for today and a gesture of support to LGBTQ+ Fans everywhere.

----

She could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket all throughout her 3 pm meeting. It was distracting, but not necessarily out of the ordinary. With time zone differences, it wasn't unusual for Matty to be texting her while she was at work, asleep in the middle of the night, or early in the morning before her coffee. Even when she'd finally wrapped up her meeting and left the conference room, the messages on screen weren't cause for concern. Receiving texts from her friends and colleagues like "omg your boyfriend," "Matty sure loves the drama, lol." and "PUT A LEASH ON HIM HES INSANE" just came with the territory of being Matty's partner. She didn't mind it at all. In fact, sometimes she found it funny.

She scrolled past several texts from her friends, spotting Denise's name "two countries now. Bets on which one's next?' with several confusing emojis. she frowned, her heart sinking slightly. Was this more serious than a regular Matty rant? a fan kiss? a polarizing meme? with apprehension, she reluctantly checked the news, whispering "oh fuck," under her breath when she saw the headlines.

She tossed her laptop and meeting notes at her desk, rushing outside as quickly as possible, and scrolling through her call log to find Matty's number. She clicked the elevator button, willing it to arrive faster by repeating "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon." knowing that it wouldn't help, she still gave into the urge to click the button repeatedly and curse when the elevator failed to bend to her will. Finally, she decided to just take the fire exit, using the stairs instead.

She clicked Matty's name on her screen as she made it down the stairs, bringing the phone to her ears.

An overly cheerful female robotic voice announced in her ear that "The number you have dialed is disconnected."

"fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuckkkk!"

she paused in the middle of the staircase, leaning against the wall and attempting to calm her mind with several deep breaths. She knew the only person who could help her right now would be Denise.

***

"No, I get that, but- like- so, you haven't heard from him directly?" she bit her lower lip.

"Not yet, no. But I wouldn't worry about it, love. this isn't his first foreign government ban, you know." Denise giggled, sounding as proud as a mother of a child who just learned to take their first steps. "doesn't that sound impressive? He's like a less secretive James Bond."

Impressive wasn't exactly her first thought, but she knew that if Matty is safe right now, he's probably impressed with himself. The thought made her crack a smile. "Knowing Matty, he'd probably say that he'd love to be a super secret spy who gets pussy, but he's anti government espionage, so he can't be James Bond."

***

All she could really do in the moment was send a barrage of messages that covered the entire spectrum of human emotions: from expressing concern for Matty's safety, to accusing him of messing with her heart, to begging him to give her a sign that he's alright, she found herself unable to think about anything else for the rest of the afternoon.

Just as she'd walked through the door of their shared home, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the feeling of her phone vibrating in her hand.

Matty: Call rn? ❤️

She instantly hit the "Video Call" icon on her FaceTime screen.

The line rang once, twice, and then "yo!!" Matty attempted to greet her before being interrupted by someone off-screen. She could faintly tell that it was Ross. "No, no. I'm just on FaceTime with her- yeah- it's fine....sorry, Darlin.' I'm just-"

"Next time you plan a government rebellion give me a courtesy warning in advance, will you??" she interrupted him. All the feelings and worries she'd been attempting to repress came pouring out of her. "I had no idea where you were for, like, all day. And- why was your phone turned off, anyway! We have a deal. You promised-"

"oi! it wasn't off! Breathe, baby. It wasn't off. Just...no reception at the venue, and then at the airport. Breathe! I love you, yeah? I'm fine. Look. Look at me, I'm fine. I promise.' He flashed her that boyish smile of his and cut through the haze of spiraling thoughts in her mind. Finally, she looked directly into his eyes on screen, smiling at him.

"Hi! There she is." He giggled.

"So, where are you now? is everyone with you? are you all safe?"

"Airport. Yeah, we're all good. They've just got us in some room while they process some documents or some shit. I don't know. I don't care." She watched him walk over to the other side of the room and take a seat on an uncomfortable leather couch.

"Is everyone else with you as well? Ross okay? the band? Polly and Gabi?"

Matty smiled at her insistent questioning. "We're all here. let's do a head count, shall we?" He hit the "Flip Camera" button so she was no longer seeing him, but had a view of the rest of the room. "Here's George, sleepy as always. John's playin' a game on his phone. Say 'hi' John...over here we have Hann. right next to the trash, where he belongs....Here's Ross. Jamie's here I promise, he's just looking for a toilet. Say 'hello' to Polly, who's on the hunt for granola or some hippie shit." Matty giggled when Polly brushed the hair out of her eyesight to give him a look. "And last but by no means least" He cover the camera lens for a dramatic reveal, "it's Gabi! see? everyone's here and we're all okay. Happy?" He turned the camera back to him, returning to his spot on the couch.

"...for the time being." She couldn't help but break character and laugh when she saw him roll his eyes. "Seriously, though, I'm proud of you.'

"but?"

"there's no but!' She rebutted a bit too eagerly.

"I know you. There's a 'but.' Let me hear it. Go on."

"I had just wondered if....maybe it would've been safer for everyone if you guys just pulled out....you know?"

"Pulled out of the lineup, you mean? like just not done the show?" Matty's demeanor shifted. He straightened his posture, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, you could've returned the money. Made some kind of....statement about how, after learning of the governments laws, you found it morally repugnant, and refuse to perform there. Safer for you guys, the fans, and less costly."

Matty always respected and valued her opinion, but he was also always honest with her. "I suppose it would- I suppose it would've been but thats not the point." He could feel his bandmates eyes shift towards him. They were all invested in the conversation now. "Because then they'd have just replaced us. Found another artist to perform that slot and our so-called 'stance' wouldn't have done anything. Maybe lasted 5 seconds online, and then everyone would have moved on. The point here wasn't to morally congratulate ourselves or make ourselves feel good. It's about actually doing something. sometimes discomfort is necessary."

She could do nothing but smile, in awe of him. Their relationship meant a lot to both of them, but one of her favorite things about it was that she never had a chance to forget why she fell in love with Matty in the first place. "That's why I'm proud of you." she simply stated.

"well don't be."

"Matty, stop that. I kn-"

"No because I'm not ACTUALLY gay. I'm not ACTUALLY Malaysian. Okay? I get to make out with my mate, make a little speech, and then jet set, off to some other country by the time that everyone's made him home from the show. And- sure, I'll get banned, but my job and my life is entirely unaffected. I'll go on doing what I do, it's no skin off my back. Why be proud of ME? hmmm? there are people, activists, all over the world, who ARE gay, ARE outcasts, ARE fighting for their rights. How about we pay attention to them instead? you know what I mean?"

