#just gonna set this up to post immediately after i go back on my bullshit as a warning sign to block me

[dbphantom]

[devoureddreaa]

bros the type too.. saturo gojo boyfriend headcannons

y’all..this is my first ever post!! i’ve been thinking bout doing, but i kept pussying out. but, hope y’all enjoy!!! ^.^

— bro is the type to be big spoon most of the time, but whenever he is little spoon and lays on top of you..you can feel your ribs getting crushed.

gojo’s huge, in both height and weight and even you are close in one or both of those areas, he’s still a bit heavier

“turo, get up..you’re damn near crushing me.” you whined, trying to move your boyfriend over by his broad shoulders. but after a few tries you gave up and laid there in defeat.

gojo had asked to cuddle last night, and you both feel asleep like this. you had expected him to move over in his sleep, but you were sadly mistaken. he moved a bit, shoving his head further into the crook of your neck..getting more comfortable then he already was.

“five more minutes..” he muttered sluggishly.

and you rolled your eyes playfully and sighed, preparing yourself for another hour of laying here helplessly

but honestly..you didn’t mind, cause how could you say not to him?

— bros the type to go out and come back with a ton of sweets he got, and he’ll make you eat them. gojo’s gonna spoil you, one way or another!!!

“why’d you buy all of this..?” you looked down into the oddly huge plastic bag that was filled to the brim with different types of sweets. it was more concerning then confusing to you.

he said he was gonna go out to get what you two needed, and gojo comes back with sweets….

“for you, duh!” he smiled pridefully, “now eat ‘em.”

you opened her mouth to object, but remembered that you were gonna have to eat these sooner or later..so, you decided to eat them now. just like gojo wanted.

— bros the type to do stupid things just to hear you get all upset and lecture him about it.

is he attracted to it? maybe. that’s why he’ll purposely hide things in the most bullshit places just to hear you fuss about it.

“where’s the damn remote?!” you had been looking around the living room for the past five minutes for the remote so you could watch one of your favorite shows. a new episode was coming out today and you needed to see, but the thing wasn’t anywhere to be found..

you looked under the couch cushions, behind the pillows, under the couch, you even looked in places a remote shouldn’t even belong.

“lookin’ for something?” you turned around to see your boyfriend leaning up against the doorway with a snarky smirk laying across his face.

you sighed..realizing that he did it once again.

“where’d you put it?”

“ion know.” he shrugged and the shit eating grin on his face grew even bigger when he saw your eyebrows start to knit together. you didn’t know whether to give him the reaction he wanted or just stay calm and figure out another way to turn the tv on.

“saturo.”

“hm?”

alright..the cluelessness set you off. “just give me the damn remote, i need it!” you practically yelled out and pleaded, even with an irritated expression.

the man chuckled lowly, then digged into his pocket and pulled the remote you.

“here ya go.”

“be glad i love you.”

— and on top of that one, bros the type to do stupid childish shit. like say “boo” whenever he comes up behind you, or pull your hoodie over your eyes.

“saturo! get off!”

gojo had gotten behind you and pulled your hoodie over your eyes. you were playfully hitting his hands and arms, your hair sticking to your face and small laughs erupting from your mouth.

“i said you gotta guess who..”

you sighed in defeat, “it’s amazing saturo gojo..”

“that’s right!”

— bros the type to answer the phone so loudly, it’s either on purpose or he does it subconsciously..but either way, he’ll do it.

“hello?!”

you had to immediately revert your phone from your ear after hearing gojo practically scream into it. he does it so often, yet you aren’t used to it whatsoever ever.

“damn, my volume isn’t even all the way up..what are you screaming for.?!”

“oh.” gojo paused for a moment, you could feel the smirk that was growing on his face. “my bad!”

— bros the type to annoy you, but he loves you either way..aaaand you love him even more.

“love you the most.”

“fuck you, i love you more.”

wow, my writing is straight cheeks. bare with me y’all, baaaare with me. but yea, this is my first writing on tumblr..sooo, if you enjoyed and want something else i’ll gladly take recs!! :O (and if you saw any typos, no you didn’t)

[sirenlulls]

lovers rock → g. clarkey

pairing ��� george clarkey x fem!reader

summary — after one too many drinks on a night out with grace, you know you can always call george

but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay, but just for the night. and if she grabs for your hand and drags you along, she might want to kiss before the end of the song...

you were sat at your pc, legs tucked under you as you edited down some footage for a new video where you heard george laughing on the bed behind you. "what?" you half-pulled your headphones off, looking at him with a small smile and a tilted head.

"have you seen the video joe took of you last night?" instantly your heart sank. "george, please tell me he didn't post that." your boyfriend could barely look at you without suppressing a laugh. "no!" you yelled. "i have an image to uphold, people cannot know i'm a messy bitch."

"it's not that bad." he tried to reason, but with the no-bullshit look you sent him, he just nodded. "okay, it's a bit bad. but it's sweet!" you sighed, setting your headphones aside to lay beside him on the bed. "show me."

"you! you are my soulmate. i love you!" you slurred with grace's face smushed in your hands while joe and max wheezed in the background, phones out and recording.

"love you too, babes." she laughed. "but maybe it's time we get you home, yeah?"

you nodded mindlessly before perking up with a gasp. "i have a boyfriend! i'm gonna call my boyfriend." joe filmed max deadpanning at the camera before rolling his eyes, sick to death of you and george. you rummaged through your bag before happily pulling out your phone and calling george.

a groggy "you alright?" was the first thing you were greeted with and with wide eyes and your hand covering your mouth, you remembered how late it was. "shit, you were sleeping, i'm sorry." "no, it's okay, don't worry." he was quick to assure you, but when you kept apologising for waking him, he simply asked, "is grace with you?" when you responded, he asked you to give her the phone.

"she's smashed, mate, i'm sorry." she said through laughter as you moved to hug max. "where are you? i'll come get her." grace sent him your location before handing you back the phone. max handed you a bottle of water from his bag while you waited.

after a few minutes, george pulled up by the club you were all huddled outside, immediately going to put his arm around you. "ew! get off, I have a boyfriend!" you squirmed away with a disgusted face before turning around and seeing who it was. with a bright grin, you flung your arms around his neck. "george!!"

your friends laughed from behind you, and george smiled tiredly. "hey." "hi." you grinned dopily up at him, your chin pressed to his chest. he nodded goodbye to the others, you waved dramatically while george guided you to the car and made sure you were strapped in before going to the drivers seat.

while george drove, streetlights flickering over his face, you stared at him, not saying anything. "you okay?" he asked, looking over at you during a red light. "you're really pretty." george huffed out a laugh, smiling. "you're really pretty too." "no, you're like really really pretty. like, are you real? are you an ai?" he threw his head back, laughter echoing through the car and your smile grew impossibly wider. "i can't proudly say i'm real, love." "i don't believe you. you're a liar." you huffed, folding your arms and looking out the window at the buildings you passed.

after a few minutes passed and george hadn't heard anything from you, he looked over and saw you with your face pressed against the window, soft snores falling from your lips. he turned the radio down. when you pulled up the the apartment, george picked you up and carried you in, opening the door as quietly as possible and setting you down on your bed. he went to the bathroom and grabbed a makeup wipe, gently taking off your slightly smudged mascara with a fond smile. he took off your dress and untied your heels, and when you were comfortably cozied up in one of his old t-shirts, he peeled back the covers and pulled them up to your waist, knowing you'd twist to curl into him when he got into bed.

he was right, of course, because the moment he lay down, you twisted on your side, nose to the crook of his neck and arm thrown over his torso. his hand snaked over your shoulder, gently toying with your hair until he fell asleep again. he kissed your forehead, soaking in the domesticity.

it wasn't how he'd planned to spend his saturday night, but if every night got to end with you tucked into his side like that, george was glad to be real.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 1 - Firsts

Summary: The boys' first official practice together has a bit of a bumpy start.

Word Count: 669 (nice)

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Friendship, angst, mentions of FOI, Freak #3 is named Dave in my universe.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you don’t start on Day 1, you can still join! <3 Thanks @thisapplepielife for organizing, this event is going to be so fun!

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

There was tension in the air.

Tension and maybe a little bit of BO. It was the last stretch of summer, after all, and they were four teenage boys standing in a garage.

The setup wasn't bad though, and Mrs. Emerson had set up a card table full of snacks and drinks in the corner.

"Alright," Gareth cleared his throat awkwardly. "So do we want to eat first or should we just get right to it?"

Jeff's head turned to Eddie, immediately deferring to the leader of the band for the final say, and the other two were quick to follow suit.

And in that moment, Eddie faltered.

No matter how excited they'd all been discussing this in the cafeteria the other day, it still felt wrong. Like something was missing.

There was no Ronnie.

No Dougie.

And no more second chances when it came to his friends.

Eddie looked down at his feet and let his sneakers shuffle against the smooth concrete floor as feelings of self-doubt crashed into him.

What if he fumbled it all again? What if he let them down? What if their sound really wasn't as good as Corroded Coffin's had been the first time around? At least they had something then; this was new, this was fresh, this was different.

