#and to answer the header- yes. all of the above

[sehtoast]

i will NEVER get over his choice of underoos

and the fact they're color coordinated with his suit?????? certified pookie behavior

[mandalhoerian]

moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.

word count: 9K

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me

notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth

🌀 read on ao3!

📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!

📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!

In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.” 

So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.  

He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.

The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.  

He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”

How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this. 

You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.  

You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap. 

The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go. 

What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance. 

The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.

It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place. 

Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded. 

You accept him as such, love him all the same.  

You’re not sure if he loves you just as much. 

Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest. 

What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list? 

The insecurity surely is a small part of the ‘Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his. 

This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all. 

Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.   

You take pity on him. 

“I see. Alright.”

His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”

“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”

“No—wait—what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying okay, Leon.”

He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”

You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know, I just—”

This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?” 

He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.

Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

That was the problem?

“I’m not, Leon.” 

“How can you not be?”

“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”

He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me. 

You don’t. 

The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.  

Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.

“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?” 

“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.” 

“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”

“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.” 

You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”

You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”

“So you are angry.”

“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?” 

He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face. 

You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”

“Mourn?”

His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”

“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”

“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”

“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”

“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”

You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well. 

The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end. 

“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”

“Ah, c’mon…”

“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”

Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second. 

“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”

“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”

You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.

“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”

Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it. 

You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching. 

“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”

“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.

“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”

He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain. 

He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers. 

That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing. 

Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”

“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking. 

He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this. 

“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”

He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”

“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—” 

“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”

You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”

“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…” 

You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting? 

“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body. 

He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression  —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“

Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“

“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“

Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.  

“What do you want me to say?“

“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.” 

Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway. 

But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”

Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“

“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”

A beat passes.

“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”

Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”

“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust. 

“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”

“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless. 

You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”

“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”

You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”

Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”

“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.  

Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”

You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.” 

It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”

“Huh?”

His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”

You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and  looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex. 

He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”  

You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”

The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him. 

This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation. 

Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly. 

He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”

Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”

You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission. 

Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.” 

The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”

“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”  

With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth. 

“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”

His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.” 

He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat. 

The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”

“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”

It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.  

More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after. 

Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next. 

Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked  knees. “Open up for me.”

It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already. 

Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.” 

“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”

“It’s not that, I…”

He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?” 

It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor. 

Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”

“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder. 

“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”

He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wanted to have you, remember?” 

There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”

“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”

You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin. 

“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?” 

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”

“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”

Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”

“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”

It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”

Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going. 

You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue. 

As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening? 

“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants. 

You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again. 

You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least. 

His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”

“You want the other ear?”

His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”

“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”

“I could if you actually did something already.”   

You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…   

You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god. 

And you’ve really barely even done anything to him. 

You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general. 

How further can you push?

“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will. 

You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more. 

He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.  

You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence. 

“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”

“You aren’t asking nicely enough.” 

His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all. 

You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…” 

You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it. 

“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?” 

“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.  

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”

His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.  

“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight. 

“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.” 

You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you. 

Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously. 

He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—

He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you. 

His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this. 

You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”

The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”

“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace. 

“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!” 

You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”   

Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating. 

“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”

You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark. 

You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”

“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away. 

And with that, you’re out like a light. 

When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it. 

It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.

You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming. 

Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life. 

You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place. 

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi Sweetheart!! So here's my idea. Bucky is home and You come home from work feeling stressed and ect so Bucky helps her unwind by letting her ride him and she has a choking kink (if your comfortable writing this)

Unwinding » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after work.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, riding, praise kink, vibranium arm kink, choking, pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @cevansbaby-dove 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You sighed loudly after you closed the door to yours and Bucky’s apartment. You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag on the floor by the door, not caring that it’s on the floor. You heard the TV in the living room. That tells you your boyfriend is home. You walked in the living room to see Bucky relaxing on the couch and watching a movie, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that hung low on his hips.

“Oh hi, doll!” Bucky greets you cheerfully.

You just laid across his lap and put your face against the couch pillow without saying a word.

“You ok, sweet girl?” He softly asks, rubbing your back with his right hand.

“Work sucked today.” You tell him, your voice muffled by the pillow.

“I know I have enhanced hearing, but I can’t hear you when you’re talking into the pillow, babydoll.” He says.

You sighed and sat up, sitting next to him.

“Work sucked today.” You repeated.

“Want to tell me about it?” He asks, putting a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“There’s this new girl at work and I was told to train her and she kept asking the world’s most stupidest questions that I didn’t know how to answer because of how stupid the questions sounded.” You tell him.

“You sound stressed, babydoll.” He says.

“I am stressed.” You confirmed.

“You know…” He starts. “I can help you unwind if you want.” He suggests.

“Yes please.” You said a little too fast and desperately.

Without hesitation, Bucky pulled you onto his lap and kissed you. The kiss was very much needed. You cupped his cheeks to intensify the kiss, the stubble of his beard poking your hands. You moved your hips against his. Bucky put his hands on your hips and pressed you against him. You moaned against his lips when his bulge rubbed against your clothed pussy.

You pulled away from his lips, leaving the both of you breathless to take off your work shirt and threw it somewhere in the living room. Bucky licked his lips and had a hungry look in his eyes when he seen your breasts threatening to spill from your bra. He watched closely as you reached your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest and exposing your breasts to him. Bucky licked his lips once more before attacking your breasts with kisses. His teeth nipped on your skin hard enough to mark you up.

“Ride me.” Bucky murmurs against your skin. “Ride me all you fucking want, babydoll.” He says.

You got off of his lap and stood up to take off your work pants and panties in one go. Bucky stood up as well and took off his shorts and boxers at the same time. He sat back down, pulling you down with him to make you sit on his lap. You gasped when his cock touched your pussy. You bit your bottom lip and moved your pussy against his cock, getting it wet. Bucky looked down and watched intently.

You lifted yourself up just enough so your pussy was just above his cock. You reached a hand down and stroked his cock in your hand a few times before lining it at your entrance. You slowly sunk down on his cock. A relieved moan left your lips. Bucky watched with lust clouded eyes as his cock disappeared in your pussy. When he was balls deep inside of you, you took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his cock in your pussy.

You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself when you lifted yourself upwards, only leaving his tip in your pussy and then slid back down. You rode him at a decent pace for a moment before speeding up a bit. Bucky’s hands found their way to your ass for something to hold onto, giving your ass cheeks a squeeze. He didn’t help you ride him like he normally does. He let you do your thing.

“Such a good girl.” Bucky praises. “Taking your stress out by riding my cock.” He says.

You whined at his dirty words. His dirty words always make you want more. His dirty words also urged you to quicken your movements. The sound of skin slapping and the smell of sex quickly filled the living room. You tilted your head back and your eyes fluttered shut. You lifted your head back up and looked at your boyfriend. You want more and Bucky knew it.

“What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He says huskily.

“I want you to choke me…” You bit your bottom lip seductively. “With your vibranium hand.” You tell him.

A low chuckle left Bucky’s lips. He knows how much you love his vibranium arm. Especially when his vibranium hand is wrapped around your throat while he’s fucking you.

His vibranium hand left your ass cheek and quickly made its way to your throat. He gave your throat a squeeze, not too hard. That made you moan. You put one of your hands on his vibranium wrist, keeping his hand there.

“You’re such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you, doll face?” He says.

“Only for you, baby.” You say, sounding innocent.

The innocent sound in your voice made Bucky want you more. He wanted nothing more than to pin you against the couch or coffee table with his hand around your throat and fuck you senseless, but he’s not going to do that cause he knows how stressful your day was.

Bucky watched your eyes roll to the back of your head when his cock hit your sweet spot. You rolled your hips against his, wanting his cock to hit your sweet spot again, in which it did. Your pussy squeezed around his cock at the feeling. Bucky’s vibranium hand slightly tightened its grip on your throat. Your nails dug in his skin on his right shoulder, making red marks in his skin.

“Bucky!” You moaned his name loudly.

“I fucking love it when you moan my name.” Bucky practically growls. “Say my name again.” He says.

“Bucky!” You moaned again. “Oh yes, Bucky!” You moaned once more.

His cock twitched inside of you when you moaned his name. His free hand left your ass cheek and found its way to your clit, rubbing it in circles. He could feel some of your slick on your clit, which made him rub your clit faster.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, babydoll.” Bucky says, his voice sounding husky.