George got up from his seat to retrieve a water bottle from one of the bags, patting Matty on the shoulder and mumbling "exactly." as he passed by.

"why'd you do it then?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, I'm everyone's favorite villain at the moment. Lots of eyes on me. Figured I'd make it mean something."

"all things considered, you happy?"

She saw a smile flash across his face as he considered her question. "Yeah," he nodded slowly as he made up his mind 'Yeah, I checked online and....seems like fans made it out okay, so...yeah, I'm happy." He looked into her eyes through the camera. "I do miss you, though."

"I miss you, too. Oh, speaking of which! Put Ross on the phone, would you?"

Matty smiled knowingly and handed the phone over to Ross. "You deal with this one. I'm out."

Ross's face lit up, ready for the challenge. 'Hey, mate!"

"Ross, I want you to know; message received. Loud and clear. You make out with MY boyfriend? In front of the whole world? AND you do it for a good cause? I see you, mate. I get it. This ain't over, though. I'll be the better kisser in the end."

[i-wakeupstrange]

Hi I'm the Spy x Family anime only who wrote the analysis on the s3 poster, I saw your tags and I'm like HOW do you avoid spoilers while in the tags??? I haven't visited the tags in like probably more than a year because they're 99.9% spoilers lmao

Anyway if you ever wanna have a spoiler-free chat about our beloved fake family feel free to drop me a message :D

hello!!! avoid might be a strong word -- mostly what i do is go "hmmm cute fanart!" and then do everything in my power not to read the text or tags under it. if something looks potentially spoiler-y, i'll close the tab. that and avoid the tags between seasons. people tend to be better about avoiding accidental spoilers when the anime is airing? at least that's what i've noticed.

but i still have... good guesses on some things we might see in future seasons. and maybe a new ship? (though, to be fair, given my lifelong love of serious/goofball that might have happened anyway)

its funny because usually i do end up reading the manga first! but spy x family is the first series in a longggggg time i've wanted to experience "live" so i've had to come up with strategies to avoid spoiling myself. hope this helps!

and thanks again, i really wanted to gush about the S3 poster but didn't want to potentially ruin the season doing so

[panharmonium]

What do you think about this: "Kakashi was never interested in Sasuke as an individual, he only projected himself into him and saw a smaller version of himself on Sasuke, Sasuke was never Sasuke to him, just a little Kakashi". I wanted to know your opinion because I miss your meta posts and I feel like lately people are hating Kakashi for things that aren't real :/, also you are really good at explaining and I feel that both characters need love

Hello! Thanks for the question!

The answer to "what do i think about this" is, honestly, that I don't think about it X) I watched the whole show without engaging with the fandom at all (for fear of spoilers, initially), so I was able to experience it without being exposed to anyone else's thoughts, and now that I'm done I generally still avoid poking around, because devoting mental energy to opinions that I find bizarre/not supported by the text doesn't enhance my fandom experience.

Kakashi and Sasuke's relationship is one of the most compelling things about the series to me. I was very surprised when I finished the show/manga and first exposed myself to the fandom only to find so few people invested in them, but at this point I've (mostly) stopped asking myself "what show was everyone else watching" and just settled into enjoying the show that I watched, because that's more fun for me. I can't convince people not to dislike Kakashi if that's what they want to do. I do find it a little weird, because I don't think that's what the story is asking from us, but as long as people mind their business and aren't bugging me on my own blog, they're free to do what they want.

I know it can be frustrating when there are people hating various characters for "things that aren't real," but the fact that these criticisms aren't "real" is precisely why I generally avoid engaging with them. For Kakashi, specifically, there are certain things people can say that will immediately make me stop taking them seriously - "projecting" is one. "Bootlicking" is another, but again, these terms are so wildly inaccurate that I'm not interested in talking about them. The manga and the show are easily accessible; if people want to rewatch/re-read them, they can.

In general, I just prefer to avoid engaging with most of the fandom negativity I see. I think overall most of the rancor I've stumbled across boils down to people engaging with the story in very ungenerous ways, if that makes sense, and that's not how I prefer to read/watch things. Like - back when I was still in the middle of watching the show, I remember someone sent me a message saying that they loved seeing me talk about the story with earnestness/joy, and it was such a lovely message to receive, but it also made me pause and wonder for a second if this was really an uncommon enough thing to be remarked upon. Wouldn't that be the default? Aren't we all here because we love the story and the characters so much? But the truth is that sometimes it does feel like large chunks of fandom spaces (not just Naruto, I mean; I've certainly experienced this elsewhere) are very focused on being negative about "things that aren't real," as you said. Like - people calling Sakura "abusive" for bopping Naruto on the head when he says something rude, when this is not something the text is even remotely trying to say about her. People writing off Jiraiya's entire storyline because of the non-consensual spying on women - which, yes, of course, is disgusting and wrong. Obviously. I am very aware of that. However, I can simultaneously recognize that the story isn't really interested in that or intending me to read it like that; the voyeurism is written as a joke (yes, I understand how gross that is) and there are a hundred potential personal and/or patriarchal and/or genre-related and/or cultural factors that may have gone into Kishimoto writing this particular fail. If I want to understand and appreciate what the story was ACTUALLY trying to communicate with Jiraiya (that he's an idealist who gave up on the world when everything went wrong, who turned to shallow pleasures of the flesh to distract him from the pain of his disillusionment, and who was finally restored to his former faith after meeting Naruto), then I have to mindfully set the voyeurism aside and go, "This writer wrote a gross thing, and I recognize that, but I'm also not going to fixate on it, because I can simultaneously appreciate/find meaning in what he was really trying to say."

I think some of the Kakashi complaints out there very much fall under this umbrella. If I have to see one more person frothing at the mouth about Kakashi briefly tying Sasuke (a qualified ninja who has already demonstrated his ability to escape rope restraints and whom Kakashi has been individually mentoring, sparring against, and connecting with for a month) to a tree for approximately sixty seconds - honestly. I don't know how to tell people they're missing the point, so I don't bother.

Ultimately, the fact of the matter is that people are entitled to dislike any character that they want, even for contrived reasons. As long as they're doing their own thing in their own space and letting me do my thing in mine, we're good.

[holylulusworld]

2024 Jacklesverse Bingo

Preview for the upcoming fics to fill the squares.

Please consider none of these stories are available yet.

I won’t take requests for this bingo.

Stories are written for @jacklesversebingo

Square 1: ??? (??? x Reader): Blind date

Square 2: TBA (Dean Winchester x Reader): "I swear it was an accident."