Even worse, what if he tried to push them to be better and they just thought he was chasing after the fame game again? Even though he'd sworn to himself that if they were going to do this, they were going to do it right.

He hadn't exactly done much to earn anyone's trust back yet; a summer wasn't gonna undo all of the bullshit he'd put his friends through.

Eddies thoughts--his fears--grew and grew until they were just a buzzing drone in his head and there was a tight, anxious grip on his heart that made him feel like he was about to pass out.

"You know," Jeff spoke up after a few short, painfully quiet moments, "the first time I picked up a guitar to play with you and Dougie and Ronnie, you told me I sucked."

Eddie's head snapped up and he watched acrooked smile grow on Jeff's face.

He remembered those early day, before Jeff was officially part of the band. He said that he wanted to learn guitar he would give anything to sit in on their practices. Showed up the next day with an old out-of-tune fender and no idea what a chord was.

"I didn't have callouses yet so I kept having to stop for a break," Jeff massaged his fingers, remembering the phantom pains. "Then I got frustrated when I wasn't getting any of the things you showed me. I almost gave up, actually. I wasn't gonna show up for the next practice, but you stopped me before I got in my mom's car. Told me that I wasn't gonna get better if I just quit."

There was a heavy emphasis on the word quit, and Eddie closed his eyes, as if his friend would stop seeing directly into his soul if he did.

"I don't know how you knew man," Jeff continued, voice laden with intention. "But you did. And look at us now."

"Still a garage band in Indiana," Eddie snorted in self-deprecation.

"Uh, we're only gonna be the best garage band Indiana has ever seen," Dave interjected. "We just...have to play some music."

Gareth let out a whoop of agreement and Eddie opened his eyes to find the three younger boys staring at him expectantly once again.

"What do you say man?" Jeff asked. "First official song of the first practice of the new Corroded Coffin. What should we play?"

And Eddie stood there for a moment, contemplating, weighing and judging his options like this was the most important decision he would make in his life.

Maybe it was.

Finally, with one last glance down to his feet, he took a breath, pulled his shoulders back, and asked,

"How well do you guys know Flight of Icarus?"

[ms-moonlight-inn]

“Shame-proof” DVD Commentary

Thank you to @shamelessdvdcommentary & to the anon to requested us (whoever you are, we love you!). My bestie @notherenewjersey & I are here to answer all of your burning questions (do you have the syph? why's it burning? it's not supposed to burn.)

Anyway, here's our stuff... hopefully it'll help with that itchy burny.

Which fanfic is your DVD commentary about?

“Shame-proof” is about two childhood actors who lose contact with each other after their series wraps. Quickly, we find out that Ian had been harboring a deep crush on Mickey, who had basically been bullying Ian the whole time. Confessions & apologies ensue.

Also, a friend called it an undercover RPF... and if that’s how you choose to look at it, well we’re not gonna stop you.

NJ–  it COULD be RPF but that’s not how it was written. We weren’t imagining Cam or Noel’s childhoods here, aside from what we stole of Mickey’s back canon that Ian watches as he pines.

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

The outline started on 4/16/24. 22887 words posted. Posted for the Summer Camp project on 8/3 but we were done before that.  Moonlight was convinced it would be 10k but I knew it was bigger. And this was without us going down every rabbit hole we saw. It’s 8 chapters, most of the chapters start with a flashback to the past and then jump to the “present.”

Moonlight– seriously, NJ dragged me away from some other HC I had kicking around, & we dove into this one instead.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

I read Jeanette McCurdy’s book, and as with any time I read anything, my brain said “What if this was Gallavich?” I know Moonlight is an L.A. girl, so I knew I wanted her input. I think I had a rough outline already when I looped her in, but she immediately took what I had and expanded and deepened it, as she always does.

Moonlight– God it’s so much fun to talk trash about all the things you grew up with & around. Los Angeles is filled with opportunities for trash talking. LOL 

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

This didn’t start out as either of us deciding to stay in Ian’s POV, but in order to keep Mickey’s motivations a little more opaque, we landed there. Until the latter chapters, at least. For the drama.

Moonlight– No further comment.

What was your favourite scene to write?

All of them? I like Sue so much, and I love writing Frank’s bullshit. RuPaul is fun, too. 

Moonlight– I’ve got two favorite scenes. The first is the scene where they’re kids doing the campground episode. I adored the moments of discovery Ian had there –figuring out that trees existed in southern California, figuring out that he had a serious crush on Mickey, and then the boy he meets on set as he’s running away from his problems. (BTW, 10 punk rock points to anyone who knew the song before I remembered to add a link).

The other scene I loved writing was the rimming scene. In the outline NJ said, “they get together in the sexiest and most romantic way.” And I wanted to throw my laptop at her face. SERIOUSLY, what the actual fuck?! So I got them all the way up to the part where Ian’s naked and stalled out for, like, two weeks. I was on a call with @mybrainismelted saying, “I’m stuck on this scene. I’ve managed to get one dick out, but I haven’t quite figured out how the other one’s gonna get naked AND STILL KEEP THIS BULLSHIT SEXY AND ROMANTIC.” Needless to say, I figured it out. 😁

NJ– Yup! That was, I think, the entire outline for that chapter, originally. One line. I knew that’s what happened at that point in the story, why bother with details? LOL

How did you come up with the title?

Oh geez. Trying to come up with both an AU of Shameless AND a reboot name, both of which would sound semi-natural was tough! But Shame-proof is more than just the title of a fake TV show. It also speaks to how Ian and Mickey were able to finally live wholly as themselves. No more hiding, nothing left unsaid. Without shame, shameless in the very best ways.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I always throw things in. We both do. But hopefully, readers who haven’t read either our individual or joint back canon can still enjoy the story.

Moonlight– See easter egg question.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

No.

NJ– if one of us is stuck, the other usually isn’t or can jostle the other into being unstuck. We’re good like that.

Favorite line in the story?

NJ– @gallavichgeek pointed out two of my favorite lines, but I will repeat them here because … yeah. 

“Hey, come back,” Mickey says softly.

“I’m still here,” Ian answers, a little confused.

“Yeah, but all of you. M’ not ready to let any of you go a moment sooner than I hafta.”

***

“I’d say,” he hesitates, then goes on, “that someday you’re gonna get everything you ever wanted. That all the bad shit, the bullshit, and the pain, it’ll all be worth it.” 

***

If I crash, I’m coming back to haunt you, Ian had answered.

If you crash, I’m diving in after you.

***

Moonlight– “What the fuck? How ‘bout double-dutch no with a cherry on top.” Mickey steadily refuses. (Anytime Mickey is being creative with his cursing & curses is a good time. Bad language & mockery are his love languages.)

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) 

All of it? It’s a great story. 

Moonlight– I’m also proud of the structure we used. It was NJ’s choice to do what basically amounted to two mini chapters in one –past & present colliding, if you will. And it worked so well for this storyline. 

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story?

Not deleted, so much as we had ideas that didn’t make it to fully fleshed for the final draft.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a character’s head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

NJ– It’s important for people to know that Mickey in the past was protecting Ian so much more than he was protecting himself, with his bullying behavior. 

Moonlight– God, yes. 

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

NJ– I want more of Ray, more of Sue, more of the Random Studio Infant now grown up. More of Sheila and of Kermit. I want the world to be fuller. And maybe it will, eventually.

Moonlight– Def’ more Ray, he’s funny & I’m sure he & Ian had so many stupid adventures. I think I’d like to see a few of the conversations between Ian & Mickey, but I struggle with that ‘cause I love when there is that air of mystery to a storyline. I don’t necessarily want to be told everything. But I think at least one of those late night conversations we reference would be nice to see.

NJ– yeah, we did have a time limit so some of the scope got condensed. I agree, those conversations would be incredible to see/hear. 

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

Well…. This story has legs. It has scope beyond what you’ve seen. I have believed, since the outline began, that this was the fic that would make the leap to traditional publishing. Moonlight and I are hoping to expand it and bring it to a publisher. “It’s a crossover between Shameless, I’m Glad My Mom Died, and RWRB.” Who wouldn’t wanna read that? LOL The Gallagher family will shrink a little, Terry will still be his monstrous self. So no, there won’t be a traditional fic sequel. But if we’re all very, very lucky, there will be an expanded version that scratches the same itch.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

The Saint Christopher’s medallion that Ian receives from Mickey? Yeah, the person I wrote that for knows it was for them. 🫶 

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

By far NOT our most popular story. Yet.

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

I HATE waiting to post- posting a fic like this where it’s all done upfront is hard for me, emotionally. So I was beyond excited for people to read it and love it as much as we do!

Moonlight– NJ really hates not posting immediately. Like, really hates it. This fic was written for the @gallavich-fic-club Summer Camp Event & we had to wait our turn. Which she HATED. 🤣 

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

Can we count each other? I’m a genuine writing freak- fast, thoughtless, and I rarely edit beyond typos. (many of which elude me and still end up in the final draft.) Moonlight is the opposite- she’s incredibly deliberate and also deeply and passionately devoted to the editing process. When we edit together, it can look a little argumentative, but we trust each other, so a lot of those conversations end up like, “I don’t see the issue, but I trust your judgment.” We both say it all the time.

