#link mainstream x reader

[reidslovely]

How to Disappear: Waves Crash in Over My Head

Please reblog and comment inlace of liking, pretty please.

Previous Chapter: Life Unknown

Pairing: Link/Alex Goodrich x Fem! Reader/OC-ish.

Content Warnings: Slight anxiety attacks, Link sends his fist through a wall, flashback heavy. Talking about aggression, mentions of broken noses. Intense arguing. I'm sure I missed something, let me know!

Waves crushed in over his feet, the soft sand beginning to sink beneath him. He was locked in place watching her talk with her friends by the fire. She glowed in the light of the fire, her eyes brighter than the fire and the moon.

 Waves crashed back in over his feet, he watched everything wash back out. He let go of the breath he was holding. Sudden hands on his back brought him back from whatever world he had landed on and pulled him back to this world. 

Her world. 

“You were great out there tonight.” 

His heart felt stuck in his throat as he gazed down at her. His lips turned up into a smile, his arms coming down to swallow her whole as he pulled her against him. 

“Yeah? Thought I looked silly out there, I got all nervous knowing you were watching me.”

Her head threw back in a laugh like it always did, the childlike joy filled their own little bubble.

“I’m serious!” He shouted in a laugh, his nose against her forehead. “Thought of such a pretty girl got me all sweaty in the jersey..the jersey you’re wearing by the way.” 

(Y/N) faked a gag, shrugging her shoulders causing the lacrosse jersey framing her to slouch slightly. 

“Mhhm well maybe I should stop coming. I'd hate to ruin your college scouting..” (Y/N) spoke up to him, her eyebrows raising.

“No, no you’re my good luck charm, need you there.” 

“I’ll be there..always.”

“You better be.”

-

Sun warmed his face, as Alex’s body jarred forward waking him up from his memory. Alex swiped at his nose, blinking a few times waking up from his long nap. Fairfield County was a welcoming sight. 

Not. 

He stood from his spot on the greyhound, watching the young mother and her daughter who sat next to her file out first. The little girl looked up at Alex smiling at him, and Alex smiled back before dropping his head. He grabbed the small grey bag off the seat next to him and jumped off the bus pushing the glasses to his face. 

He felt like a ghost here. Fuck, he was a ghost here. He wished his parents luck in talking their way out of this one. Alex, head down, took off up the street walking the square. Talking himself up to make the trip to his old subdivision, hoping he can keep whatever demons at bay. He watched a group of boys in jerseys cross the street laughing, lacrosse sticks over their backs. 

He loved lacrosse. It was the one sport he actually enjoyed, and maybe it’s because it let him exude just enough aggression to get by. He had done wrestling but biting got him disqualified, he did boxing but you can only break so many noses before people start asking questions. Lacrosse though. Everyone there was aggressive, most of the boys on his team were put on the team by the school psychologist to help them vent their issues. Alex found it funny that his aggression almost got him a free ride to college solely due to being hidden in his athletics. 

Alex had gotten caught up looking at the past, he didn’t see what was in front of him. Literally. 

“Oh my god I..I’m sorry.”

Alex hit the ground, the woman’s bag she was carrying dropping and scattering her groceries all over the street. The small girl holding the woman’s hand gasped. Alex put his head to the concrete, anger rising in his chest. He squeezed his eyes tight, taking deep breaths calming himself down before speaking. 

“I’m fine. I’m okay it was my fault I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Neither was I. I’m so so sorry.” She laughed nervously. It twisted in Link’s chest. It was all too familiar, and the eyes peering up at him made him sick to his stomach. The knife in his stomach twisted deeper as he saw the moment of recognition wash over her own face. Two ghosts staring back at each other.

-

“You can’t do this. You can’t just disappear.” Alex’s jaw twitched as hot tears poured down his face looking at (Y/N). He unpacked her clothes as she tucked them away. “It’s not disappearing if I tell you where I’m going.” 

Her words didn’t sound like her own. It was distant, void of the warmth she usually spoke to him with. “I have to go okay, Link. My mom and I don’t have a choice. Okay. There’s money involved and..and she made a legally binding contract or whatever.” 

“With who? Your aunt that you two have to disappear? You can come live with me, my family won’t care they love-”

“I can’t be with you Alex! Okay, do you fucking understand that? We’re just kids, everything is so..compli-” It was ‘Alex’ that set him off. She never called him that. 

“I’m complicated. That’s what you’re trying to say. You’re giving up on me like everyone else huh? Huh!”

(Y/N) flinched as he yelled. Tears rolled down her own cheeks and she choked on her own tears. He didn’t care. She was leaving him, she didn’t have a right to be crying. He didn’t know what happened next, he doesn’t remember it. It was like he woke up after seconds of black, his hands through the drywall of the tiny house he’d loved in comparison to his family's estate. (Y/N)’s mom stood in the doorway of the bedroom he’d spent hours in.

 “You should go, Alexander.” The older woman spoke softly, with a motherly tone. There was something they weren’t telling him. (Y/N) started to run after him as he walked up the wall. Her mom held her back as she cried for him. 

-

The girl he loved was a woman now. Standing before him in sundress and her hair pulled back into a butterfly claw clip that matched the little girls. One thing that didn’t change was the gold ‘A’ that hung around her neck, now joined by a golden ‘P’ on a smaller chain. The little brunette girl that had been holding (Y/N)’s hand had bent down picking up his sunglasses and items that fell from his bag.

“‘ere you go, sorry.” She spoke with a speech impediment that impaired her ‘r’s. But she had tried really hard in pronouncing them so that (Y/N)’s lips curled up into a reflexive smile, patting the girl's shoulders. 

“When did you move back? Wh-..” His face twitched in confusion. His brother surely would have known and would have told him. 

“Two years ago.” She spoke, pulling the girl back into her side. Playing with her brown curls. “I tried looking for you but..I was told that you..well weren’t around anymore.”

“I wasn’t technically. But..” “Mommy can we please go? I wanna show Addie my new toys.” Alex’s eyes wandered her fingers for any sign of a ring. Mommy? She’d had a child? She couldn’t be more than eight years old. She’d moved on so quickly after him when he never did. (Y/N) took a shaky breath, smiling down at the girl. 

“Course baby. Huh, Link..it was nice to see you.” He felt like he was stuck in slow motion as she turned away from him. “Wait, wait.” He rushed after her, hands shaking. “I uhh..do you have a number I can call you on?”

She hovered for a moment, she seemed paranoid looking around and even past him. “Yeah.” She let go of the little girls hand, digging in her bag for something. She slipped a yellow card into his hand, and for a minute let their hands linger on one another. He wonders if she can feel the heartbeat in his fingertips, and his eyes begging her to stay here for moments longer.

“You look good.” She smiled. “I didn’t care much for you blonde.”

She’d kept up with him, hidden in plain sight. That made him feel good, to know she’d at least watch from a distance.

“I didn’t either.”

Her hand left his, and took the little girl's hand back in hers. “Let's go P.” She said sweetly, the little girl waved at him. “Bye!” She yelled as she walked down the street, (Y/N) looking over her shoulder at him catching one last glance. 

-

“You knew? You knew she was in town and you didn’t tell me. You didn’t mention it in a single phone call.” He yelled at his brother as they stood on the back porch of his childhood home. 

‘I didn’t think it was important.” Ben says calmly. “And I thought it would make you spiral to know she had a kid.”

“No, I'm spiraling now because I had to find out this way.” 

“It was almost a decade ago, she left you and you burnt down a school in retaliation. I’m sorry for thinking it would send you down a rabbit hole of anger.”

Link could feel his eye twitch, he reached up scratching his face with his free hand. Flicking a cigarette with the other. Ben stared at him, having more to say but holding it back. He felt sick to his stomach, like he could crawl into bed and simply rot. A part of Link always hoped that she’d wait for him, turn eighteen and come and find him. But she never did, which he didn’t make it easier for her. Always moving, not having a phone. They could have had a good life. Maybe had she never left he would have gotten help sooner, maybe they’d have a white picket fence life. He thinks about the life he could have had. Coming home from a long day at work, a suit and tie for some silly office job he’d gotten to support them. He thinks about kissing his highschool sweetheart hello and watching their daughter playing. 

Then, in the middle of it, he remembers sending his fist through the drywall of her room simply because he was angry and didn’t know where to put it. Though he knows he’d never hurt her, or his metaphorical child he feels sick. He hates himself. 

“I loved her. So much, and I was devastated when she just up and left and wouldn’t even tell me why. You knew that, you knew how much that meant to me. I still love her.”

“You don’t know her anymore. She doesn’t know you anymore, okay?”

“I could though. I could love her, and she could find something in me to love again.”

Ben was biting his bottom lip, Link knew his brother's heart hurt for him. But Link could also read people, way better than he’d like to admit he could, and Ben was hiding something. 

“I’m gonna call her.” 

Alex grabbed the sliding glass door of the house that led into the casual sitting room. As he walked in, his hand fishing inside the bag on the couch for his phone he heard a voice that stopped him in his tracks. 

“Son..” His father’s voice filled the room, that fake politician's smile on his face. And if Alex knew how to fake one thing it was a smile. 

“Dad, hi.” 

His father took a couple steps in hugging his son to his chest. “So good to have you home. We have a lot to talk about.” 

Alex hugged him back with one hand, feeling like a little kid again. “That we do.”

taglist: @helloheyhihowdyheya @tarzinnia @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @sincericida @moonyslove78 @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @eevylynn.

[bxcketbarnes]

Summer Camp - Part Two

Pairing: Link x Reader

Words: 2600+

Hey, lovelies! I apologize it’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic. My headspace has been very funky for the past few weeks. I thought about doing a part two of Link’s summer camp au when I was re-reading it. You can read the first part here. I hope you guys enjoy! xox

One Year Later

You pull into the Crescent Lake Summer Camp parking lot, looking aimlessly for Link's vehicle. A frown comes to your lips when you don't see it, wondering if he backed out of his promise.

"You're going to come back next summer, right?" You ask Link as the two of you stand next to your vehicle.

The dirty blonde sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Oh, Y/N, I don't know-"

"Oh, come on! You changed so much over the four weeks," you playfully pout, resting your hands on his forearms. "Plus, I don't want to think I'll never see you again."

Link chuckles and wets his lips. "I have your number. I'm pretty sure you'll see me," he reminds you with a smirk.

You roll your eyes and lean against your car door. "Can't you just humor me," you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jack walks past your car and both you and Link glance in his direction. Link finds himself leaning forward, his chest inches from yours.

You shift your gaze to Link, your cheeks blushing at how close he is. The cologne he's wearing fills your nose and you find yourself leaning closer to him.

"I'll come next year if he's here," he whispers into your ear, one of his hands moving to your hips.

"Yeah?" You whisper back. "You promise?" 

Link pulls back from you and smiles down at you. "I promise," he laughs.

You turn your vehicle off after parking your car. You exit the vehicle before grabbing the backpack from your passenger seat. You release a huff of breath and glance toward the group of counselors.

This year there are ten counselors, the most this summer camp has ever had. Thankfully, there's a good assortment of male and female counselors. You grab your luggage from your trunk before grouping up with everyone else.

Leia notices you first and you're shocked when she doesn't run to you. Your brows furrow and you wonder if you've done something wrong.

Jack suddenly walks up to the group, causing your back to stiffen. You reach for the phone in your pocket when you notice him walking towards Leia. What the hell? You think to yourself as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

The meeting doesn't last very long before everyone disperses. You travel to the cabin you'll be staying in, glad to have the one that houses only one person. You plop down onto the bed and run a hand through your hair.

"Well, this year is going to suck," you sigh loudly and glance towards your luggage.

A knock rattles against your cabin door, snapping you from your daze. You stand up from your spot before walking over to the screen door. Kathleen stands on the tiny porch and gives you a wave.

"Hi, Y/N," she smiles at you. You smile back at her and invite her into the cabin.

"Hey, Kat. Nice job getting a good amount of counselors," you plaster on a fake smile while sitting back down on the full-size bed.

Kathleen laughs and nods her head. "Yeah! I'm very surprised at the turnout this year. Although, I was hoping Link would've come back," she mentions with a sigh.

"You and me both," you mumble while fiddling with the ends of your hair.

"If things become too much just let me know, okay?" She reassures you.