Square 3: Stranded (Soldier Boy x Reader): Deserted Island

Square 4: TBA (Demon!Dean x Reader): "No, stop!"

Square 5: TBA (Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader): A strange wailing sound came from the next room.

Square 6: ??? (??? x Reader): Guitar Pick - Red Balloon - Wicker Basket

Square 7: Stepmom (Beau Arlen x Reader): Single Parent

Square 8: ??? (Alpha??? x Omega!Reader): "Did you see (Pack Alpha) rock the pups to sleep?"

Square 9: ???(??? x Reader): "We were together...then...I don't remember anything."

Square 10: ??? (??? x Reader): Good-naturedly making fun of each other

Square 11: ??? (??? x Reader): Confession right before passing out

Square 12: ??? (??? x Reader): "Wait! What kind of doctor are you again?"

Square 13: How deep is your love? (Dean Winchester x Reader): Free Space

Square 14: ??? (??? x Reader): Spy AU

Square 15: ??? (??? x Reader): The only one they can trust now is a con man

Square 16: ??? (??? x Reader): Betrayal

Square 17: ??? (??? x Reader): "I will find out who killed my husband, with or without your help."

Square 18: ??? (??? x Reader): A fancy party

Square 19: TBA (Dean Winchester x Huntress!Reader): "I chose to go down swinging."

Square 20: ???(??? x Reader): Reluctantly, she let them fit her with a wiretap.

Square 21: ???(??? x Reader): "Should I stop talking." / "Don't." Your voice is very soothing."

Square 22: ??? (??? x Reader): Teacher(s) AU

Square 23: ??? (??? x Reader): The text message simply said 'very clever'.

Square 24: 42 Days (Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester): Imprisonment

Square 25: ??? (??? x Reader): "It was an accidental kiss. It means nothing."

[fingerless-glovez]

College au part 2

Guy

• Majoring in political science and government

• Genuinely interested in politics, just isn't as intense about it as Roc

• Wants to be friends with people but Roc said "no"

• Not like most people want to be real friends to him anyway, especially not in his course

• Is currently being pressured to accept a political marriage, but would rather marry for love (sap)

• Jasper is the only one who understands

Dia

• Majoring in botany

• Attends all of his classes virtually

• Has a mushroom farm in his room

• He sings to them to help them grow. Aquia is sworn to secrecy about it

• Has Lou wrapped around his finger

• Found a snake in the bushes, named it Linos, and it is now his pet. Lou was unsuccessful in convincing him to put Linos back outside

• Is this grounds for expulsion? Yes. Does Lou expel him? Nope. Why? Because Dia is why

Sherry

• Majoring in human resources services

• Wants to create more positive workplaces, especially for women

• The only mentally stable person in this goddamn school

• Student council president (thanks, chirp!)

• Ya gurl beat out both Guy and Toa, who were competing for the position and tied for runners-up

• Probably helps that she had the power of baked goods (and Grayson's supervision) on her side

Aquia

• Majoring in botany

• Works at a flower shop

• Poor boy just wants to make friends and study plants but everyone just wants to use him to get in with Guy

• Lack of familial affection go brrr

• Roc doesn't give a shit about his younger sons

• Guy is always busy and has no interest in Aquia's life

• Rahm is too busy trying to make Aquia Roc's successor to notice that he clearly doesn't want to be in politics and loves his brother too much to take his dreams

• Zev is the only one who keeps in regular contact with him, but he's more interested in telling him all about his problems with class, homework, girls, y'know, typical high school stuff. He also asks a lot about how Guy is doing before taking any interest in Aquia

• Fluent in Floriography (language of the flowers)

• Tends to the garden on the school roof at night

• Rio runs into him up there and notices how well cared for the flowers look, and also that Aquia is really sad. They are now gardening buddies

Jasper

• "Majoring" in hospitality

• Isn't actually here to further a career. Roc sent him with Guy as a spy to make sure no one is plotting to sabotage either Guy or the family as a whole

• Works at the same bar as Lance

• NOT a r**ist, and he does NOT do that shit he did in his consort route

• He just listens in on conversations while making drinks (that have NOT been drugged or spiked in any way) and serving people

• He's that one asshole that corrects people's grammar when they text him

• If you don't text like you're writing a government document he will copy your message and correct it

Violet: is anyone free on saturday. i accidentally bought an extra movie ticket and mc fenn and sherry said there all gonna be busy

Jasper: *Is anyone free on Saturday? I've accidentally bought an extra movie ticket, and MC, Fenn and Sherry said they're all going to be busy.

Jasper: I'll be available on Saturday. What movie are we seeing?

Violet: Die.

• May or may not be fucking Guy and Fenn on the side, who knows

Violet

• Majoring in fashion design

• Doesn't care for the designs you would see at a Met Gala and knows how to create things that are good looking and practical but also unique

• Also makes her own accessories

• MC is her usual model

• Met Fenn in high school

• Apparently the guy she'd been dating was two-timing her with Fenn. She was super mad at him at first, but Fenn offered to help dish out some revenge

• He's her wingman and shoulder to cry on when she gets rejected

• Regular at Lance and Jasper's bar

• She dated Jasper for a while until realized he was using a fake identity to spy on her and her friends, and she's hated his guts ever since

• The only reason she still talks to him is because they're in the same friend group as the other valets

• If Jasper corrects her grammar in the group chat one more time, she's stealing his glasses and replacing his normal pens with invisible ink pens. Then we’ll see how good his grammar is

Tino

• Majoring in hospitality

• Works part-time at his family's hotel

• He and Lynt have been best friends since childhood because their fathers are also friends and business partners

• He used to "help" Lynt with all his school work (did most of it for him). He can't really do that anymore since they’re in different majors

• Gets Lynt out of bed every morning. And makes dinner every night. And cleans the dorm. And does the dishes...

• Okay, Lynt does eventually start picking up the slack when he realizes the ungodly amount of work Tino does

• This boy has not had a full night's sleep since the 3RD GRADE

• Like bro do you need to cram every single night?

• Half the time he passes out at his desk studying. Sometimes he'll fall asleep in a common room or something, and someone has to take him back to his room

• It is because of this that Lynt has taken special interest in researching insomnia

• Has to be dragged out by the valets to take a break from doing literally everything all the time

Tino: "B-But I have to study for my skills test-"

Knight: "You mean your skills test that's 3 months away and you've been cramming for since you started the course? Dude, you need a life and you're coming to the arcade with us."