Moonlight– D’aw, bb. You’re making me blush. You’re right, I am a meticulous asshole, but your brain is fast & witty. Together, we write good shit. 

NJ-- Also, god the verb tenses in this story gave me fits. I am a grammar nerd, so is Moonlight. But skipping between tenses for the past and present when we wrote straight through- she never had an issue but I regularly was in the wrong tense and had to go back and fix, cursing my own self the whole time. Loudly. Often on the phone with Moonlight. 

Moonlight– 🤣🤣🤣 yeah…

If any one has any comments, words of praise, complaints you’d like to register with our headquarters, please let us know. 

NJ - in the greatest detail, if you’d be so kind.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

Moonlight– Yes, the cheese sledding story is based on semi-true events. The guys at my high school used to carry large blocks of ice to the top hill of the local golf course & ride them down. Years later, a dorm mate I knew in grad school told us about his Vermont cheese tour where he saw “giant wheels of cheese” that he swore he could use as a mode of transportation. And so, the cheese sledding story was born. 

NJ-- And I made sure it was at Trump’s golf course because a few years back, a man in New Jersey did some fun vandalism like that and I find it deeply satisfying.

🧀🛷 

[slapjacq]

I am ill. Not okay. I’ve cried and thrown a tissue box at the wall. Then proceeded to scream at said wall for twenty minutes. Yes I am melodramatic, no I don’t care. I am still in therapy for a reason. Nevertheless, this episode was bonkers, off the wall batshit insane. Like genuinely so good that it almost adds to the tragedy of it all.

Here are my immediate and unfiltered thoughts from my post episode freak out that I have to put somewhere because if I don’t, I will, in fact, explode.

Warning: spoilers up the wazoo, a lot of profanity

First and foremost: Daniel, old Maniel, I can count on you to always keep it a buck, and for that I thank you.

Armand you piece of fucking shit I swear on everything that is holy, you are no longer babygirl, you bitch ass hoe, go stick that fucking doe eyed face up someone else ass you stupid fucking piece of shit. “i cOULD nOt pReVEnt iT” FUCK YOU MEAN YOU COULDNT PREVENT IT YOURE 500 YEARS OLD, YOU SOLD THEM OUT TO BEGIN WITH. YOU STOP TIME, CAN CONTROL BODIES, PLANT IDEAS INTO PEOPLE HEADS, READ PEOPLES MINDS AND THE BITTY BABY VAMPIRE ARMAND COULDNT DO ANYTHIGN ABOUT IT? SUCK MY DICK AND KISS ME MERRY GO TRH THAG SHIT ELSEWHERE (shout out Assad for really giving his all with the whole puppy dog eyes this entire episode 10/10 would fall for them if not the circumstances). I can’t believe I actually was defending this dude a few episodes ago, I literally can’t defend anything else from here moving forward.

Claudia and Madeline deserve to watch these assholes burn and the fact they died such painful deaths should warrant the gods to set the sky alight with constellations of their love. They were allowed NOTHING but a small taste of happiness before it was shredded away from them. No one is EVER gonna villainize them, not to me, not ever. Roxanne absolutely was incredible, and Delainey, in the coming future, better up there as an A-list actor because she has been that astoundingly good. (That goes for everyone here honestly, but Delainey and Roxanne really deserve their flowers here).

Santiago has a special place in hell. I simply cannot wait to watch him die. Decapitation is too kind for him, put him through pain and fury before sending him to hell. Ben Daniels you son of a bitch you played the villain so well. I damn near jumped through the screen when he began to read Claudia’s diaries with a shitty NOLA accent, I have never been so livid in my life.

The rest of Theatre: “All of you motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow.” -Tupac Shakur

Louis GET UP LEAVE YOUR WIFE DUDE YOU KNOW ITS BULLSHIT and honestly I’m not even going to rag on him this episode because the poor man has gone through too much. Jacob was absolutely brilliant in all of this, and honestly I literally will never stop talking about the performances in this show. Regardless, the upcoming rage is justified and I when get to watch him massacre these assholes, I will cackle with the same glee a schoolboy has after he disintegrates ants with a magnifying glass.

And finally Lestat. He rose on the third day and served cunt and made me ball like the mommy issues toting bitch I am. Sam, my man, you knocked it out of the fucking ballpark. Magnificent. Lestat, fucking bastard. You messy bitch. When you get out of whatever the Theatre is doing to you big man, I better see you read Armand to filth. I better see the same from the other. They both deserve to be dragged to hell and back.

Also Daniel Hart is a genius, just really fills your soul with dread this entire episode, I mean the score was filthy, vivid, and hauntingly gorgeous. The violins at the beginning were nasty work and had me fully hypnotized for the entire 50 minutes.

SFX is killing it, everytime, making it all believable and absolutely the worst someone could imagine it to be. I full body contorted at the sight of the sliced ankles.

Shoutout costume department also did its thing. Santiago’s costume was top tier camp. And Lestat’s suit was absolutely everything. Gender envy 11/10.

I could sit here all day and go on about how all the cast and crew did a fucking fantastic job. Like you can really tell they put their heart and soul into this episode.

I mean dear god I’m going to be in shambles for the next two years this episode was insane.

[jadebread64]

time for me to post my bullshit ramblings on the new doctor who episode in no particular order like a maniac lol

(SPOILERS AHOY, DONT CLICK ON THE READMORE IF YOU HAVENT SEEN THE EPISODE)

obviously seeing tennant and tate back in their roles is so cool, they feel exactly as they should, it doesnt even feel like 15 years have passed when you watch them its great

DONNA CANONICALLY HAS A NONBINARY DAUGHTER AND IM SO FUCKING HAPPY ABOUT THAT

NOT ONLY THAT BUT HER ALSO BEING PART OF THE METACRISIS TIME LORD SHIT IS SUPER COOL

lmao im not even joking when i first saw the meep™ i literally thought "aww it's so cute i hope it doesnt end up being evil" and LO AND BEHOLD

OH MY GOD DAVID TENNANT JUST SUDDENLY PUTTING ON A FUCKING JUDGE WIG AND DOING A COURTROOM SCENE WITH THE MEEP AND THE WRARTH WHILE DONNA AND HER CONCERNED FAMILY JUST OBSERVE

also i think the wrarth voices are so funny cause in the trailers they're like *auurhghghg scary monster sounds!!1!* but in the episode they just sound british like every doctor who space alien should

i think the new TARDIS looks really cartoony and i think it's kinda fun, idk if ncuti is gonna end up with this TARDIS set (i'd imagine the bbc doesnt have the budget to make a whole TARDIS set for 4 episodes then just make a new one lol) but i think it looks kinda plain at the moment? idk if they added some chairs and bookshelves n shit like the capaldi one and make it look more lived in overtime it might be one of my favourites just for the whole classic who vibe it has. either way it's perfect for david he gets to run around like a little kid in there and thats all that matters lol

also tennants new suit looks so fucking good and honestly wish he just had that in series 2-4 instead of the brown suit

i think it's so funny how literally not even 5 minutes after entering the TARDIS donna just fucking spills her coffee on the console and the whole thing just explodes and goes to shit immediately lmao

ALSO WE'RE GETTING A FULL ON TENNANT/TATE ADVENTURE NEXT WEEK???? AM I IN 2008 OR 2023 I CANNOT TELL ANYMORE TIME HAS NO MEANING

im really hoping we get to see whoever the fuck neil patrick harris' character is in the next episode, im 99% sure it's gonna be the celestial toymaker but only because the doctor who youtube account kept posting celestial toymaker clips and i think they're being cheeky bastards lol (/positive)

(/sarcasm) i cant wait to see all the queerphobic assholes shitting on this episode for having the few pronouns/binary lines in it and going "dOcTor wHo iS wOkE nOw yUcK" even though doctor who has been progressive since literally 1963 with the daleks (which got a fancy new colourization that i need to check out still but thats a whole OTHER THING LOL)

oh yeah and david's acting is really fucking good in this, like when he thinks wilf has died and he just sorrowfully says "i loved that man." like MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS

plus when he thinks he has to sacrifice donna to save everybody, holy shit his perfomance is incredible

this is just a me thing but seeing a doctor who episode live as its broadcasting is so cool, i've been watching this show for like 8 years (i think??) and i usually just ended up finding it on dailymotion or some shit like a day or two after the episode aired so i'd always be late for it lol (btw for the people coming after me i dont pay for disney+ at all lol) so watching it the at the same time as everyone else was very cool especially since i nearly slept in through it lmao

anyways i think thats all if i remember any more things i'll add em in lol

plus some bonus ramblings before the episode aired

[ave09]

Ooh may I please request a cute romance fic in which Tommy Lillard (Harrison Ford’s cowboy with a heart of gold character in the hilarious comedy movie The Frisco Kid) gets married to sweet fem!Reader after getting to introduced to her through his friend Rabbi Avram Belinski?