She must've noticed how close Jack and Leia were as well.

"Yeah, sure," you give her a smile and a firm nod.

Kathleen claps her hands together and releases a deep breath. "Alright. I'll leave you be. See you in the morning," she smiles down at you before making her way towards the door.

You bid her goodbye as she leaves your cabin. You tuck your hair behind your ears before getting up, deciding to unpack.

Hopefully, these next four weeks fly by.

-

Night falls at Crescent Lake Summer Camp and you look out the screen door. The cicadas are as loud as ever. You tuck your beach towel under your arm before walking out of the cabin.

You trek along the wooden trail that leads towards the small beach. The flashlight on your phone shines against the stained wood as a thousand scenarios run through your head of how this summer will play out.

You shake your head when you reach the private beach and you decide to turn on some music to distract you. You set your towel onto the sand and place your phone on top of it. You strip your tank top and shorts off before making your way into the water.

The tips of your fingers glide against the surface, a little relieved that the water isn't too cold. You walk out far enough before lowering yourself into the lake. You float on your back and look up at the stars.

Why would Leia hang around him? She knows what you went through… Your brows furrow as you try to figure out what possibly could have happened.

"Haven't I told you that you shouldn't be out here alone?" A familiar voice startles you, causing your limbs to flail in the water.

You quickly pick yourself up and glance towards the shore, seeing Link standing beside your stuff. "Link!" You gasp and rush towards the dirty blonde.

Your body crashes into his, wrapping your arms around his neck. Link circles his arms around your waist and lifts you off your feet. You nuzzle your face into his neck, your fingers combing through his hair.

"I'm so glad you're here," you mumble against his skin.

"I promised, didn't I?" He mentions and you pull away from him. Link smiles down at you and moves the wet hair out of your face.

You smile at him as your hands rest on his shoulders. Butterflies swarm around your stomach, not surprised that he still makes you giddy and nervous.

"Where are you staying? Does Kat know you arrived?" You fire off a couple of questions. Your gaze moves to the shirt he's wearing, noticing the large wet spot. "Shit, I'm sorry about your shirt."

Link laughs and glances down at his shirt. "It's fine. By the time I arrived everyone was asleep, so I came right here," he informs you.

You're quickly getting dressed as he explains his situation to you. The two of you start to walk back towards the cabins when you finally say something. "I-If you want, you can stay with me tonight. I don't have any roommates and I have a full-size bed," you offer him while jabbing your thumb in the direction of the cabins.

He smirks and casts his gaze towards the sandy ground. "You want me to sleep with you?" Link teases you.

Your eyes widen and your cheeks blush. "I-I- No, t-that's-"

"I'm kidding," he cuts you off with a chuckle, bringing his hand to your shoulder. "I know what you mean, and I will gladly take you up on your offer."

You roll your eyes at the dirty blonde before releasing a scoff. "I hate you," you laugh and smack his chest.

Link catches your hand and pulls you into his chest. A gasp leaves your lips as you fall into him, your free hand moving to his torso. "C'mon, you don't hate me," he grins, "who else would you hang out with this summer?"

A tinge of hurt spreads throughout your body at his words, remembering that Leia hasn't spoken to you since you arrived. "Yeah, you're right about that one," you sigh before removing yourself from his grip.

He catches onto your sadness and a frown replaces the smile on his lips. "Hey, what happened?" Link asks and lifts your chin.

You meet his honey-brown eyes and feel his hands gently rubbing your forearms. "I-I think Jack and Leia are together," you tell him your suspicions before giving him a fake smile. "She hasn't said a single word to me since I arrived earlier."

"Shit, really?" He mutters with furrowed brows. You hum in response as the two of you begin to make your way back towards your cabin. "I thought Leia wasn't a fan of him?"

"Yeah," you snort while shaking your head, looking down at your feet as you walk, "I thought so too. People change, I guess."

Link keeps his eyes on you. He wets his lips as your last sentence sticks with him. People change. You changed me… He wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into his chest.

You wrap your arms around his waist before nuzzling your face into the shirt he's wearing, his steps begin to slow and the two of you come to a stop. "I brought something that could take the edge off," he mumbles before glancing down at you.

"Oh?" You ask while taking a step back. Link slips his hand into his pocket before pulling a small zip lock bag out. Your eyes widen, seeing the perfectly rolled joint sitting in the plastic bag. "You brought drugs to a kid's summer camp?!"

You slap his arm and Link moves away from you, avoiding your slaps. "Hey! It's only one!" He defends himself with a laugh. "I forgot to take it out before I left."

Link slips his free hand into yours, lacing your fingers together before leading you away from the camp. "Link!" You hiss, stumbling after him. "You can't be serious!"

He looks back at you, a smirk on his lips. "Oh, I'm one hundred percent serious, baby," Link winks, causing your cheeks to blush.

The two of you stop after walking for two minutes. The moon shines brightly in the sky as you watch him remove the joint from his baggie.

You grow nervous, having never smoked weed before. You chew on your top lip as Link places the joint between his lips before lighting it.

He blows the smoke past his lips and makes eye contact with you. That's… attractive. You think to yourself as he passes it to you. You stare at it for a good minute before lifting your gaze to meet him.

"This is gonna sound so stupid but I-I don't really know what to do," you mutter, stuttering over a couple of words.

Link chuckles and lets out a hum. "That's cute," he says while stepping closer to you. The blush on your cheeks darkens, feeling the embarrassment run up your spine. He points to the filter at the end. "Place this between your lips and suck in."

You take the joint from his hand, holding it between your thumb and index finger. Link's free hand rests on your waist, gently stroking your clothed side. You take a hit from the joint, the smell of it filling your nostrils.

"Suck in again before blowing out," he whispers with a soft smile.

You do what he says, feeling the burning in your throat as the smoke blows in his face. A smug smile comes to Link's lips, and you start to cough.

You cough into the crook of your elbow, handing the joint back to Link. "Jesus," you mutter, your eyes watering. "You do this a lot?"

Link shrugs his shoulders and takes another hit. "Eh, mainly if I stressed," he mentions and holds the joint towards you.

"I don't think I could do that again," you laugh while tucking your hair behind your ear.

"How about this-" he cuts himself off and takes a long hit. He brings his free hand up to your neck before pulling you closer.

Your breath hitches, not really knowing what he's doing, as his lips get closer to yours. Link blows the smoke past your lips and whispers for you to inhale. You suck in until your lungs start to scream, blowing out immediately after.

His tongue pokes through his lips, wetting them before smirking. "You blow my mind every time I see you," he whispers to you, his gaze dropping to your lips.

A soft chuckle leaves your lips, your body slowly growing heavier. "H-How?" You stumble over your words, feeling his breath fanning the lower half of your face.

"I never would have guessed that you'd be here, sharing a joint with me," Link elaborates.

"I certainly didn't think I would either, to be honest," you mention while fumbling with the hem of your shirt. "There's probably a lot of stuff I wouldn't have done if I hadn't met you."

The dirty blonde's fingers make their way to your cheek, stroking it gently. "Is that a good or bad thing?" He asks in a hushed whisper.

"I don't think it's a bad thing," you shrug your shoulders. Your cheeks warm up under his touch as you find yourselves getting closer.

"I really, really want to kiss you," Link mumbles loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart pounds against your chest as your body begins to feel lighter. "You want to kiss me?" You ask in disbelief.

Link wets his lips and he nods his head in reply. "Of course I do. I have for about a year," he confesses to you.

You bring your hands to his face, gently trailing your fingertips along his skin. "You can kiss me if you want," you whisper while staring at his lips.

"Yeah?"

You nod as Link pulls you onto his lap. You straddle his hips, moving one of your hands into his hair. Link slides his hands up your back, feeling his nails dig lightly into you.

His hand rests on the back of your neck before pulling you in. You tug on his hair when his lips meet yours, and you moan into the kiss.

The kiss doesn't last very long before Link pulls back from you. You follow his movements, not wanting to stop just yet. A chuckle leaves his lips and one of his hands cups your cheek.

"So eager," he hums, placing a quick kiss on your lips. He smirks at you while stroking your skin, his eyes shifting from your lips and meeting your gaze.

"We should head back," you mumble to him before attempting to get up from his lap.

His honey-brown eyes stay on your figure the entire time, a sloppy grin sitting on his lips. You wipe the grass and dirt off of your knees before meeting his gaze.

"Do you need help?" You giggle while holding out your hand.

Link grabs your hand and you help him off the ground. He stumbles a bit and you move your hands to his waist, steadying him as best as you can. "Thanks, cutie," he grins, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

Your heart feels like it's beating a million miles per minute as the two of you begin your trek back towards camp. You glance towards him during the walk, your hands brushing against one another every few seconds.

"I'm really glad you're here," you whisper loud enough for him to hear, your pinky finger hooking with his.

The dirty blonde looks down at your hands for a few seconds before he laces his fingers with yours. Your heart flutters in your chest and you squeeze his hand.

"You're truly a miracle, Y/N," Link sighs, the corner of his lips tugging upward.

A smile graces your lips and you lean your head against his bicep. "Would you wanna grab dinner after summer camp is over?" You ask him shyly, tilting your head to look up at him.

Link shifts his gaze towards you and smiles. "Yeah, I'd love to," he mentions while dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. "As long as I get to pay."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Fine, but I'm paying next time."

-

Taglist: @softtdaisy​ @xoxoloverb​ @onlyfreds​ @corneliastreetinstyle​ @avenjames-anderson​ @sincericida​ @aenatslover​ @thewxntersoldier​ @reddesert-healourblues​

[softtdaisy]

Oh I love link from mainstream 😉 how would he react to one of his female fans if they wrote a smut fan fiction about him?

It's so interesting to write for Link 👀 (I wrote this as reader was the on writing it, it was easier)

We know Link would be looking for that kind of stuff: what the fans say about him, what they post. He loves seeing pictures of him. And if fanfiction were weird the first time, he kinda loves the idea that people love him so much they imagine themselves with them

So it's not a surprise that one day he ended up reading a smut you, a fan, wrote, imagining yourself doing things with Link that even himself didn't think of

And to say he was excited about this was an understatement. He wanted to find the person who wrote that please her fantasy. So she could go on the internet and say how good Link was for real.

It wasn't too difficult for Link to contact you, he found a way to your instagram from your blog. He sent you a message there. A quote, more exactly. "He came down on me, his blonde hair brushing my thighs while his tongue was started to discover my body." "Is that what you want, love?"

You were shocked to see that. You knew it could happen but you never thought Link would be acknowledged those stories. What could you say? You were way too attracted to Link to say no.

So you replied to his message and you started having some sexual conversations. It wasn't a surprise how creative that man could be to make you horny.

For him, it was of way to see if you were really interested in discovering what he could do with you. He didn't want to meet someone that was too scared of playing the game once in front of him. He quickly understood that you were not a small player.

He finally offered you to come to the show "but only if you're really ready to see what I can do to you." and you were more than ready.

As soon as Link saw you arrived before the beginning of the show, he brought you backstage and his loge to start his plan. "I hope this inspires you some new pieces of writing." he said, kissing your neck while his hand was meeting your underwear

[andrews-lovr]

Can you do a fic for Link where he and reader are rivals (like she’s also an influencer or something) and they have to do a collab because its been requested a lot then over time they start to fall for each other and eventually date?

Warnings: swearing, implied smut, kissing thats it!

Never had you thought you would have a youtuber account with 90 million followers.

It all started out as a stupid thing with your teenage friends, going around blogging things together to look back on when you got older.

You also never thought of the amount of amazing people you were gonna meet. Although there was always one who came up as your most hated, link.

Him and his stupid childish videos, and his stupid amount of followers and his stupidly cute face.

You were both on your way to reach your 100 million followers and he was so determined to get there before you that it just became a known that you were rivals in the industry.

-

One night on your live on instagram was when it happened.

Someone had the ordasity to put in the comments for your and link to make a collab together.

And then it was out there.

Every single inbox was flooded with messages asking for it, every post had comments about it and every time you opened your phone there was something.

You couldn't hide from the fact this is what your fans wanted.

Thats when you got the message from link himself.

Link

care to explain why I can't go a day without seeing or hearing your name?

Y/n

Im just as annoyed as you are, its not my fault. I've tried everything to stop them.