• Definitely got shoved into his locker in high school

• That's what he gets for trying to mind his own business and not bother anyone in a fucking high school

Lou

• Headmaster of the academy

• Has a Ph.D in education

• Is fully aware that he has several politicians' children in his school and that he's being spied on

• Guess what? He's spying on them, too

• He's part of a political party called Iritium and is gathering information on his competition through their children

• Guy, Toa, and Lance's rooms are bugged with microphones. He knows Christoph is living with Lance, but to avoid raising suspicion, he doesn't do anything about it yet

• He's still debating whether or not to bug Aquia's room because Dia is his roommate and he'd rather not invade his privacy

• Prank wars are common at the academy, but he has reigned as prank king since his own school years and he refuses to be dethroned

• Has two doves in his office, Phinney and Nix

• There have been many occasions where someone would pass by his office and see him having a full conversation with them

• He once argued with Phinney while MC sat right across from him. He lost

[cupidskissx]

PROMPT!

“I swear I’m over you, but if you ever do shit like that again, you’re going to set me back to square one.”

with lestappen. duh. 😇

The spin off to @xiaoluclair’s original Spy AU that I finally got a chance to edit to fit this prompt! 🥰🥷

~ 1.3k

“I was making croissants, do you realise how much effort goes into that?” Charles shakes his head, “You pick the worst times to pull this shit,” he tsks as he struggles to unties the thick knots.

Max’s arms are twisted behind his back, linked around a pipe, his wrists bound together. His torso is also tied to the pipe keeping him propped upright. His captors must have learnt from their precious mistake because Max’s ankles are quadruple knotted to the pipe opposite him. Charles’ eyes flick up to the staircase every so often as he works to loosen the first knot that ties his knees together.

“I would have figured out a way to escape.”

“Yeah right, that’s why you doubled texted...”

“I didn’t think you’d see them.”

Max had sent the messages to Charles via their old voice-to-text software embedded into an advanced AI application. The one they used to use to send encrypted sexts to each other when they were dating and posted long distance.

Charles should have turned off his notifications, or better yet, deleted the app months ago, but now’s not the time to think about why he hasn’t, so he just says, “You’re an idiot!”

“You’re not too bright yourself, coming here alone,” Max scolds, “You should have called for backup.”

“They’d only get in the way and make this harder than it already is, stop moving, would you?”

“It fucking tickles, mate,” Max grumbles as Charles keeps accidentally tickling the backs of his knees.

“Oh no,” Max’s genuine dismay causes Charles to look up. Max’s face has contorted into something anguished.

“What? What is it?” Charles asks, checking him over, then looking towards the staircase. They’re still alone in the dank cellar.

“That buzzing noise, it’s the 10 second warning before they blare the most horrific alarm.”

Max isn’t one to exaggerate, he says it how it is and that’s it. Therefore, Charles believes him that this is no small thing. “It’s gone off at least 15 times. Trust me, block your ears.”

Charles shuffles up towards the pipe, pressing his knees into the side of his hip as he leans in.

“What are you d—”

Max falls quiet when Charles cups his ears just in time before that alarm sounds. He can only imagine it’s similar to standing directly under an air raid siren, he flinches, eyes squinting at the intensity of it.

Max tries to pull away, saying something that Charles can’t hear.

“Stop that!” Charles yells, even he can’t hear it.

Max shrugs violently, trying to free himself from Charles’ hands.

“I said stop,” Charles says in earnest and Max gives him an imploring look like he wants Charles to cover his own ears, and that sets those stupid butterflies off. They quickly migrate to be replaced by frustration when Max tries, yet again, to free himself.

Charles resorts to the one thing that he knows will stun him. He leans all the way in, keeping his ears blocked as he kisses him.

That does the trick, Max goes stiff as a board, Charles tries not to smile, adding more pressure for added effect. He isn’t overly surprised when Max kisses him back, but he didn’t expect it to be so hungry! Max kisses like he’s been starved, and it makes Charles’ stomach churn with want and guilt and forgiveness. Why the fuck did they give up on this?

It takes them both a moment to realise the siren has stopped. Max is the first to pull away, cheeks a touch pink. He clears his throat and can’t quite meet Charles’ eye. Charles moves his hands down to his shoulders.

“For the record?” Charles’ voice is distant through the ringing in his ears.

Max takes a breath before meeting his eye.

“I am over you.”

Max snorts, “I can’t say I believe that anymore.”

“But—“ Charles continues, “if you keep pulling shit like this,” he gestures in a sweeping motion up and down his body, “You’re going to give me a hero complex and set me back to square one.”

Max is silent for a long moment.

“Square one is pretty cozy,” Max’s expression is blasé but the way his Adam’s apple bobs gives away his trepidation.

Charles, try as he might, he is unable to prevent his eyebrows from twitching up and his lips from parting. It takes a beat too long to finds his voice, “Is it now?”

“Yeah, it is. You should come over tomorrow night, to talk and stuff.”

Charles was not expecting Max to pivot so sharply, like usual he’s compelled to fight and catch up. “And stuff?”

“And stuff,” Max emphasises, his desire unbridled for the first time in months.

“I’m a very busy man, I might get called out to save another inept colleague.”

“Do you go around kissing the rest of the team as part of a rescue mission?”

“Only the ones I know will kiss me back,” Charles teases.

“You realise the whole team has thought about making out with you a least once, yeah?” Max laughs.

“Fine, the only one I want to kiss me back, then. Better?” The words are out of his mouth before he realises. There’s no point taking them back now.

“Eh, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Charles leans in again, slowly this time.

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” Max tilts his head, “Untie me first then maybe I’ll consider slipping my tongue into your mouth as a little thank you.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “Now you’ve gone and made it gross,” Charles huffs, and because he loves to test the limits he glides his hands down his arms, moving into him until their chests are practically flush, his fingers finding the knots binding his wrists together. Charles can’t see anything but the pipe at this angle so he closes his eyes and rests his face against the side of Max’s head.

Max has gone very quiet while Charles diligently unties him.

“Everything okay?” Charles mocks him like his own heart isn’t pounding in his chest.

“Yeah,” Max whispers. “You’re making this very difficult, is all.”

“Good,” Charles whispers.

“Charles,” Max is stern, like he means it, bringing home the fact they have a lot they need to talk about, and this is not something they should joke about.

“I know, sorry,” Charles presses his face a bit more against Max’s head in apology.

Charles manages to free Max’s hands, he helps to bring his arms back around without twinging any of his muscles. Charles rubs his red raw wrists for a moment before looping his arms back around him to untie his torso.

Max ends up circling his arms around Charles’ waist, holding him closer, and if that doesn’t set his skin on fire nothing else will.