yes!! omg i just bought this movie to watch again bc i love it 😭 cowboy harrison is my weakness. i love tommy and i’m soooo excited abt this fic!

this will be a two part fic. this is part uno, part dos will be posted tomorrow maybe… idk. i started this when i was sick so it might suck and idk what the ending is but it’s my trash and i love it.

forbidden

tommy lillard x female!reader

part one

when you first met tommy lillard, you were immediately taken by him. maybe it was the devilish good looks of his, or his slight southern accent, or his whole cowboy aesthetic.

he was just like the men you’d read about in your books.

he was everything you could ever want in a man… but there was only one issue.

it was already arranged for you to marry another man. it had been set up just a few months ago. gabriel was a good man, of course, very friendly. but, there was something about him, you couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about him was off. you did not want to marry him. 

it had been a week or so since avram belinski and tommy lillard arrived in san francisco, and tomorrow avram and rosalie bender, one of your close friends, were to be married.

the rising excitement was causing you to become more nervous. all the preparations reminded you that your own wedding was coming up soon. 

it was overwhelming. 

and you needed an escape. 

which is why you found yourself slipping away from the festivities. you exited the bender home, sighing deeply as you ran a hand through your hair.

a sound caught your attention. you glanced up, noticing the beautiful brown horse tied up a few feet away. a soft smile spread across your lips as you took a few steps toward the creature.

you’d always loved horses. they seemed to be so peaceful, so kind. 

you lifted a hand, gently placing it against the horse’s muzzle. you didn’t want to overwhelm the creature, so you took a gentle approach. 

“hi there.” you greeted.

the horse huffed, as though greeting you back.

“nice to meet you.” you said with a laugh, you were talking to a horse for goodness sake! your hands traveled across the animals sleek coat, admiring its beauty. 

“you’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” 

“i think he likes you.” 

you jumped, startled by the sound. you turned to see tommy lillard approaching you, a smile on his face. 

“i-i’m sorry, i hope i’m not bothering-“

tommy shook his head, “no, no, not at all.” he assured, now standing beside you. 

“so.. ya like horses?” it was awkward. this whole encounter was awkward. but you’d rather have an awkward encounter with a handsome cowboy then return to the festivities.

you nodded, “i’ve always been fond of them.” tommy nodded, “ya ever ride one?” “goodness no, my parents would throw a fit.” 

the man arched his brows, “and why is that?” 

“riding horses is for the men. not the women.” 

“bullshit, anyone can ride a horse.” you watched as the man crossed in front of you, untying the reins. you furrowed your brows, “what are you doing?” 

“i,” he paused, taking the reins, “am going to teach you to ride.” your eyes widened in surprise, “pardon?” 

“you heard me, darlin’.” you felt a blush creep

up your neck at the name. you couldn’t believe it. tommy lillard was going to teach you to ride a horse! 

he beckoned you over, “now, to get on, you’re gonna put your foot in this hole here, and you’re gonna hold onto that knob on top of the saddle, ya following?” you nodded, watching intently as he pointed to the specific parts of the saddle. 

“once you’re steady, you just pull yourself up. got it?” “i think so.” you replied. “well, go for it.” 

you took a step forward, your eyes locked on the saddle as you remembered what tommy had just said. but one thought lurked in your mind, “what if i fall?” 

the man sent you a smile, “then i’ll catch you.” now seeing that you were in good hands, you lifted your foot, placing it where it needed to go. you then grasped the knob, holding it tight.

“good, now pull yourself up.” you exhaled deeply, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. you felt tommy’s hands graze your waist, “i’m right here, i won’t let you fall.” he assured. you nodded, adjusting your grip on the handle before using your strength to heave yourself onto the horseback. 

a wave of relief washed over you as you steadied yourself, glancing down to see tommy beaming at you. “there ya go!” 

“i did it,” you whispered with a chuckle. 

“hell yeah, ya did!” 

the man then climbed onto the horse, surprising you as he settled behind you. “whatever are you doing?” you asked.

“teaching you to ride,” he said nonchalantly, taking the reins, “now, place your hands over mine.” you did so. his hands were far larger than yours, warm, you found comfort in his touch. 

“right, so what you do now is you just take the reins, and give ‘em a gentle pull, not to harsh unless you want him to take off, okay?” he explained, demonstrating carefully in order to not set the horse in motion. you nodded slowly. 

“well, go for it.” he urged, removing his hands from under yours and instead placing them atop, enveloping yours. you took a deep breath, gripping the reins, tugging them softly. the horse let out a soft neigh before it began trotting forward slowly. 

tommy let out a laugh, “look at you! you’re a natural!” 

“i’ve hardly done anything.” you said, your face flushing red. 

“you’ve done enough to show me how good you are.” his voice was soft, gentle. you felt your heart flutter as he moved closer, you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. 

“now, let’s see what else ya can do.”

— — — —

“no!”

“yes! i tell ya darlin, i still can’t believe we made it here.” 

you let out a laugh, the story of his and avram’s adventure to san francisco still fresh in your mind. 

you shifted on the hay you were currently resting on. after riding around with tommy for a while, it had started to rain. it was nice at first, until it began to pour. you’d found an old barn to take shelter in, and now, you were listening to tommy’s stories about all the adventures to go on. 

“you live such a crazy life, it’s so eventful.” you said, glancing over at the man laying beside you, who smiled, “yeah, it’s pretty nice.” 

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the rain pounding on the roof. 

but this silence was broken quickly, “and what about you?” 

“what about me?”

“what do you want?” you furrowed your brows, “huh?” 

“what do you want? where do you want to go? what are your desires? i’m a curious fella.” 

you let out a sigh. 

never had someone asked you that-not the way he was asking it now. but you found them to be the easiest questions in the world.

what do you want? to be with him.

where do you want to go? wherever he goes.

what are your desires? to live a loving life with him.

but you couldn’t say that. could you?

“i don’t know.” you whispered. tommy furrowed his brows, rolling over to face you, “you don’t know? whaddya mean you don’t know? everyone wants something.” 

you bit your lip, sighing deeply. “what i want is something i can’t have.” 

“and what is it that you want?” his voice was low, he was now gazing at you in a way you’ve never been looked at before. 

you felt your heart race, palms sweat. “i..” 

he leaned in slightly, “what is it that you want?” he repeated, a little slower this time. your eyes darted to his lips, “you.”

it was a leap, but, you took a chance.

tommy remained silent for a moment, which scared you. were you reading into this too much? had you misunderstood?

“and who says you can’t have me?” 

he dipped his head, connecting his lips with yours. you felt as though you were dreaming. never in a million years did you think you’d be here, kissing tommy lillard in a barn of all places. 

after a moment, he pulled away, leaving you breathless. you smiled softly, “wow.” “wow is right…” he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your eyes, “you’re a damn good kisser.” you felt your cheeks flush, turning your head slightly.

“hey now, let me see that beautiful face.”

“tommy..” 

“darling…” the man grasped your chin gently, lifting your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile toying on his lips, “there’s those pretty eyes.” 

why couldn’t it be him? gabriel never complimented you in this way. why couldn’t it be tommy?

why couldn’t he be the man who you were to marry?

— — — —

you didn’t remember falling asleep, but sure enough, you woke up on tommy’s chest, his muscular arms wrapped tightly around you. 

the sun was shining brightly, and it was now avram and rosalie’s wedding day. you had awoken tommy, and the two of you had rushed home on horseback, the events of the night going unspoken.

the wedding ceremony had been beautiful. absolutely beautiful, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t shed a tear. 

you were so happy for avram and rosalie, but you once again found yourself being uncomfortable at the thought of the next wedding beings your own. 

the celebration began quickly after, everyone was dancing and having fun, except rosalie’s mother, who hadn’t stopped crying. 

and once again, gabriel had been glued to your side. this time, you could not escape. “would you like to dance?” he asked, sounding somewhat annoyed. this was his fifth time asking you. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to dance with him persay, you personally just didn’t enjoy the sport. 

“i don’t like to dance, gabriel.” you replied as politely as possible. the man let out a huff, “well would you like a drink then?” 

“yes, thank you.” gabriel then left your side for the first time in hours, and you felt somewhat grateful. 

you heard someone clear their throat obnoxiously behind you. slowly, you turned, unable to hide your smile. “hi tommy,” 

“hey darling. you look very nice today.” 

“you don’t look too bad yourself.” you replied. he smiled, hazel eyes flitting from the dance platform to you. you caught on immediately, shaking your head rapidly. 

“no.” 

“oh come on! it’ll be fun!” he exclaimed. you continued to shake your head, “i don’t dance.” 

“everybody dances darling.” you pursed your lips, watching as he extended a hand toward you. “i’ll give ya a kiss if you give me one dance.”

there it was.

“tommy, i can’t-“

“says who?” 

you averted eye contact, trying to figure out how to admit the truth that tommy had failed to notice. 