You pursued squeezed around his cock at the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit, making Bucky moan. He felt his orgasm beginning to build up. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way your pussy was squeezing his cock and the way your warm and wet walls felt around his cock.

“I-I’m not gonna last much l-longer, doll.” Bucky moans and stutters.

Bucky tried his best to hold back. He wanted you to cum first. He always takes your pleasure seriously.

His fingers applied a little more pressure on your clit as he continued to rub it. His vibranium hand also tightened around your throat. That’s one of the many things that makes you cum.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned in a whiny voice. “I’m going to cum.” You whimpered.

“Cum for me, doll face.” He said. “Make a fucking mess on my cock.” He says, almost growling.

His vibranium hand tightened around your throat once more. That sent you over the edge and you came hard on his cock, his name leaving your lips in a loud moan. Bucky gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm. He came inside of you shortly after you came. He came so much that a little bit of it leaked out of your pussy, making a white ring at the base of his cock.

Your movements came to a halt. Bucky’s vibranium hand left your throat. You collapsed against the front of his body. The two of you were sweaty and breathing heavily. You sat on his lap with his cock still inside of you till the two of you caught your breaths. After a moment you sat up and leaned forward, kissing him sweetly.

“Thank you, babe.” You say, leaning your forehead against his.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll. I’d do this for you anytime you want.” Bucky says softly.

“I love you.” You say with a smile, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“I love you too, babydoll.” He almost whispers, followed by a smile.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[radioisntdead]

This is my first time requesting anything from you so I hope this idea is okay but would you be willing to write something where the reader is Alastor's child (I live for Dad Alastor) and they meet Susan? Maybe they get really attached to her so every time they visit Cannibal Town Alastor has to reluctantly take his kid to see 'Grandma Susan' and be civil around her?

Only if you're up for it though! I love your blog so MUCH and I live for both the platonic Alastor and Susan content you do

-TheAmberFist ♡

Good evening my dear! I did headcanons I hope that's alright, I adore your blog's content as well! I reread your "leave it all on the dance floor" series often! I positively adore how you write Alastor's and the readers friendship! Also thank you so much for requesting this because that gives me an excuse to bring back this header!

Papa Alastor doesn't like Grandma Susan.

Alastor & child reader, Susan & adopted against Alastor's will grandchild reader.

Warnings: Cannibalism also reader is a fawn because deers.

HEADCANON TIMEEEEE

Much like my other Papa Alastor fics, he either picked you up off the streets, or you just straight up followed him home like a stray puppy.

He unwillingly became a father.

I imagine he was talking with your Auntie Rosie and You wandered off to explore Cannibal town!

Despite being in hell, it seems safe enough for children considering there were other children around.

Anywho you stumbled upon a cranky Susan and just immediately started going

"I like your dead rodent scarf!"

"It's a fox, what are you blind?"

Long story short she unwillingly became a grandmother that day because you would NOT LEAVE HER ALONE not that she minded

Alastor has to deal with you whining that you want to see Grandma Susan, dude does NOT want to call her your grandmother, in his eyes you only have one grandmother above that you will unfortunately never meet.

"I wanna see Grandma Susan!"

"She's not your grandmother, why in the devil's name would you want to see her?"

"Because she's my grandma,"

"No she's not."

"yes she is!"

"No."

"Yes!"

Que a repeat of no's and yes until he eventually relents because you are NOT TAKING NO FOR AN ANSWER.

I imagine Susan enjoys your company but also uses you to peeve off the embodiment of red-40 that is your parent.

Like Alastor leaves you with her for whatever reason and is just like

"Don't give them any candy, no more then two juice boxes anymore and they get rowdy."

Guess who got a little goodie bag of candies and had a whole box of CapriSuns?

Also I imagine you as a fawn, specifically one of these [no this totally isn't an excuse to show the deer pictures I have saved noooooo]

Susan puts either a bow or bow tie on you, I imagine she breaks into the hotel sometimes when Alastor is out and is just like "I'm taking my grandchild out, fuck off!"

Vaggie tried to stop her once and nearly lost an arm, so far the only ones that are successful in getting Susan to not kidnap you is Angel dust [aka your favorite babysitter] ,Rosie, Alastor himself, for everyone else they have to risk losing limbs, Charlie could probably coax you away from Susan.

They banned her from the hotel, set up security measures.

She keeps getting in they don't know how, they're terrified.

Nothing stops Susan.

Alastor keeps cordial with Susan because he can't do anything to Susan because of Rosie and also because much to his displeasure you are attached to the ornery old bitch.

Alastor wants to take you on a father-child day? Torturing sinners, getting cannibal ice cream, getting souls,

He can't BECAUSE Susan snuck into the hotel and snatched you up!

On the flip side, Susan wants to take you shopping because the modern [1920's-1930's] clothing Alastor dresses you in is horrendous, Her words not mine

But no Alastor literally just picked you up and teleported away, how rude! How dare he keep her from her grandchild?? Ungrateful brat who raised him? [She's lucky Alastor did NOT HEAR THAT, just because he's dead and his ma is in heaven does NOT MEAN HE'S NOT STILL A MAMA'S BOY the good version ]

I imagine as a consequence Susan starts acting like Alastor's parent, like threatening to ground him, telling him to go in the corner and think about what he's done, chastising him for his awful haircut, then grabbing a bowl and scissors.

Alastor hid behind Rosie while Susan and you looked for him because she was definitely planning on giving him a bowl cut.

Good evening folks! Oh how I've missed writing for Susan! I missed our grumpy grandma, I hope you enjoyed this! As per usual thank you for tuning in I hope to see you again soon!

[neopronouns]

[if alt text is not accessible for you, every image in this post is a thin line divider with 4 vertical stripes, which are light seafoam green, golden yellow, bright red-pink, and medium dark purple. end id.]

welcome to my blog!

i'm dexter, and you can find more information about me here. i'm 23 and i mainly use he/him, ey/em, and it/its pronouns, but any other pronouns that are not she or they are good too!

i also run @mogai-headcanons, where i made edits of folks' mogai/liom/etc. headcanons, and @neopornouns, a request blog like this one for 18+ terms, and my main blog is @pierz.

please read my dni before following me and read my general rules and blog rules/open requests before requesting!

if you're interested, you can also read my request whitelist to see what requests i'll be most excited about!

my requests are currently open for comuniterm terms and closed for all others. here is every request currently in my inbox. my queue currently posts 5 times from 10am-2pm cst.

here's a quick list of frequently asked questions — i recommend you look through this before asking me a question, since i get a lot of asks and may ignore yours if it's answered here!

q: what program do you use to make your flags/edits and how? a: i use gimp on desktop! here's a simple flag tutorial i made and a basic flag splicing tutorial for multi-flag icons.

q: what's your header/icon? a: my icon is the bard from 'wandersong' over the lumesimplekind flag and my header is an edit i made inspired by wandersong's cover art and the song 'i wanna be the hero!' from the game!

q: are you alright with requests involving [insert media]? a: if it's not in my general rules linked above, probably yes! if you're concerned for a specific reason (source content, shitty creator, etc.) please let me know in your ask; i don't know what's problematic about every piece of media!

q: i don't see my request in the inbox! can i resend it? a: yes! just resend it and let me know that you sent it previously while requests were open.

q: can i put your terms on [insert wiki] or [insert other social media site]? a: yes, as long as you credit me and do not reword my definitions, add additional definitions, etc.

q: can you tag [insert thing]? a: yes, i'll try my hardest to remember! feel free to remind me if i forget.

q: how long will it take for my request to be posted? how long will it take for you to get to my request? a: i can't definitively say, sorry! i try to make it so the queue has a month's worth or less of posts in it, but as for getting to your request, i don't really know for a number of reasons.

q: [insert post] should be tagged as eyestrain! a: thanks for letting me know! i struggle to determine what is eyestrainy a lot of the time, so i tag things as 'eyestrain' when i'm certain and 'potential eyestrain' when i'm not. if you're photosensitive, i recommend blocking both tags to be safe.

q: can i use one of your edits somewhere? a: yes, and i would strongly prefer if you credit me somewhere if you do.

q: are you alright with spam likes/reblogs? a: yes, and i appreciate your support and enthusiasm!

q: [insert nice thing] a: i cherish you so much and your ask probably will sit in my inbox forever along with all the other incredibly sweet asks i've received over the course of this blog!

q: [discourse] a: please Do Not.

lastly, here's a few resources you may find useful!

my taglist application, for if you want me to tag you in my coining posts/edits

my deviantart for flag templates and symbols

the pride-flags deviantart, which has a ton of high-res flags for mogai terms and more flag templates/symbols

my guide to finding mogai terms by name (and ensuring that you don’t name a new term after a preexisting one)

a guide to how i create names for my terms

an archive of pupyzu’s term suffixes carrd

a list of other mogai blogs i enjoy (hasn't been updated in a while, sorry!)

a beginner’s guide to request etiquette

my redbubble shop, where i’m happy to upload any other flags i’ve personally designed or edits i’ve made

[thatswhatsushesaid]

tagged (kinda) by @mingguangsword!

i lost my first draft of this post 😭 let's try again.