He fumbles over the knots a few times. “There,” he says eventually, triumphant as the rope loosens. “Now you can finish untying your knees and I’ll work on this,” Charles goes to shuffle over to where his ankles are tied to the other pipe but he doesn’t get very far. He’s pulled into a toe curling kiss that Max is pouring a hell of a lot of effort and gratitude into.

“Okay, okay,” Charles taps his shoulder, and Max lets up, “Don’t wear yourself out. Plenty of time for that later,” Charles promises, pressing a swift kiss to his lips and moving down to free him.

[carryoncastiel]

I'm not sure if you know this or not, but I ran into an old video from early access for wyll where they used mods to make the companions accessible origin picks (pre ea patch 5 since if I remember correctly that one stopped people from being able to access other origins via mods), and it's so interesting because he had a "talk to mizora" free action button, which makes sense considering ea implied that's how he and mizora communicated, and there was actually recorded dialogue that would play.

Mizora seems to have been also rewritten a little. She's much more chill compared to current Mizora, and they were definitely going to lean into the relationship angle (although that was obvious from ea romance). Her pet name for him was also sweetheart instead of pet (less dehumanizing and more condescending it seems).

The other interesting tidbit is that it seems like the wyll arc had a lot more to do with his trauma, since mid convo at the mention of spike he starts to flashback (it seems the didn't have the narrator dialogue recorded by then, but it is written) and Mizora yells at him to snap him out of it.

Anyway sorry if you knew all this already I just never knew that scene was ever a thing and was excited lmao

No, I didn't know this so thank you for the info! I don't know that much about ea tbh. I was kinda interested in it when the game had just released and it was more relevant, especially in regards to how Wyll's character/story had changed. But not enough that I went and looked for videos of it, though I have seen the Wyll romance scene at some point.

I know there definitely exists a way the Wyll and Mizora relationship could've been written without making me queasy and irritated at all of the bad implications of it - but sadly Larian has not written it in ea and they certainly have not written it for the final canon of the game. Maybe, had Mizora stayed a mysterious character that Wyll secretly communicates via sending stone and we only get to see in Act 3, and she wasn't some sexy devil lady tehe who sexually harasses and demeans Wyll and annoys the fuck out of me but actually a scary and powerful devil who poses an actual threat to not only Wyll but maybe the player character themselves and one of Wyll's personal quests would've been to deal with her one way or another... But no - it's not what we got.

Adjacent to that point though: One of the many baffling choices in the final canon of the game is the complete irrelevance of the sending stone for Wyll's story. I guess because they made Mizora already show up and be annoying in Act 1 it didn't make much sense to have Wyll also talk to her via sending stone (They could've obviously still incorporated in another way had they wanted to but, well...) It irks me that since they changed that aspect from ea we don't get to know how this communication works exactly. I remember some people even thinking Mizora could straight up look through the eye to spy on Wyll (which ewww) but I'm pretty sure that's not actually the case. One DnD explanation I read said you can send a short message via the stone and the recipient will hear it in their mind and can respond in the same manner. So it's more like text messaging and not direct like a phone call. But do you have to hear the message immediately? Or could you ignore it for a while? Could Wyll be assaulted by Mizora's voice just popping into his head at any moment or could he ignore her for a time until the sensation(?)/notification noise(??) got too annoying or she showed up in person? It's wild that something like this is in the game and they just do nothing with it!

[fiorilavellan]

@fadewalking

Fiori was a scholar. She had spent her life chasing the threads of old magic, spells woven so deeply they still left echoes in the world long after their empire had fallen. Once they were poets, warriors and kings. Even reduced, they had history and culture to be proud of. What they had kept may only have been a fragment of a splinter of what was, but even those splinters shone so brightly it was hard not to dream of what the whole might have been.

The Inquisition had given her resources she had never imagined. Old texts, stories and songs from around the continent in so many languages it made her head spin. Old spells, magical constructs, ruins so old it was a wonder they didn’t crumble at the touch. Places where their people had once walked, protected for once, for careful study. Artefacts left in place rather than plundered, so they could be understood. She had learned a lot during those years, and even if she had rarely contributed anything of value, the Inquisitor had barely noticed such a tiny drain on their resources. 

That had ended when the Dread Wolf had revealed himself. Suddenly she was noticed, as an elf who specialised in old stories and songs, how they connected to history. She had been made to explain, over and over, the significance of the tales, why Fen’harel was feared, why the Dalish spent their lives guarding against his influences. And then she was sent to spy on him. It was ridiculous. A waste of resources and time. She knew how to play the Game as well as any other elf in even the smallest position of power, had played it well during her time in the Inquisition in order to secure resources for her clan and passage for her people. But she wasn’t any good at hiding who she was, or sneaking around, or sending secret messages. It was absolutely no surprise at all that she had been caught.

Fiori remembered very little about the reclusive scholar of the Inquisition, might have heard his voice in the distance, or perhaps replied to a note. In fact she was sure, now, that he had once asked her for a particular volume on star charts, written by sailors from Tevinter. 

She couldn’t remember anything he had written or what she had said in reply, but in retrospect it chilled her, to know she had been that close. The Inquisition had told her what they knew about him, but there wasn’t much to go on. A long-ruined home, something of a sweet tooth but a distaste for tea, esoteric knowledge of the Fade and spirits. How had they missed such obvious holes?

Leliana had worked carefully to insert her into Solas’ rebel army. They both knew she would likely fail, the Nightingale had pleaded her case to the Inquisitor, to no avail. She was unknown to Solas, despite crossovers in their field of work. She was an elf with strong ties to her culture, and she was something of a rebel herself, so they should have a lot in common. She was beginning to regret lying about the hair thing. Clan Lavellan was known for dyes and weaving, and blue was a common choice for hair in her family. But humans always liked a rebel rather than an elf too devoted to their culture, and it had smoothed the way to say she was on bad terms with her Keeper. The Keeper who had taught her the spell for colouring her hair in the first place. That spell was the only one on her when they put the shackles around her wrists. It kept crackling and fading, so that she looked like she had fallen into the dye vat for the first few hours until the shackles finally cut off her magic entirely. Clever really, to have a visual indication of a prisoner’s mana reserves. Now her hair was its natural wheat blonde, in long waves down her back where it had broken free of its braid. The shackles were lighter than those the Chantry used; more like glowing bracelets. They left her hands free in the hours she was left alone in her cell. There was a window high up on the wall, and she had latched her fingers onto the sill and hauled herself up for a look only to discover it was magic. There was a view, but it changed hour by hour. It was a pity she had nothing to stand on to watch it go by. She was expecting execution. She had already confessed exactly who she was. Fiori couldn’t stand pain, and owed the Inquisition nothing for putting her here. It was only a shame their only spy was so damned inept, it really didn’t bode well for the world. 