“come on darling, i like you, you like me, i’m a sort of respectable man, it would be-“

“tommy, i’m engaged.” 

his brows furrowed, hazel eyes narrowing, “you-you’re engaged?” you nodded slowly. the man took a moment to register your words, “so that’s what you meant when you said you couldn’t have what you wanted..”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t think this would go that far..” you were terrified of his reaction. but you ended up feeling surprised.

“well who gives a damn. can’t you call that shit off?” 

this was all becoming far too messy. because what you truly wanted was to call off the wedding and be with him. 

but you couldn’t. you couldn’t let your family down.

“tommy, i’m sorry… we-we can’t do this.” 

you turned to walk away, feeling completely overwhelmed, but felt him grasp your wrist, whirling you around to face him. 

he was silent for a moment, his adam’s apple bobbing, “dance with me.”

“i-“

“please. just one dance.” desperation laced his voice, almost begging. you sighed deeply, nodding. he smiled softly.

and for the first time, you danced. you danced the night away with tommy lillard, wishing that you could live in this moment forever…

but it was not to be.

or so you thought. 

[drowninginblox]

Rewatching voltron

I’m only on season one and- I want to filter my thoughts I guess

Okay so full disclosure-

I forgot most of Voltron and I wanted to watch it again just to see where it went wrong + maybe rewrite it. Most of this list is grievances and high praises. But yknow- it’s fun for me.

Hunk deserves better

Of course best boy is going first

I distinctly remember from the end of voltron that hunk didn’t have alot of moments to shine. I’m only in episode 5 as of writing this point and I see SO MUCH PROMISE. He’s a great middle man, he’s loyal as hell, and he’s so smart! The following seasons are gonna be painful for me I know it.

“You have a better idea?” / “Actually yes I do.”

That’s it. That’s the red talk.

Coran deserves better

I want more caring dad

Why couldn’t we have more??

He cares so much for Allura and for w h a t

The “we make a good team” line + TW: Klance in general

Holy shit us Klance shippers were sooooo desperate. Like- my god. We fucking ran with that shit to the universe and back god damn. And it all started from that one line. I don’t know if I should be proud or disappointed my god.

Since we’re talking about this ship- there are a lot of missed opportunities for Keith and Lance’s dynamic and individual character. Like, I think, we all forget that Lance was the person who came up with the plan, when him and Keith were supposed to sabotage the galra forces at Balmera (living mining planet). Lance was actively aware of the planets saltines and he stopped kids from acting on his impulses, resulting in them (initially) covertly deactivating  the hanger so they can prevent further reinforcements.

I also don’t like how the scene introduces Keith’s heritage. I understand that this is a set up for a greater plot point and we’re not really supposed to know how Keith activates galra tech but- fuck I need to go on a tangent in the later seasons if I go along with this series of blog posts, I guess

Gundom every few episode format

POWER RANGERS TAKE NOTES

Holy shit I LOVE that a group of episodes are dedicated to arcs that help the main story and THAT THE BIG MONSTER DOESN’T SHOW UP EVERY EPISODE

If only we had this more often-

Ages

I do not know how old these fuckers are and that is concerning. The only information I have on age is one of the Galra generals calling Pidge a child when they were taking over the castle. Like- Voltron please tell me how old these mfs are.

I have my own HCs ofc but like- CMON.

Speaking of, Pidge is giving 14-16, Hunk, Lance, Keith and Allura are giving 17 to 18, Shiro is giving 18-25, and Coran is at a good 34-40 not including the 10000 year long freeze Allura and Coran went through

Minor characters

I love the tribal civilization at inhabits allura’s home planet

The POWs, Shay’s people, the mercenaries, I love all of these guys

I like how the planets are alive

Just- good job Voltron for universe building

The lions are their own characters

I really like the idea of the lions being specific with who they allow in as their pilots. However, I wish that the selectiveness was a longer process. And key situation it was a life or death one. It felt like the redline had to actively choose, whether or not to save him from the deep vacuum of space. Meanwhile, for pitch it was just oh hop in and get going you know. Same with Shiro I get that he unlocked the synchronicity of the lien and pilot relationship immediately, but it feels too give in.

Piggybacking off of that I don’t like that Alura basically assigns the paladins Hogwarts houses as soon as she sees them. I think that’s bullshit. I got that she grew up with the lions and was born shortly after their creation but still. 

I also like how during battle of the lines actively recommend which strategies and weapons, the pilot should use, and which ones they refused to go along with

Also- element powers?? I miss those

Quintessence

Idk the yellow goo before being refined into quintessence having healing properties- WHY WAS THAT FORGOTTEN??? That could’ve been huge! Even if it only applies to galuras

Also- god I wish there was rules for Allurans powers and wtf quintessence is.

The Black Lion (the episode not the actual mech)

I forgot so much of this season holy shit.

The main conflict being tied to Shiro connection w/ his lion is a great plot point

It also is a great reveal that Zarkon is the original black palidin. I love how the B

Also- Shiro coming head to head with his PTSD is m w a h

Peak Keith in this ep (for this season ofc) Ofc he would take on Zarkon by himself. I’m so mad I forgot about that

THE BLADE!!!!!!!!!!!! I literally screamed when I saw them lol

[acheronist]

RAHHHHH ok 71 posting time.

empress is a beautiful interpretation and honestly probably more valid than my own bullshit. but to ME dylan's card is temperance

having a clear vision of what he wants (detroit to win. and be a dynasty again. very similar to when steve was drafted and he looked at the shambling mess of the detroit dead wings and said Huh. Okay. Well I guess i'm gonna be the one to fix this!)

being patient and devoted (and/or devout? how much do we want to delve into hockey as a lifestyle vs hockey as religion) enough to the team that he's willing to sign eight years after five years of rebuild depression soulrot failure misery just to be there and see it happen

having a genuine sense of balance / harmony flowing thru him (which i think is actually something he kind of lacks? having watched this guy skate since 2018 i think i'm allowed to say i have a good sense of how he plays and how he thinks just from observation) but he's always been very on/off. in the sense that his only immediate emotional reactions tend to ricochet between the extremes of "OH WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK 313 DETROIT RED WINGS FOREVER BITCH" and "i would to kill myself to repent for this failure except i'm the leader and thats a bad example to set so i'll just sit here with tears in my eyes and guilt in my heart while fielding impersonal media questions" and yet the way he acts as captain? is somehow the perfect line of being fair and reserved and moderate but still firm and fair in every regard. like if he wasn't captain, idk if i would give him this card, but he is, and when he's out there talking down the refs who want to skew detroit's chances over again with his big terrifying brown eyes and snarling grin while his giant european teenaged sons loom behind him waiting for HIS permission to stop being gentlemen and stand up for themselves in the corners, i do think Ohhh. He Is Temperance. He's the one setting the standards and showing the younger guys: in this town we don't get much help, but we uphold a certain decorum, and we are not violent for violence's sake. we stand our own and our wrath is not an easy thing to provoke.

being capable enough to manage a lot of moving parts. being captain in detroit is not as much of a frivolous thing as it is elsewhere. it doesn't change often. we dont retire every number of a guy who was kind of important. we would rather have years with four alternates rather than rush someone into role of captain (again, stevie's attempts to protect dylan from the insane psychological problems he had to take on as a rookie captain leading a horrendous team parallels are at it again) and even without that official patch on his jersey, everyone knew what a leader he was, how much of his heart was in this, how dedicated he was to taking care of the rookies and supporting the veteran guys whose bodies are falling apart and facing media questions and standing up proudly despite despite despite despite!!!!!! and never taking a moment to collapse or cry or throw up his hands and say I can't do this anymore. he literally is going to multitask this team to a cup and you all better say thank you when it happens.

taking matters into his own hands. in the temperance card, the figure pours water back and forth between two cups, seeing it change and become something else as it moves and transforms. this is exactly what his role in the team is: to be the one on the inside of the locker room that's shaping and transforming expectations, work ethic, devotion... to a lot of guys in the nhl it seems like it's a job, and they can do their role on a team in any city. dylan can't. he's on the front lines of improving the detroit red wings (reputation, alliances, rivalries, technical gameplay, or otherwise,) or he's not actually doing his job correctly. he can't just pack up and play in canada and be a third line center. that's not what he's meant to be doing.

@crossbackpoke-check hi

[crystalelemental]

I have finished all of the Final Fantasy Pixel Remasters. That was pretty fun! Honest to god my initial reaction is to replay some of them immediately but I should probably put some distance on that. No promises. The last time I played most of these was...the GBA/DS remakes. So a while ago. Thoughts on each below.

Final Fantasy 1 Easily my favorite iteration of the game. I'm going to be honest with you, FF1 doesn't have a ton in its favor, but the game is simplified enough that, with the new mechanics, I can turn off all encounters, hit 4x EXP, just do boss fights, trapped chests, and forced encounters, and be done with the game in like 3 hours. If I'm ever just craving a quick thing, this is as quick as it gets, with none of the frustration.