1. why did you choose your url? because i am weak for puns, and because i am actually su she. weepy yet defensive lestat de lioncourt at the end of s2 voice, i am him, he is me.

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. a whole whack of them:

@dailyayao which is just daily screenshots and scans of jin guangyao from all versions of the mdzs canon

@yaozongzhupressoffice my neglected satire blog where i answer asks and reblog stuff in-character as yao-zongzhu. occasionally will make references to his entirely heterosexual feelings for his very good friend ouyang-zongzhu in the tags.

@itwasabeautifulwebbing my minthara baenre from baldur's gate 3 simping blog lol. it's also turning into a catch-all for various video game nonsense, tho i'm definitely not as active there as i am here.

@fakerashid same deal as above, just for armand from amc's interview with the vampire.

3. how long have you been on tumblr? i first joined back in 2011 with a different username back in the migration of the dragon age fandom from livejournal to tumblr, and have been kicking around in some form or another ever since.

4. do you have a queue tag? sure do! 'moling queue' because, as i said, i'm weak for puns.

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? originally this blog had a different username, and i started it with the intention of cross-posting very serious horror fiction thinkpieces from a wordpress site. obviously i stopped doing that and have been enjoying myself a lot more here since i stopped taking myself so seriously lmao.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? i don't understand the question, that's literally me, su-zongzhu. (please god recognize this is a joke)

7. why did you choose your header? i just think jgy and sms look very powerful and dapper together in that scene. 😌

8. what’s your post with the most notes? some unfortunate ides of march shitpost that broke containment within an hour, i have it muted and hope to never think about it again.

9. how many mutuals do you have? no idea. lots? lots and lots?

10. how many followers do you have? 1271 as of this morning.

11. how many people do you follow? apparently 400 on the nose

12. have you ever made a shitpost? absolutely not, i don't have a sense of humour or believe in laughter.

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? every time my attention wanders pretty much lmfao (despondent)

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? never!!!! 😬

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts? i ignore them.

16. do you like tag games? yes!

17. do you like ask games? "i love them, but i don't like chain asks" <- same hat

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? "probably ray" <- oh no oh dear 😬 i think if i qualify as tumblr famous (doubt.jpeg) then probably a bunch of my mutuals are, too.

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? i am boring and married so no.

20. what is the last song you listened to? this performance of the famous "flowing water" composition for the guqin.

21. what are you currently watching? nirvana in fire, and it's consumed my soul. mei changsu 👀...... /clenches my fist

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? "savory"! <- correct!!!

23. what is your current relationship status? "literally on my way to break up with someone T_T i'll be single in a few hours!!!" <- omg fennel!!??? um, as i said above, i'm married! no plans to divorce mr. sushesaid, he surprised me with flowers and takeout from my favourite indian restaurant yesterday because i was having a rough day.

24. what is your current obsession? jin guangyao. it's still jin guangyao. it's probably going to be jin guangyao this time next year too.

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

it's not an album, but basically all of the ensemble and solo performances by zi de guqin studio on youtube.

return to cookie mountain, tv on the radio

the wellermen's album of shanties and other arranged covers

the hades 2 videogame soundtrack

the baldur's gate 3 videogame soundtrack

the chain, fleetwood mac

all of the lyrical ballads from the kentucky route zero videogame soundtrack (are u noticing a pattern, because i am)

the haven videogame soundtrack

the assassin's creed valhalla videogame soundtrack

tagging: @ratheralark @holy--milk @carnivorous-horses-lover @sunriseverse @watertightvines @frodo-of-the-nine-fingers @confusion-and-more @occasionalinanity @varethinsilico @thepurplewombat @peacocksdance and anyone else who puts eyes on this thing and feels moved to complete it.

[pseudowho]

Hihiii Haitch!

Okay, first of all, I would like to say that I’m absolutely in love with your writing. The way you write Nanami is just✨✨

And I was on the fence about watching jjk because of the numerous spoilers I had encountered. But all your fics and my lil (read major) crush on nanami finally made me come around to watch it, I’m on s1e6 rn (I’ll just blissfully ignore the teensy detail I know about what happens to nanami and my other fav characters while watching it…hehe😭)

So onwards to my questions :

1) How does writing come to you? Does it feel like that urgent spidey senses tingling moment and the next thing you know your fingers are flying across the keyboard like a woman possessed…or does it feel like this distant feeling, that slowly grows and you let it simmer fully before you formulate it into words?

2) what song or word do you think immaculately describes Mr haitch?

3) Do you derive your real feelings while writing? Like the feelings that you feel in that particular moment, does it affect it somehow? Have you ever written something that has made you feel very exposed in an emotional way?

4) lastly I’ll add a fun fact : Did you know that in India, marriages are taken so seriously and especially arranged marriages, that there is a very well developed legit business solely centered around finding perfect matches for you. So your family essentially contracts an agency that finds matches for you , based on your requirements and it has levels to it.

The families of the to be bride and groom, use the agency as a mediator to contact each other. The agency also runs background checks. You have to pay a yearly subscription fee for it. And if you want to marry your child outside your tax bracket (into a wealthier family to put it bluntly) you can join the premium membership, where you pay double, only to get a chance to get meetings with their high profile clients. (Yes I know how shallow this is…)

Hellooooo! I am so sorry for the pain you will soon endure. Please know that if I could hold your hand through it, I would.

I'm so glad they made a TV series about that weird JJK Bad Timeline AU. It was a great way to explore all of the things that could have happened to the characters we love, but didn't. Really creative. 10/10. So glad they got the Good Timeline in reality.

Both of those actually! My drabbles, especially my husband!Nanami and Papamin drabbles are very much the former. My longer fics that I header, gently form in my head over a number of days, maturing slowly.

Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz: Up on Melancholy Hill/ Sits a manatee/ Just looking out for the day/ When you're close to me/ When you're close to meWell you can't get what you want/ But you can get me/ So let's set out to sea, love/ 'Cause you are my medicine/ When you're close to me/ When you're close to me

AND... Absent by Sylosis:

I'm no saint I've no virtue I wish I could feel that you hurt too But it's so dark I can't tell god from the devil I'm just absent More than ever

I surrender I'm incomplete I've had all I can take So take me in pieces

3. I'm very good at making myself feel exactly how I need to feel, for the purpose of writing. I'm also very good at making other people feel how I need them to feel, good and bad. So I find it easy to recreate emotions in fics. It's freaky and I'm sorry. I also separate myself from that very well, sort of hovering above it as I write it. Nothing that makes me feel exposed would ever be written down on my blog, because that's purely for a couple of select people to witness.

4. I did know this! I've cared for lots of Indian couples having babies, and as such I'm rather well-versed in cultural traditions. I'm always fascinated by peoples' love and marriage stories, so listen with great interest when they share things like this. Thank you for also sharing the information. It sounds cut-throat!

Thank you so much for the wonderful Inbox. I really enjoyed answering it!

Love as always,

-- Haitch xxx

[hils79]

Thanks for tagging me (ages ago I'm sorry I suck) @puppy-phum

-

1. why did you choose your url?

I am so boring I almost want to apologise for it. My url is just my nickname and the year I was born (yes, I am old).

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

I don't really use my sideblogs much. I've got one that I haven't used for years that I used to post some of my photography on @hal-photography. I've got one for an old UK convention that folded during the pandemic but that I used to do the marketing for @writerconuk and I've got a whump blog that I use to reblog my favourite whumpy gifs so that they're easy to find. Not sharing that one because I do not wish to be Perceived.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

My original blog was set up in 2010. I had to nuke it after some unpleasantness in the Supernatural fandom (isn't it always SPN) and I've had this current once since 2011 I think

4. do you have a queue tag?