[sorry-imma-scorpio]

i am a pomegranate ripped by ungrateful hands. their fingers are coated, lips red with my blood. they have consumed me in my entirety, but will i ever be free? ﮩـﮩــﮩ٨ـﮩــﮩ٨ـﮩــﮩﮩ٨ـﮩــﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ﮩ٨ﮩ٨_______________

illicit affairs by Taylor Swift - analysis by me

"Lyrics" and my analysis

--- have fuuuun ---

"Make sure nobody sees you leave / Hood over your head / Keep your eyes down / Tell your friends you're out for a run / You'll be flushed when you return."

I am not allowed to walk alone at night not for my own safety but because these people go into fucking cardiac ARREST when they cannot control my actions

“-------- and the Babysitters" was funny at first but not anymore. I am tired of being babied and watched through a fucking nanny cam by my own government spy of a roommate.

"Take the road less traveled by / Tell yourself you can always stop"

When I walk, talk, or even breathe I have to do everything in secret. I cannot tell anyone anything at all. Everything has to be kept under lock and fucking key because I am “too unstable” and I need to be checked in on. I NEVER ASKED FOR THEIR HELP I ASKED FOR A FRIEND. Just because I am crying or upset does not mean that I need someone to be my therapist. The advice was appreciated but it was not necessary. Walking over to hang out with you guys and immediately being drilled about how my day “really was” because “it was okay” was not answer enough made me feel like a burden to the point that I had to completely shut everything off and everyone out. I have become a group project that got neglected.

"What started in beautiful rooms / Ends with meetings in parking lots"

Giant room with a lot of windows. Talking about how I knew that it was going to snow because I can feel it. You can smell it (Thank you, Lorelai Gilmore). Sunset pictures.

“Where’d -------- go?” “To take a picture of the sunset.” “That’s the -------- I know.” Well who is this one? Do you know this ------ or do you think you do? The last conversation we had was you comparing me to a depressed orca which is honestly worse than my joke about you calling me a whale. (I was pacing in his kitchen and he brought up that I was like an orca in too small of an enclosure. Sad. I understood that. But he thought that I didn’t so he got all up his own ass defending himself).

"And that's the thing about illicit affairs / And clandestine meetings / And longing stares"

SHE WAS GOING TO HIDE IT FROM ME IF I DIDN’T FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN!!!! She would have rather lied to me than tell me this. She held me. Rubbed my back. She consoled me as I cried into her lap about how I was doing mentally

"Leave the perfume on the shelf / That you picked out just for him"

She was wearing his favorite perfume as she did this. I was literally breathing in the sweet, vanilla scent of her lies and deceit. Every breath I took filled my lungs with the freshness of her betrayal, literally as fresh as the wound in my back. The knife was jagged, and rusted. She left this out in the rain. She left it there until the blade was saturated with acid and would burn unscathed skin. And then she opened my back, no, I opened it to her. I exposed my softness and vulnerability as a form of trust, and like a hostile wolf, she tore through flesh and ripped my organs from my body. Clenching my heart in her teeth and biting down. Squeezing the very life out of me until there was nothing but a shell left. Nothing but a husk of who I once was.

"So you leave no trace behind / like you don't even exist"

Where are your texts to me? Your calls? Thoughts? Questions? Because I can tell you where they are not- in my own messages. You have my phone number, you know where I live. But when I delete social media for my own reasons, all of a sudden I am a problem and an issue.

"Take the words for what they are / A dwindling, mercurial high / A drug that only worked / The first few hundred times / And that's the thing about illicit affairs / And clandestine meetings / And stolen stares / They show their truth one single time / But they lie and they lie and they lie / ...a million little times"

Why am I so dependent on this friendship? To the point that it is like my drug of choice and I am a fatal addict. My own perception of myself and the world around me is so twisted and intertwined with your lies and talks of peace - giving the thought of a requiem. Yet I am not the one who has died but my spirit has. I am singing at a funeral tomorrow only it is my own. I will write, perform, and applaud my own eulogy to a near-empty audience. Chiron will be the only attendee, and he will offer his coins to me.

"Don't call me "kid" / Don't call me "baby" / Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me / You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else / Don't call me "kid" / Don't call me "baby" / Look at this idiotic fool that you made me / You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else"

“Kiddo”. After I told him not to. “Consent is sexy” you fucking liar. How am I supposed to feel like a person when you are always infantilizing me and I cannot deal with being parented by someone who did not birth me. You did not raise me. Were you there when I was sick with deadly strains of the flu? Did you hold my hand when my aunt Marjorie passed away? Where were you when I searched every part of my best friend’s house because I was terrified that she might kill herself? There is only one answer. You were not there. Neither of you are my parents so don’t fucking act like it. This part of the analysis was going to be purely “kiddo” because that nickname wasn’t quality when an older family member would call me that. So why the fuck would it work for you? It doesn’t. I cannot be infantilized as I am not an infant. I am not a child who needs to be put down for a nap because I am throwing a fit. 

This is not overreacting. 

This is not me being a child.

I am not being an asshole.

Just because I no longer look at you like you hung the moon and carved my face into it just to call it beautiful. Just because I no longer look at you like this and I look at you like the friend that you are. 

I am being an asshole.

Make this make sense.

You guys were my biggest supporters in -------. I have a few other friends but none that rallied quite to the point of this. I have now come to realize that you are not passerines flying to my window to wake me peacefully in the morning. But you are shrikes lifting me into the air just to drop me upon jagged rocks. With the unspoken hope that I would crack. That I would break open and you would be there to clean up the mess. Because lovebombing is in more than relationships. It is in friendships. It is in bonds created by shared interests. I have not been lovebombed because that would imply that there was no meaning to the words the entire time. I would like to believe that you guys truly care or at least cared. But the way that you work behind my back? The way that my roommate is your confidante. Your eyes in the room. Why have I had to become media trained overnight? I do not need to hide from the masses but you make me feel like I need to change my appearance and move in secret. I feel like I need to become a spy in a foreign country except the foreign country is my own home. My own room. My own mind. Why do you have free access to my own thoughts and feelings where I cannot access them? You can joke about my condition. All day every day. But when I do it, I am a recovering alcoholic joking about cracking open a cold one with the boys. When you do it, it’s funny. But when I do it, it’s worrying, I need an intervention, and I cannot be trusted to be alone. I call you because you conditioned me to. I didn’t call my mom. Or my dad. I called the two people in the world who knew how to break me the most.