Yeah, I'm gonna be honest, this is a common theme so to avoid repeating myself I'll say it once here: random encounters suck. It's why FF12 has been my favorite since it came out; I can just see where enemies are and explore how I wish, without getting bombarded by bullshit and back attacks and whatever else is going on. Turning those off as needed is divine. The tradeoff is that for some games, you then lose sense of progression and what level you are "supposed" to be at for what you're doing, and in those situations the 4x EXP is nice for quick grinding to catch you up. I will admit, however, that this can completely break the flow of the game, so I did try to keep encounters on at all times for most games, but I am more than satisfied going "fuck I'm lost again" and just turning off encounters for a minute while I get my bearings. This game just doesn't broadly appeal beyond its quick nature, so I'm more than satisfied just doing the boss run.

Final Fantasy 2 To avoid talking about the random chance level ups, I'm instead going to talk about two other things that make this my least favorite in the set: dungeon layout, and why you can't let me have things.

Dungeon layout is the fair criticism. Dungeons are overly complex and a pain in my ass to navigate. This is another I eventually broke and just turned off encounters while exploring, just because it was too many of them. Get the fuck out of my face, man, I'm trying to backtrack seven different staircases. Also the rooms. Almost all of them are empty, but you gotta check in case there's treasure, but if it is empty enjoy higher encounter rates for no real reason other than punishing your curiosity, you fool. It's just an overall frustrating experience with the randomness of stat boosts, and the pitifully slow grind of leveling spells.

The other is my own fault. Yeah, if there's one thing I remembered about this game from the Dawn of Souls era, it was the post-game heaven dungeon where you start as Minwu, and really want to be prepared. Early Mysidia felt like a must, and I decided fuck it, I remember how to do this, and prepared myself accordingly. Long story short, don't do this. You'll set yourself up for a position of being wildly overpowered the entire game, especially if you're an idiot, break after directions were given, forget where you're going and wind up going north to another high level area that gets you even more powerful, and now the whole thing is shot to shit. I like sequence breaking games, but I feel like this one is way more severe with any understanding of what you can get away with. And I will always optimize the fun out of my experience. Never let me do things.

Final Fantasy 3 This was my favorite experience. I played damn near the entire game without even touching the toggle for encounters. FF3 is a ton of fun. I enjoy getting to mess with customization options like the classes, and the lack of JP (ABP, whatever) makes it a lot more fluid. Sure, there's job level, but job level amounts to nothing. It's minor increases for the longer you work as that class, and it's nice but insubstantial. Which means it's fluid and engaging, because I can fun around and never find out anything too bad. Which is what I want; free flowing experimentation. I understand the original had some kind of penalty for job switching too often? Glad they got rid of that garbage.

If there's any strikes against it, it's class balance and the final dungeon. Crystal Tower into World of Darkness is like a 2+ hour affair, without save points, and Autosave doesn't carry over if you turn the game off. Do not do as I did and go in like an hour and a half before your usual winding down before bed time. You will not make it. Class balance is a bit of a mixed bag.

On the one hand, compared to 5, 3's classes tend to overlap a lot. The Earth Crystal is literally nothing but pure upgrades on early classes. Black/White Mage become Wizards gaining better offensive stats and more spell slots for higher tier spells, while Summoner is just Evoker with competence. Knight is just Fighter but better. Black Belt is just Monk but better. As a result, it distills into only a handful of meaningful distinctions anyway, with a couple offshoot classes that...suck. They suck. Ranger has no good weapons for late-game, Geomancer is a great mage alternative until endgame when everything's single-target, I have no idea what the point of Scholar is but I don't agree with it. I don't consider this a truly hideous detriment, but it lacks the same level of shenanigans 5 gets up to.

Final Fantasy 4 Fun fact: before 12 came out, this was my favorite, because I found it easy enough to be engaging, including the GBA superdungeon which was the only one I could beat, and Rydia was my baby child favorite. That last part is still true. The thing I didn't seem to remember is how...weird the story actually was. Like it's not particularly great. I don't think it's terrible, but it's not great. Mostly Kain's whole deal irritates me now.

But it is still fun! I think it's a much different experience. The moon still took forever to explore, but thanks to save points actually existing, you can break between things. Boss fights feel appropriately more difficult than most random encounters, with a decent number of gimmick bosses that require a bit more know-how to handle, and a few dungeons you can do out of sequence in the underground if you're ambitious. I think it's a very simple game to understand, with a pretty clear-cut approach to success. That said, there's like no customization. Characters are as they are, there's really nothing to consider aside from level. And your party is set, so there's no variation on what you can do.

Final Fantasy 5 5 was another really fun experience, though I cushion that with a major caveat. 5 was fun because of the toggle for 4x ABP, which made leveling jobs to find out what they did actually tolerable. Without this, job levels are unbearably hard to level up, with no indication of what you actually learn per level, that you may as well be shooting in the dark.

See, the fun of 5 is that you have your class, and you have one extra ability slot, taken from other class skills unlocked by leveling them up. For magic classes, that's "Magic Type Lv X," up to 6, where you can cast everything in that category. For physical classes, this is usually some form of "Equip my weapon type," alongside generalist skills. Some are better than others, and some are action commands that are much, much stronger, and are the basis for making really strong outcomes.

This is why I don't love the system as much as 3. To find out what you even have access to, you're made to slog through the physical classes to find out what other skills they're offering. Which takes somewhere around literally forever. Bosses will hand you like 5BP, for classes that need like 700 to max. If you don't know in advance where the good stuff is, there's a chance you've walked into options you don't need.

Granted, 5 is lax enough broadly that you can still make use of classes. Unlike 3's direct upgrades over time, 5 gives you almost all classes early, and all of them have interesting options for utility. So you can make use of anything. I think for my completionist ass, I'm looking at Omega and Shinryu and going fuck dude, how are you supposed to beat that without foreknowledge of some of the skills available? Wildly over-leveling? In a game with fairly poor EXP yields where I think I ended at around level 40? Not happening. Otherwise, the class imbalance isn't too bad, and is in some cases hysterical. You know there's a setting to toggle 4x gil received? Zeninagi on Samurai was already an instant-kill button half the time, and now you've made it a free action. Meanwhile summon magic late game feels kinda garbage. Flare and Holy outdamaged Bahamut no problem. It is really funny to see this reversal from 4. From Rydia's summons being bad all game because they're just overpriced spells on your Black Mage but endgame Bahamut being defining, to excellent low-cost AoE spells with good damage early and mid-game into kinda useless by endgame. It's just funny to see systems like these change over time, and how they try to adjust for balance.

I do think this was a surprisingly strong story and cast, too. I only remembered it being kinda goofy compared to the others as a kid, but having re-visited, I think it's a lot more earnest and impactful than I gave it credit for.

Final Fantasy 6 I'll be honest, it's very good, but depending on my mood, I'd say I like 3 and 5 better. I like being able to customize, and I think I actually like FF5's cast and story better than 6.

6 succeeds on being competent at everything, even if it's not the strongest in everything. Its story is well told and it sticks to its general themes of love and loss, and finding meaning in a bleak world. But I also think 5 did the "Defeat Nihilism through the Power of Connection" thing with a more diverse cast and emphasis on friendships and general human spirit, while 6 seems to focus more on romance and family in a way that makes a lot of character histories sound very same-y, in that a big chunk is "and then they died." There's a bit of customization, as far as selecting which members to bring along and how you distribute magicite for learning magic, but nowhere near the level of complexity you can find in 5. I'd also say the AP system in 6 is wildly slow, but at least there it's more concentrated to "just learn the spells you need" and you actually know exactly what you're signing up for. Though I personally don't care for making decisions between good spells or good stats early on, my min-maxing ass is bad with these kinds of things. I know it's a problem.

I do think it has an inverse problem to 5, where the random encounters feel devastating in several locations, but only one boss ever gave me any difficulty, and it was because I was suffering from success (It was the tunnel digger in Locke's route early game; turns out if you have the Hermes Sandals on him or Celes the Runic timing gets thrown off and it cooks you, but without that it's super easily won; my bad but for stupid reasons, I feel). Almost every game over was due to back attacks, which are damn near constant in this game. Some areas I counted and literally had more sneak attacks on me than regular encounters. Meanwhile, bosses go down like sacks of shit, because magic is hysterically overpowered. Yeah yeah, Kefka's god now or whatever, but can he survive Relm Dualcasting Flare for max damage twice per round? No, he's just going to eat shit from this level 40 ten-year-old? Radical. This may be personal preference, but if FF1's blurb wasn't an indication, I much prefer "easy encounters, difficult bosses." Ideally, no encounters. Just ping-pong me from boss to boss. I feel like I could actually do that in 6 if it wasn't for AP needed to learn spells.

Future Plans I'm thinking of getting 7 and 9 if they ever go on sale again. I really don't want to play 8. I remember playing 8, my wife had commented on it being a formative game for her so I played it long, long ago before we were even dating, but it was so bad I can't do it again. 10 I'm on the fence about, because I do like the gameplay for 10, but we tried watching a playthrough of 10 and she couldn't stand it so maybe not. My laptop is dying, and so is my wife's, so we've tossed around finally getting a proper PC that can like...play games and shit. So who knows, maybe I'll finally play past 12 in this series. Miracles do happen.