Nah, I don't queue things as a general rule. I do a bunch of reblogging first thing in the morning while I'm scrolling in bed and that's more or less it

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

I was looking for a new home after Livejournal finally properly died and most fandom folk were here at that time

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

It's a piece of DMBJ art that my housemate comissioned as a Christmas present a couple of years ago. I love it, and it was made specifically for me, so I made it my header and my icon

7. why did you choose your header?

Same as above

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

This RDJ/Paul Bettany exchange I ripped from Twitter. I have no idea why it ended up with 20k notes

9. how many mutuals do you have?

I honestly have no idea. Lots.

10. how many followers do you have?

Argh now I'm going to have to go and look. 2421. Wow.

11. how many people do you follow?

Wow this thing is really exposing me. 1908. I generally follow back so long as I can see that the person is an active fandom blog where we have at least one fandom in common.

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

I mostly shitpost in the tags

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

Generally for an hour in the morning before I get up and then however long it takes me to liveblog my next drama episode in the evening

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

No, I don't think so. Not that I can remember anyway. I generally try and avoid conflict and if someone is annoying me I just block them and/or vent about it in a safe space with friends I trust.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts

Makes me less inclined to reblog them tbh. Don't tell me what to do in my own house.

16. do you like tag games?

I am so bad at remembering to do them when I get tagged (see above about only really being on tumblr for an hour a day) but I do appreciate it every time someone thinks of me

17. do you like ask games?

Yeah, same as above. I love them but I am crap at remembering to answer the asks. I'm very sorry.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I'm not sure I could name anyone who is tumblr famous beyond the actual celebrities who hang out here (like Lynda Carter)

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

I have mutuals I admire and wish I was brave enough to talk to more but I wouldn't really call them crushes. As an aroace I don't really do crushes.

20. tags?

I'm going to tag a few of my newer mutuals so I can get to know them a bit better. Absolutely no pressure though @prolestari @queenbeyondthejudge @fangirl-bookaholic @huzzzah @life-is-all-about-perspective @loving-that-officey-feel @greenyball @hwasfeatherduster

[endersmile]

cdrream > endersmile

hello!! my names Z, but you can call me Beezy if you prefer!

We are collectively the Void System, this blog is shared by the host(s) Z and Ran. We are 23, trans, and aroace. Ran is gay as hell though. There's a few other alters but they may not peek their head out.

he/they/vwoop/vwoops

im a dude that has so many thoughts and enjoys minecraft block rp made by dream

i do not care for controversy or drama.* and i try to keep my blog drama free the best i can

im simply an enjoyer of dsmp i enjoy so many dynamics and characters and different takes and aus. i just enjoy things that make me happy :)

ao3

check out my minecraft mods/resourcepacks on modrinth

ARTFIGHT

qna:

are you a c!dream apologist? short answer YES long answer here

are you a c!tommy apologist? short answer YES long answer above

are you a /r c!beeduo shipper? yes. yeah. romantic. they kiss eachother on the lips but also long answer above !!

do you support cc!dream or cc!wilbur? refer to the bottom of the post please

whats ***!au? a roleplay AU i have with my friends :3 if youre close to me ill infodump to you otherwise i probably wont post anything other than little bits

I bully my brother @cowbloom on here btw

me with c!dream /j

*please dont ask me about the ccs, i do my best keep all opinions off. im here to enjoy fictional characters . im not going to force a moral standard nor constantly spread hatred on a blog i have to calm down from real life shit. sorry!

header

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[iamprchung]

The Spider and the FBI: Part 6 "More Skinner than Skinner"

Still being tailed by a mob hitman, Scully, Skinner, and their prisoner finally reach a small Wyoming town that’s preparing for a huge 4th of July celebration. But an unexpected encounter throws Scully into a web of intrigue, raising questions about Skinner's past and the truth he may be hiding. This encounter casts a shadow over everything Scully thought she knew about her superior.

Preface/Notes:

The town of Elmo, Wyoming I did take some liberties with here, giving it more elements of another town further north, named Sheridan, which is in the area of the Battle of Little Big Horn. Anyway, I liked the name Elmo better, and the isolated area was just right, plus, at the time this was written, my cat was named Elmo.

Now, something vaguely important; if you haven’t read ‘Conversation Mints,’ go back and do that. There’s a reference from that story that plays out here. A trope? Did I employ a trope? Of course, and what fun and quirky awesomeness it’s turned out to be. Ah, and there’s definitely a clue in this story’s header graphic (on Tumblr and my blog). And yes, I really wanted to do individual graphics for each part, but dang, I would have never gotten this posted if I had.

At the time this was written, a millennia ago in the 20th century, 1999 to be exact, the closet FBI field office to Wyoming was Denver.

"More Skinner than Skinner"

Part VI of "The Spider and the FBI"

by PR Chung

The rumble of a vehicle engine approaching woke Scully from a restless sleep. Alerted by the sound, still far off, she sat up in the dark, immediately regretting the move. Half a whimper escaped her before she bit her lip when she hit her head on something above her.

"Careful," Skinner’s voice, a mere murmur from the dark, startled her further.

"What time is it?" She wondered, as things were slowly coming back to her while she blindly felt around herself, finding the edges of the cramped bunk.

The night-glow feature of his watch cast an eerie indigo light below her, helping her find the edge of the upper bunk.

"Almost six," Skinner answered before releasing the button on his watch, leaving them in the dark again. “Need some help?” He asked hearing her shift around in the bunk to get out.

“Uh,” she hesitated, one leg over the side, and feeling for something to place her foot. This was proving annoying and embarrassing. “I need that light again, I can’t see…”

“Here, hold on,” he said without delay, and she felt him seize her around the waist, hauling her effortlessly down from the bunk.

In an instant she was firmly on the floor, his unexpected rescue leaving her very close to him, and reminding her they were both in dire need of a shower.

“Thanks,” she quietly said, taking a self-conscious step back.

They stood silently, listening to the sound of the vehicle that was closer now.

"What is it?" Bernstein muttered groggily from the front of the trailer where he had slept on the bench seat, cuffed to table leg. "Is that a car?"

"Sounds like a truck," Scully observed as she went to the window to look out.

The likelihood of soon having a meal, getting cleaned up and the joy of brushing her teeth all occurred to her at once when the headlights flashed across the trailer window, illuminating the inside. "It is a truck."

“Who is it?” The nervous sound of Bernstein’s voice mirrored Scully’s unease. An apprehension, Skinner acknowledged, “probably someone working this property, but we can’t count on that right now.”

“Who else could find us out here?” Bernstein whispered, sounding confused, and concerned.

Bernstein had just made the statement before they heard the truck doors open and shut, then voices, and from the sound of things it seemed apparent that whoever had just arrived had noticed the condition of the door in the glare of their headlights.

"What the hell?"

"Jesus..."

"Who the hell would do something like this...?"

Skinner unsnapped the strap on his gun holster, as the voices became progressively louder and agitated. He wasn't surprised, his single shot had left a noticeable hole where the door handle used to be.

"Shit, shut up." Someone outside called.

Everything went still.

"I don't think they're very happy..." Bernstein whispered and the door flew open. Blinding light spilled into the trailer from the headlights of the truck, and the distinctive sound of a pump action shotgun being primed sounded.

Skinner and Scully fell back a step from the doorway in anticipation of gunshots. Nothing happened and there was no one visible through the door.

"If you're still in there," a man shouted from outside, out of sight, "you better get your asses out here now."

"Federal agents," Skinner and Scully shouted.

There was a long beat, then, "I don't care who you are," the man called back.

"We're coming out with our identification," Skinner announced loud and clear, his voice booming through the narrow trailer.

"I lost my case," Scully told him in a hushed voice.

"I've got mine," he assured her and pulled the badge cast from his back pocket.

"Get out of here! Now!"

"We're coming out." Skinner called, starting for the open door, his ID case open and held out before him like a shield.

"What about me?" Bernstein demanded, yanking his cuffed wrist against the restraint of the table leg.

"We have a prisoner with us," Scully announced over Skinner's shoulder.

"Jezzus," the man outside declared and snatched Skinner's badge case as he started out. "What the hell is going on here?"

A sturdy built man with face withered by a life of outdoors labor was standing to the left of the trailer door, his companion, considerably younger man with wide open clean features stood to the right holding the shotgun they had heard primed. Two more men stood ready near the truck, silhouetted by headlights head lights.