Link

Have you now? Or are you just trying to get us in a room together?

I mean, he wasn't wrong. You've seen some of his videos, you would never admit it, but you had. And he was undeniably cute. But you could never tell him that.

Y/n

Look, if you want we could do a collab. I'd get more followers from it, and maybe you could learn a thing or two from me

Link

Im not against it. And im sure you'd be the one learning a thing or more from me ;)

Dang was he flirting or trying to get under your skin?

Y/n

Okay, you can come around to mine tomorrow afternoon and we can think of something to film

Link

Sounds good

-

You didn't realise it but your film space was an absolute mess. You didn't want to appear like this to anyone, to your rival no less.

You cleaned up before he would get here, not because you found him attractive, just because it was a normal thing to do, is what you kept telling yourself.

You didn't really hate link, it was just so exaggerated that you had to be rivals that you just went along with it.

Even with this you had seen the videos. Those massive fan edits of you and link, even seen some of those fanfictions about you two. You had to admit that you did wish there was something between you to.

You must have been thinking about him to much because just like that there was a knock on your door.

- shit

"Coming!" You yelled.

The door opened, him standing there in his unbuttoned Hawaiian tshirt and shorts, fake blond hair carefully falling over his features. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his gorgeously toned stomach.

"My eyes are up here" he smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Can i come in?"

"Right! Yes, sorry come in" you said, offering him into the house.

"Right, straight to business, I only need you here for the video and that's all" you stated not wanting to push on this tension that was between you.

"Jeez someone's eager to get rid of me." He laughed, snooping around the room.

"Well um, the film rooms this way." You pointed toward the door on the end of the corridor.

"Nice, bit small, but nice film set-up. So what are we gonna film, q & a, some short videos together or a skit or something." He said, trying to focus on the project.

"I was thinking just a q&a. I thought we could go live and answer some questions."

"Sounds good, let's just set up a few things first."

The tension in the room was so heavy, and the live was even more embarrassing.

"Hey guys im here with link, i know so many of you have been asking for him and here he is" you project, putting on a happy face.

"Its good to be here, im sure your fans are just as admiring as mine are" he said smiling into he lens.

"First question is from #daniellikesburgers and he is asking why we started filming. Well for me its just something that I did with my friends and it just grew from there. And now I have all these lovely people who watch me technically make shit for a living" you both laughed.

"Well for me it was also one accident, I was out doing my usual thing where I was spreading my awareness of society and I had no idea someone was filming it. I just started filming more and here I am." He explained.

"Nice, next question is from #ilovelink-"

"Nice user name #ilovelink" link interrupted.

"Asking your first kiss story?" You said.

"Oh God, well honestly I think I about 14 and u know like every normal male at that age I liked a girl. And I just took my shot." Link said.

"Well actually, I havent had my first kiss yet. So we'll have to come back to that one." You said shyly.

"Youre lying?"

"No im not lying, why would I lie?"

"Because your gorgeous, why wouldn't someone want to kiss you?" Link confessed.

"You think im gorgeous? I thought you hated me?" You said shocked.

"No! I dont hate you, you hate me. We all know you've just been doing this because of what the internet thinks is between us. You don't actually hate me, your just lying" he admitted, closing the space between you.

"I - uh. Well."

"I know, the way you look at me... I see how you can't tear your eyes off of my body. I know how I really make you feel. Just say it, say it to your fans watching right now what you really think of me." He whispered in your ear, breathe hot where he spoke.

"I-uh. Link" you breathed.

"Yes sweetheart?" He said.

"Fuck! Yes I do like you, how could someone not like you" you shouted, reaching for your phone and leaving the live.

"Prove it to me then" he said watching your lips.

"Maybe I will-"

Before you knew it your lips were hot on eachother. The kiss was deep, passionate and rough, so much of that built up tension on his lips.

Breathing becoming difficult, his tongue found solice in your mouth. Of course he was a good kisser. Pulling apart from the kiss you were both panting, feeling the hotness of his breathe on your face.

"For someone whos never kissed before your sure know how to use your tongue baby." He chuckled resting his forehead on yours.

"I may be good with mine, but I'd like to see what else that tongue of yours can do." You smirked.

[ramayah]

❝𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄❞ — bttm! reader (male anatomy)

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 — jjk & ds twt links

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) — a lot of '' stuff'' is shown, please be aware of that

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 — toji, gojo, nanami, rengoku, uzui

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — don't click '' keep reading'' if u don wanna see the norm twt stuff<3 + this is jus here cause im so bored. (fem aligned (including she/he) dni<3)

toji fushiguro — #. u buy him sum off the mcdonalds $1 menu #. nights when ure gone #. punishment #. he loves being used by u #. early morning risers #. his tits r his weak stop<33

kento nanami — #. afterwork thingz #. such a gentleman #. one of his many needs #. punishmentnot his fault u can't walk #. wearing lingerie #. he loves dressin u up<3

satoru gojo — #. temper tantrums #. late-night hook-ups #. friday mornings #. restless nights #. don't make him beg :(( #. he can't get enough of u

kyojuro rengoku — #. he can't get enough of u #. he's sorry bout ur pants :(( #. he's addicted 2 u #. lazy sundays #. quickies<3 #. pay him some attention 2

tengen uzui — #. personal trainer! uzui loves helping you exercise #. give him more #. just another quickie<3 #. u gotta stay in shape babes #. punishment<3 #. he just can't get enough of u

[SIGNED BY— kuvijuo. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

[crimsonv1]

Can't Lie Anymore?

Link/Alex Goodrich oneshot

TW// manipulative relationship, toxicity, smut/implied, sub!character x Dom!reader, Fem implied, overstimming, cursing, //

This was stupid, you were stupid. It felt like every time Link talked something buzzed in your head and made you want to freak out and punch every single wall. You didn't know why, since you also loved it whenever he spoke- or did anything. Your emotions were going haywire, loving at and fucking hating it both at the same time. You didn't really know why- so you'd just put it off to the side.

That was what you thought all along, until one particular day. You were walking alone under the streetlights to cool off some of the anger and mixed emotions you were having from Link. It's not like he was doing anything bad, or wierd- it just became too much for you, and you had to go shrug some of it off. You turned into some alley that smelled like tested perfume and smoke. You say against the wall, looking around the city to take in your surroundings and try to take your emotions to calm.

Something pulled your eyes, a paper- a newspaper. It drifted in the wind near some trash can and it certainly smelled horrible. You took it in your hands as your eyes glazed over it lightly, it fully had your attention.

You skimmed over the letters in bold, gasping.

'Blaze Blamed On Pyro Son: Teen Firebug Apprehended'

It couldn't have been. It looked exactly like him.

Someone who burnt down their own school and got institutionalized...it couldn't be him. But it was him, it looked exactly like him. But his name wasn't Link, it was Alex Goodrich. Your brain became fuzzy and so did your eyes, you shoved the newspaper on the ground as you walked home. That was all you could think about on the way, and also the only thing when you were at home. You sat on the couch, looking at your hands as you focused, breathing in.

The door opened making you jump, as you looked up and saw Link..or Alex. "Hey what's wrong? You okay?" He said, tilting his head in a motion that let you know he was concerned. "'m fine." You were quick with him as you narrowed your eyes and got up, the action was rude, and so was your tone. He rushed over as you backed up. "What's wrong baby? What's up? Tell me anythin'".

You inhaled sharply, "Nothing wrong, Alex."

There was a loud, long silence after you said that. His head was down and only your breathing could be heard. "FUCK!" The loud sound made you jump. He walked around, banging on things as he screamed. He grunted, and let out heavy breaths and sighs as he screamed and yelled. "FUCK, THIS STUPID SHIT." he cursed, "Get out." You said calmly. You now knew why you felt so off around him, everything was a lie.

He looked up at you, his brows furrowed and his mouth wide. You pointed to the door. "Get out. This is my house and I don't want you in here any more." You said, your anger fueling with every second he stayed. He looked at you, his anger going away and it was replaced with sadness, fear, and he dropped to his knees. "Y/n, y/n- please.. please! I'm sorry..i- it just," you looked at his state, clenching your fists. "You lied to me. I don't know if anything you ever said was true anymore." You gritted your teeth to his pleads,

"y/n I love you..I need you, I'm so sorry- please- please don't leave me..I swear, this isn't a lie! That wasn't a lie!" He looked up at you, as tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, even if he used to only tell lies, this seemed genuine, what he said seemed genuine. He continued to plead for you, and you suddenly inhaled- as everything went silent. "Fine." You sighed.

Something in your heart changed, for some reason. He looked at you, the same look he had before. "you can stay. For a bit. But you can tell me only the truth. And you have to tell me everything." You said, a silent truce was made between the two as you had your stern voice. He slowly got up, nodding "I will I will I promise I will" he said, out of breath.

--------------------------------------

Somehow someway that resulted in him on your bed with tears spilling. "Y/n...pleasee..more" his breath was shaky as you straddled his waist, his hands tied behind his back as his hips struggled to jerk up to you.

"I'm sosososo sorry.. s-sorry.. I'm so sorry y/n..I need you so much.." he whined to you, his moans filling the air as you grinded slowly on him. "I..lied to you..for s- uh!" He whimpered when you would press harder onto him. "Go on.." you said breathily. "-so..long..m' so sorry ..I need you so much-" he said in a daze, everything was so much for him- he couldn't concentrate when you were touching him and making him beg like that.

"'Love you so much, Link." You smirked to him as he grunted, sighing.. you knew it pissed him off now. "y/n please -" "please what, link?" You grinned, "please ... It's Alex ... Y/n come onn" he whined to you. You giggled under your breath, "Such a good boy, Alex." He whimpered when you said his name, his back arching even more into you. And thats how the night went, you finally had Alex under your touch. And he'd surely never lie to you again, or that's all that he was thinking now. If he could even think straight.

[ HII 😸😸... OML.. I js came up with that idea RHRHRH 🤗 also y'all know I can't write bad endings so😍.]

[sincericida]

No but the blond Andrew Garfield is soooo...

[gojos-eyedrops]

What if…

Ok listen to me…

What if…I wrote a Link/Alex Goodrich fic? 👀

I mean look at him???

[cinnamonest]

I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.

I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.

The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:

Most women have rape fantasies.

62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!

The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)

To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:

the "go to therapy!" line

Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)

Here are some particularly insightful resources:

1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.

2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).

3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)

4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.

5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.

the "why would you want that?" line

The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.

the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line

On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.

The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.

No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.

ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.

Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:

(X) (X)

The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth

Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.

The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:

1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)

2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.

What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).

Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.

You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!