[getitoffyourchestofficial]

hi this is a lot im sorry. i love to say words and dump shit that upsets me with no real correlation. my bad /gen (genuine) (idk if you know tone indicators im sorry ough)

you dont really Have to cook up a proper response to this i just need to put it somewhere where i wont immediately get piles of advice that i cant use. i know its well-meaning but ultimately the whole situation is ou of anyones control

(also putting this 🎪 here so i can try to find it later)

im stuck in a sisyphean nightmare of a weekly cycle: i have a good day -> my mood skyrockets -> i have a bad day -> my mood plummets -> rinse and repeat. at this point i think it might be a mental condition bc something doesnt even really have to Ruin My Day, i just have to face a minor inconvenience and then suddenly im all doom-and-gloom depression for 3-5 business days before springing back up as if nothing ever happened to do it all again. my mom says i might have bpd or bipolar disorder (i always get the two confused) because she has it and we just havent seen anyone about it, mostly because we dont have the money to see any doctors most of the time. i also kinda dont wanna have either of them? not in like an asshole way but in a these-people-face-stigma-that-i-dont-know-if-i-can-emotionally-handle way. in a im already queer and fat and poor and disabled in multipled ways and overall unsavory to neurotypicals/cishets/Default Settings way. yknow

todays inciting incident was a shitty shitty halloween carnival that didnt even have the thing i was excited for, didnt have any food, had lines that were miles long (hyperbole), was too hot, and i only got 8 shitty halloween things from -- half of which were lollipops, with half of those just being the same 2 flavors but Again. we stayed for 2 hours before my mom decided she didnt wanna be out of the house anymore as usual. i cant be too mad at her because shes mentally ill in the direction of "i dont want to go anywhere because my anxiety will spike" but unfortunately im mentally ill in the direction of "if i cannot leave the house to Do Things at my own pace at least once a week i will fall into a deep depression" so we clash pretty bad most of the time. this was also following multiple minor inconveniences mind you. and was also trailed by multiple minor inconveniences. it just has not gone well. this halloween is just shaping up to suck bc i was supposed to have a whole party but we had money issues so it had to be cut down to just 2 people for a sleepover, then one of them went out to see his grandma in another state and the other is apparently in the fucking hospital right now??? at least according to his posts. and i cant blame them for these either! schedules conflict and sometimes you go to the Fuckig Hosital. its out of anyones control but it still feels like shit. so its looking like my only shot at having any fun this halloween is the trunk-or-treat at my school and idk if im even allowed to go bc i had to drop out for mental health reasons and they told me i wasnt allowed on school grounds anymore. idk if that applies here. which btw. way to make a depressed kid feel worse. you can NEVER come to this high school again or we'll ARREST YOU. fuckin bullshit. BUT thats off topic the synopsis is that this halloween sucks so far and i dont really expect it to get better which extra sucks bc im turning 18 next year and i dont wanna let this be the last hurrah for my number one favorite holiday. i cant host fucking parties for my friends after then. im gonna be busy trying to fuck off to the other end of the country. i wont have TIME for it. idk. it sucks. this sucks. fuck art and fuck you /ref (reference) /nbh (nobody here)

Ik you don't want advice for this so I'll just put it on the blog.

And idk if you want it but here's a tea

☕

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[ramp-it-up]

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One.  I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then.... 

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left. 

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact.  You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues. 

 It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down. 

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck. 

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace. 

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront.  It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network. 

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags.  And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere. 

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.  

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye. 

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.  

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you.  It just felt right. 

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic. 

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much. 

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.  

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together. 

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions. 

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success. 

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well. 

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again. 

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move. 

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.  

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about. 

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed. 

Kevin. 

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks.  Chris was in a rage for a week. 

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.  

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.  

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding. 

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else. 

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth. 

Maybe you too could be friends. 

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm.  He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond.  He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later. 

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play. 

----- 

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?  

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him. 

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris?  This is Y/N.  I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you. 

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry.  I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone.  You just never believed that Chris would really move on.  And you didn’t know why. 

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries!  Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed. 

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot. 

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You  were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him. 

And that wink. 

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed. 

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off. 

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology. 

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging. 

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin.  You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped. 

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.  

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option. 

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend. 

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics.  His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”  

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy.  Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance.  Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set.  Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over. 

“What can I get you, Sir.” 

“I don’t need a drink.  I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party.  I need it to be extra special.”  

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see. 

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.” 

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.  

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin. 

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be.  You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills. 

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”  

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking. 

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN!  WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.” 

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban. 

“Listen to me.. Listen.  I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent.  You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him.  He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”  

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face.  Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”  

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”  

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.  

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred.  That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan.  Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great.  I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”  

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad.  Chris was so sweet.  You thought about him and you thought about Kevin. 

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?  

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.  

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.  

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.”  You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that  for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.  

“Word?”  You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand.  The one you knew he jacked off with.  You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm.  Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again. 

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

 Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.” 

 Then you snapped out of it.  

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.  

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him. 

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?”  Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.” 

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell. 

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”  

You looked at Kevin, too.  You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.” 

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him.  The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you.  “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?”  You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard.  Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.” 

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it.  He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”  

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe.  He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own.  He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue.  You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage.  He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him.  You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”  

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long.  You pulled it out with a pop.  

��You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X.  He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more.  His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.”  You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City.  He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.  

“So you want me to feel you up?”  He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you. 

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass?  Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game. 

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too.  It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult.  He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down.  Is it true?”  

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand.  Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris.  Only you.. Since you and I….”  Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.  

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again. 

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly.  He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!”  Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted?  You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh?  You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?”  He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.”  Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”  

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”  

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him. 

 “Please!”

“I know why.” 

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit.  He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly. 

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick.  He didn’t have to move.  Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him.  He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?” 

You searched his face.  He sounded like he was about to cry.  You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid.  You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris.  I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.  

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly.  You on your knees for him again was a dream. 

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”  

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you. 

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you.  It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought. 

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet. 

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.  

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you. 

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done.  You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.  

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.” 

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor.  He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”  

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know.  None of that meant that we’re back together.  That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?” 

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own.  You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.”  You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”  

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove. 

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees.  He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body.  He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you.  He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”  

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

--- 

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.  

“We’re going to Aruba?”  

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching.  That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.  

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.” 

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower.  You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog! 

Tags:

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[spyrothesquish-0006]

Bakugo X afab!Reader, Period Comfort fic

Warnings: afab!Reader, mentions of period cramps

Period cramps suck, but Baku would give the best snuggles 🥺

Enjoy! I haven't posted in a while cuz writers block and life being busy, but I'm back! For now 🥲

_________________________________

"Hey, dumbass. What has you looking so down?"

      It was funny, honestly, how Katsuki had such a way with words. If it was anyone else, perhaps you'd be offended, but you knew that's just how Bakugo was. His tone was rough, but his eyes were soft as he stood in front of you, looking down at where you currently sat, slightly curled up in a ball at your desk.

      You hadn't noticed, but you probably did look a little down. "That time of the month" had come around, and your cramps felt like your insides were being ripped apart and chomped on by an angry chihuahua. All you wanted to do was lay in bed until the pain went away, but alas, you still had classes for the day. Luckily for you, it was the last period of the day, so all you had to do was survive the next 45 minutes before you could go back to the dorms.

      Bakugo was still looking down at you with concern hidden behind his usual scowl.

     "Well? What's wrong? Do I need to blast someone to bits, or what?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his immediate jump to violence. He always was so protective of you, after all, he should be. He did just so happen to be your boyfriend. You shook your head as a small smile came to your lips.

     "No, it's nothing like that. It's just cramps kicking my ass for now."

You rested your head down on your desk for a minute as the pain kicked in, eyes screwed shut in a pained grimace. Why did you have to be cursed with a uterus?

      You felt as a warm hand was placed on your back, willing you to relax a bit as Bakugo rubbed your back. His voice lowered as he leaned down to kiss your temple.

     "Just hold on another 40 minutes baby, then we'll get you back to my room for the night, okay?"

All you could manage was a nod before Bakugo had to take his seat before Aizawa would get mad at him.

     The next 40 minutes passed in a daze; you were too focused on the pain in your stomach to even remember what the lesson was about. You went to grab your bag to leave, but your hand was tugged back before you could pick it up.

     "Don't even try, let me."

Bakugo grabbed your bag off the ground, giving a slight smirk at the way your eyes softened. He wrapped an arm around your waist, ignoring the snickers he heard from the back of the class as he went to leave with you. Why should he give a damn about what a bunch of wanna-be-hero extras thought? You were his, and he was heavily proud of that fact. His uncaring attitude didn't stop him from throwing a hard glare their way, however, and anyone poking fun knew better than to continue.

      You leaned against his side as you two walked back to the dorms, finding comfort in the sweet scent of caramel as he idly rubbed your back on the way. The cramps still hadn't let up, and all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and not move. By the time you and Bakugo got to his dorm room, he decided he'd be better off carrying you, so you were soon swept off your feet and later placed onto his bed.