The older man leaned against the trailer as he studied the identification and badge, looking back up as Skinner stepped down from the trailer. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again when he saw Scully emerge from the trailer, eyes turning round for a quick instant.

The man pried his eyes off Scully and looked at the badge and ID again. "Special Agent Walter S. Skinner..." the man read.

"We ran off the road yesterday," Skinner took the opportunity to try to explain their situation. "And were on foot, we needed a place to stay for the night when we came across the trailer."

"What road' you get off of?" The younger man with the shotgun questioned, sounding dubious.

"Route 34, near Chugwater."

"Chugwater! How the hell long you been walking?" The older man blurted frowning at the two of them. "Chugwater's over fifty miles from here."

"We..." Scully paused to let the embarrassment pass for what she was about to disclose. She knew they had traveled a good time and distance but had no idea it had been that far. "We were forced to pursue our prisoner... in the river. It must have carried us pretty far."

"I'd say. Shit," the man laughed, handing Skinner his badge case, and motioning for the younger man to lower the shotgun.

The man seemed to smile in spite of himself. "All right, now, tell me who’s paying for this damage? I think my boss will be holding me responsible for some answers when he finds out 'bout all this."

"You’ll be compensated," Skinner assured him all the while thinking how their efforts to clean the inside seemed more than enough payment for the lock and handle. "We need to get to a phone. Will you take us to one?"

"Well, hell, yeah," he said agreeably, "I'll take you into Elmo, plenty of phones there."

"I'll get Bernstein," Scully told Skinner turning back to climb the steps into the trailer again.

"Did you say Elmo?" Skinner questioned, glaring at the man as he looked Scully up and down before she disappeared back into the trailer.

"Uh, yeah, sure did," he turned back to face Skinner, "I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Donnie Combs, that's Robby Bowman, and that's Doug and Danny Purdy." He gestured toward the two men standing in front of the truck.

Skinner nodded briefly to all; his attention divided. "Isn't there a place closer, other than Elmo, we can use a phone at?" he asked, sounding impatient.

"Well, no, not really, to be honest."

"What about this land, the house the people who own it live in, isn't it any closer?"

"No." Donnie let out a weak laugh, looking at him curiously. "Elmo's the closet, and it's probably forty-five minutes or more from here. The King's house, that's who owns this property, well their house isn't even on this land. They live in Washakie."

Skinner bucked his head. "Fine. No, problem."

Great, he left unsaid.

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

Elmo, Wyoming

July 4th

Like something staged for a Roger and Hammerstein musical the town of Elmo, Wyoming was profusely adorned in red, white, and blue banners and streamers. Old Glory flapped in the breeze and there was laughter in the air while it seemed that every man, woman, and child hustled through the streets in preparation for what was undoubtedly going to be one doozy of a Fourth of July celebration.

Well, I'll be a cockeyed optimist Scully thought as she peered out the truck windows at the bustle of activity.

"It's gonna be one hell of a party tonight," Donnie remarked cheerfully from behind the wheel.

"How quaint." Bernstein sneered as he looked around.

Scully gave him a sour glance.

"What's the population here?" Scully wondered.

"Five or six hundred, maybe." He leaned a bit forward to look around Bernstein at her. "But lots of folks have come in from all around for the fireworks tonight. Rumor is they'll be the best for a thousand miles."

Scully found that hard to believe considering Laramie was so close. But for those people, or folks if one chose to use the local vernacular, who didn't venture much further than their own town or the next, this small town's show could very well seem like the greatest thing close enough to home.

Scully leaned forward to get a better look at the town square. It was a large park with huge trees and lush green grass. Four whitewashed gazebos sat in each corner of the park, framing a small open bandstand at the center, and all were steeped in patriotic color.

“End of the line," Donnie announced slowing his truck in front of the sheriff's station, "The Sheriff should be able to help you folks out from—" Before he could finish Skinner rapped his knuckles on the back window from where he'd been riding in the bed of the truck.

Donnie and Scully glanced back seeing him motion toward the restaurant up a head where a pay phone stood in front.

"He wants to go over there?" Donnie questioned, clearly puzzled. "Not here?"

Scully frowned seeing her superior vehemently pointing toward the restaurant.

"Uh, yeah. Not here." She told Donnie, suspicion seeping into her thoughts.

He just hadn't seemed like himself since before they started into town. She had begun to suspect something was wrong; his mannerisms were tight, ridged more Skinner than Skinner. From inside the trailer she had heard him questioning Donnie, an urgent apprehension underscoring his tone and even then she had known something wasn't sitting right with him and whatever it was involved this town...

She gave the Sheriff's station a thoughtful glance as Donnie pulled the truck back away from the curb and steered it toward the restaurant. Again, the truck came to a gradual halt; the struts squeaking as it rolled up to the curb.

Scully was hardly out of the truck before she noticed the increasingly curious glances. She knew she looked like she had been dragged through a hole backward, she didn't think she looked bad enough to catch this much attention.

Skinner came out of the truck bed with a single swift move that planted him firmly beside her as she got Bernstein out of the truck cab and thanked Donnie for the ride. Scully found herself and Bernstein standing alone no sooner than the truck had pulled away from the curb; without a word Skinner had gone to the pay phone and all but buried his face inside the enclosure as he dialed.

"Oh, now, this is just so..." Bernstein said, giving the immediate area a sweeping glance. "Mayberry. I..." he widened his eyes mocking surprise, "I think I can hear whistling. Do you hear it?"

"I think that's the wind blowing between your ears." Scully muttered as she guided him toward the pay phone.

From what she could hear from his end of the conversation, Skinner was on the phone to the Denver field office. "Well, when can we expect them to be here?"

That didn’t sound too promising, she thought and caught sight of yet more curious glances. Only now these inquisitive stares were accompanied by whispers, as well as a few double takes, and much to her surprise, Scully realized the attention wasn't on her, nor was it on Bernstein, or even the three of them as an out of place group of strangers in a small town.

Attention seemed to be directed solely on a man who just happened to be making a passionate effort to hide his face inside a phone booth.

"What's he doing…"

"I don't think that's him..."

"But-"

"Shhh."

Scully turned quickly in the direction she'd heard this disjointed conversation only to see two women turn hurriedly away down the sidewalk.

"You would think we had antlers," Bernstein commented.

"Yeah, at least one of us..." Scully said, her voice drifting with distraction as she noticed a Sheriff's department vehicle coming down the main street, and according to the writing on the white and tan two tone Cherokee's door it was the Sheriff.

She strained to see the driver but couldn't make anything out past the tint and mid-morning sun glaring off the windshield.

"We needed backup two days ago," Scully heard Skinner growling into the phone behind her as she watched the Cherokee slowing on the far side of the street, almost as though the driver wasn't quite sure if they wanted to stop or not. "Who is the special agent in charge?" Skinner continued to question the person on the other end of the line.

"Hello," Bernstein said and gave a curious local a brittle smile, raising his hands up to wriggle his fingers in a wave, deliberately showing off his handcuffs.

The woman's jaw dropped shortly before she began shuffling away, looking back as she went.

"Bernstein, please." Scully jerked his hands down, a move that drew more attention.

The Sheriff's jeep stopped abruptly, the driver's side door swinging open, and a khaki leg dropped out. Hmm, the thought unconsciously struck Scully at the sight of the rather large leg attached to a generously sized hiking boot.

"Oh great, this should be fun, I'm sure." Bernstein sarcastically said.

"You just never know..." Scully murmured, preoccupied.

"Tomorrow?" Skinner barked into the phone and Scully was vaguely aware of his tone dipping yet another notch.

Scully’s mouth slowly went slack as she watched the man whose leg she had been admiring emerge from the Cherokee. From out of the cab, he straightened to what she gauged at six two, adjusted his ball cap that was casting a short shadow over a pug nose and solid jaw, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, his mouth a grim slash with the slightest hint of an affable curl in the corners.

"Is it just me," Bernstein quietly said to Scully, "or does he remind you of someone?"

"Uh," she faltered, reaching for Skinner without looking back, without taking her eyes off the barrel-chested doppelganger walking their way. "Uh, sir... Sir…"

"I need support in no less than six hours..." Skinner was demanding of the poor soul on the other end of his phone conversation.