[yoshida-chiyo]

Sunghoon (ENHYPEN) realizing he has a crush on you

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader

word count: ~0.4k

disclaimer: No images used in this post belong to me. All credits to respective creators. Contact for credit/removal. Your work is valued.

casually flexes his muscles while pretending to stretch, hoping you'll be impressed

stares at you for a solid minute during a group hangout and suddenly forgets how to blink

blinking is overrated anyway 🙄

constantly teases and flirts but acts like it's just casual banter

"Oh, you dropped something? Must be my jaw because you're stunning." abhjdwujdbsk.

practices saying your name in front of the mirror to make sure he doesn't stutter when talking to you

ends up giggling cuz he can't contain himself ( >⩊< ).

develops a sudden interest in all your favorite things, like your favorite movies, books, and even your weird obsession with collecting antique spoons

When you ask him about it, he just shrugs ¯_(ツ)_/¯.

gets overly conscious of how he smells and starts wearing that cologne he swore he'd never use because "it's too mainstream." 

hey, anything to impress you, right? ツ

tries to impress you with his "cooking skills" but burns the pasta

still insists it's a new culinary trend called "extra crispy al dente." 😁

becomes the unofficial photographer of the group, taking candid shots of you when you're not looking

insists it's for his "photography portfolio" ( ◡̀_◡́), but everyone knows what's up

can't focus on anything you're saying cuz he's too busy imagining the two of you holding hands and walking into the sunset 🫠

gets caught daydreaming more than once

sits there and spaces out, trying to figure out how to confess to you

attempts to be poetic but ends up sounding like a romantic disaster

"Your eyes are like... um, stars. Yeah, stars. Because they shine... and stuff." 🙄 ahh, my dear hoon

lowkey drops hints about his feelings in casual conversations

"You know, if I were to have a crush on someone hypothetically, they might have the most beautiful smile ever. Just saying." 😌

awkwardly stumbles over words while complimenting you but manages to blurt out, "Uh, you look... really nice today. I mean, you always do, but, um, today is just... extra nice."

gets all flustered when you compliment him back 🤭

steals glances at you when he thinks you're not looking, only to get caught and pretend he was inspecting the nearby wall for potential paint flaws 🤪

rearranges his entire schedule to 'accidentally' bump into you more often ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

spends an entire day debating whether or not to text you first

finally musters up the courage, only to send a meme instead ( •_ •)

starts using your favorite emojis in his texts, thinking it's a subtle way to convey that he's totally chill and not at all thinking about you 24/7 🙈

initially types out a really cheesy name to save in his contacts, then backspaces furiously, trying to maintain a semblance of coolness

thinks for a while and ends up with a simple "[your name]" but with a subtle smiley at the end. :)

accidentally calls you "babe" in the middle of a conversation and tries to cover it up by fake coughing. (≖_≖ ) smooth, hoon, real smooth

has this stupid grin on his face whenever you are brought up in the conversation

denies having a crush when his friends tease him about it

"Me, crushing on [your name]? 🤨 Pfft, you're delusional!" 

nervous laughter

Copyright © yukimura-chiyo - All Rights Reserved

Note: Please refrain from reposting my work. If you appreciate it and would like to share, kindly link directly to the original post. Thank you for respecting the effort and creativity put into this content.

ty @deobizonctzen ⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝

[alonetimelover]

Pairings: Andrew Garfield x Photographer!Reader

Summary: In 2018 you met someone on a plane. You played board games and somehow that man stayed in your life. You've been pretty private until that man, love of your life spilled the guts during his interview with British GQ.

A/N: I watched Andrew's '10 essentials' video and somehow it produced this little Social Media story. Enjoy! Andrew articulates his thoughts very beautifully and philosophically, I tried to somehow embrace it.

2018

yourinstagram

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates, yourbestfriend and 56 282 others

yourinstagram london, im coming!!! can't wait to be back home and work in the uk for some time.

photo taken by the kind stranger that earlier lost to me in bananagrams. board games at its finest.

view all 16 292 comments

yourbestfriend can't wait to see you, bby!

ynupdates just wanted to say that i love all the photos you've done for the latest Vogue issue. i really admire your talent❤️

⤷ yourinstagram thank you, lovely! xx

vogue we're waiting for you, yn!

gqbritish we are too!

user33 is she the one that won the international portrait photographer of the year?

⤷ ynupdates yes, she is!

⤷ user55 is she under some agency or something? I'd love to contact her for some photoshoot

⤷ ynupdates i believe she's now working around magazines' photoshoots, hence the gqbritish and vogue commenting

——————————————————————————————

andregarfieldlasagna

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by andrewmyhusband, andrewspiderman and 4 292 others

andrewgarfieldlasagna Andrew today in London!

view all 1 292 comments

andrewmyhusband who is he taking photo of, smiling this hard???

⤷ andrewbtch people that saw him said he was out with some woman, but they didn't know who she was

andrewspiderman man's looking soon good 🤤

garfieldmyman THE arm!!! and that smile?? I can't

agfan772 that is a very specific camera, isn't it rather professional?

⤷ andrewsgirl well, he has loads of money so he's probably buying the best

——————————————————————————————

2019

yourinstagram

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by vogue, ynupdates, andrewgarfieldlasagna and 3 292 292 others

yourinstagram earlier this year i was invited by the incredible Gia Coppola to visit the set of her newest film, Mainstream. it is streaming online in early 2020, starring this guy, but also, and most importantly, absolutely talented and beautiful Maya Hawke.

view all 34 217 comments

mayahawke i love you, i love you, i love you

⤷ yourinstagram i love youuuu xx

gqbritish are we teasing our next cover star?

⤷ yourinstagram are we?

⤷ gqbritish we are.

andrewgarfieldlasagna omg!!!! 🤤 Andrew as a blond man looks sooo good

andrewbtch him covering gq??? and yn's taking photos? its gonna be great

ynscamera she's around andrew so much. on the latest vogue party she was seen leaving with him...

⤷ andrewscat she said in her one and only (for now) interview that she's great friends with him. i wouldn't be speculating about their private lives.

⤷ ynupdates she also said that he's one of the most down to earth celebrities she's ever met. but also that whenever she's around him, he's just andrew and you can't feel any arrogance or swankiness that is often associated with stars.

⤷ ynscamera they seem like great friends. good for them!

——————————————————————————————

2020

gqbritish

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by yourinstagram, ynupdates, andrewgarfieldlasagna and 3 292 393 others

gqbritish Andrew Garfield, man that became someone he'd dreamed of being. This month we interviewed one of the most wanted actors and (let's face it) men on planet Earth. How his SpiderMan movies changed his life? Is he in the newest MCU production with Tom Holland and Tobey Maguire? How friendships within and outside the Hollywood established him as a person? Click the link in our bio to get the (philosophical) answers to those and some more questions.

styled by Andrew Garfield

photographed by yourinstagram

GQ British 2020

view all 183 303 comments

andrewspiderman 'im not a werewolf!' sure andrew...

andrewgarfieldlasagna the way he speaks about his friendship is something I want to be able to express. he loves all of those people so much. it's so sweet.

ynupdates 'I wouldn't say I have hundrenths of best friends. No. I've got a few. My men from when we were young and beautiful. My YN that - she's just the perfect friend, you know? You'd say there's no 'perfect' people, and before knowing her I would've agreed. But now? She knows exactly what you need, how to talk with you. She - she's like a ray of sunshine you await all day, you know? Just before the sunset, it happens. And then it stays with you till you close your eyes before falling asleep. That's YN and her presence.'

⤷ ynupdates 🥺 I can't. he talks about her so beautifully...

⤷ ynscamera i want him as my best friend

⤷ amdrewandyn i refuse to belief those two people aren't in love, there's no way

yourinstagram working with this man is an absolute pleasure. thank you, gq for the opportunity of capturing this man's charm and warmth. ❤️

⤷ gqbritish no, we thank YOU.

agfan918 what a beautiful man

andrewspiderman he's denying those spiderman rumours so much with the proofs laying on the table

⤷ andrewsupdates like andrew said 'it's a photoshop'

——————————————————————————————

andrewsmylove

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates and andrewgarfieldlasagna 2 102 others

andrewsmylove guysssssss... i met andrew fucking garfield. i met the love of my life. i can die happy now.

view all 1 007 comments

andrewsmylove before you all start asking questions let me say this 1) it was outside london 2) he was out shopping (he had so many shopping bags full of groceries) 3) this picture was taken with zoom - we kept at least 8 feet distance 4) i got to have a small convo with him 🥺

andrewgarfieldlasagna oh god, so happy for you, love! ❤️

andrewspiderman do you know how he's dealing with quarantine?

⤷ andrewsmylove he said 'im alright, thank you. it's different, its hard. but there are people that don't have the luxury of staying comfortably at home and do mostly nothing. that, that's unsettling. i won't complain about myself. we just need to pull through it and hopefully it'll quickly become a history'

⤷ andrewbtch why isn't it surprising that he's Firstly thinking of others? he's so thoughtful

⤷ andrewsmylove he is! he talked to me about the food bank that just opened near the place we met. Two of those bags he was carrying were going there.

andrewandyn so happy for you! do you know if he's alone?

⤷ andrewsmylove he's not! when we were saying our goodbyes i said that i hoped he wasn't alone. he said 'oh don't worry, darling. i’ve got my family with me'

andrewbtch is this man shopping wearing a suit???

——————————————————————————————

2021

yourinstagram

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates, vogue, gqbristish, andrewgarfieldlasagna and 3 292 394 others

yourinstagram little lynn says hello

view all 199 383 comments

vogue hello, little Lynn!!! 👶

gqbritish we can't wait to see her during your photoshoots!

yourbestfriend keeping this little one a secret was haaard! my beautiful goddaughter ❤️

mayahawke congratulations, baby!!

andrewspiderman congratulations!!

andrewandyn i didn't know she was dating anybody during quarantine

⤷ andrewbtch i was sure she was spending it with andrew

⤷ andrewsmylove maybe they're, you know...

⤷ andrewbtch if andrew is a dad it's the end. nah, i can't take it. he's sooo hot plus a dad??? nope.

——————————————————————————————

andrewgarfieldlasagna

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by andrewspiderman, andrewandyn and 8 292 others

andrewgarfieldlasagna i can't belive it 🥺 after all those leaked photos, i still wasn't sure they'd bring andrew and tobey to be in this movie. andrews laying didn't help either. but im sooo happy. it was perfect

view all 1 292 comments

andrewspiderman when ned opened the first portal i recognised that lean man immediately, but when he pulled off the mask i screamed so loudly 😭

andrewandyn it was so nicely done. bringing them back didn't outshine Tom's performance. im so glad to be alive and seeing Andrew's wearing that suit for the third time

yourinstagram 'im not a werewolf' liaaaaaaaar

⤷ andrewsmylove omgggg hi Queen!

⤷ andrewbtch yn???? you didn't know???

⤷ yourinstagram nope. this is the cause of our divorce.

——————————————————————————————

⤷ andrewandyn divorce, babe. divorce.

⤷ andrewbtch poor andrew getting divorce from his best friend 😢

2022

andrewspiderman

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by andrewgarfieldlasagna, andrewandyn, andrewsmylove and 12 292 others

andrewgarfieldlasagna Andrew in his '10 essentials' video with GQ told a story of him and YN meeting. ON A FLIGHT. PLAYING BOARD GAMES. 'We are married. She's the mother of my child.' I am so happy for them 🥺

view all 2 392 comments

andrewandyn I told all so. I was right!!!!

andrewspiderman DILF.

andrewbtch daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy?

andrewmyhusband well, time to change the username...

ynupdates they named their child after his mother 🥺

andrewsmybaby guys!!!! gq released an interview as well

⤷ andrewspiderman no way! do you have a link?

⤷ andrewsmybaby ofc! www./gq-magazine/.co.uk

——————————————————————————————

www./gq-magazine/.co.uk

Andrew Garfield's search for ultimate philosophy of his life

Living the last year in Andrew's skin would be both - fulfilling and terrifying. Golden Globe win, an Emmy nomination, re-playing SpiderMan - Andrew is speaking about the freedom he feels while choosing his next projects. Not excluding the new experience, new life he'd been living since last year.

Interviewer: I cannot not start this conversation with congratulating you.

Andrew: (blushing) Oh, thank you very much. Thank you.

I: You won a Golden Globe for your portrayal of Jonathan Larson in Tick, Tick...Boom!

A: Yeah. Super cool. Yes. It- you know how it can be with awards. I don't say I don't like them. It's pleasing to be recognised by the critics. But (scratching his beard) with this film it never was made for awards. Or I've never treated it like it. The storytelling of Jonathan's life, genius and impeccable talent was what I wanted to present as genuinely as it could be possible. Showing young and older people that this man did so much for theatre, for music, for people.

I: You definitely brought him to life.

A: That's- that's what I wanted. Thank you for acknowledging my pains.

I: Of course. I'd never deny someone's genius in acting.

A: No, no. Please no. I have this problem with that word. Genius is something that remarkable people could be blessed with. People making difference in the world, changing it for the better. No genius in my head. But like all words and feelings there is no universal meaning to them. So, in your understanding of the word: thank you.

I: You said about changing the world, but last year your world changed completely.

A: (smiling) Yes. Yes, it did.

I: You're a married man.

A: I am. I am married to the most delicate, understanding, caring, mesmerising woman I've ever met. I don't think my or your lifetime would be enough for me to express how much this woman changed my life. The- the absolute love I feel is one of the greatest feelings I've experienced. Such an eternal feeling.

I: It's not the only change, is it?

A: (laughs, while blushing) No.

I: Last year you welcomed your daughter in the world. You're a dad!

A: Yes! I finally can shamelessly make those ludicrous jokes. Even if not funny it's a dad joke.

I: How's that? Being a father?