"And you know damn well / For you I would ruin myself / ...a million little times"

This one could speak for itself. You could walk all over me. Spit in my face. But for some fucking reason I can't move on. I can't leave. I am trapped in this house and it is on fire. I am a fly on the wall of my own friendships within my own life. If I tried to escape I would simply be throwing my body into the glass of a double-paned window. Shattering the side I make contact with, breaking everything. The battering will bruise me. The sun will bleach me. I will be destroying myself and everything I touch. For I am King Midas, and my Touch of Gold is that of death.

[jira-chii]

The moment the One Piece anime becomes art

(Big spoiler warning for the One Piece Wa no Kuni arc, around the episode 1070 mark of the anime. Yes, I know the manga is better, but what I am about to talk about is a little more special for viewers of the anime, and fans of animation in general.)

For the tldr, this twitter post covers a lot of the things I am about to talk about.

One Piece is great. You don't need me to say it. So I'll cut right to the chase. The moment One Piece transcends being a run-of-the-mill (and sometimes kind of mediocre) anime, and becomes art, is when Gear 5 is introduced.

Is this a hot take? I honestly don’t know. Gear 5 is goofy, it’s weird. It’s so different from traditional mainstream shounen anime. I’m sure it’s an abomination to hardcore Japanese anime purists. 

But it is also a brilliant example of storytelling by using visual animation to its full potential. It weaves together so many complex ideas, and even carries an important message for the anime industry in general.

What do I mean by ‘art’?

Obviously this is a subjective question and I am using the term ‘art’ very liberally. I am actually referring to something called ‘textual integrity’.

Textual integrity is when all the elements that comprise a text work together to faithfully deliver on its author’s intent, from start to finish. It’s when recurring symbols, dialogue and story beats in a novel or movie start to match up. Or when the colour palette of a painting works in harmony with its motifs to convey a mood or idea. It’s the kind of thing that makes you think: “Oh! So that’s what that was about!” when you notice. Sometimes it even gives you a new point of view on the topic.

Dissecting each of these elements, trying to work out what they say on their own and how they play their role in the bigger picture, is one of my favourite embarrassingly nerdy activities. So please indulge me as I explore just some of the many, many elements that make up the colourful tapestry that is One Piece’s Wa no Kuni arc. 

(And please note, my interpretation is just one of many - that’s just part of the fun of analysing art!)

How the 'idea' of Wano is built

The Wa no Kuni arc (which I’ll abbreviate to Wano arc) is, much like many other main arcs in One Piece, about the fight for leadership over a country. 

The history of how Wano came to be in its current state is framed through the story of Oden. Oden, the former Shogun, was executed before he could fulfil his goal of opening up the land of Wano. With his death, the country is plunged into a dark age, where the poor starve and are forced to slave away for Kaido’s benefit. But Oden’s son, Kouzuki Momonosuke, manages to escape to the future along with a band of loyal retainers. They enlist the help of pirates and return to free Wano.  

That was a very bare bones summary, but it does give an overview of some of the ideas the arc explores: leadership, succession, rebellion etc. The conflict for Wano’s future is most starkly characterised by its two competing leaders - current ruler Kaido, and Momonosuke, the son of the previous Shogun. And nowhere is this more obvious than in their character designs.

Momo and Kaido are both eastern-style dragons, but that’s where the similarity ends. They are totally different in almost every other way: different colours, different sizes (initially), different levels of confidence, and importantly, different ideals. This is because they represent different values as potential leaders for the one country: Kaido wants to keep the country closed and turn it into a weapons factory for his own benefit, while Momo wants to free the people, and (after some deliberation), seems likely to follow in his father’s footsteps and eventually open the country. 

This arc has elements of a war story about national identity, it explores what true leadership looks like, it has tons of political intrigue, spying and sabotage, and it even serves as both a coming of age and a revenge story for Momonosuke. The clash between Kaido and Momonosuke on its own is already a compelling narrative. There’s a clear preference in this conflict too. How often have we heard the Akazaya Samurai serving Momo be referred to as the ones who will bring Wano out of the neverending night into a new dawn? 

There’s a solid good vs evil formula right there. But then we throw pirates into the mix and things get...slightly more complicated…

How pirates complicate things

The Wano arc primarily centres around a domestic power struggle. From an outsider’s perspective, the Straw Hat pirates are a foreign party that basically overthrow Wano’s current Shogun to reinstate their preferred ruler. 

Politically speaking, this looks bad, and Luffy knows it. Pirates really should have no business meddling in the affairs of other governments. That’s why the deliberate move to not be portrayed as heroes is a smart one. 

There’s another meta layer to this decision as well. Wano Kuni is very clearly based on the forced opening of sakoku Japan to the Western world. It would have been so dangerously easy to go down the path of a simple story about the pirates ‘saving’ Wano and ‘enlightening’ them to the outside world. But unproblematically portraying a ‘foreigner’ as the big strong saviour of a country clearly based on Japan definitely has problematic Eurocentric overtones!

In One Piece, pirates are not heroes. But it can be easy to forget that when your main character is such an incredibly likeable pirate. Trying to reconcile these two seemingly opposing facts is really, really hard, and Oda definitely does not choose to take the easy way out!

And yet, Wano arc goes a long way to conveying the nuance of this message. Through the careful interweaving and layering of its plot, symbols, motifs, character designs, character arcs and more, everything culminates to lead us to the final answer: Gear 5. 

Wa

I know that sounds like a joke title but I promise it’s not.

‘Wa no Kuni’ translates to “the Country of Wa”. It is never mentioned what ‘Wa’ actually means, but the most obvious interpretation would be ‘Japan’. ‘Wa’ commonly refers to “japanese style”, as in wagashi 和菓子 (Japanese sweets) or wafuku 和服 (Japanese clothes).

The character Wa 和 by itself can also mean peace or harmony, and this is the interpretation that stands out to me. Because I think this is a concept that also captures the complexity of One Piece itself. 

‘Wa’ to me is about finding peace through harmony, but when the world is as complex as it is, that harmony requires us to embrace, rather than reject contradiction. 

Have you noticed Wano arc includes many recurring motifs that contrast, conflict and seemingly contradict each other?

For instance, I mentioned previously that our ‘heroes’, the Akazaya Samurai under Kouzuki Momonosuke, were commonly associated with heralding the new dawn. In fact, the ‘Kou’ 光 in Kouzuki 光月 is the character for light!