"Sir," Scully continued, contacting his arm. Not quite sure she believed what she was seeing she tugged twice never looking, even when he jerked his arm from her grasp and continued to bark orders into the phone.

The Sheriff stepped up onto the curb and into the shade of the restaurant awning. He was only a foot or two from them, standing quite solidly in place, his expression a mask of sober caution and curiosity.

"Hello," Bernstein said in the same false tone that he'd used to greet the passerby.

The Sheriff nodded and gave a long sweeping scan of first Bernstein, then Scully and finally Skinner, whose back was turned to him. His attention lingered on the Assistant Director a moment before he turned to Scully.

"Morning," he said finally and smiled broadly as he took the sunglasses off.

Brown eyes. It was the only thought that occurred to Scully for a long moment before she realized she was staring with her mouth agape. "Uh,” she started lamely.

Bernstein glanced at her, puzzled, and then smirked. “Your words, use them,” he whispered.

“Good morning," she finally spat out, realizing she was ogling a uniform shirt perfectly filled by great shoulders and tapered torso— "Uh, Sheriff..?"

"Durokoff," he introduced himself with a nod, his eyes drifting toward Skinner again. "Larry Durokoff."

Scully hesitated, the name rolling around her mind. Genetically engineered alien clone? Well, Mulder would have been proud that she even marginally considered it, but she didn't believe that was the case here either. They definitely looked alike, with the same eyes and chiseled features, the same build, built like... well, built like- Holy shit. It didn't matter, they looked alike, but they weren't exactly twins.

"Special Agent Dana Scully." She finally introduced herself.

"FBI?"

"Yes."

"I'm a prisoner," Bernstein mocked pride in the fact.

"I can see that," Durokoff said, and pulled a pair of cuffs off the back of his belt. "You don't mind do you?" he asked Scully as he moved to replace the cuffs Bernstein was wearing with his own.

"I'm sure Federal handcuffs are just as strong as yours."

Scully almost jumped at the sound of Skinner's voice. She hadn't even noticed him end his call let alone seen him step up beside her.

Durokoff looked up, his eyes dancing with something close to what Scully wanted to call mischief. He snapped his cuffs closed on Bernstein and straightened, grinning at Skinner.

"I can only assume this isn't a personal visit, Walter." He said handing Skinner the cuffs he'd just removed from Bernstein.

"No, it's not."

Scully watched in awe as the man nodded and perfectly executed an atypical thoughtful Skinner as he glanced around the immediate area. "What's it been, ten, fifteen...?"

"Eighteen." Skinner answered.

Durokoff laughed. "Not long enough, huh?" he said and repositioned his cap, lifting it just enough to expose a hint of scalp as bare as Skinners.

"Uh," Scully started, then stopped and had to start over, looking between the two of them and feeling as though she was in the middle of an uncomfortable reunion. " I can't help but..."

"Agent Scully," Skinner interrupted her, motioning toward Durokoff, "my cousin, Sheriff Lawrence Durokoff." Somehow, Skinner managed to make eye contact with no one as he made introductions.

An excruciatingly long beat followed the introductions. People passed and people stared, and the four of them shifted their weight from foot to foot and looked around at one another until Bernstein began to whistle the Andy Griffith show theme.

Scully captured his arm tightly, pinching his skin through his shirt. Like someone flipped a switch the whistling stopped and was replaced by a small whimpering noise.

So, this is why he didn't want to go to the Sheriff's station, or even this town. Scully mused taking a stealthy glance at first Skinner then his cousin.

"It doesn't look like you're operating on full resources here," Durokoff’s tone purposely professional. "There was word that federal agents were missing in the area, but I never thought you would be involved. I had heard from Aunt Anne you had ended up on the eraser end of a desk a few years ago, Walter."

Skinner gnashed his teeth, giving Scully a quick nervous glance before he addressed his cousin. "I made assistant director eight years ago."

Durokoff arched his brows and smiled. "Well, congratulations."

Skinner nodded. "This really isn't the time for playing catch up," he changed the subject and took control of Bernstein from Scully. "This man needs to be out of sight and under what protection you can provide until a team of agents arrive here."

"When will they be here?" Scully wondered.

Skinner ground his teeth, looking decidedly irritated. "Possibly tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Resources were already spread thin between the holiday and the activities in Casper, then Mulder got involved in the search for us, demanding agents to assist in the search. The Denver office is trying to contact them right now and re-direct them here."

"Mulder?"

"Mulder?" Durokoff's curiosity seemed piqued by the shear agitation produced in his cousin's voice when he mentioned this name.

"FBI Poster boy." Bernstein helpfully informed the Sheriff.

Durokoff gave him a glare of singular intent. "No one was talking to you."

The power of his voice startled Scully. He could also sound just like Skinner.

Durokoff reached out and took Bernstein by the other arm, hauling him out of Skinner's grasp. Skinner resisted, pulling Bernstein back, “We’re in charge of this prisoner.”

“My town, my rules,” Durokoff insisted, pulling on Bernstein.

"All right, already..." Bernstein protested yet another rough changing of the guards. “Make up your minds, I’m not a chew toy.”

"Come on, smart guy," Durokoff said, and started for the jeep with Bernstein in tow. "I've got a real nice little room waiting for you right down the street."

Bernstein looked back at Scully, quickly telling her, “Take notes, you’re next in this tug of war—"

Durokoff gave Bernstein a brisk tug nearly causing the man to stumble as he led him toward the SUV. Scully was transfixed for a time, watching the man walk away, his narrow hips giving the slightest sway with his powerful stride, shoulders bristling and separating the yoke pleats of his shirt, his arms flexing and tensing with every swing.

Scully realized she was chewing on her lip about the same moment she noticed Skinner's eyes boring into her. She looked at him fully, her mouth fully open to speak but nothing came out.

"You coming?" Durokoff called to them over the top of the four-wheeler.

"He's the Arthur Murray cousin?" Scully finally succeeded in asking Skinner, throwing him off guard enough to forget her unabashed ogling of his cousin.

She had remembered, finally, the small anecdote from his childhood that he had shared with her months ago. "...my cousin and I were enrolled at Arthur Murray, tuition paid, and the day before our first lesson... The day before our first lesson my cousin, Lawrence, fell out of a tree and broke both his legs."

"Yeah... that’s the one," Skinner replied with a decidedly defeated tone.

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

Kim Cook checked her watch again, blowing her breath out. She yanked the curtains back and glared at the bare street in front of her condo. "What's happened?" She asked herself. There couldn't have been a mistake, could there?

She knew she'd sounded awful last night when he'd called her at the office. Six-thirty and she was still there, struggling to juggle calls between the Director and Attorney General, then there were the non-stop calls from Agent Mulder. What was it with that guy? She couldn't believe sometimes that he hadn't been tossed out of the bureau on his ear for some of the crap she'd seen him do. What did he have over Skinner? He had to have something on him, although she couldn't imagine what. AD Skinner was one of most professional and scrupulous men she had ever worked for.

She shook her head. It didn't matter, she thought and checked her watch again, then the street- still no sign of Jess. What was it with the men in her life disappearing? First her boss and now Jess.

He was supposed to have been there over a half hour ago. He'd never been this late without calling. He would have surely called today if he were going to be late, all the careful planning for the most perfect day together. It would be their first real holiday to share together. The first holiday together with someone was just... just so fantastic and exciting. All those new things created out of the old and ordinary...

She had waited long enough, she believed and turned to the phone.

"The number you have dialed is not in service or has been disconnected," Kim frowned when the message began to play. "Please check your number and-"

She dialed Jess' number again, carefully pressing each number.

"The number you have dialed is not in service..."

She dialed again, deliberately, and precisely pressing the buttons on the keypad. Again, the message burned over the line. One more time, she thought, her hand beginning to tremble a little as she started to dial his number again.

"The number you have..."

Kim lowered the phone from her ear, her chin trembling.

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

Yellow.

It was yellow and streaking past his nose and out of his sight into frantic oblivion. Too close, his mind screamed at him to pull back before his skin was thrashed and ripped away. Surrounded by black, the yellow rectangle zipped past his eyes. The wind was in his eyes, his hair, whipping at the lapels of his studded white jacket and matching bell-bottoms. He could not pull back, his head was already pressed against the metal, the skeleton of the monster machine his arms and legs were lashed to.

The engine roared, gears chewing each other up with manic delight above his head.

There was music and singing in the monster engine roar, pistons and rods harmoniously chanting his name over and over again...