A: Don't make me start. (laughs) At home, I have two rays of sunshine, beaming at me, making me absolutely awestruck. It's not helping when the little one is the picture of her mother - mind-bogglingly precious. It's- it's funny because my brother has kids. And whenever he spoke about how much he loved, appreciated and just - just valued them and his wife, I couldn't comprehend that. Love was always such a beautiful but mysterious feeling for me, somehow uncomprehending. And then YN came into my life. And little L was born. Those feelings just started burning my heart. My whole body. I still can't understand it. But it's so magical. You're really ready to do anything for that little human.

I: How are all the milestones?

A: Exciting. (tears up) Fuck. See? Oh God. Being so full of that love is- oh screw it. I'm done. (laughs)

I: What are your plans?

A: There's not many of them. We're trying to live the moment with YN, appreciate the joy that Universe gave us - little Lynn. We're living from one milestone to the other. From her first smile, through first prattle, first solo sitting situation to those attempts of the first word. I'm not the youngest, the big 40 is waiting around the corner, and experiencing those joys with my love is, I think, the essence of my existence.

I: Do you think without that you'd be lost?

I: Fullfilled.

A: I don't know. Maybe. Probably. It's a big thing to derive your happiness from other people, even if it's your absolute partner and child. It's dangerous. (Andrew thinks for a moment.) That's why I surf. It clears my mind, brings me my own, autarcik joy. It's something that is only mine. YN isn't a fan of surfing, but accepts and supports my endeavours. So to answer your question, without them my existence wouldn't feel pure. They make me complete.

A: Yes. It's strange getting to know in your late 30s that you lack so much. That your life could be so different if you met that on person earlier or not at all. There always was that perpetual search in me, for meaning of life, for love, for - you know - answers. Why, why why. There still is that search, but now I can just leave one room and go look for my wife and talk to her about it, search together. Or I can find my daughter, hug her and speak to her, sing. And even though she, for now, only can be a blabbery little human, the search is united.

I: What do you wish for now, in your life?

A: Like a dad would say, health. (laughs) My dad has so fun with calling me out on sounding just like him. I do. I do sound just like him. That's what fathers do apparently.

Magazine GQ

Andrew Garfield

Photographed by YN Garfield

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yourinstagram

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by mayahawke, andrewgarfieldlasagna, gqbritish, yourbestfriend and 5 202 292 others

yourinstagram exhausted (the best) father after chasing his one-year-old daughter around for the whole day.

1461 days with you and it still amazes me how my love for you can only grow.

view all 140 292 comments

yourbestfriend i know im late, but im still babysitting my little baby. youll have the whole hause to yourselves

mayahawke give my baby L a kiss!

⤷ yourinstagram be quick. lil lynn is ready to sleep and parents are ready to play Bananagrams

⤷ andrewsmylove bananagrams??? the game that they played the first time they met??? 🥺

andrewspiderman 4 years and a day??? they've been together for so long

⤷ andrewsmylove not really a day. it's fu 4 years - leap year has 366 days - so it's right

andrewbtch i still can't belive he's a father

ynupdates happy anniversary! ❤️

andrewgarfieldlasagna happy anniversary, lovies!!

[reidslovely]

How to Disappear: Life Unknown.

A/N: If you are reading this I finally decided to let this fic see the light of day. I wasn’t sure if this is something I wanted to post or not, seeing as Link is a very complex character. By that I mean he’s literally a walking piece of shit. But at the same time I’m constantly telling myself that it is normal to write fix it fics for awful characters, but like the whole Isabelle situation is very hard to write about. I wanted to see an ending for Link/Alex where he gets the help he deserves. He is severely mentally ill. But I also wanted to touch on Link’s past, and how this went on for as long as it did.I also selfishly wanted to see him have a love story and have human emotions sooo..

Please reblog and comment, pretty please.

Genre: Fix it Fic 

Pairing: Link/Alex Goodrich x Fem! Reader/OC-ish

Content Warnings: Mentions of suicide, person talking about struggles of being on the ASPD spectrum, talks of psychiatric hospital stays, bodily harm, neglect of child’s mental health.

Alexander Goodrich

It glared back at him in dull blue ink.

It was an unfamiliar moniker scrawled at the top of the sign out sheet. The longer he stared the more alien it felt to him. Alex was a kid who burnt down a school, Alexander was the beloved son to a local politician who had to put on a good face for mommy and daddy.

Parents who deny their kid mental health assistance, create monsters. The Goodrich’s today would deny that the hot mess YouTuber, donning the name ‘No One Special’ or more simply Link, was not their estranged son. That their dear son, Alex, had run off two months into a psychiatric stay that never happened; never to be seen again. When in all reality he was shipped off to a boarding school he had run away from only days later. Since that day he was constantly ghosting about, avoiding the issues he had caused by running away. No amount of running could stop the issues he had for so long. He was not- is not a good person. But before facing that knowledge he knew he could always run away, try again- and if that didn’t work; he’d run away again.

Till he couldn’t run anymore.

Everywhere he ran cameras, girls, articles talking about no one special followed him. He had fucked up, worse than he had in a long time. A girl died because of him, because he let power get to his head. Not because of Frankie, Jake, or the internet.

Because of him. He was the reason a girl was dead.

“Alex.” A nurse's voice rang out through the white, cold halls of the hospital.

Evansport Long-Term Psychiatric Care Facility in LA was a cold place, even with its blue and yellow painted walls. This had been home for the last two years, and this time it was different. He swiped at his nose standing up nervously, shoving his sweaty hands into his pockets as he approached the older woman. Counting the tiles as he walked, this was it- he was finally getting to leave. He was ready, he was different- he hoped.

“Mr. Goodrich, can’t say I’m not sad to see you go.” Dorothy says, passing the bag of his belongings off to him. Alex nodded, giving her a grateful smile; he tucked the clear bag under his arm hugging the older woman. This was something he had been working on since his diagnosis. Alex had always known there was something going on with him, something much bigger than himself- that made him act how he did. It’s not that he didn’t want to be good, he did. Alex always wanted to be good, no matter what the child psychologists would say. He just didn’t know what exactly being good meant, he had always had these…urges. Whether it was to knock his peers off the swingset, beat that kid from gym classes head in if he stared for too long. Alex had no impulse control, he struggled to relate to his peers. But, mom and dad said he’d grow out of it; he never did. He tried, god he tried but he could never find a good way to help himself.

He was not a good person. But he was trying.

“Thank you Dottie.” Alex said, dropping his arms, patting his bag. “Do you think there will be people out there?” He asked after a minute, his head nodding towards the door. His voice flattered for a second, there were still people curious about him and it made him sick. Before it would have thrilled him, but now..he didn’t even want to see one camera in his face. The flash alone would send him into a spiral he feared.

“No, no they never guess dismissal right from those silly sources. Besides, you look a little different now huh? Wouldn’t notice you unless they stared at ya to hard.”

He did. Link, now Alex, had changed since his check in date. His blonde hair had grown out past his shoulders into his natural brown at one point. Dorothy took it upon herself to cut it for him when he’d max out on reward points. He now dawned a bit more stubble, and perfect brown hair, with a hat and sunglasses no one would notice him- hopefully.

Alex checked everything one last time, before giving Dorothy a tight-lipped smile and turned on his heel heading for the door. It felt like a threat, a gun pointed to his head. He always thought what this day would be like, what he would do when he got out. Link, that’s who he was when he checked in, thought he would be here two months before he got sick of it. He would check out, cut his hair and run away again, but then the therapy, the medication- it all started to help.

Admitting there was a problem, admitting that he was the problem and that a young girl had died because of what he did. Alex realized he had to change, that it was finally time to help himself.

No more lies.

He gave Isbelle’s family the requested money in court before there was even an opening testament, only requesting to return back to the psychiatric facility with what he had left to pay for it. Now here he was about to throw up, as he crossed the threshold into his new life.

His face flushed at the sunlight, he silently shut the door and started walking up the long driveway towards the gate. He sniffled and cleared his throat, sitting on a bench he’d claim as his own on his daily walks, he wasn’t quite ready to take those last few steps out of the gate. Digging in the bag, he pulled everything out: a black button up and slacks he had worn to court, a hoodie, his wallet, his phone.

His phone, he tossed it between his hands- the weight felt sickening in his hand.

“If it hadn’t been for the phone- no the phone didn’t cause this.” He reminded himself, he turned it on. Not knowing why, or what he thought he was gonna get out of it. The biggest part of him hoped it wouldn’t turn on, in the two years it had been shut off that it just magically died.

The ping of it turning on made him irrationally angry, wanting to just shut it off. Floods of text messages washed over his screen. No twitter, no instagram- he had deleted them on their way back from court.

For a minute everything stopped, no more text messages- till a final ding.

Frankie - Today 8:06 am.

“twitter source says your stay ends today. we should talk.”

His brother must have been paying on his phone bill somehow, he never mentioned it in their phone conversations. His thumbs danced over the keyboard, typing and erasing a replay- what did he say? Three dots popped up, soon replaced by a message.

Frankie - Today 8:15 am.

“you know where to find me.”

He closed his phone, shoving it into the pocket of his sweatpants, finally standing and pushing the gate open.

-

The old magic bar was in the middle of town, it was a bit of a walk but it did him good. The sun felt nice, it was finally fall, which meant the wind blew through here and there. As he reached the now abandoned building he halted, looking around. What if this was some sort of ambush- and the minute he walked down that alley his face would be everywhere in the next couple hours. His heart-rate increased, it felt like it was stuck in his throat.

Alex’s feet carried him forward with hesitant, quiet steps. If someone was waiting for him they wouldn’t hear him coming.

“Frankie is good, too good. She wouldn’t do that. Even if that’s what you deserved.”

He thought to himself as he looked around. He shoved his hands into his sweatpants, picking at the lint twirling it around between his fingers. Footsteps carefully found their way up the steps, he turned his head automatically.

Frankie looked older now, more mature. Her hair was longer, tucked behind her ear showing her scar off proudly. He always liked when she was confident. Her clothes are no longer ill fitted, but tailored and comforting. She’s come into her own.

“Hope you’re not here to ambush me.” He says quietly, taking in the woman before him. Frankie shook her head, her fingers dancing on the metal railing.

“No, no. I should but-” She stopped herself, looking around. “I’ve gotten out of the habit of picking out others' to feel better about myself. You should try it.”

Alex laughed, well, he blew air out of his nostrils and let his lips curl up into a bitter smile. “Yeah, me too. Never made me feel better about myself.”

“Could have shocked me.”

It was a silence for a moment, it was an unpleasant memory sitting here with her like this. There was a unpleasant lingering in the air like a bomb was going to drop.

“Did you love me? Or even like me?”

There it was.

What a weighted question, he gripped the metal railing swaying back and forth on his feet. “No.” He admitted, looking Frankie in her eye. “I didn’t love you- I don’t love I haven’t since..well in a really long time. I think..” He stopped himself, thinking about his next few words carefully. “I was infatuated with you. I tricked myself into thinking I loved you. I hurt you and I’m sorry it had to happen for me to be here now.”

Frankie stared at Link, Alex- whoever this new man in front of her was. “So who was she? There’s always a ‘she’ in these situations isn’t there?”

Alex laughed, rolling a rock under the sole of his shoe. “Was she one of the girls who fooled around with while we-”

“No, no..no. She was a girl I had known a long time ago, in high school. I think she was the last person who had ever tried to understand me. She didn’t look at me like a project.”

Alex’s heart twisted into a knot thinking about the girl who had up and left him, their hometown, everything. It had been the catalyst- the incident that sent him over the edge. Where was she now?

It wasn’t a jab to Frankie, however the twitch of her nose let him know he had offended her. “Sorry, sorry I shouldn’t have said that” It was sincere, Frankie shrugged her shoulders.

“No it’s true. We just got caught up in each other, the game. We weren’t good people.”

“No we weren’t but, hey, I was worse. Clearly.”

Frankie laughed, then the silence grew again. His mind wondered before looking back at the blonde in front of him.

“You should find her again, when you leave LA.”

“How’d you know I’d leave?” He laughed, tilting his head back. “It’s what I do huh?”

“Kind of.” Frankie says resting her forearms on the railing. “But I’m serious. If you’re on this righteous road of washed up celebrity maybe you should find the one person who made you feel-”

“Like a human?”

“Your words not mine.” Frankie says, pointing a boney finger at him. Alex tilted his head forward and let out a sigh. It had been almost a decade since he had disappeared from his home state, was there any point in returning. He was dead to them, a ghost. Did (Y/N) think he was dead too?

“Yeah, yeah maybe I will.”

Frankie nodded at him, waiting for a minute before taking a step back. “You look good, Link. I am happy for you, but don't think I can forgive you though. Maybe in time.” The man nodded at her, he understood- he didn’t want her forgiveness he just wanted her to know.

“I respect that.” He started, pushing himself off the steel railing with his hands in his hoodie pocket. “It’s Alex now by the way.”

Frankie shoved her hands in her pockets looking at him, her eyes raked over his face trying to read him- it still wasn’t easy to manage. “Well, Alex, I hope to see you doing good in the future.”

“You won't see anything about me. I’m done gonna head back to Connecticut, disappear and become a hermit on the coast.”

“Well, maybe you could keep me updated.” She says as she walks away.

“Are you like my sponsor or something?” He laughs as he stands straight. Frankie shrugged, turning to face him stopping in her tracks.

“Maybe. Go find that girl..have a human experience. Leave everyone alone.”

Alex raised his eyebrows holding back a laugh, he wouldn’t know a human experience if it bit him in the ass. He watched her leave, the two raising their hands in an unspoken goodbye. Alex walked out of the alley and into the sun of Los Angeles, breathing in the toxins of the city one last time before heading towards the nearest city.

Come tomorrow, he would be gone again.

taglist: @helloheyhihowdyheya​ @tarzinnia​ @a-lumos-in-the-nox​ @sincericida​ @moonyslove78​ @messymissy​ @toomanyfictionalboyfriends​ @eevylynn​

[bxcketbarnes]

Congratulations! 11k is AMAZING! Can I request summer camp au with Peter… or Link? 😊

I fucking love this fic oh my god. Thank you so much for requesting! Much love xox

Summer Camp

"You realize I'm too old to go to summer camp, right?" Link asks his parents with a glare, tossing the piece of paper towards them.

His mother releases a sigh and crosses her arms, looking to her husband for help. "Son, you're not going there as a camper. Are you that stupid?" His father asks him, not putting up with his bullshit.

Link scoffs and he shakes his head. "Rich coming from you," he snaps at him.

"Do you hear yourself right now?" His mother asks him, hearing her voice crack. "You're going to this camp to learn responsibility. Link, baby, this'll be good for you."

"Good for me. Ha, yeah. You're sending me to the middle of nowhere to look after some brats that I don't know," he mentions while furrowing his eyebrows.

His mother and father glance at one another before she walks away. Link rolls his eyes at her behavior and he crosses his arms over his chest. 

"Why are you like this? Where did we go wrong with you?" His father asks him. Link doesn't answer him and the father releases a deep sigh. "Be ready by seven am. You'll be gone for two months."

He follows his wife upstairs, leaving the dirty blonde by himself in the living room. Link runs his hands over his face before pushing himself off the couch.

"Stupid fucking summer camp," he mumbles to himself while heading to his bedroom. "Yes, because sending me to a place I don't want to go is going to make me better. Fucking stupid."

Link plops himself on his bed, resting his hands underneath his head while looking up at the ceiling. God, this summer's gonna suck.

You zip up your suitcase and place it by your bedroom door, having it ready for tomorrow morning. This year will be your third year counseling at Crescent Lake Summer Camp and you're pretty excited.

One of the head counselors called you earlier in the day to inform you that a new counselor will be joining this year's team.

You couldn't wait to see everyone again. You also wonder who the new person is going to be. Whether it's a guy or a girl. If they're attractive, nice. You release a deep breath and shake your head.

"No relationships, remember," you mumble to yourself. Your mother yells your name as you exit your room and you quickly make your way downstairs.

Your father sits at the kitchen table as your mother places the various pots and pans in the middle of the surface.

"Smells great, ma," you mention while sitting in your seat.

"Thank you, honey. At least someone appreciates my cooking," she jokes and glances toward her husband. "Are you all packed and ready?"

You nod your head in response as your father tosses the newspaper onto the counter. "Are you excited?" He asks you while scooping some mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"Yeah, I can't wait to see everyone again," you exclaim with a smile, waiting for your parents to get food first. "Kathleen called me earlier and said there's going to be a new counselor."

"That's good. You guys were short-staffed last year, weren't you?" Your mother asks before placing a fork full of potatoes into her mouth.

You plate your dinner and nod your head. "It was horrible last year. Derek and Giana ended up skipping out, leaving us shorthanded," you clarify with an eye roll. "So, I'm hoping this year they'll be there and the new person. We'll be decently staffed this year."

"Well, that's good, honey. I can't wait to hear all about it when you get back."

-

You drive under the Crescent Lake Summer Camp sign, seeing the main cabin in the distance. A smile graces your lips as you pull into a parking spot. You turn the vehicle off before getting out of the car.

The heat smacks you in the face and you can't wait to take a dip in the lake. A car pulls in behind you and you glance over your shoulder to see a dirty blonde guy. He must be the new counselor. You think to yourself as you grab your suitcase.

You make your way towards the group of counselors when you notice the blonde hasn't left his car yet. "Y/N!" A familiar voice calls out to you and you whip your head around to see Leia running toward you.

She crashes into you, almost taking you out as chuckles leave both of your lips. "I missed you too, Leia," you laugh while hugging her.

"I'm so glad you're here. Derek and Gina ended up getting together and I feel like a third wheel," she groans while pulling away.

"God, did they really?" You scrunch your nose as the two of you walk towards the others.

Leia links her arm with yours before stopping you from continuing further. "There's also something I need to tell you," she says grimly, causing your eyebrows to furrow. "Jack's back this year."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you swallow thickly. "W-What? They let him come back?" You ask quietly, and Leia nods her head in reply. "Great."

"I'm sorry. Kathleen should've told you," she frowns.

"It was two years ago. I'm over it," you lie to her and yourself, shrugging your shoulders.

Link sits in his car, wishing he could just turn around and leave. The threat his father gave him before he left the house replays in his head. He looks out his driver's side window, seeing you hugging another woman.

Well, the girls are hot. He thinks to himself as his brown eyes roam down your body. He releases a deep sigh before turning his vehicle off. He steps out of the vehicle and grabs his bag from the backseat, sliding the strap onto his shoulder.

He joins the rest of the camp counselors and an older blonde woman smiles at him. "You must be Link, right?" She asks while stepping toward him.

"Yeah," he replies bluntly and shakes her hand a couple of times.

"Nice to meet you, Link. I'm so glad you could join us this year," she says with a grin. "I'm Kathleen, one of the head counselors here at Crescent Lake. Guys, you wanna introduce yourselves?"

Derek gives his usual two-finger wave. "Hey, I'm Derek. It's nice to finally have guy counselors here again," he introduces himself before draping an arm around the girl next to him.

"I'm Gina," the brunette next to Derek introduces herself.

Link's eyes move to the next person. "I'm Jack. Nice to meet you, bro," the black-haired man says and holds his hand out for Link to shake.

"Don't call me bro," Link states while ignoring the handshake, moving his gaze to the girl you were hugging earlier.

You're shocked at how Link spoke to Jack and you have to hold back a laugh. "I'm Leia," your friend introduces herself to the dirty blonde.

His eyes finally land on you and your breath hitches in your throat. Holy shit he's beautiful. You think to yourself before realizing you haven't spoken yet. "S-Sorry, hi, I'm Y/N," you smile softly at him.

A smirk comes to his lips and he lifts his hand to wave. "Hey," he mutters before diverting his gaze back to Kathleen. "So, how does this work exactly?"

"Well, tonight won't be too difficult. It's more of a chill kind of day before the kids come in the morning," Kathleen begins to explain while motioning for you all to follow her.

You cross your arms across your chest and follow the rest of the group. Leia glances back at you and makes sure you're doing okay before looking forward.

Jack slows down to walk beside you and you wish you could disappear. You didn't want anything to do with him after what happened two summers ago.

"You look great," he compliments you before nudging your arm. You take a step away from him, not saying anything. "Oh come on. Talk to me."

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. "Leave me alone, Jack," you mutter and walk away from him.

Link glances down at the feeling of something brushing his arm, seeing you walking beside him. His gaze moves from you to the man walking behind him, noticing the scowl on his features.

"You two have a history?" He asks you quietly, and you lift your head.

You hum at first while rubbing your arms, taking a quick glance over your shoulder. "Uh, yeah," you mumble before clearing your throat. "It's not something I like to talk about."

The dirty blonde raises his hands with a small smile on his lips. "Then I won't ask any more questions," Link tries to cheer you up. A smile comes to your lips as you tear your gaze away from him. "Although, if it makes you feel better. He totally hates the idea of me standing next to you."

"No way," you whisper and look back up at him. Link nods his head, motioning his head towards the brooding man behind you. You discreetly look back at Jack, noticing the angry look in his eyes. "He's ridiculous. He doesn't even deserve to be back here."

"How come they let him back?" Link questions with narrowed eyes, his gaze settling on Kathleen.

You shrug your shoulders. "I don't know. All I know is that I intend to stay far away from him as possible," you mention.

-

Night falls at Crescent Lake Summer Camp and most of the cabin lights were out, indicating that whoever's staying in there is in bed or already asleep.

You tie the straps of your bikini top, securing it around your neck before grabbing the towel from your suitcase. You quietly make your way out of your small cabin and you slowly close the wooden door behind you.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and turn the flashlight on. You make your way towards the lake and notice a text from your mother. You read the text over and chuckle at the message, deciding to text her back in the morning. That is if you remember.

The full moon shines against the water, and the splashing of the small waves fills your ears. A smile graces your lips and you slip your shoes off before stepping onto the sand.

"Peaceful," you sigh while walking closer to the water.

You're thankful that the water isn't cold as it splashes over both of your feet. You unbutton your shorts before tugging them down your legs. You place the towel far away enough so it doesn't get wet and you toss your shorts onto it.

You walk further into the lake, the water stopping at your waist. Just as you're about to dive in, you hear a twig breaking behind you. You jump and twist your body around, looking for another person or an animal.

"H-Hello?" You call out into the darkness, pressing your forearms against your chest. You swallow thickly as another twig snaps. "Leia?"

You start to grow paranoid as you walk closer to the shore, checking the space in front of you over and over.

"Jack? Link?" You call out a couple of more names, even though you hope it's not Jack.

"Y/N?" Link's voice emerges from the darkness and you let out a breath of relief.

You place a hand over your heart as the dirty blonde steps out from the treeline. You run your fingers through your hair before tucking some hair behind your ear. "Link," you repeat his name as he now stands in front of you. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he laughs while shoving his hands in his pockets. "I couldn't sleep."

You hum and nod your head, having a similar situation. "Yeah, I couldn't either. I normally can't. I get too excited," you giggle. "Plus, I usually go night swimming on the first and last night every summer."

"Is that safe?" Link asks you with a raised brow.

"Most of the time, yes. There aren't any houses in the vicinity. I normally just have to look out for wild animals," you explain while making your way back into the water. "Do you want to join me?"

Link doesn't say anything as he starts to pull his shirt over his head. "Don't gotta ask me twice," he smirks while he unfastens his jeans.

You make it out to the deeper part of the lake, the water stopping at your chest as you watch him walk closer to you. "The water's nice, isn't it?" You ask as Link stands about a foot away from you.

"It is. Much warmer than I expected, actually," he mentions while gliding his hands through the water. "So, you called out Jack's name before mine. Were you expecting him?"

"No, no. I just- I didn't know if he'd continue to try to talk to me," you shrug your shoulders.

Link hums and takes a couple of steps closer to you. "Y/N, I'm not going to lie to you," he starts and you furrow your brows. "I saw Jack making his way out here during my walk."

Your blood runs cold and your breath hitches in your throat. "God, i-if I knew he was going to be here. I wouldn't have come," you sigh and look up at the sky.

Stars litter the night sky and the moon shines brightly. You can feel tears pool in your eyes as memories of two years ago start to resurface.

"Hey," he softly mumbles, feeling bad for you, as he grabs hold of your chin. Your eyes meet his and Link's thumb strokes your cheek. "I'll help you keep him away."

"You will?" You whisper with wide eyes, not expecting him to help you.

He smiles at you and he nods his head. "Of course. You seem really sweet and, even though I don't know what you went through with this guy, you don't deserve it."

Your eyes roam his beautiful face and you have the desire to kiss him. You swallow the lump in your throat as the space between you and him starts to dissipate.

Butterflies swarm your stomach when Link's nose brushes against yours. His hands move to your waist, fingertips digging into your skin as he pulls you closer.

"L-Link," you stutter out and you press your hands against his chest. "I can't…"

You put some space between the two of you and cross your arms over your chest. "Sorry," he mumbles.

You shake your head and release a deep sigh. "It's not you. You're- you're really cute and I would love to kiss you, but I promised myself I wouldn't get a boyfriend here again," you vaguely explain to him.

The dirty blonde connects the dots and his shoulders slump a smidge. "Jack?"

"Yeah. Two summers ago we got close and he ended up asking me out a few weeks before camp ended," you sigh. "And then a couple of nights before we left… he- I overheard him talking with a couple of ex-counselors. Apparently, asking me out was part of a bet."

"Wow, what is he twelve years old?" Link asks while rolling his eyes. "That's fucking childish."

"It is childish, but I truly liked him. So, I made a vow to myself that I wouldn't get a boyfriend here."

-

Jack helps the kids off of the bus as Link glares at him from the porch of the main cabin. Sure, he can be an asshole to women sometimes but making bets on women is something he's never thought about doing.

"Y/N!" One of the kids yells to you as soon as you step out of the building. Link's gaze moves from Jack to the little girl who's running in his direction.

You release a gasp and crouch. "Hi, honey!" You greet with a big smile as the little brunette crashes into your arms. "How was your school year?"

"It was good! I made a ton of friends," she boasts to you with a significant smile. Cute. Link thinks to himself as his eyes move to you.

You're fixing her pigtails when you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance to your left to see Link standing at the end of the porch, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Bella, do you wanna meet our new counselor?" You ask her and she nods her head. You stand up and she grabs a hold of your hand. The two of you walk towards the dirty blonde and you notice his eyes widen slightly. "Honey, this is Link."

"That's your name?" She asks and Link nods his head, plastering a fake smile on his lips. "I think that's such a cool name."

You chuckle and rest your hand on top of her head. "It is a cool name, isn't it?" You agree with her.

"Thank you," he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

"How about you go join the rest of the kids, okay?" You smile down at her.

Bella nods her head before she runs off, grouping back up with the rest of the summer campers. You release a deep breath and you turn towards Link.

"She's cute," he says. "I'm not really a big fan of kids, but she's cool."

You giggle before tilting your head. "You don't like kids, but you signed up to be a counselor at a kid's summer camp?" You ask him with a confused look.

Link sighs and leans against the railing in front of him. "I didn't sign up. My parents made me come," he tells the truth, his eyes looking out at the large group. "They decided that I needed to learn responsibility and forced me to come here."

A frown comes to your lips at Link's story. "Oh, that's horrible. I'm sorry about that," you apologize to him and rest one of your hands on his arm. "Just- don't take your anger out on these kids. Some of them can be assholes, but the majority of them are sweethearts."

"I won't," he promises you. Silence fills the space between the two of you for a few moments before he speaks up. "There's one thing that's definitely made this whole punishment better."

"Yeah? That's great, Link. What is it?" You ask him with a smile, your fingers gliding down his arm.

"You."

Your lips part in surprise at his answer and your cheeks blush. "O-Oh, me?" You stutter out and smile.

He chuckles and he nods his head. "Yeah, you," Link confirms and brings one of his hands to your face, stroking your cheek.

"You're gonna be the death of me this summer," you chuckle while leaning into his touch.

-

Taglist: @jeanettexkillian @undf-stuff @softyutae @theonlymaddie @queenofshinigamis @stewielover95 @foreverrogers @writing-for-marvel @softtdaisy @xoxoloverb @onlyfreds @corneliastreetinstyle @avenjames-anderson @marvelouswinchester @0-0-sunflower-0-0 @sincericida @leleea @jessalyn-jpeg @paw-sneeze @apeainapot @reddesert-healourblues @thewxntersoldier

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Next

🤍Masterlist

From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

[bngrc]

There is some spicy Chinese discourse about the OTW Election happening on social media right now

Note: This post contains some terms that readers might be unfamiliar with. I've attached ℹ️ links to those terms, which will direct readers to the relevant Wikipedia page.

A Chinese candidate, Tiffany G, is running for the 2022 OTW ℹ️ Board Election [election website] that is currently taking place.

The OTW, in case my followers are not aware, is the nonprofit organization that runs AO3 ℹ️, the world's largest fanfiction hosting web archive, as well as the world's 7th most popular entertainment website [source].

The AO3 website is banned in China, because it hosts content that violates China's censorship laws (see more details at the bottom of this post).

.

I wanted to see what Chinese twitter had to say about this Chinese board candidate, so I picked a few tweets at random to translate.

最无奈的一点，是那个Tiffany G真觉得这么做是为了ao3好。 但是ao3即使和晋江一样，大爹也不会放ao3进来了。 她这种不是与世界接轨而是不仅在国内要阉，还要走出国门去阉的精神…… 称一句敬事房总管不为过了。

— loreki (@loreki1) August 12, 2022 [source]

Translation: It's a bit exasperating that this Tiffany G really thinks doing this to ao3 would be a good. But even if ao3 was the same as JìnJiāng, dà diē ("Big Brother") still wouldn't accept it. She is not in line with the global mindset; it wasn't enough for her to "castrate" (impose censorship) in China, she has to go abroad in the spirit of "castrating" other countries…… Respectfully, she should not placed in a position of power.

.

🤡这个Tiffany G是不是虾啊···除了虾谁会说AO3被封是因为儿童色情···甚至举报材料都是故意曲解AO3分级，AO3是儿童X情文学集中地的谎言。

— Wendy (@Wendy21694072) August 12, 2022 [source]

Translation: 🤡This Tiffany G is a "prawn" (bully/mean girl ETA: I've been informed that in this case "prawn" 虾 refers to a Xiao Zhan fan group who take credit for reporting AO3 to the Chinese authorities and getting it banned)...Who else but a prawn would claim that AO3 was blacklisted because of értóng sèqíng (CP ℹ️)...going so far as misrepresent the charges that were brought against AO3; it's a lie [to claim that] AO3 is a place full of CP.

.

Can ppl not wash down the AO3 Tiffany G thing with “oh you’re just xenophobic/racist” when tons of Chinese ppl from mainland China are telling y’all that this is a serious issue??? 有些老外对威胁他们创作自由的人完全没有戒备心，居然还帮人家说话… 我要吐了，你们是生活在真空里的吗

— Commander Goose | Levi’s Delivery Service (@CDR_Goose) August 12, 2022 [source]

Translation: There are some foreigners (Westerners) who are totally, dangerously oblivious to those who might threaten their freedom. I don't get how decent people would [defend Tiffany G]... I want to throw up, do y'all 'live in a cave' or what?

.

Tiffany G自述10年AO3用户，高考失利当年接触AO3，那年龄推算跟我接触AO3的时间差不多，那个年代同人圈主流说白了就是审核去死，不要说欧美圈AO3，就是去ACG的B站A站也是一样，搁现在会被出警的内容到处都是，那时候如果就搞同人，怎么会不知道呢？我合理怀疑她在撒谎，在编故事，🦐味有点冲

— BrokenMesa (@yawezh0902) August 12, 2022 [source]

Translation: Tiffany G says that she's been an AO3 user for 10 years, and that back then she messed up on her college entrance exam being on AO3. That's about how long I've been on AO3. Back in those days, (Chinese) fan communities could speak openly in the mainstream [without worrying about being investigated]. No need to go on a Western fansite like AO3.

Whereas now, regardless of whether you go to Bilibili (B站 ℹ️) or AcFun (A站 ℹ️), the ACG ℹ️ fan culture is the same: any content that government censors might target has been taken down on all [of the Chinese fansites]. You have no way of knowing when the authorities might come for someone.

It's reasonable for me to assume [Tiffany G] is lying, and that her story is fabricated. Smells a little fishy.

⚠️I had a really hard time with this particular tweet, so there's a good chance I mistranslated some things.

.

和朋友聊了tiffany g，她让我意识到这人的迷惑提议背后可能是试图让ao3面向主流社会的想法，国内那一堆同质化的应用已经够我受的了，有生之年还是别让我看到这个了

— 喘气等待世界毁灭 (@Sierranopatient) August 12, 2022 [source]

Translation: I discussed tiffany g with a friend. [My friend] made me realize that the purpose of [Tiffany G]'s proposals is to try bring AO3 into the mainstream. There's a whole pile of homogeneous apps/platforms in China and that's more than enough for me. Don't make me watch [AO3 turn into yet another mainstream platform] in my lifetime.

.

Additionally, one twitter account has been leaving a bunch of replies on various Tiffany G tweets [source], endorsing her candidacy with the same copy-pasted comment:

我是Tiffany G的朋友，我认识Tiffany G很多年，Tiffany G非常有理想正气，我看不惯对Tiffany G泼脏水的人，特意声援支持Tiffany G，ao3不是法外之地，讲好中国好故事，弘扬中国正能量，人人有责，请大家支持Tiffany G

— 小潘女权日报 (@pyx18122270719) August 12, 2022 [source]

Translation: I am Tiffany G's friend. I've known Tiffany G many years. Tiffany G is very righteous and a paragon. I cannot bear to see Tiffany G attacked by mudslingers and I intend to support Tiffany G — ao3 is not above the law. [People should] say good things about China and spread Chinese positivity. It's everyone's responsibility. Please support Tiffany G

The account might be a sockpuppet ℹ️.

.

At the beginning of this post, I alluded to the fact that AO3 is banned in China. The ban took place in 2020 [source]. The site is blocked by China's internet firewall.

People in China can still access AO3 if they circumvent the firewall with a VPN. Ironically, China's decision to block AO3 actually resulted in AO3 gaining even more Chinese visitors and members, many of whom had never heard of the website until after it was banned.

In Tiffany G's candidate bio [link] on the OTW election website, she mentions that she works for the government.

I've seen a few Chinese fans on tumblr expressing concerns [source], [source], that she is a government plant, and that if elected, she would use her position on the board to access private user information and doxx AO3 users living in China, reporting their activities to the Chinese authorities.

ETA: I should clarify that these concerns are unfounded. OTW board members do not have access to users' private data. Even if this conspiracy theory were true, OTW board members don't have this kind of power.

I did not find anything explicitly pro-censorship in Tiffany G's campaign platform, however several of the statements she made in the OTW Election Q&A [source] sounded like pro-censorship "dog whistles" ℹ️ to me.

Notably, she implied that AO3 was hosting illegal content. She quickly backtracked when questioned by the interviewer, claiming that her words had been misinterpreted.

The twitter account I mentioned above that has been endorsing her candidacy also implied that AO3 hosts illegal content.

AO3 is an American website subject to American laws. All of the content hosted by AO3 is legal in the USA. Of course, Chinese laws are very different from American laws. A lot of the content on AO3 is in violation of China's very stringent censorship laws.

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter three

[ 3k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two ] [ masterlist ] "it’s an unfamiliar sensation, not being able to completely read him. it skitters over you like static electricity." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

you’re on call every day from eight at night to eight in the morning, so by the time richie rolls up, you’ve usually just eaten a late breakfast and he’s heading home after work. there’s a consistency to his late night appearances, a rhythm that becomes comforting.

there’s no pretending and no politeness—what would be the point? they should invent a word for this. maybe childhood-friend-in-law would do, except you had a snowball’s chance in hell of ever marrying michael and you always knew it. that’s the feeling, though. familiarity comes built in. even when he gets truly infuriating, you don’t leave feeling worse than you did. more pissed off, sure, but never worse. it’s a distinction worth noticing. 

some nights are easy. you talk about questionable obscure music in which you really do not overlap or middling mainstream music in which you do, running out of concerts and context. sometimes it’s pure bullshit, gossip or make believe, starting up elaborate jokes too lame to admit to in front of anyone else, then discarding them when they’re outworn. sometimes it’s old stories, sometimes it’s pure speculation.

hand to god, some nights are good.

and then there’s this night.

.

.

.

you’re barely out the front door when richie calls out, hey. where the hell were you?

you got called in real early yesterday, so you missed seeing him last night. but that’s no cause for him to yell, the entitled little jerk. you shoot him a baleful glare. then, as you take in the sight of him, you settle a little.

he’s not truly angry. you’ve spent enough time with him now, you’d know.

with a shrug, you shove your hands deep in your pockets and come stand beside him. 

last night i had to smoke all by myself like a fuckin loser, he says. 

that's your cue to say, you are a fuckin loser, but you don't take it.

he offers you a drag on his own cigarette, and you shake your head. you want it bad, but you can’t. you all but smoked yourself to death between crises yesterday, and you’re trying to convince yourself now that giving it up will somehow fix things. 

but nothing will be fixed, and it’s not your responsibility anyhow. this is not your city. you’ve felt that acutely of late, as each of your last links to it is broken one by one. coke or the cops, what difference does it make? the caruso kid didn’t listen to you, didn’t listen to anyone, and once his infection got bad enough, his wife called an ambulance. it’ll be the cops for him if he survives, and his father after that, the next domino to fall. you yourself are somewhere in that long line, just waiting for your turn. 

work sucks, huh, richie says. 

you look over at him to find that he’s already looking back at you, a little sleepy but not good enough an actor to hide the keenness in his observing eyes. it’s dangerous that he noticed you were gone and it’s dangerous that he’s noticing you now, but it feels really, really fucking good. 

yeah, you say. i thank god every day that i am a woman of leisure.

he laughs. well, i’m just grateful that you allow yourself to associate out with me, you know. me in my rags and you in your pearls and finery. he gestures at your sweatpants and gigantic parka.

once my tiara’s back from the cleaner’s, it’s over for you, you say.

sure, and i’ll be crying my eyes out in a pint of cherry chocolate chip. 

with that, he launches into a long, winding tale about the shenanigans he pulled at the beef today, installment nine hundred and seventeen of his neverending battle with a guy named fak. you’re not following, but you’re not trying to follow particularly hard, either. you’re too tired, and you’ve got other shit on your mind.

that’s the closest richie has gotten to mentioning your job in weeks. 

used to be that he’d poke around with dogged persistence, as though he thought he could needle you into submission. he asked after your boss’s health, your credit score, your childhood high school. he complained he had to take a shit or that it was too cold out to stand around. all that. anything to invade, get inside, get a little more information. 

michael was like that, too. the difference between the two is that michael won. conquered you, most if not all of your secrets, and fell asleep in your bed long before even a month had passed. but richie’s been at it for a few months now and he seems to have given up. he doesn’t know your job, your last name, or your phone number. he could pick you out of a lineup but he could never track you down. and he’s decided to let that go.

it’s just as well. you’ve got leftover dim sum in the minifridge right now, and if he pushed hard enough, you’re pretty sure you’d take him up to share it. siu mai re-steamed and slices of lo bak goh re-fried in hot oil in a pan, savory and delicious, nothing better. you can’t cook, but you’d still feed him well if given half the chance. you’d arrange the table with takeout napkins and your only two sets of matching cutlery, you’d—

the real richie rudely interrupts your thoughts. 

you’re not even listening to me, are you, he says. 

no, i’m not, you admit without an ounce of compunction.

just like everyone else, hey? fan-tastic. there’s a real bite to the way he breaks the word in half.

you look at him, startled and stung. don’t be such a fucking baby.

man, fuck you, he says. real anger, rocketing out from his chest. 

fuck you! you stare at him, legitimately astonished. maybe it’s your fault for not paying attention, but you really have no idea where this is coming from. you’ve been good. maybe your mind strayed for a while tonight, but what about every other night? you’ve always listened, or at least pretended to listen, to the travails of his divorce, his money problems, his insane workplace, his dysfunctional quasi-adopted family. and there’s a hell of a lot of it. you’ve been really fucking good!

apparently, not only has he not noticed this, but he thinks he’s entitled to even more.

you say, what do you expect here when you’re going on for eons like fucking always. do you think this is fun for me?

well, someone has to talk since you won’t say shit about shit with that paranoid secret agent—

oh, fuck. something about the way richie cuts himself off. you dread whatever he’s got to say next.

he says, what’s that supposed to mean, do you think this is fun for me?

jesus christ. you fumble in your coat, only to remember that you threw away your last pack. i don’t speak in fucking riddles, richie, this is not that type of situation.

then what type of, like. his face wrinkles in horror and disgust. am i a charity project? 

this is like having a migraine, but worse. i never said… truly, what the hell is going on? how did you even get here? 

dredging up the last of your energy, the emergency fund, you turn it into bravado, your default response to an unexpectedly angry man. you give it your all cause that’s the only way to do it, turning and facing him head on, putting your shoulders back and standing square over your own two feet. 

what is this, richie? you wanna fight? you really wanna fight?

yeah, i think i do actually, says richie, alarmingly ready. i think i really fuckin do. 

fine, you spit. 

you tilt your chin up so you can look him square in the eye and you give him the worst you got, spiteful already, and then you start trying to anticipate his next move.

there’s a lot of things he could say, as it turns out, a lot of things that only he could say, because he was there for everything. he witnessed the aftermath and attended the funeral. he could have you skinned like a caught rabbit given half the chance, and you just handed it to him on a silver platter. 

besides, he has a right. he loved michael even more than you did.

the realization dawns on you far too late, and then the dread sets in. can he see it in your face? when he opens his mouth, you’re setting your jaw so you don’t flinch. 

forget it, he says flatly. he turns away a little, steps back to lean against the building, and in the shadow of the building all you can see is the shape of him. if you concentrate, you can make out his profile against the gray concrete. 

.

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at first, you can’t quite believe it. it’s mercy, after all, and that’s rarely reliable. but after his last cigarette, richie folds his arms tight across his chest and tilts his head back, eyes looking up towards stars that neither of you can see through the city lights.

eventually, you do start to think the mercy is real. you test it.

can i have one? you say.

richie doesn’t even hesitate. he reaches into the left pocket of his tracksuit pants, produces a pack, and hands it over. it turns out to be brand-new box of menthols. 

you look at it for a moment. your throat’s doing that thing again. he really did notice that you weren’t here last night, huh.

i don’t do charity, you say, after a second.

it’s fine, forget it, he says. 

i don’t, though. you don’t know what to say, but you know you can’t leave things there, so you keep pushing, and the words just come out. richie, i’m—i’m really a piece of shit. 

he looks at you directly again, but this time it’s a question. he doesn’t try to negate it with a brainless autoresponse like ‘no you’re not.’ he just listens, plain and simple. for a second, you’re at a loss. 

sudden and frightening as a car crash at the next intersection, the impulse flashes through you: tell him the truth, the whole truth. test him for real, watch that mercy melt away, inevitable as ice on hot pavement. teach him to hate you like he should. it’s like strong hands digging their fingers into your shoulders, the thought, and you’re reeling.

i… you swallow, smash it down, yank the car back onto the road. i hate ice cream and babies and long walks on the beach, i hate old ladies and libraries. you look over at him. i kick dogs every chance i get. 

there it is, at the corners of his mouth.

heartened, you go on, nearly tripping over your words. like, small dogs, richie. puppies. right in the head, i kick them. 

now you’re both smiling, and the relief is so fucking crazy. you’ve fought with him so many times before, but you’ve never gotten scared by it before. this is a first, and you have no idea what to do. all you can do is repeat, i don’t do charity.

okay, he says. okay.

you lean against the wall, and you’re absurdly heartened when he does the same right next to you. something about the symmetry, something about the weight off. you finally light up one of the menthols, and you have the night with richie back again. the breeze brushes by, chilly but not unbearable. it’s perfect.

what happened today? you say.

i thought you’d like it, he says. it was funny. 

go on, then. 

you wonder if richie might try to make you say please, but he doesn’t. he walks you through the whole day of catastrophes, from the broken toilet to the loss of electricity, from the loss of electricity to the fucked-up fridge, from the fucked-up fridge to the outdoor grill—

that’s really cool, you say.

he grins. right? 

whose idea?

from his crooked, exasperated smile, you know it wasn’t his. 

syd’s, he admits.

you raise an eyebrow. so i take it the culinary institute is good for something.

he scoffs. no way they taught her that. that—he points at you—was pure chicago.

oh okay, so we’re giving the credit to the city.

yeah, we are, cause it’s like—

the city, not the woman.

it was very chicago of her! that’s a compliment. don’t make it a feminism thing. his voice matches yours, a near-laugh ribboning through it like fudge in ice cream.

alright, okay. you’re smiling like a fool and you couldn’t care less. so then what?

so turns out fak’s connect isn’t much of a connect, surprise surprise, and it’s gonna cost us fifty-five hundred just to get the fridge back up and running. so he and carmy come to me, all hat in hand, and they’re like—shit. i didn’t tell you about the dealing, did i? you got me all turned around.

didn’t tell me bout the what now?

fak snitched on me earlier, told carmy i was dealing in the alley back behind the beef. i’m not moving much weight, just like. he gestures vaguely. covid, he adds, like that’s an explanation. please don’t have a fit about this, i’ve had all i can take from carmy already.

you shake your head once, thinking hard, processing. the more you think on it, the more it unsettles you. 

i knew he was dealing, obviously, but i didn’t know about you, you say. after a second, you add, richard edgar jerimovich?

jesus, he mutters.

is that right?

and here i thought carmy was going full mom. edgar, jesus fucking christ. richie’s torn between aghast and amused. where’d you get that from?

that’s your middle name?

yeah, but—

you hold up a hand, not rude, just asking him silently to let you finish, and he does. 

richie, you broke your wrist when you were twelve trying to play tackle football with the big boys on asphalt. at some point in your thirties, you started getting a rash every time you ate shellfish, but you still do it anyways, ‘cause fuck it’. and to this day you hate nightmare on elm street cause he convinced you to watch it with him when you were both way too young. 

none of this richie told you himself. it all came straight from michael. 

you say, how do i know all that, but i didn’t know you were dealing? 

richie says nothing, so you look over and find him watching you already. it’s an unfamiliar sensation, not being able to completely read him. it skitters over you like static electricity. 

you got a pretty good memory there, huh, he says.

it’s coke, right?

it’s just coke, yeah. was coke. it’s over now. richie shrugs wearily, turns away, and stubs out his spent cigarette on the concrete wall. mikey and his fucking secrets. i don’t know what to tell you. 

you can say that again. 

richie says nothing for a beat, then: mikey and his fucking secrets, i don’t—

okay, okay. 

he breaks into a small smile as you watch him, and then you keep on looking at him even as the smile subsides. a car goes by, and you look down at the pavement as the headlights sweet over both your faces, only looking back up at him once the car is gone.

the thing is, you really did think you knew him. what a crazy thing to think, when this is a mistake you’ve already made before with michael. you thought you knew him too. 

there could be so much of richie you don’t know, because michael didn’t know—or because michael didn’t tell. and yet richie isn’t a stranger. at any moment you could close your eyes and picture his face, imagine his voice. he’s in you that much, at least.

so here he is, through your own eyes. you’re determined to fix him in your mind, not richie from the stories, but richie as he really is. his hair is dark and close-cut, his beard too. his eyebrows are scant, and there’s a ridge on his forehead as if to make up for it. his nose is straight and straightforward. there are bags under his eyes, because of course there are, but his eyes themselves are as blue as summer, so blue they’re barely believable. that’s him, that’s his face.

then there’s the eternal black leather jacket, oversized and complete with unnecessary shoulder straps for all the bags he’ll never carry. he stinks of kitchen in general and arby’s curly fries in specific. he’s allowing you to stare at him, an indulgence that you can’t question without being a dick. he makes you want to not be a dick. all this is here, all this is real. 

he rubs his nose with the side of his wrist. 

you must be tired, you say quietly.

when he smiles like that, it’s almost like you can look down past a few decades and see the teenager you never got to meet. i’m never tired, he says.

he’s always tired, you realize. of course he would be. you only ever see him after his long-ass shifts. go to bed, richie.

that was too gentle for sure, because he says a little curiously, getting some real weird vibes off you right now.

you take one last drag, then push off the side of the building, gathering yourself to go. you want normal, don’t come to me. 

heard, he says with a chuckle. g’night.

goodnight.

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[ chapter four ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1 — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.