But the ‘zuki’ 月 part is actually ‘moon’. Isn’t it strange that the clan that we are supposed to be rooting for, the band of ‘heroes’ who will bring about a “new dawn”, is associated with ‘moonlight’?

This concept is extended further, in the design of Gear 5 no less! It is explained that the Fishmen worshipped a previous incarnation of Luffy’s new form as the Sun God Nika, however our introduction to Luffy in Nika’s iconic pose is against a moon. 

This is not a coincidence. Did you notice the Kouzuki clan symbol includes a sun as well?

We're not just exploring the duality of the sun and moon either. Gear 5 is actually a mix of Eastern and Western influences. The animation very much seems inspired by Western slapstick cartoons, but the visual design is reminiscent of fuujin and raijin gods, with even a bit of that komainu lion dog influence. 

And while the cloud shawl/scarf coupled with Gear 5’s moon association evokes Asian moon goddesses, don’t you think “Nika” sounds awfully similar to Nike, the Greek Goddess of Victory?

The Eastern symbolism clearly represents Wano, while the Western bits are everything else. We see something similar with Izou’s character design: his style of dress is distinctly Wano (Japanese) style, but his chosen weapon is a gun, a symbol of the outside (Western) world. The mix of Wano and non-Wano influences tells us this is somebody who has embraced both parts of his identity. 

It is fitting then, that Gear 5 should also incorporate a blend of diverse influences, representing the melting pot of creatures, races, time periods, hopes and desires that make up the alliance ultimately responsible for ushering in Wano's 'new dawn'. It’s even possible to see links in the design to the Minks (moon symbolism and predominantly white colour scheme) as well as the Fishmen (Nika already established as the sun god worshipped by former slaves).

Gear 5 encapsulates 'Wa' because it embraces chaos and makes it work. Who could ask for a better god-figure, to represent the insane group we can only call the Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai alliance? 

When I first started Wano, I thought it would be a story of hope in the future overcoming the darkness of the past. I thought this would be a story about teaching a country to let go of traditions that it held onto too tightly, and wholly embrace the unknown (I too am sometimes at risk of developing a Eurocentric mindset...and I'm Asian).

I was wrong, of course. Nobody let go of tradition. It's more complex than that. Momo's insistence on trying not to rely too hard on the Straw Hats symbolises that (which is also why I find Luffy being forced into claiming Wano as his territory just to protect them under the Yonkou system a little uncomfortable, but that’s a story for another day).

Opening oneself up to new experiences does not mean completely discarding your past. Momo has physically changed, but he is still Momo. Yamato is still trying to be Oden, but he will do it in his way. The history of what lays beneath Wano has been passed on to the new generation. All of this will influence Wano's future moving forward.

Harmonising complexity starts with accepting it. The past matters. Everything that has happened, no matter how terrible or beautiful, has resulted in what we see, hear and feel today. And all of that, regardless of how hard people try to hide it, will continue to matter in shaping the future.

'Wa' is not just Luffy's answer to Wano. In true textual integrity fashion, 'Wa' encapsulates the philosophy of One Piece, and I think it also conveys Oda's wishes for Japan as well as the world.

'Wa' captures the complexity of what being a pirate is; how a leader should act; what freedom means; what chasing your dreams looks like; what it is to live. And none of it is sunshine and rainbows.

The world is complicated. It is chaotic. There is no sense in distinguishing black from white, good from evil, or even the sun from the moon. Everything is mushed together to create this terrible, beautiful mess. ‘Wa’ is an answer full of contradictions, and yet there is this harmonious balance within the chaos, a perfect reflection of our imperfect, complex world.

I do love that there is a side character named Hamlet in this arc, because this writing is nothing less than Shakespearean. But the reason I call Gear 5 art is not purely because of the writing alone.

Let's get meta

Alright, we’re going to step away from the story, get a little bit meta, and talk about the presentation of the arc as a whole, including how it is structured.

Wano Kuni is depicted in a way to deliberately evoke imagery and symbolism of Japan: even before we reach the country, the crew are assaulted by carp and great waves, clearly inspired by Hokusai’s own; the lineart is stylised to look like calligraphy; and the music utilises shamisen and koto, which fits in perfectly with how the whole arc is structured like a traditional kabuki play, right down to the red, green and black curtains that frame the start of each clearly marked Act. 

Everything presentation-wise in this arc has been carefully prepared to make it feel as Japanese as possible. Why is why when Gear 5, in all its cartoonish, physics-defying glory, appeared so suddenly in the middle of what had been primed to be the most Japanese anime set in basically Edo Japan, it was a bit of an understatement to say I was definitely caught off-guard!

It felt like I had fallen for a trap. In the middle of watching my kabuki play, suddenly I realised it was I who was being played all along...

And that’s the point!

Gear 5 is pretty much the least anime thing to happen to the One Piece anime. At the climax of the arc, we do not get the full satisfaction of a badass final fight like one would expect at this point of the story. Instead, we get the most cartoonish and batshit insane sequence I have ever seen in One Piece.

It is downright insulting to Kaido, who had been built up to be this huge, menacing final boss. Gear 5 essential reduced him to a googly-eyed snek - the poor thing even got blown up like a balloon at one point!

The closest thing I can compare it to is the Davy Back Fight arc. But doing Looney Tunes shenanigans during the looney-by-nature Davy Back Fight is a totally different story to doing Looney Tunes right in the midst of the tension of seeing a whole country’s beacon of hope fall in battle against their oppressor. 

The contrast is stark, it is shocking, it is tonally subversive, and unexpected. It is such a deviation from what we are used to.

...And yet, isn’t it glorious, that when Luffy basically reaches god-status, he not only decides to break the rules of anime physics, but the rules of mainstream anime as well?

One Piece, through Gear 5, is subverting the shounen anime battle formula. And while I don’t know if Oda intended for the animation to be so starkly western, I am absolutely certain it was what the animator’s intended. 

Because this deviation from the norm is sending a message, not only to anime fans, but to individual artists, animators, storytellers and creators in general. And that includes the big animation studios. 

The message is important: break free from the status quo. There are no clear lines that define what anime can and cannot be. Let japanese animation take inspiration from western animation, and vice-versa. In fact, this is something that should be encouraged of all animation. 

One Piece is encouraging us all to experiment and surpass our boundaries. It is telling us that even a smash hit mainstream shounen anime can still break all the rules and be not only successful, but create something unique and new and truly, truly special…even if some people think the result is a little bit ugly. 

If that’s not art, I don’t know what is. And I am so, so happy One Piece did it.