"Agent Mulder?"

The voice seemed far away, separate from the deep shadows and harsh light and noise that filled his dreams. Knowledge of his whereabouts came to him slowly as Mulder opened his eyes that were still heavy with sleep. It was daylight, he slowly noted as he straightened in the passenger seat of the cruiser and looked around. He was drenched in sweat and not surprised, the temperature inside the car had to be over ninety degrees despite the open windows.

"Agent Mulder?"

Mulder blinked hard, turning in the direction of the voice. "Any news?" He asked Sheriff Boyd who was leaning in the open driver's side window.

"I just got word from your FBI office in Denver that Assistant Director Skinner checked in a bit ago."

Mulder straightened in the seat. "What about Scully- my partner? Are they all right?"

"They're in a little place called Elmo and I suppose they're just fine; I didn't hear no different."

"Elmo? How far from here is..."

"It's a ways east of here," he said handing his cell phone through the window to Mulder. "You should be able to reach your partner at the Sheriff's department there. Got the number programmed in for you."

"How long a drive is it?" Mulder questioned as he took the phone, blinking against the effects of the dream still lingering around the edges of his mind.

"Don't worry 'bout driving, Agent Mulder," the Sheriff smiled. "I've arranged an all-expenses paid ride with Albany County airlines."

"Huh?" Mulder didn't catch on at first, but when he did his heart seized up with genuine fear. "You mean ride in that helicopter again?"

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

"Damn, that's good." Lawrence Martin Gryzwac declared and tilted his head back to wipe a buttermilk mustache from his lip with the back of his hand.

There was nothing like cold buttermilk on a hot day, he thought feeling undeniably content despite the lack of news. His head hurt a little from listening to the hayseeds prattling over the scanner for the last twenty-four hours, but there was nothing much that could be done about that.

He found some shade, parked the caddy and was enjoying a most refreshing beverage. He wasn't going worry just cause he didn't know where these feds had taken the Spider... Hell, nobody knew where the hell they were from the sound of it.

All damn night the local yokels were chattering back and forth, all excited when they found the car. Then they yakked some more when they thought they'd found him.

Gryzwac laughed out loud.

"That was good." He said to himself, pleased with the delight of knowing some poor, dumb bastard halfway across the state had been mistaken for him and hassled most of the night. Shit, that gave him time to get some rest.

He stretched his legs out along the length of the caddy front seat and took another long draw on the carton of buttermilk.

"Stewart, are you there?" A voice burst over the scanner.

"Ouu, Sheryl, baby, talk to me," Gryzwac sighed hearing the Albany County dispatcher's voice. He'd become familiar with the dispatcher’s voices, even knew some by name after the last couple of days. This one, Sheryl, had become a personal favorite. A little breathy, not shrill like most of the other. No, not at all. She had the soap opera voice... That "H" sound coming across the speaker sent shivers down his spine and had started giving him a world-class hard-on.

"Damn it, Stewart, turn down the music..."

"I'm here," the hayseed pilot returned. "You just don't sound real happy, Sheryl, honey."

"Why should I be, working on the Fourth 'cause of all this crap?"

"I'm working, too."

"That's a good thing cause Sheriff Boyd needs you to fly that fed over to Elmo. Where are you anyway?"

Gryzwac swept his legs off the seat, sitting up to take careful note of the relay of information as he grabbed a tattered map from the dashboard.

"Alger," the pilot replied. "I've been waiting on a fuel hose. Had a little leak."

"How long you think you're gonna be?" the dispatcher questioned as Gryzwac ran his thick index finger across the map, silently searching.

"I can't say. I was lucky I got someone to agree to bring me one."

"Aren't you supposed to keep spare hoses around, Stewart?"

Gryzwac poked the map hard, the tip of his finger smacking a tiny dot called Elmo. "Got’cha."

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

Continue in part 7

[jgyapologism]

tag game 🫧

tagged by @icouldhyperfixatehim - thanks for thinking of me <3

1. why did you choose your url?

i don't even remember what my url was before this honestly wow. umm so about 4 years ago i was introduced to the untamed by a close friend and we binged all 50 episodes in a week and then i proceeded to be obsessed with it for like. a year and a half after. i chose THIS url b/c [untamed spoilers incoming] jgy = jin guangyao, who is by all accounts a little meow meow who has done nothing wrong ever *wink* and who i will protect against the haters at all costs. jgyapologist didn't have the same ring to it, and i have MULTIPLE apologisms for him so. jgyapologism was born

2. any sideblogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

i used to have a fandom one but deleted it in a fit of rage back in 2012. no i will not divulge which fandom it belonged to.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

this blog specifically since 2016 i think, but i've been on tumblr since 2010.

4. do you have a queue tag?

honestly i've never much gotten into queuing. i should. i should do that

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

i mean. because tumblr

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

ah yes. my current hyperfixation is bnha and he (bakugou katsuki) is one of my favorite characters.

7. why did you choose your header?

cherry blossoms!! it's a shot from bnha again. and cherry blossoms signify new beginnings in japan. i think it's sweet.

8. what is your post with the most notes?

i am tumblr illiterate, despite how long i've been on here. i don't really make posts, and i don't often check how popular they are. so, idk. i'm just here for the posts man.

9. how many mutuals do you have?

no idea. room for more?

10. how many followers do you have?

i am but a meager blog. a tiny ant in the sea of crumbs searching for its place. (198)

11. how many people do you follow?

219. so my follow/follower ratio is actually pretty level.

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

idk probably. who hasn't?

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

how often do i pick my nails? how often do i yawn? how often do i walk into a room in my house and forget wtf i went in there for? <<< keeping this b/c it's too perfect of an answer

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

hahahahha on a side blog once yeah. all the time. i've been here for over a decade. have you truly experienced tumblr if you haven't been in a blog war?

15. how do you feel about 'you need to reblog this' posts?

i've done it. you've done it. we've all done it. you do you, man.

16. do you like tag games?

i do!!! they're fun and i like that people think of me when they're tagging people to play them. it makes me warm and gooey inside.

17. do you like ask games?

same as above! i feel honored that anyone would want to grace my ask box

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

ummm i know of one that's pretty well known but idk their follower count so how can i truly know whether anyone is tumblr famous?

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

all of you ;)

20. tags?

you get a tag! you get a tag! you all get a tag! otherwise @muqingapologist @original-robin @autisticbokutoenthusiast @jimmysea @burnsuncomet @khaostache

[chemdisaster]

decided i'd make an intro post because why not

i’m chemdisaster but you can call me whatever you want. any/all pronouns

i’m a writer who also sometimes draws

adlerthetranscender on ao3

pfp and header

fandoms:

hermitcraft

life series

amrev - historical, hamilton, 1776, turn, etc.

jesus christ superstar

good omens

newsies

i also have an amrev server with some cool channels and bots. anyone who wants to is welcome to come and hang out with us!

my special interest is emotions and human misery, which is why most of my ideas in any fandom are always centred around angst

asks are always open for art requests, ideas, ranting, what have you. but be aware that it might take me a bit to answer, as i've got a lot of things going on and want to give everything a decent response

dms are always open as well but be prepared for tone issues (am autistic)

blanket permission statement: since i've had quite a few people ask me this recently - if you want to create any kind of art based on an idea of mine, please feel free! there is no monopoly on art! the world needs more of it! do as you please!

i do ask that you tag me in it or send me a link - this is not required whatsoever, i just want to see all the beautiful things people come up with

some tags:

#prattledisaster for random rambling

#artdisaster for when the powers that be push me to draw

#worddisaster for when the devil on my shoulder urges me to write

#askdisaster for when the stars above bless me with an ask

#textdisaster for fandom-related text posts

#dongdisaster for song recs (yes with a d)

#gtws angst for scar angst

#smallishbeans angst for joel angst

#daily disaster joel is me challenging myself to draw a joel every day of 2024. if you want to, please feel free to send a request, as i am constantly running out of ideas

#chemdisaster for all things related to my sona and their lore (pretty please check it out it's so fun)

aus:

#bad boys best buds au is my bad boys modern au in which they are childhood friends and all grow up in the same town

#hotguy mindfuckery au is my au that i really need to make a proper post for instead of just dropping random bits here and there. here are the two posts that started it though - 1 2

#cat dad au is the au i got in the divorce, and mostly consists of random out-of-context fics because none of us ever bothered to make a masterpost