     "Stay here for a minute, and don't even think about moving. I'm gonna grab some of your stuff so you can stay the night."

You knew better by now than to argue with him, so all you did was give a tired nod as you grabbed his pillow from his bed and hugged it till he got back. You noticed then that Bakugo had left one of his hoodies hanging off the back of his chair by his desk. It still smelled like him when you grabbed it, and you figured he wouldn't mind if you borrowed it, especially considering you didn't feel good. It was rare for the hero-to-be to say no to you for anything, especially if you weren't feeling well.

      Bakugo came back a few moments later, carrying a change of clothes, blanket, some snacks, and your pillow, when he stopped in his tracks. You looked so small and worn out from where you were curled up in his bed, wearing *his* hoodie. It made something swell in his chest as he set your things down, cheeks tinted pink as he tried to regain his usual cocky attitude.

     "Missed me that much, huh? I was only gone a few minutes." He reached out a gentle hand to smooth over your hair, his quirk making his touch warm and comforting. His cheeks flushed slightly as you looked up at him with tired eyes, and he couldn't get over how adorable you looked. You were swimming in his hoodie, and his heart was picking up speed the longer he looked at you. You gave a simple nod, reaching for the clothes he had brought you while Bakugo turned his back to let you get changed.

      It always broke his heart whenever you didn't feel good, but at the same time he adored taking care of you in his own simple ways. He may not be able to change the fact that you were wracked with pain every month, but he could be there by your side to comfort you, and offer his shoulder as a cozy place to rest your head on. His hands were always warm, and you had found that they worked wonders when the cramps got bad. He always looked forward to the day you felt better, but until then, he would enjoy his role as your caretaker.

     A gentle tug to the back of his shirt brought him out of his thoughts as Bakugo turned to look back at you. A pair of sweatpants hung off your hips and his hoodie had swallowed you up as you tugged him into his bed. You gave him your best version of puppy eyes as he pulled him closer to you.

     "Can I just lay on you for now? You're cozy."

     "Whatever you want sweetheart, you know that."

He happily let himself be pulled down into his bed, relaxing against his pillows while you curled up on his chest. He always acted as though it were no big deal whenever you curled up to him, but on the inside, Bakugo always hoped to god you couldn't hear the way his heart pounded in his chest. His skin felt warmer than usual any time he held you, and either you never noticed, or you simply didn't complain. Either way, Bakugo was content.

     It wasn't long until his fingers were carding through your hair, one hand resting on your head while his other traced and massaged along your lower back. Your eyes drooped as he held you, cramps slowly going away with the feeling of his hand on your back. He hummed softly as he traced over your skin, happy with knowing you trusted him enough to care for you at times like these. Bakugo was never one to get sappy, he always hated the "honeyed bullshit" as he called it, but he truly wouldn't change nights like this for the world. Not with the way you looked up at him with the biggest eyes. You always found a way to make him feel like he was #1 with everything. #1 hero, #1 student, and most importantly, #1 boyfriend.

      The night wore on as you fell asleep against his chest, lulled by the sound of his soft humming and his hands on your back, massaging any aches and pains away. His eyes were heavy as he looked down at you, but he just didn't want to fall asleep yet. He didn't want this night to end. He wanted to just hold you in his arms like this forever, obligations and responsibilities be damned. He held you like his own personal teddy bear for the night, arms heavy around you while he began to drift off. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead while you slept, muttering a soft,

     "G'night baby."

He let his eyes slip shut as he relaxed against his pillow, finally succumbing to sleep as you dreamed away in his arms.

[sofigrace]

heeeey, remember this post? well, my hand slipped...

The Promise

Critical Role - Campaign 3: Laudna & Ashton, implied Laudna x Imogen. Angst, hurt/comfort.

Laudna was staring at Imogen, who was sleeping close to her, her face inches from her own. She seemed calm, younger. Laudna was a bit jealous.

She tried to sense Her, tried to see if she was listening, silent but awake, but Laudna felt nothing. It was common, she’d noticed, for Delilah to disappear for a while after one of her episodes, which had become more frequent. Apparently possessing a whole dead woman took a huge toll on the neceomancer, and Laudna would feel good about it, if it weren’t for what happened that day.

Delilah had taken over her again, this time with enough power to strike against her friends. She didn’t remember (she never did) but when she woke up she saw what she had done.

No, not me, she reminded herself. Delilah.

Orym, sweet strong Orym, was unconscious on the ground, Fearne and FCG hovering over him. He was okay, Imogen had told her when she sat up, just a bit hurt. But Laudna had seen the tear tracks on her cheeks, the nail marks on her throat, and the way Chetney was staring at her warily, chisel in hand.

“Imogen,” she’d said. “What did I do?”

She had tried to sugar coat it, saying it wasn’t that bad, saying they took care of it. Saying that they were on the way to fix it, to fix her, and they wouldn’t stop until they did. But Imogen didn’t need to say it out loud for Laudna to know what had happened: Delilah had gotten out again, and she had tried to kill her friends.

They set up camp, deciding to rest and continue their trip in the morning. Orym had woken up and, though a bit groggy, had assured her he was okay. Imogen had taken her usual place next to Laudna and fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted.

By the light of the fire, the nail marks on Imogen’s throat stood out greatly, and she saw a slight purple bruising starting to form, where her own fingers had pressed, hard and unmoving.

Laudna stood up and walked towards the fire. Ashton, having volunteered to take the first watch, was staring at it, their back towards her. The glass hammer shone brightly, reflecting the light of the flames.

“If you’re a crazy necromancer lady trying to kill me,” they exclaimed, “I’m really in the mood for a beating.”

Laudna laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Ashton smiled at her when she sat next to them.

They had become quite close in the time they’d traveled together, and Laudna was grateful everyone else was asleep. Besides Imogen, they were the person she trusted the most. The only one in the group that didn’t start treating her differently after Delilah started manifesting

She dreaded what she was going to ask them to do

“You’re thinking too loud,” said Ashton after a while. “You’re gonna wake up Imogen.”

Laudna spared one look towards the sleeping form of the most important person in her world. Her purple hair framed her face like a halo. It almost hurt to stare at her for too long.

“I almost kill her today.”

She hears Ashton exhale roughly. “Bullshit.”

“I almost kill all of you.”

“No. Lady Briarfuck almost kills us. Not you.”

“But it was me. It was my blast that hit Orym. It was my hand that choked Imogen when she tried to…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t even fathom the possibility of hurting the people she cared about. But she’d done it. Possessed or not possessed.

“This can’t happen again.” She finished.

“And that’s why we’re heading to Whitestone. To figure out how to remove the crazy bitch from your head.”

“Ash…”

Ashton looked at her, and the look in their eyes told her they knew what she was thinking. She was almost sure all of them thought about it at some point, but didn’t dare to say it.

Well, all of them except Imogen.

“If I lose control again…” she started.

“Get the hell out of here with that.”

“If it gets as close as it did today you need to promise me that you will end it.”

Ashton looked at her with fury and sadness in his eyes. “End you, you mean. Fucking kill you.”

“Well, when you put it like that-“

“No fucking way.”

“Ashton…” she pleaded.

“Don’t ‘Ashton’ me. You’re tired, you’ve just been possessed by a dead woman, you’re not thinking clearly.”

“It’s the clearest thought I’ve had in a while.”

“Have you talked to Imogen about this? Cause I’m sure she’d have some words-“

“She wouldn’t accept it! You know that!”

Laudna was begging now, tears prickling at her eyelids. Ashton noticed it, but they didn’t seem to be backing down.

“She loves fiercely and she loves selfishly, and I love her for that, but right now it’s not what I need. And even if she did accept…she wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Laudna knew she wouldn’t, if their situations were reversed.

“And what makes you think I will?” asked Ashton a bit calmer.

Laudna smiled sadly. “Because you’re the only one who understands.”

And that was the thing. The unwritten rule they’d almost died for. The rule they still believed in, as long as it was them who got to take the fall. They never thought about it the other way around, they couldn’t. But they knew Laudna was right and they knew that, if they were in her shoes, they would’ve expected the same from the others.

And she knew that they knew that.

They didn’t like it. Hell, they hated it. They hated how she was right. They hated the notion of having to end their friend’s life. And most of all, they hated that little whispering bitch that made them agree to this horrible plan.

Ashton didn’t say anything else, but Laudna knew she had won. She felt relief, but also guilt. Guilt at having to ask this of Ashton. Relief, knowing they wouldn’t let her hurt her friends again.

“You know, if I have to end up doing it,” said Ashton, looking at the flickering flames again. “Don’t go away too fast, I’m gonna meet you there.”

“Why?” asked Laudna, her eyes not leaving their face.

“Cause Imogen’s gonna fucking kill me.”

This elicited a laugh from Laudna and a small smile from Ashton.

They put an arm around her and she lay her head on their shoulder, hoping the promise they made that night wouldn’t have to come to fruition.