[miehczyslaw]

♡

ABOUT ME

↬ hi im marcy / mar! mid 20s // genderqueer lesbian // he!they ↬ as above (insane in the head) so below (insane in the pussy) ↬ i draw things sometimes &like hedgehogs, the horror genre, DOGS: B&C, teeth (as in the calcified structure), santigold's music and to shot at most pairings with the yuri beam. i also post fanfic on ao3 by the same username :)

talk to me whenever in here

ABOUT THE BLOG

exclusive art sideblog

✶ all drawings are made traditionally with a pencil a scaner and a dream ✶ my current hyperfixations are all for the game and one piece but i've drawn other things and like lots of fandoms so you'll probably see them here too ✶ rarepair &genderswap enthusiast. multiship (GL, HL, BL, polyam). fixed dynamics mostly—beware of some problematique(tm) ships/content(!) ALL FICTIONAL. I DO NOT CONDONE IT IRL. ocassional gore/suggestive themes also. anything triggering will be properly tagged

FAQ

even if i doubt it will be necessary at all

"can i repost your art on other sites like twitter or instagram if i credit you?" no sorry

"can i use your art as icons/pfps, headers, sidebars, wallpapers for my cellphone/computer stuff like that?" ye go ahead!! credit is greatly appreciated 👍

"why do you draw/despict XYZ character as XYZ thing?" bc i want to

"but my interpretation of XYZ character clashes with yours/i dont agree with it/it confuses me" ok then it is what it is! im gonna keep doing my thing though

TAGS

⊰ art tag: #marcydraws.jpg (all) // sybilline & kier (ocs) ⊰ any questions i receive are answered as #askbox.txt ⊰ (in progress) fandom list here

[palecomputerduck]

First of all: I LOVE your header! (A top-tier New Yorker, along with our Brooklyn boy)

Now for the violence: I pick 7 & 16, if you haven't answered already!

Thank you! 🥰 I love Fran she's a role model on so many levels. (and while we're at it you could very easily put Steve into Nanny world, let's say Maxwell is making Rogers musical and imagine all the schenanigans that follow 😏)

And now, for the violence. 😎

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

You know what, I am just gonna say it: B*cky. Fandom in large has a tendency to overhype sad white men. A lot of sad white men characters I dislike but cannon content backs me up on that (to some extent). However, there is such wild dissonance between on screen Becky and fandom B#cky. And like, I am NOT above that and I know and understand where it comes form.

It's just MCU fandom Binky worship erodes every other character every other ship every other headcannon. It's not just fandom bitching but people act like you personally killed their puppy if you criticize or dislike him. And not in a way that is typically tumblr funny but full blown serious social justice backed attack. I've blocked so much people like you wouldn't believe (my block list looks like census) and there are people that STILL find a way on my PROPERLY tagged post to bitch about B*cky's treatment. He is incredibly important to Steve and to Sam and Captain America lore in general. But instead working with the actual content fandom acts horrible Which is shame because he's actually really cool.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Right off the bat: the whole A/B/O thing. But I know there are some things that I'am missing or can properly understand regarding how people view gender and bodies so we're just gonna leave it at that it's not my thing but you do you! And keep on writing.

And back to Steve! 😍I truly do not understand why so many people paint him as super duper patriotic in love with his image and his shield. Especially if we go by the MCU. I believe that Steve himself refers to himself as Captain America I think like three times in his entire MCU run? This and that he pulls rank and expects people to follow him blindly is??? where did you get that? He says "I gonna do this thing, which I think is a right thing to do. Would appreciate if you came, if not cool." And people are usually "Hell yes!" (even Tny risks his own arrest for him, but on his own volition) Like I get how some mischaracterization came to be. Like I hate it, but I get how we got there (like the he does everything for Bcky, because he does save him, and the he's angry Chihuahua who likes to fight as a response to whatever Joss did in Avengers) but this? Like, where did you pull that BS from? (usually from T0ny stans but I digress)

ALSO SAM! Like. Sam showed so much in his MCU run even prior to his series. To paint him as Steve's copycat without much personality besides acting out as incorrect quotes? To provide a joke and moral support for when Steve is inevitability mean to you Favorite White Sufferer? Why do you like it so much?

And generally speaking I HATE teacher/student, boss/employee dynamics. Soulmates and childhood best friends to lovers are usually no but they can be done right. And amnesia plots. UGh. Maybe because I watched too many telenovelas growing up but that's a hard no.

[schnaf]

@loveyouhomex tagged me, thank you ♥

1. Why did you choose your url?

short version: i used it on another site before. long version: one time, when i was really bored at school, i doodled some animals and everything felt normal, but then i realized the animal i doodled wasn't a regular animal but a sheep - snail hybrid - a schnaf in german, if you will. a few days later, i decided to make a new account on my first (and up to that point only) fanfic site because after one year, i felt like i needed a new start. but it felt rather temporary - i left the old account after not that long either and i thought i'd stay on the new account even shorter. so i just picked a random name - the animal i came up with a few days before. joke's on me, it became my identity.

2. Any side blogs?

yeah, i have a football side blog where i posted pics i took at matches, i have a side blog for a former fandom but i lost interest in it as soon as i created the side blog so... sorry, no new side blogs for fandom, i'm a one blog mess once again ♥ also several shared blogs for projects and stuff

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

i deserve senior discount and stuff, it's been a bit over 11 years now

4. Do you have a queue tag?

i once used a word, then i used q, then i decided to just let people know EVERYTHING is on queue here. also if i'm actually online and posting... no i'm not ♥

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

a friend of mine had tumblr and she always sent me posts of cute animals and footballers and one day i was like "ah imma join the source" - again, it didn't feel like a big decision and i didn't think it'd last that long

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

it's a screenshot from this video

gaon was insane for this. that's all.

7. Why did you choose your header?

it's from the hair cut mv and it's just such a peak scene....... THE VIBES THE COLORS the two pretty bois hehe. added bonus is gaon's "welcome" but well, couldn't put that into a gif.

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

it's a sernando gifset 😭😭 a friend back then was like "oh there was a sernando moment right now" so i looked it up immediately and was like "you know what? imma make a gifset right away" and it still gets notes nowaday, even though it was such a short moment and rather low effort

9. How many mutuals do you have?

almost all the people i follow are mutuals, that's very nice ♥

10. How many followers do you have?

quite a bunch ♥

11. How many people do you follow?

a few less than follow me

12. Have you ever made a shit post?

have i ever not made a shit post

13. How often do you use tumblr a day?

too often

14. Did you ever have a fight / argument with another blog?

👀 why would i, the most peaceful person on this webbed site, have an argument, let alone a fight, with someone on here. so yeah the answer is yes

15. How do you feel about the ‘you need to reblog posts’?

the good old "reblog this or you're a shitty person" stuff sucked, but it almost died out? it got a little revival through the polls tho. currently, there are those instructions how to be a good blogger and how to avoid looking like a bot and it's like reblog stuff!!!! and oof. i mean it's valid but it's pretty annoying. also i don't want people to reblog stuff bcs they feel like they have to - they should do it on their own will. for example, sometimes, i feel like network people only reblog each others post and compliment each other because they have to (or feel like they have to) and oof that's pretty annoying. but 🐸☕

16. Do you like tag games?

it may not look like it because it takes me such a long time to answer them, but there's a reason why i keep them in my likes and answer them even after a long time ♥ so yesss!

17. Do you like ask games?

same as above!

18. Which of your tumblr mutuals is tumblr famous?

you shouldn't be famous on tumblr

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

i heard they're all on tumblr, that's pretty embarrassing, so... no ://

20. Tags

@jcamilov06, @blacks-phoenix, @sunshine304, @ker-sunshine, @eyes-of-simha, @xjungsu, @todaviia, @manuelmueller, @chipsyio and @jorzuela - do itttt ♥

[mxgicshxrd]

Send me your URL and I’ll tell you||Accepting!!

My Opinion on; @adversitybloomed

Character in general: She writes Mulan, which is totally awesome!! How they play them: Where do I start?? I can hear Mulan's voice so clearly!! The Mun: A fabulous writer, she knows Mulan inside and out.

Do I:

RP with them: Yes I do!! Want to RP with them: constantly!! Such a terrific blog!

What is my;

Overall Opinion: Well, I kinda gave this away above!! A fabulous blog, curated very very pretty, lovely pretty icons, and headers.

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty