#which gets the meaning across but. is totally different in expression

[seventh-fantasy]

江湖风波恶 楼里莲花清 (the outside world of jianghu is perilous and it is pure as the lotus within this tower)

lotus tower is his body

(never beating the i'm thinking about lhl with reference to nezha 1979 allegations)

anyway.

[dannyphannypack]

Writing ASL: Techniques to Write Signed Dialogue

Hey, guys! I've been reading a lot of DC Batfamily fanfiction lately, and in doing so I realized how little I see of ASL being represented in written text (love you, Cass!). I wanted to briefly talk about tactics to writing American Sign Language (ASL), and ways that these techniques can help improve your writing in more general contexts!

SOME THINGS BEFORE WE GET STARTED

I will be discussing everything in terms of ASL! If you have a character who uses Chinese Sign Language or even British Sign Language, the same rules will not necessarily apply! Don't be afraid to do some extra research on them.

Do not let this dissuade you from writing a character who signs ASL! This is by no means the end-all be-all to writing ASL dialogue, and I do not intend this post to insinuate that by writing ASL the same way you write English you are deeply offending the Deaf community. If this is something you're interested in though, I highly recommend experimenting with the way you write it! Above all, have fun with your writing.

Related to 2nd rule, but still very important: not everyone will agree that sign language should be treated/written any differently than English. This is a totally valid and understandable stance to take! I do not hope to invalidate this stance by making this post, but rather to introduce an interested audience to how ASL operates in the modern world, and how that can be translated into text.

ADDRESSING SOME MISCONCEPTIONS

ASL is the same as English, just with gestures instead of words.

Actually, no! There is a language that exists that is like that: it's called Signing Exact English, and it's an artificial language; i.e., it did not come about naturally. All languages came from a need to communicate with others, and ASL is no different! It is a language all on it's own, and there is no perfect 1:1 way to translate it to English, just as any spoken language.

2. But everyone who signs ASL knows how to read English, don't they?

No, actually! Because it's a completely different language, people who sign ASL and read English can be considered bilingual: they now know two languages. In fact, fingerspelling a word to a Deaf person in search for the correct sign does not usually work, and is far from the preferred method of conversing with Deaf people.

3. Because ASL does not use as many signs as we do words to articulate a point, it must be an inferior language.

Nope! ASL utilizes 5 complex parameters in order to conversate with others: hand shape, palm orientation, movement, location, and expression. English relies on words to get these points across: while we may say "He's very cute," ASL will sign, "He cute!" with repeated hand movement and an exaggerated facial expression to do what the "very" accomplishes in the English version: add emphasis. Using only ASL gloss can seem infantilizing because words are unable to portray what the other four parameters are doing in a signed sentence.

4. Being deaf is just a medical disability. There's nothing more to it.

Fun fact: there is a difference between being deaf and being Deaf. You just said the same thing twice? But I didn't! To be deaf with a lowercase 'd' is to be unable to hear, while being Deaf with an uppercase is to be heavily involved in the Deaf community and culture. Deaf people are often born deaf, or they become deaf at a young age. Because of this, they attend schools for the Deaf, where they are immersed in an entirely different culture from our own. While your family may mourn the loss of your grandfather's hearing, Deaf parents often celebrate discovering that their newborn is also deaf; they get to share and enjoy their unique culture with their loved one, which is a wonderful thing!

YOU MENTIONED ASL GLOSS. WHAT IS THAT?

ASL gloss is the written approximation of ASL, using English words as "labels" for each sign. ASL IS NOT A WRITTEN LANGUAGE, so this is not the correct way to write it (there is no correct way!): rather, it is a tool used most commonly in classrooms to help students remember signs, and to help with sentence structure.

IF THERE'S NO CORRECT WAY TO WRITE IN ASL, THEN HOW DO I DO IT?

A most astute observation! The short answer: it's up to you. There is no right or wrong way to do it. The longer answer? Researching the culture and history, understanding sign structure, and experimenting with description of the 5 parameters are all fun ways you can take your ASL dialogue to the next level. Here are 3 easy ways you can utilize immediately to make dialogue more similar to the way your character is signing:

Sign languages are never as wordy as spoken ones. Here's an example: "Sign languages are never wordy. Spoken? Wordy." Experiment with how much you can get rid of without the meaning of the sentence being lost (and without making ASL sound goo-goo-ga-ga-y; that is to say, infantilizing).

Emotion is your friend. ASL is a very emotive language! If we were to take that sentence and get rid of the unnecessary, we could get something like "ASL emotive!" The way we add emphasis is by increasing the hand motion, opening the mouth, and maybe even moving the eyebrows. It can be rather intuitive: if you mean to say very easy, you would sign EASY in a flippant manner; if you mean to say so handsome, you would sign handsome and open your mouth or fan your face as if you were hot. Think about a game of Charades: how do you move your mouth and eyebrows to "act out" the word? How are you moving your body as your teammates get closer? There are grammar rules you can certainly look up if you would like to be more technical, too, but this is a good place to start!

Practice describing gestures and action. ASL utilizes three dimensional space in a lot of fun and interesting ways. Even without knowing what a specific sign is, describing body language can be a big help in deciphering the "mood" of a sentence. Are they signing fluidly (calm) or sharply (angry)? Are their signs big (excited) or small (timid)? Are they signing rushedly (impatient) or slowly? Messily (sad) or pointedly (annoyed)? Consider what you can make come across without directly addressing it in dialogue! Something ese about ASL is that English speakers who are learning it tend to think the speakers a little nosy: they are more than able to pick up on the unsaid, and they aren't afraid to ask about it.

Above all, don't be afraid to ask questions, do research or accept advice! New languages can be big and scary things, but don't let that make you shy away. Again, there is nothing wrong with deciding to write ASL the same as you write your English. I've personally found that experimenting with ASL dialogue in stories has aided me in becoming more aware of how to describe everything, from sappy emotional moments to action-packed fighting scenes. Writing ASL has helped me think about new ways to improve my description in more everyday contexts, and I hope it can be a big help to you as well, both in learning about Deaf culture and in pursuing your future writing endeavors. :)

P.S: I am quite literally only dipping my toes into the language and culture. I cannot emphasize how important it is to do your own research if it's someting you're interested in!

P.P.S: I want to apologize for my earlier P.S! What I meant by “I am … dipping my toes into the language and culture” was in direct regards to the post; what I should have said is “this post is only dipping its toes into the language and culture.” While I am not Deaf myself, I am a sophomore in college minoring in ASL and Deaf Culture, and I am steadily losing my hearing. Of course, that does not make me an authority figure on the topic, which is why I strongly encourage you to do your own research, ask your own questions, and consult any Deaf friends, family, or online peers you may have.

[dameare]

Personal Brand of Heater | Jacob Black x Fem!Reader (Oneshot)

Word count: 1,899

Summary: The first time I had kissed Jacob was entirely an accident. That was how I wanted to think about it, at least.

Silly notes: So... it was 4am... and it was cold, so at the time writing this made a lot of sense. Plus I was lonely and destructively pining for the one and only, Jacob Black. *hands you this fic* Enjoy!

The first time I had kissed Jacob was entirely an accident. That was how I wanted to think about it, at least.

Winter was just by the horizon, approaching with a certain quiet inevitability, and a blanket of darkness was beginning to unfurl itself across the landscape—and Forks, being the cold and sleepy town that it was, made the first hints of a wintry burden a lot more obvious.

So it was cold. And it was just that there was something about cuddling with Jacob in the middle of the night that did it for me. It made total sense: I was freezing, and Jacob was hot. Literally. Like my personal brand of heater. And maybe I also liked him a little bit. Or a little too much. Or maybe I was in-love. It was the only explanation, even though before what had happened I'd hardly given myself enough time to even name what I'd started to feel for Jake.

It sounded stupid at first, being in-love with Jake. There was no way. But the more I thought about it, the more convinced and horrified I became. That stupid fluttery feeling in my stomach whenever Jake looked at me. I'd thought about the way my chest sometimes felt like it was going to explode when he hugged me, or the way my stomach dropped and twisted at the thought of Jacob hugging a different woman that wasn’t me. God, I was in-love. Of course I was. But even that wasn’t reasonable enough to accidentally kiss him.

So when I had had the clever idea of hitting Jacob up to “hang out” at two in the morning and he didn’t reply, I'd assumed that would be the end of it, and that I would have to curl up in bed, alone and feverish from the chills the night brought.

But that wasn’t the case, and I had only realised this when Jacob was already launching himself through my second-story window and then into my room with a stealthy thud. The dumbass.

I looked at him, stunned. “Jake, what the hell?”

“Whew, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jacob said, a wide and pleasant grin of mockery spreading across his face—the one that made my stomach do the dumb flip thing. GAH. “I’m sure you don’t really mind.”

“I don’t,” I said automatically. I wasn't stunned at seeing him anymore, because he wasn’t wearing a shirt and I was stunned at something else instead. The pale moonlight sneaking in through my open window made his russet skin look richer. He looked ethereal. The dangerous kind of ethereal. “Do you ever get cold?” I asked dumbly, trying to shift my focus.

Jacob laughed. “Didn’t you already ask that before?”

“I did? Maybe I forgot.” And maybe I had also forgotten how to talk.

He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to crack a joke, but something made him change his expression. Instead, worry creased his forehead, and he inched closer to me.

He was huge, and he leaned over me, so huge that his shadow made my little room look darker. I was looking up at him, completely overwhelmed—my head was pounding and my chest was freaking out and the fever, which I had momentarily forgotten about ever since he came in, came hitting me again. I swayed unsteadily, legs going slightly limp. Jacob grabbed me easily by the waist. “Hey, hey. Is everything okay?” He whispered anxiously, slowly easing me towards the edge of the bed. “You’re shivering, why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Are you cold?”

I only managed to nod before my legs gave way, plopping into a weak heap on the bed.

His hand was really warm. “Jesus christ, you’re freezing. Don’t you have a heater somewhere?”

I shivered uselessly on the bed, delirious. He watched me for one long moment, hesitating. Then he snuck to my side and began settling down onto the bed, and before I could even begin to protest, his arms were already wrapped around me—one arm under my head and the other tightly snug around my waist. And then I wasn't protesting anymore.

I let my head rest against his bare chest. “You’re so warm,” I muttered, the words muffled out by his chest. The heat was so inviting, so comfortable that I didn’t want to pull away. Not that I could ever, even if I had the energy to. The warmth seeped into my skin, the icy grips of the night slowly melting away.

Jacob chuckled, pleased. “That better? Don’t move too much, alright. Save your energy for me. I’ll warm you up.”

“What about you?” I exhaled heavily. “You’re going to freeze.”

“Not really,” he promised. “Hey, say, why don’t you try sleeping? What’s kept you up this late?”

I thought for a second. "Hypothetically," I said, my mind gaining clarity. "If you weren't a werewolf anymore and you lived in the city, what's the first thing you'd do?"

I felt his chest stop at a chuckle, and then there was silence. When it dragged on for a moment too long, I tilted my head to look at his expression. He was staring into the distance, where I'd put up a bunch of city photos for my vision board. His eyes seemed to light up. "If I weren't a werewolf anymore," he mused. "I'd try out all the burgers in the city and check out what they sell in Walmart. I heard they sell weird stuff there... and then maybe I'd go shopping in one of those big malls... get a job... go to a university."

I snorted. "Wow okay, I understand the rest, but Walmart? Really?"

"Don't judge me," he met my eyes, suddenly defensive. He smiled playfully and pushed my hair out of my face. "Let's hear yours. If you decided to live in the city, away from... all of this. What would you do?"

There was hardly any need to think, because it was all I ever thought about during my first summer in Forks. And it was hardly even a summer, really, because it rained all the time and it was still cold even on the good days where the sun was slightly more visible. "I would live by myself in the city, in a small apartment. Like a normal person," I said, wincing at the last part, because all things considered, I thought the word *normal* just didn't exist in Forks anymore, and saying it felt like a major offense. He nodded, and I went on, "I would go to bookstores and those loud concerts... and then go for a late night drive after, you know? Just drive for hours without a destination. It kind of sounds nice. It's like surrendering all your worries for one night. I think that kind of freedom would make me feel lighter."

I watched his face. He laughed at first, saying, "Your answer makes mine look like child's play."

"I'd try out every burger with you, and go to every Walmart conceivable." I offered.

"You'd do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He grinned. "Well, I'd carry your books for you, and I'd drive you across the city for as long as you want. Sounds fair?"

"So it's a promise." I smirked.

"Hah well, not that my being a werewolf can stop me from making you happy," he said. Then he tightened his grip just a bit and lifted me effortlessly, setting me on top of him. "Is this better?"

I hummed a yes, suddenly finding it very, very difficult to breathe. "You're... really warm," I sighed.

He smiled softly. It looked so much better up close, so much so that my stomach did that weird flippy thing again. "You said that earlier. Although," a sheen of mischief lit his eyes up, "if you want to feel warmer you could always just take your clothes off."

"Jacob," I warned, a smile threatening to break out of my face. "Shut up, will you?"

"Survival one-oh-one," he teased.

"Saying that isn't really a friends thing."

He raised one eyebrow, curious. "Oh so taking your clothes off is where you draw the line?"

"Like every sane person, ever, duh."

"Well, cuddling like this isn't really a friends thing either," he retorted.

My face flushed red. "What do you mean?"

"The way I hold you," he said quietly, with a sudden hint of seriousness to his voice. "Is this how friends are supposed to roll?" He asked, his face speculative.

I stayed quiet. I wasn't breathing again. It was the question, and maybe the way the gentle glow of the moon was casted upon his face. His eyes twinkled in the light, like pools of rich and velvety chocolate. He was sort of beautiful that I didn't want to breathe ever again. He stared right through me, watchful and interested. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, and our breaths mixed with how close our faces were. It was so warm and so right.

My gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth, then back again. His mouth tugged up at one corner, as if he had the faintest idea of what I was thinking—and maybe, just maybe, he thought the same.

It was slow, but also quick in a weird way—not quick as in like something in the heat of the moment, but quick enough that I couldn't register what was happening, and slow enough for me to remember every single detail—slow enough for me to conclude that it really wasn't an accident.

His hand gently made its way to the small of my back. He rubbed gently, and I leaned in, our faces inching even closer; I could hear my heartbeat loud against my chest, so loud maybe he'd heard it too. But his eyes were fixed, mesmerised as I moved in. Our noses touched and he inched to the side, nudging forward with the tip of his chin; he glanced at my mouth, then flickered quickly back to my eyes.

There was a momentary pause where our faces both hovered, so close and mellow and sure, and I ached in anticipation. I stole one more glance at his mouth, and then I was sighing into the kiss, the aches and worries leaving my body. His lips were hot, and it scorched against mine, but god he was so gentle—like a gentle rush of air through leaves. The kiss stayed warm and slow, almost exploratory, but there was also a sliver of hunger shoved in between—like Jacob had been dying to do this for a while, and when he finally did he couldn't stop anymore. My lower lip caught delicately in his teeth, and he sucked on it; I allowed him, because I loved exploring his mouth just as much—in an almost obsessive manner. My tongue wandered, the pleasant taste of something woodsy settling into my mouth.

When we pulled apart, it was with soft gasps and fitful smiles and chuckles. He patted my head. "Was that also a friends thing?"

"Nothing about us is friendly," I finally admitted.

"So that means...?"

"I want to be your girlfriend, Jake."

His face stretched out into a huge grin. It was contagious. "Took you long enough, my little moon."

"Is that a yes?" I pinched him lightly.

He chuckled. "Do you want to go at it again for an answer?"

[body-face-words]

Let's look into "Maybe I should've married Michael Sheen" and "And he's my lover!"

Thank you @killerqueen-82 for providing the links!

I made gifs of these two instances slowed down and zoomed in to see them better, but tumblr is not letting me upload them so here they are.

Starting with David:

In the video, you can see him think, staring off for a split second and answering with 'maybe I should have married Michael sheen.

He pushes himself back, resting on the chair, shuffles, and crosses his legs. In previous interviews, he crosses his legs because he's getting comfortable and shuffling around. That's normal for him, but when we take his face into account, this action has more meaning behind it.

He's aware of what he's saying and probably thinks he's said too much. His lips are pursed, eyes opens, brows raised as leans away while crossing his legs.

His eyes are wide with a serious look on his face. His mouth is in a straight line, with the corners horizontal. This wasn't meant to be funny or a joke. Like in other events, he shuts himself off before anymore comes out.

The wide opened eyes are because he's (consciously or unconsciously) trying to watchout for any threats/danger OR trying to get his point across (look into my eyes, I'm saying the truth). His leg crossed and arm went in front of him in a defensive position. I don't think he was protecting himself from the audience or the person next to him. It's most likely something personal. Shielding himself from what he said because he feels vulnerable.

David then looks down, takes a breathe in trying to soothe himself, thinks and continues with his answer.

Overall, Davids reaction to his answer is of caution. It was not a joke or something he found amusing/funny. It's something that made him feel vulnerable in some way, yet decided to say it anyways.

This takes place from 7:15 - 7:29

Michael is more telling on his face than body. His legs/feet shuffle, plays/grips the bottle cap.

Outright, he is ticked off about not knowing this information.

Michael during this section of the interview, snaps his head 4 times in total. This action is usually done when anger, disbelief, or astonishment is felt out if nowhere.

For example, when someone tells you information about your bestest friend in the world that you had no idea about. You'll probably be confused as to why your best friend didn't share that with you, then maybe be annoyed/pissed off that they didn't.

Michaels last smile is fake. It's stiff and his movements, especially his head, are sharp and snappy. His cheeks don't reach his eyes, causing them to become smaller which means a forced smile was made. When he first looks off, his thinking with a smile, then second before"he never mentioned that" his smile stiffens and falls. His instant reaction was think and put a good face on.

When he says "and he's my lover" Michael grips the bottle cap he has in his left hand. Not knowing this information really did throw him off. After stating the David is his lover, Michael takes a drink from his water. It could be that he was thirsty or unconsciously stopping himself from talking. Drink or eating is also something done to calm ourselves down, whether we're aware of it or not.

Michaels tone is playful and, the best way I can describe it is stiff/rigid. Playing it off and not making a big deal. The body flinch (an instant reaction done usually without thinking) at the end is kind if like a kid when they say "its mine!" and stop their foot or shake their arms up and forth. Or it could also be disbelief "He's my lover! Why didn't he mention this?"

Edit: I forgot to mention! The knee squeeze has different meaning - excitement, control of energy, and (this next one doesn't apply to Michael here but I'll include it) nervousness/protection.

Neither of them, from my point of view and analysis, neither was joking about what they stated.

David was serious and his micro expressions and body language only transmitted seriousness and defensiveness while Michael was more ticked and trying to play it off.

Neither of them took the idea of being in a relationship with the other as a joke or something to amuse other people. Perhaps Michael waa trying to play it off as a joke, but it makes me doubt with how personal he took this.

[orionlain]

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩! 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩, 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 note: i love you michael i rlly do but i gotta put ur dad first and reader is of age

𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐍𝐨, ���𝐢𝐟𝐞

It was sickening how much William couldn’t stop having eyes on you.

You were his son's best friend, Michael, a total opposite of him. He believed that you were too cheerful, too kind, too good for a boy like him. He believed that you were being rotted away by his disgusting influence, knowing how much Michael can be seen within the school alleys smoking away and giving side eyes to people.

He believed that one day you will realize how much of a pain he was, how much of a deluded sack of dissatisfaction he could be at times. He needs you to realize how much Michael’s pitiful Jean jackets and edgy outfits were horrendous compared to your beautiful, sweet, modest outfits that (hug your breasts tightly) compliment your face.

Tonight you were sleeping over in the Afton’s house, after you visited a couple times to help with your best friend's homework. It's been a long time since a guest arrived at the place after the mother died, and you were quite the breath of fresh air that helped to brighten the room filled with glum. You filled the space that she had made, and Michael appreciated the company that was now present again.

A Friday night as well, both of you just came right after school. Even with him hanging out with his friends, you still had close contact with him while you were hanging out with your classmates. To be fair, he did mention many times how much you mean to him, even if you were totally different from each other. He always takes pride in how you were his first friend he made when moving here, how you greeted him with no hesitation even with his stoic expression. How you simply treat him like a being when others are giving whispers across the hallways. You were always there, saying hello and teaching him how to do certain topics in literature, smiling at him and comforting him even with his most gravest mistakes. You were always there.

And now you’re here in front of the lawn of the Aftons, treating it as a second home at this point. You open the door after getting your luggage of clothes and toiletries, and greet the house. First one to respond back was his brother. With how close you were with Michael, you treat him as a sibling in law, and you always had an issue with Michael treating him so harshly.

“Hello.” He mumbled, tightly holding his golden teddy bear.

“Hi Evan! Where’s your brother, little guy?” You spoke with enthusiasm, you were clearly a mood-brighter, which was shown right now with Evans frown turning into a smile as you ruffle his hair.

“He will be coming late. He got in trouble with a teacher.”

Oh!

“Ah- Mr. Afton. I’m so sorry- I didn’t know you weren’t working today.” Stumbling with your words as you spoke, you were quite taken aback. If you were being honest, you had never really talked to Michael's father that much. Even with how polite and nice he treated you, your throat always tightened due to the anxiety he gave you. Not to mention, Michael was always talking about him, how much he despised his father and the constant fights they had together. It gave a poor light onto the older man, but you digress, he was a kind man you thought, and also a very hard working one. Many times he came into the house, with his back limping from the work he had done, Michael insists that he isn’t that great and yet you had always felt sympathetic towards him. And he was quite attractive, but you dislike thinking about that due to being so close to your friend.

“It’s fine darling.” That pet name again. He uses it a lot as a name for you, it stirred many emotions. Happiness, disgust, pride, pleasure? You couldn’t tell, but you were too much of a pushover to ever ask him why he uses it, or to stop calling you that.

“How’s school?” He’s chatty today. Unusual, he had never really asked you questions but you still answered happily knowing out of character it is. “Oh, it’s good! Actually, I’m gonna help Michael a little with his English assignment tonight before we do anything fun with Evan. But otherwise, it’s been nice!”

“He really doesn’t deserve you. You treat him very well even though he is difficult.” William always insists that you’re not a perfect fit for Michael. You were too lovely, and to be helping out his terrible, troublemaker son, worries him a little. You need to find someone more, (you need him instead) you need someone who is able to keep up with school, who doesn’t drown himself in junk food and stolen cigarettes, who wasn’t such a lazy older brother that never cared for his siblings.

“Michael doesn’t realize how much of a favor you’re doing him, how much of a sweetheart you are.” He punctuated his pet name at the end of his sentence with his accent. This surprising praise caught you off guard, and you had no idea how to respond with it. Evan looked at you, noticing your blush rising on to your cheeks as you tried to take your jacket off to soak in with his response. You don’t really take compliments that well, especially when it comes from guys.

“Um, thank you Mr. Afton.” Was that a glint in his eyes?

“Mhm, no worries love. Speaking of the devil, I believe that’s Michael walking up.” As he says that, you look to your back and there was Michael. Seemingly in a grumpy mood after his teacher held him up.

“Sorry I’m late.” He said to you, not directing to his father at all. “I swear that teacher always has her panties in a twist, so annoying.”

“What did you even do?” You asked, laughing as you were playing around with Evans bear. “It was not even that bad. Forget about it at this point, not my problem!” He smiled it off, but his father who was in the kitchen, who looked at him, was not amused.

“Alright then, let’s work on that assignment you've been begging me to help you with.” You responded, signaling him to come upstairs with you as you held your copy of Frankenstein at the side of your hip.

“Mr. Afton, don’t worry about food! I’ll cook dinner for all of you guys once I’m done with this.” As you were on the stairs you had to announce it to the crowd. You felt guilty for taking a lot of snacks from the fridge, so in return you wanted to do something for the house. Maybe you can lift a burden off Mr. Afton. And from the way he was staring at you, tells you that he enjoys that idea of you helping around the house. Though, it’s a little frightening, there’s not a single light in his eyes and he looks to you as if there’s something more that will happen soon.

“Really? What is it!” Elizabeth popped out of nowhere, which presumed she was on the couch the whole time as you came in. Probably too invested in the cartoons she was watching on the television.

“Well hello missy!” You greet her, now knowing she was here as well.

“Let’s see, I found this recipe, with mini pizzas and all of that. As well with fettuccine pasta on the side if you’re not really into that.”

“Sounds good.” Michael responded. “Yeah, but you have to wash the dishes. I can’t trust you to cook with me after last time.” “What? I’m telling you that it was a slip up.” You both nudged and teased at each other. Michael really wasn’t the best at cooking, which can be traced back to Williams cooking skills. With that, the kids seem pleased that you were going to make the meal. Many times you bring snacks and desserts you made back to your place, and they always enjoy it. The sparkle in Elizabeth’s eyes could tell you how excited she was to eat the dinner you’re going to prepare, and Evans' smile represented his thanks to you. William though, just nodded with a little smile. Well, at least you know he trusted you with his kitchen enough to make a meal for the family.

“Alright, I’ll be coming down at 4 to cook, I just need to help your loser brother over here.” You giggled. The kids responded with chuckles, and Michael sighed at your nudge to him. But he seemed happy, which was nice. You really hope for your friend to genuinely smile at times because it looks the best on him. And you grabbed your best friend's hand, and continued to go upstairs, promising the family members that you’d come back to help out.

William had a plan to also help you out with your preparation. As a surprise for the family, but more so, for you.

————————————————————

After a session of you studying with Michael, you finally put your brain to rest. He was now taking a nap on his messy bed filled with clothes he didn’t put in the laundry basket, and left the copious amounts of markers and snacks on his table unclean. He was tired from school and your chattering of what to do in his segment of essays and writings, but he still was grateful for your help and effort.

Although, you could feel he was tense. For what reason? You couldn’t tell, but with his little blurbs about his father, you could say that was his worry.

“My father is not always what he seems to be.”

He told you after you said that he was a polite man. There was always something bubbling underneath your best friend's thoughts, is there something that you don’t know? His legs trembling and his fingers fiddling with his pencil anxiously, every time you brought him up. His brows that would furrow and his immediate smile turning into disgust when you mention if there was anything wrong. With all of that, you were concerned, and even more so, he wouldn’t tell why he was held back by his teacher. There was something so off with him today, as if he was scared for you. Scared for what to be exact?

But you left him to rest. You didn’t want to wake him up and interview his weird behavior throughout the first hours of the sleepover. You did also promise as well to cook something up for his siblings, and well, his father as well. So you left him on the bed, and put a blanket on top of him, even with his fully clothed ripped jeans and jacket that he hadn’t changed from, you could tell it would be better for him if he had a comforter.

You stepped out of the room and went down the stairs. The kids were gone?

“They’re playing outside with the neighbors.”

There he goes again, frightening you out of nowhere with his voice. You thought he wouldn’t be in the living room, rather down that suspicious basement he always works in. You never seem to be bothered by his lack of presence and working down there, but there was always this lingering feeling of unpleasant death every time you pass by his work area.

“Oh! Hi Mr. Afton” You greeted him. You wish for Michaels siblings to be in the living room at least, because you don’t know how to strike conversations up with this man alone. But you digress, you step out of the place close to the windows and come to the kitchen where he resided within its seats. He seemed to be writing some papers on the kitchen table. You had shopping bags near the couch filled with ingredients you brought from home, and continued to place them onto the tabletops. You had the cheeses, pasta, sauces and spices, the only thing you were missing was flour, you forgot to pass by your house and get a small container of it before going here. Maybe you were gonna scratch the idea of mini pizzas, you didn’t want to bug Mr. Afton that much.

“Forgot something?” Can he read your mind, or did he notice your staring at the ingredients that lasted for long seconds? He probably noticed your face of concern, and your hands going in a frenzy as you harshly tug into your shopping bags. “Ah. It’s flour, I forgot about it.”

“You can use the flour. It’s in the upper cover boards.” “Oh! Thank you.” You were pleasantly surprised, you didn’t assume the family was interested in baking, let alone cooking it all. You walked towards the coverboards and opened it up, but due to its height, you had to tip-toe a little. Although, the bag of flour was all the way in the back, making you have to rummage around the space as you desperately try to heighten yourself up. Your hand gripping onto the tabletop could start feeling the strong pressure as you try further and further back yourself into it.

“Let me help” What?

In a flash of a second, his body was behind you. You could feel yourself cowering from how his frame encapsulated to yours. His shoulders and chest were pressed against your back, as he leaned into getting the ingredient. You could feel your breath tightening up, your face flushing from the close contact. And his scent, the musky cologne was plaguing into your nose, and all you could think about was him. He had gone so close, you could feel his legs within yours, your bottom pressing against his crotch, and being positioned in such a lewd manner that it could be compared to one of those movies. You were so confused, and yet, disgustingly attracted to it.

“Alright, there you go love.” He finally let you go from his entrapment. You were still catching your breath after holding for a good minute or so. “Th-thanks.” was all you could muster, not even questioning why he did such an inappropriate thing to you.

From that, you carried on to cooking, even with the bizarre incident you just had with your best friend's father. He as well, casually came back to the dinner table and continued with his work. You tried to ignore your urges to ask why he did that to you, or tried to not look at him at all. You wouldn’t want your face to blush again, reminiscing about what just happened. But as you were grating the cheeses, facing the behind, you swear that he was staring at you. With that same glint, that same strange look in his eyes. You really hoped Elizabeth and Evan would come back home soon and Michael to wake up, because you felt your body becoming small and fragile like a bunny to this older man. You could just feel his touch creeping into you, even if he was far away writing on the table.

“It smells good.” He complimented. It was really smelling good, with the combination of the pizza rising in the oven and the fettuccine sauce simmering in the pan, you could tell this would be a hit for all of the family.

“Tell me.” He’s standing up again.

This time, he positioned himself beside you. He wasn’t all up in your behind, and you couldn’t tell you were grateful or a little dissapointed.

“What did you put in it?” He questioned. “Oh, uh, I started with butter and then added parmesan gradually. I put in heavy cream at the end to make it thicker, and of course, add spices to it.” You explained, you never really had to give details with your cooking, it just came to mind to you. After all those retro recipe books your mom stored in the cabinets, it now gave you the chance to help cook for your family and friends. But you wish you didn’t for tonight, mainly because of the strange things you couldn’t tell if they weren’t actual advances from this man

“I must say darling. You would be a great girlfriend for Michael.”

“Oh?” You commented with your eyes furrowing out of confusion.

“Don’t tell him, I told you this.” He motioned with his hands to signal for it to be a secret. His body was now fully facing towards you, and his silver eyes stared into your face. His brunet locks droop down as he chuckles a bit, before he reveals what he was going to say. “Michael has a crush on you.”

“Wait- really?” You audibly yelped. To be honest, you had a feeling this was going to happen, but you thought it was just delusional. Even though he was a friend, you do sometimes admire him and adore him a bit. He has always given you such a gentle look whenever you talk, and you could tell that he smiles genuinely everytime you help him out. Now it was just revealed suddenly to you, when you thought it you’ll only find out what he truly thinks years later.

“Oh love, it's embarrassing how much he talks about you around the house. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he worships you.” He laughs, and he puts his hands on your shoulder. Crying out in hilarity as you stood in shock. Though, it was suddenly cut short, with the bell ringing. Telling that the siblings are finally back from playing outside.

As you both dust off, and him telling you to keep the secret, you prepare the plates and the utensils onto the dinner table while he opens the door for the kids. You slowly took the two mini pizzas onto the serving plates, and sided it with the plaster filled with long strained pasta. When you were finally done, you went upstairs and called out for Michael to join in dinner. Trying to ignore that you know his true feelings about you from his father, and brush off those weird flirtatious actions from earlier, you both come to the dinner table. Smiling as much as you can.

It was a hit, the two kids fully finished their meals and scarfed up till there were no crumbs on the plates. Michael enjoyed the meal to the point where he took two servings of the pasta, while his father just nodded in agreement. You chatted away and made jokes with your friend, pushing away those earlier moments that were strange.

When you all had finished, just as you said earlier, made MIchael wash the dishes. As he was doing that, you were playing board games with the two siblings, while WIlliam finally left the area to go downstairs. You weren’t going to see him for the rest of the night, and you were glad but also curious if there will be more.

Otherwise, the whole evening was filled with laughter. You and your arguments with Michael had made both of the kids chuckle. You had popcorn and chocolate pretzels spread out on the side as well with large amounts of coke on top of the table. Your favorite slasher film was playing onto the screen, watching Krueger dismantle victims as you try to shoo away Evan and cover Elizabeth's eyes as you were watching. You were having so much fun, you forgot about the secret at that point. And if you did, you came to the conclusion that it's probably much better to address it to him later on.

It was then 12, and both of the kids were passed out. You and Michael carried them back to their rooms as you made fun of the students and teachers in your school. Talking and bringing up funny things that happened during the week while you were both left alone. Though, Michael was pretty zoned out, and you told him to go to sleep. He tried to resist, but he gave up and finally put out the mattresses in his bedroom. Making him drop out down to the floor as you were given his bed. As you were laying down on the bed, you saw Michael turn to you and gently smiled.

“Thanks for being with me.” He quietly whispered. With that, he turned his back toward you and quickly fell asleep. You could feel your throat choked up, feeling guilty of thinking about his father in such ways, when he was there. You wish you could tell how much Michael means to you, but he was already deep in his sleep. Sighing with shame, you accepted that you’ll confront another time. Now, you just lay there on your back in response, staring at the celing while you ponder. Slowly, while your eyes blanking into darkness.

————————————————————

You woke up, it was late midnight.

Your throat was parched, aching for a drink of water. While you tried to rummage around in the bedroom, there wasn’t a single glass or bottle filled with liquid. You had to go downstairs then, you didn’t mind though, knowing that everyone in the house is asleep. You then silently creaked out of the bedroom while Micheal slept peacefully, hoping to not wake him up. Going down to the stairs slowly, to not disturb any of the family members.

As you looked around, the light was still on. Michael might have left it on before you went up.

“Darling, why are you awake?” Oh no.

“Mr. Afton- I didn’t know you were still up, I’m so sorry!” You apologized, looking at the man who sat resting on the chairs. He was drinking, shots of whiskey surrounding him and a cigarette peeking through his fingers, which left bits onto the floor. His purple shirt was unbuttoned, messy, and with his other running down his gray streaked hair, contrasting from the clean and tidy look it was hours ago. You stood in surprise, you thought at least he would still be in the basement or sleeping up in his bedroom. But you were instead greeted with the older man in a hazy mess.

“Come here a sec, would you?” You listened to him, you went out of the living area to his spot. He sat on the bar stool, just staring at you as you came closer and closer to him. You don’t know why you obeyed his order, was it just out of instinct or some sick curiosity?

As you stand in front of him, you both look at each other in silence. He finally got off from the stool, and now you had to face the man who towers over you so much by height. He really did make you feel little, and with his glowing eyes, it made you feel so much more tiny than him. You tried to break eye contact with him multiple times, trying to look at the nearest potted plant or salt shaker to get away from his piercing glare, but he continues to check you down and up. Suddenly, he pulled your body closer to his by grabbing your wrist, and you were face to face with his chest. You had to move your neck to at least have a good look at him.

“I said you would be a great girlfriend. But I think you would be a very, very, good wife as well.” Oh fuck.

He cups your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker up to him. He was taunting you, grinning how much he enjoys seeing you in such a position. “You’re adorable.” He laughed, and with no warning, he pushed his leg underneath your crotch. He took advantage of how much bigger he was compared to you, and he was pleased every second of it.

“S’ Mr. Afton?” You slurred your words as he grips harder on your face. There was heat rising upon your body, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. You tried to escape his hold, but all it did was make you shift on his thigh, rubbing your clothed slit. Accidentally giving a little whimper, even when you try as much as you can to get away.

“I always love it when you call me that.” He grins. “I wonder what it sounds like when you’re begging me.” His other hand slowly rises up onto your shirt, pressing onto your chests, fondling little by little. “Mr- Mr. Afton!” He laughs even more, happy with how you try to cover your face away from embarrassment looking to the other side. You were fidgeting so much, unbeknownst that you were sliding up and down on his legs while he was playing with you. You tried to close your eyes while you were creating a little wet spot on his pants.

“Darling, darling, you’re being so needy. I don’t think my son would like to see me having you whimper like a sheep.” He snickered. Tears started to bile up onto your eyelids, either from stimulation or from the amount of guilt you had felt. But that was soon cut off when he stopped holding your face up and went down to your crotch. It was all so sudden, eliciting a little moan out of your mouth.

“Mmhm- Mr. Afton please I don’t-“

“Shh, shush. I know, I know.” He shut you up by covering your lips. At this point you were sobbing out of how much it was, even if it was a simple flickering back and forth.

“You know how many times I had to restrain myself every time you visit? How many times you come into my home with those cute outfits you wore. How many times you look at me with that horrific doe eyes of yours.” He sighed, continuing to put his vigorous assault on you.

“Ha, if it wasn’t for my son. I would’ve fuck you for days love,”

“But I don’t care anymore. It seems like I lost the ability to resist myself. Now, be a good girl for me, yeah?” He shoved his hand down into your shorts, and quickly put your panties to the side. Slowly playing around your pussy and teasing around your clit. You were bucking into his hands at this point, and he noticed your desperation for something to fill you inside. It was disgusting how good it all felt, you felt so dirty and unclean, but he grins all the while doing so, pleased to see you in such a mess. His fingers had you in such a state, you didn’t realize he uncovered your mouth to answer a question.

“Tell me doll, have you had anything inside your cunt?” He plunged his fingers into you with short notice. You shrieked with the foreign feeling, violating your virgin insides. You blabber in an incoherent mumble, showing how this is all new to you in an embarrassing matter. “Answer my question.” He slapped your clit, and you yelled even more loudly, forgetting that it was midnight and his children were sleeping.

“No! I-I’m a virgin!” He chuckled at your cute answer. He was amused to know that he’ll be the first to ruin you, not some stupid boy in your high school, or his brat of a son, it was him, a man years your senior. You were a possession now, his to keep and use. His to dismantle and ravage from each part in your little body. With that, he made his pace faster and faster, giving you the urge to cum. You sob in response to the newfound attention, and addition to that was his large hands grabbing a fist full of your tits. Your body was being abused, and yet you can’t help but to feel so turned on, so full and so desperate for him to do more and more.

“Are you close sweetheart?” You pay no attention to his question, too busy babbling over his movement. He let go of your breasts and forcibly grabbed your face instead, demanding you to look at him and his eyes. “I said whore, are you close?” He asked for a second time in a more degrading manner, and somehow that made you even more wetter.

“Yes! Yes! Yes, Mr. Afton.” Poor you, you were so needy and terrified that he’ll stop you from cumming, that it made you answer in such a desperate shameful way. He hummed to your pathetic response, and made the pace even more rougher. Then, William quickly took your shorts off and finally left you bare in the cold kitchen, only leaving you in your ribbon bra.

“Doll, you wanna come for me?” You nodded vigorously to his question. God, you were so hungry for a release. At this point, you knew that there won’t be any other guy out there that can make you feel so fucking good. Your thighs were shaking and closing in and out, as you came near to your finish. More, more, more!

“Bloody christ, can you keep your legs open? You’re shaking like a bitch.” He remarked in his husky accent. You open your thighs, and with that, he finally gives you the extra push to your release by circling on your clit. As much as it made you cry out in hiccups from the stimulation, you were so pleased to finally, finally finish.

You came undone. Your legs were at a limit that made you drop down on the floor. Although, William held you up, forcing you to stand tall even more.

“That was barely anything sweetheart. Yet you’re shaking like a bunny. How cute.”

“But I’m not finished. It’s my turn.” Oh god.

He flipped you over, forcing you to go onto the kitchen bar, where he sat earlier. You were spread out like a meal, with your cute bra tied with a ribbon, he probably would’ve guessed you planned such a thing for him. You look at him helpless, wondering what's next as he stares at you like a fruit waiting to be open and devoured. He massages your thighs and pats your face in an adoring manner. You tried to look at the side, hoping that you wouldn't stare into his icy cold eyes. But he slapped your face, making you shriek with a loud whimper and causing you to face directly at him.

“It's so pitiful really. Imagine what your friends would think, what would Michael think? Hm? But you don’t care, don’t you love.” He unzips his slacks, finally giving space for his erection to breathe out. Ever since you came to the house, he had an animalistic urges within his desires. Wanted to put his hands all over you. Wanted to fuck you senseless until all you can utter is Mr. Afton. Wanted to ruin you and your cute little young innocence you had. Wanted to destroy you.

“And to think, I’ll be your first. You’re so desperate, you would fuck a man like me, old enough to be your father.” He laughs. “But I don’t mind, darling. I always wanted to ruin you. As much as you wanted me.” He knows. He knew it all along. He knew it from your slight stare at him, your cute curiosity hoping if he could answer your question. He knew it from the way you would glance at his features, his hands, his arms and his lips. He knew it from the way you said his name in such a nervous honey touched tone. It was all so adorable to him.

Playing around with your bare pussy, he slides his dick up and down. Preparing you. “Can you really be able to take it baby?” He chuckles. To be honest, you don’t know. It was big, the kind that you would see in the magazines. You were a bit shocked, pondering if you actually can take it.

“Oh don’t worry. We’ll see.” He puts it in.

Oh god, oh god.

It was so tight, even William grunted after feeling the way it pulsed around you. It was way too much, and you gripped onto the table, to have sort of stability. You tried to resist your moans to be audibly voiced out of your mouth, but the pressure in your belly stopped you from doing that. Even as slow as he puts it in, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. But you felt so full, so complete. He thinks you were made for him, made to be his little girl, taking his cock out and in.

“My god, darling. You’re being so, so good for me.” His praises that he sung always gave you joy. It was so sweet, it rolled off his tongue so smoothly as well, and hearing how much you were doing for him, made you giggle.

“Good, good slut. My fucking whore.” He degrades you, but you also love it as well. It didn’t matter, all the words that came out of his mouth felt like hot liquid on you. And the way he was thrusting in while also massaging your clit, you couldn’t help to not care. He keeps talking to you, degrading you how much of a slut you were, but from the constant stimulation, all you hear was ringing. Though you were coming so close again, so close to spasming from his dick assaulting you.

“Mm, you’re getting tighter darling. Are you cumming?”

“Ha- yes! Yes I am, Mr. Afton please, please let me!” He awed at your begging. He knew his name would sound good when you pleaded and screamed for him. With that, he circled his fingers even more, he thrusted and penetrated your pussy even more, he abused your body more, more and more. God, you were so full, so ruined.

“Mhm!” You yelped. You spasm around his shaft inside you. Your toes curled and you twitched your head side by side. It felt so good. But, he was still going. He was still thrusting you. He was still fondling your skins, still ramming you. “W-wait. No-no!”

“Shut the fuck up.” He flipped you over once more. This time you laid on your stomach, and your ass was in full view in front of him. As much as you begged him to stop, as much as you grasp onto his unbuttoned dress shirt, hoping him to notice your distress, he ignored it all. And continued to just pound you, now from behind. Your bottom suddenly was faced with a slap, reddening your skin. You mumbled and blabbled, you didn’t even know if you wanted him to stop or continue.

He took your body, making you get up from the table and lean closer into his chest. He was grabbing your tits and stomach. Giving in more of a harsher angle to thrust into. You moaned all

the while louder. His face was in a condescending grin, loving how much that he did this to you

“My slut. You know that? I hope you fucking do. I hope when you see my bastard of a son, you think about the time I ruined you. The time that my touch made you scream. The time that you were begging me.” He pulled onto your hair. It burned your scalp but it added so much more to the pain and pleasure that you were given too. There was so much happening, to the constant slapping beneath your thighs, to you grabbing onto his thighs, to him having his voice breathe so near to your body. The sweat between you two was becoming more prominent, and you could feel your eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

“Ha- Mr. Afton. Mhhm- please! Please!”

“God you’re pathetic, I could hear you coming soon again. Ah, ah Mr. Afton!” He mocked your noises, he found your little cute gasp and moans so endearing to his ears. He taunted you by calling you names in a more whinier manner, laughing at how much power he has over you. “Fucking whore, you’re my whore right?” He asked. You, once again, couldn’t hear what he had said. Because of this, he stopped immediately. Making you cry and shriek from the sudden stop.

“I said, you’re my whore. Right?” He repeated once more, holding your hair and feeling his hand going up to your throat, tightly squeezing it.

“Yes! I-I’m yours.”

He put his hand even harsher around your neck. “Say it.” He thrusted powerfully into you. Ramming you at full speed now.

“Say it.” Harder and harder, you could feel your thighs failing on you with the constant movement. You were having to grip the table even more, leading you to having your nails scratch the surface hoping for some grip. You bailed out, and finally yelped.

“Yours! I’m yours! Im fucking yours Mr. Afton! Please-mhm- don’t- don’t stop!” You begged desperately. Now you lost it. Forget about all those guys in your highschool, forget about what dignity you had still inside of you, you just wanted his cock. You just wanted to be filled up in ways that finally had completed you.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. Beg me. Beg me with that stupid cockdrunk mouth of yours.” This guy had completely ruined you. Now you were pleading with tears, moaning his name as if that was the only word you knew. Now all you could think in your foggy fucked brain about him, your best friends father. He gutted you out, to the point where he started to groan as well, feeling how much your pussy was convulsing within him. You were so close. So close.

“Awh! Mr. Afton, Im- gonna cum!”

“Oh darling, go ahead. Go ahead, my slutty little wife.”

That was it. You then orgasm and spasm around him, causing him to also spill out as well. Your legs tremble and your hands pitifully grab on his body. You were now finished, filled with liquid seeping out of you. As your brain was hazy and foggy from the vigorous ramming, he grabbed your face another time. Taking a good look at your submissive and meek state.

“You’re my little wife, yeah?” You didn’t know you could answer that.

And you passed out onto the counter, your head dizzy and gone from what just happened. As much William had robbed you of your virginity, there's so much more he has to do with you. The man needed you to be his instead, he needed you to be far more than a girlfriend of a boy, either from some classmate you had, or Michaels, he needed you to be his wife instead. It was intoxicating how much more William needed you.

He thinks how much better it would be if you were branded by an Afton. And it wouldn’t be your best friend at all.

[testingthewatersss]

Yes, YES, imagine...

Modern problems Usual Winter Solider context warnings but this is pretty tame tbh Bucky Barnes x F Reader Imagine 2977 words Fluff, mild angst. 18+ MDNI

Requests open for a while via messages check masterpost for updated availability.

"It wasn't even a real gun, Buck" you insist, leaning against the door frame.

"that's not the point" he replies, face set in annoyance.

"You can't push someone through a locked door because he has a paintball gun in a gas-station!"

"He's lucky I wasn't aiming for the wall" he mutters petulently. Luckily, he's gotten quite good at not being overheard by now, even by you. 

"Sweetheart," you say, softening your tone in response to his body language, which is the total opposite of his attitude. He's making himself small on the edge of the couch you share, and despite the boldness of his actions and his adamant denials of doing anything wrong, his eyes seem full. 

"He wasn't anywhere near us..."

That makes him scoff, you take the opportunity to pace over to him, taking his face in your hands. His jaw is set under your fingers but still, he lets out a gentle breath as he looks up at you, yet another layer of well-practised bravado falling away. 

"He was heading straight for you, doll" he says quietly, "he was headin' straight for you, and your back was turned and you didn't even know he was armed-"

"-He wasn't armed though, was he love?"

Guilt flashes across his features then, and he quickly averts his gaze. So, in return, you lower your palms to his. Tangling your fingers together to stop him fussing with his hands in his lap.

"He could've been" he counters, "You don't understand how dangerous the world is, Y/N. When I- before, back in the forties things were different-"

"Oh, yeah..." you chuckle, letting him pull you onto his lap, "with rationing, and dancing and bombshelters and the second world war, I'm sure things were just overflowin' with safety"

That manages to make him crack a smile. It's short-lived, it vanishes with a subtle shake of his head, but still. It's so lovely that you can't help but lean down and kiss him. 

Bucky feels his whole posture start to soften the moment your lips meet his. The adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins for hours starting to drain away, replaced by the loud thrumming of his pulse. He relishes in it. Happy to drown in the warmth of your embrace instead of panic for once. 

You trace his temples with your thumbs, rubbing your nose against his as you feel his arms close around you, holding you tight to his chest. 

"I don't mind you keepin' me close" you allow calmly, "I don't even mind you actin' like a security gaurd in public- but you've gotta ease up a little. I can't keep callin' Nat to clean up after us whenever I run an errand, she's gonna start cashing in favours one of these days and I don't even want to know what that might mean."

"I can keep her away too" he mumbles into your shoulder, the words hot on his breath, "I can keep you right here, Sugar. The whole world can go to hell"

As if to prove a point, his metal arm locks in place. You laugh gently, stroking his hair as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. 

"Stop acting like everythin' is out to get me, Barnes" You instruct, tone failing to hold any genuine authority when his pouting face comes into view.

"It is" he counters, deadly serious, "You just don't see it"

"Or..." you allow, "maybe you see it too much"

He shakes his head, staring at you now, blue eyes imploring you to understand;

"You're so delicate" he murmurs, flesh fingers tracing across your arm adoringly, "you're always gettin' hurt, darlin'- last week you couldn't walk right for three days-"

"Because I tripped on the stairs" you insert calmly, "Not because the stairs attacked me, and not because I'm fragile"

"-The stairs to the subway" he agrees, "The Subway, which is a whole other death trap-"

You snort, but all humour leaves you when you see the seriousness of his expression. 

"It's a packed can of compressed metal filled with strangers and trapped underground" Bucky continues, "It could catch fire, it could crash- anyone on it could-"

"-Hey.." you whisper, stopping him before he can get too carried away, "statistically speaking, this is the safest time to be alive y'know? Sure, flying cars would be a nice change, but the-"

"Cars" he sneers, "Don't get me started"

That makes you laugh, the pure, untempered grouchiness of his complaints and his real disdain for cars paired with the look of stubbornness on his face is funny. Even if you not taking his concerns seriously only adds to the gristle in his tone.

"Y/N/N" He says, "I mean it, you- you are so, so precious to me, darlin'- I couldn't stand it if anythin happened to you, and I know you don't see it but you're human, and the world is-"

"Made for humans, by other humans" you remind him, kissing his brow. "And you shouldn't call me human and imply that you're not"

He rolls his eyes at your scolding and flexes his arm, making the metal plates groan, as if to prove a point. 

"You're still human" you argue, not willing to waiver on that point at least, "A bionic arm and some Stark Industry vitamins doesn't change that, and when it comes to life outside of this tower I am just as safe as you are."

"That's worse" he sighs, head dropping back to rest defeatedly on the couch, "You bein' as safe as me is so much worse than just you bein' on your own, doll- Don't you see that?"

"Not really," You tell him honestly, "but even if it were true, it wouldn't matter. Safety isn't owed to anyone, except maybe you-"

"And if HYDRA decide to pick you up as a hostage?" he says, voice stern now, "or if they just decide to kill you on the spot, just to mess with me, and Tony, and Natasha, and Steve and all the other targets that you've gotten yourself tangled up with?"

"Then I'd think that you, and Tony, and Natasha, and Steve would do your jobs, that you'd keep yourselfs and each other safe while you got to the whole Avenging part of your job."

"I'm not messin' around', Y/N" He sighs, peering up at you defiantly, "I'm serious-"

"So am I," you say with a shrug, "Gettin' old is a privilege, not a right- And, thanks to every one of those targets you mentioned, I am one of the most overly protected people on the planet. Tony has my cell phone and my Apple watch synced up with FRIDAY. My location and my vitals are monitored by SHEILD, all day- everyday- I live in the super-hero equivalent of an armoured tank and I am going to marry the most protective man that has ever lived. I am fine, and if one day I'm not, then I'm real sorry, Buck but I'll have died happy and it'll be more your problem than mine."

"Exactly" he grumbles, deliberately ignoring the humour at the end of your statement "It'll be all my problem, because I love you and I-"

"I hate to break to it you, Buck," you say, "but that is part of bein' in love. Supersolider or not, the hardest part of loving anyone is knowing that you could lose them. That you will lose them someday, if you wait long enough, but that doesn't mean you both just hide away until you die of old age, it means you live the best life you can together so that when one of you is left behind you have it all to look back on."

"You've been spending too much time with Steve" He relents, "You're gettin' a little too good at motivational speeches"

"You're the one who got into the habit of bringin' him to date night- to every date night"

"80 years ago, darlin', I thought he'd grow out of it eventually"

"He still might," You say softly, bringing your palm up to his cheek. 

He huffs out a sigh before closing his eyes and nestling into the warmth of your skin on his, pressing a soft kiss against your wrist before nodding. 

"I'm sorry" he murmurs, "I'll try and give you s'more space, whatever you need..."

And then his face is falling, his arms loosening just enough for you to notice, and the way his lips quirk downward makes you want to just build a bunker deeper than any subway and let him move you in there instead.

"I don't need space" You're quick to assure him, "I need you to use some of those under pressure thinkin' skills and check before you decide someone is a threat" 

There is a genuine look of remorse on his face now, it makes your heart ache in your chest. It's so sad that you feel your own conscience sting in response, knowing that your conversation has fuelled it, 

"I love you" you tell him, unable to not- "I love you a whole lot, Barnes and I refuse to be the reason you have another regret. You hear me? Not a single new regret- not a small one, because you call me three times in a row and Sam gets you thinkin' it's too much and definitely not one that involves some jerk at a bar that gets a little close or some red-neck getting snacks for his road trip, so you better make sure that the next threat you neutralise is a threat, okay? That's all I want."

"I thought he was," he says lamely, "I really thought he was, doll- I saw the gun and I saw you, and I just wanted him gone"

"Well..." You sigh, smiling softly, "He went- With a slightly broken arm, and a huge compensation cheque from Tony, so, as long as you promise to not feel too bad about it, then it looks like we might both get what we want."

He hums softly, not giving much away regarding his opinion on the matter. 

"Why are you still sulkin', handsome?" you wonder, looking at his face again. There's an unhappy crease in his brow, and even though he's trying his best to seem like he's fine, there's something about the way he's watching you that doesn't seem quite right.

"'s nothin'" he mumbles, forcing a smile, "I'm just sorry for puttin' you through this every few weeks, I am tryin, darlin' to get better about it."

You shake your head, quickly deciding not to scold him for feeling guilty, knowing that any playfulness the teasing might hold will be lost in favour of more misplaced guilt. You settle on kissing him, on running your fingers through the tangles of his hair as they slip back behind his ears. On tracing his cheeks as he pulls you ever closer towards him. He doesn't let up until he's verging on breathless. Until his desperate, frantic urge to protect you is satisfied that you're real and solid and exactly where you belong. He knows logically that you're right. That you're safe, as safe as you can be anyway- but the world is so full now. The Brooklyn streets he'd grown up on are more like concrete jungles, infested with noise and lights and cars, and people. He used to love that. The living, breathing soul of the city that never sleeps. The crowds in the daytime and the scattered laughter that would drift in through a cracked fire escape at night. He'd sit up on the roof for hours smoking cheap cigarettes and just watching, and he never once felt scared.  Even when the war first stirred, even then, the people were the one thing that he wasn't afraid of, they were his home away from home. Men he'd never known suddenly felt like family, as soon as they were packed in the back of a transit car. Crowded dance halls meant freedom and packed underground shelters meant protection. But somewhere along the way, they all became threats. Dark, faceless shadows that move around in swarms, making noises that he's never expecting and getting too close to the one thing that he could never bear to lose. Operating machines that they shouldn't be touching, huge metal busses that sound like they might collapse, or elevators that could break, or ski lifts- of all things to exist, huge wires with weak seats that carry people up too high, and you are so breakable. Your ankle a week ago was just the latest injury, before that you hurt your shoulder at the gym, lifting a huge metal barbell that he can't comprehend you touching, and before that tripped in a pothole. The road itself hurt you, because a person didn't do their job and get it filled and he can't trust anything, or anyone other than a handful of people, and all of them just parrot the same thing about you being fine. 

You stay still, resting your head on his chest, letting him settle himself by holding you in place. You had been tempted to start speaking again, until you'd noticed the way his fingers were moving, ever so gently tapping a rhythm against your side. A slow, steady pulse. Your pulse. An exact mirror of your heartbeat, which is a complete contrast to the thrashing of his own. 

As long as he can feel that, then he knows you're alright. That you're not scared, or hurt, or in danger, and that is the only way that he stands a chance of calming down himself. 

"Can you give me five minutes?" You purr, reluctant, but suddenly overwhelmed with an idea, "You can come" you offer, sweetening it with a peck on his cheek, "I just want to go and see Tony about somethin'-"

To your surprise, he chuckles at that, releasing his grip on your waist to paw at his eyes. 

"Should I be worried, doll?" he asks dryly, "I'm here lovin' on my girl and she suddenly wants to go see another man-"

The way you snort makes him smile wider. He kisses you again, on your knuckles this time, before letting go of your hand, feeling a pang of curiosity as you half skip from the room, a grin splitting your face.

It doesn't take long. Ten minutes instead of five, maybe- but not long.

And when you are done, feeling awfully pleased with yourself, you find him in the kitchen, cutting carrots by the sink with the radio playing at such a low volume you can't help but wonder why he bothered turning it on at all.

He looks over at you without missing a beat with his knife and grins wide and genuine when you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a kiss against the back of his shoulder. 

"I got you something" You announce proudly, beaming as brightly as him when he turns, leaning back against the marble counter to face you, "Somethin' that might make it easier for you to relax"

"I told Tony" he scoffs, "I'm not taking anything he cooks up in that lab- I don't care if he thinks I need a Xanax, whatever that is-"

You laugh at that, small and tempered as you reach into your back pocket, pulling out a small, plain dog tag. 

At least that's what it looks like. An unengraved dog tag, complete with the small hole, waiting for a chain. 

"Thank you?" he says, aiming for pleased, trying not to let his confusion show, especially since you seem so happy to be giving it to him, "It's-"

"You're too polite for your own good- you don't even know what it is yet"

"I've seen more of them than you" he counters, opening his palm to receive it, "but I think you're meant to write somethin' on them, doll-"

The second he touches it, he stops. Words dying in his throat. He doesn't realise yet, not completely, but he's instantly captivated by the warmth humming through the metal. 

Your smile turns smug as you reach out, curling his hand around the tag, putting his flesh thumb flat across the surface-

There it is. It's your pulse, thrumming as calmly as ever.

He's stunned. He blinks at you dumbly for a moment, and then he kisses you. He grabs you and pulls you in and his metal hand is on your cheek and you're breathless and-

The thrumming in the tag speeds up, increasing as he makes your heart flutter in your chest. He pulls back to stare at his hand again. 

"It's a live feed" you explain, "I figured Tony would be able to knock something up- As long as I've got my watch on, or, I'm somewhere that FRIDAY can get a read on me, then it's a direct, real time echo, okay? No delay, no glitches, no dead batteries."

He blinks at you, expression adoring now.

"-and if I need you- If a threat does pop up when you're not there, then-" you reach down, pressing and holding three fingers against the centre of your watch for a second

The tag vibrates in response. A constant unignorable tremor that makes it dance in his palm.

You take it upon yourself to stop it, exaggerating your action of squeezing it in demonstration.

"FRIDAY will be able to give you my location down to the inch."

Bucky knows he's gawking. His jaw is slack and he must be the picture of comedic surprise, but he doesn't care one bit. All he cares about right now is you.

"How did you think of that?" he murmurs, already moving to add it to his chain, the chain he never takes off, the one that has his other dog tag hanging from it, keeping it in its place against his heart.

"I just figured," you say, helping him refasten the clasp, "A modern problem would probably have a modern solution"

(I usually write imagine requests from the you POV, if thats not what you want then just lmk in the message)

[megantheebaddest]

Request idea🫣 jack and the reader have been going out for almost a year he’s over at her house went to get something out of her bed side table and he finds Al of her toys 🫣🫣 and he’s shocked that it took him this long to see the bed side table reader comes in thinking jack may be mad but he’s far from mad

Show Me

a/n: thank you for this request even though this was over a whole year ago 💀

warnings: mentions of sex toys

“What’s wrong baby? You asked him.

“Ugggh my head is fucking killing me..” He rubbed at his temples. “Do you have any Ibuprofen?”

“Yeah I have some in my room.. I’ll go get it” you started to stand up but he stopped you.

“It’s okay baby I can grab it, I gotta pee anyways. Where at in your room?” He asked.

“In my end stand.. the one on the RIGHT” You couldn’t stress this enough.

“Okay thank you mamas” He got up to go get the medicine.

“Uh huh.. the end stand on the RIGHT side of my bed okay?”

“mhm”

Your body filled with panic at the thought of Jack going into your other end stand. It was filled with all kind of questionable things. Dildos, vibrators, cuffs, flavored lube, all of the things you were not ready to introduce him to. It felt like he had been gone for too long so you figured you’d go make sure he was checking the right spot.

You turned the corner to your bedroom and wouldn’t you know he was in fact looking in the wrong place.

“Oh no…” You said just loud enough for him to hear you.

Jack turned to look at you, he had the widest grin on his face. “Yeah um.. there’s no Ibuprofen in here” he says pointing at the drawer full of toys.

You had your eyebrows scrunched with a worried expression, you just silently pointed to the other end stand. He closed the drawer and walked around your bed, he grabbed your face and ran his thumb across your cheek and continued walking to the other side of the bed. He grabbed two little pills and headed to the bathroom that connected to your room.

You felt sick to your stomach. You sat on the edge of the bed with your head hanging low. You felt that he would think of you differently now. You were so lost in your own head you didn’t hear him come out.

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He sat down rubbing circles on your back.

“I don’t know. I guess i’m just a little embarrassed”

“Hey no, please don’t feel that way? There’s no need for that babe.”

“I mean.. I couldn’t have been more clear on which end stand you were supposed to look in.” You let out a half laugh shaking your head.

“That is totally my fault. I’m sorry but…”

“What?”

“Do you really use all that stuff?”

Your eyes widened and your heart sank. You didn’t want him to be mad at you. You cleared your throat. “I-Um rarely.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Yes.” You quietly admit dropping your head. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking at him.

With hooded eyes and a tight grin he admitted “That’s fucking hot”

He leaned in for a passionate kiss. He pulled back asking “what’s your favorite thing in there?”

You were shocked that he’d ask that. “Um..” you already knew the answer but you were nervous.

“Go get it” He looked past you at the drawer. You hesitantly stood up making your way to the drawer. You smoothed your hands on your thighs, something you did when you were nervous. You opened the drawer and dug around a few times. You pulled out your little pink rose toy. You sat back down showing him it.

He grabbed it to examine the little thing. “And what does this little cute thing do?”

“It um.. it’s for my clit. It creates a suction like feeling, almost like oral. But it vibrates too.”

Is tongue was poking the inside of his cheek, and his eyebrow were up still inspecting the toy. “huh” he said quickly shaking his head like he understood.

he handed it back to you. “Show me”

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part three: "The Time Daredevil Saved You"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're out for a few drinks with your friends at Josie's. On your walk home you're ambushed by a few men because of a story you've been digging into. Daredevil shows up to save you.

Or

You discover Daredevil's identity in minutes because you've spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at Matt Murdock's mouth over the past year. And you also manage to bring penis-shaped whistles into the conversation.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: Sharing part three of FFTD on tumblr! Trying to see how many I can get up today (there are a total of 74 parts currently on AO3). Find the full list of installments available on tumblr here or in my Masterlist!

“Next time why don’t we find a different bar to drink at?” Marci suggested, eyeing the bottom of her drained glass with a raised brow and narrowed eyes.

“Blasphemy!” Foggy bellowed, playfully slamming a fist onto the table.

You and Karen giggled from your seats across the table from the couple as Marci shot Foggy an exaggerated eye roll. She often managed to bring up visiting a different bar almost every other time you had all met up at Josie’s. But this place had become a weekly spot for the five of you to often gather and blow off steam from your week at work.

Except tonight Matt was unavailable, which had been happening more frequently. Foggy only ever used the excuse that Matt was busy, but you could read between the lines. Matt was most likely on a date with someone stunning and probably just as outspoken as him and vastly more confident than you would ever be. Someone who didn’t fall apart and clam up when he gave them one measly little compliment.

“Well you do realize there are other bars where you don’t have to order your drinks neat because, gasp ,” Marci said, exaggerating a dramatic expression for a moment, “the water lines aren’t filled with questionable bacteria and mold.”

“But Josie’s is where this all began ,” Foggy shot back, his tone impassioned like he usually got on a long-winded spiel. “Where Nelson and Murdock started. I mean, you and I might not be engaged if we hadn’t started this firm because we wouldn’t have worked that Tully case against you.” His focus shifted to Karen as he waved a hand at her. “And then Matt and I wouldn’t have met Karen and taken her under our wing, molding her to be the badass lawyer she is now.” Karen rolled her eyes with a smile before taking a drink from her beer as Foggy shifted to you, saying your name and continuing. “She wouldn’t be here either if Nelson, Murdock, and Page hadn’t been celebrating a win that Monday evening a year ago! And Matt wouldn’t have introduced us to yet another integral member of our friend group!”

You sent him a tight smile, happy to be considered an integral member of the friend group, but upset at being reminded that you were only Matt’s friend. And then in turn you were reminded that he was probably out fucking some gorgeous woman senseless this evening. With an internal groan you took another pull of your beer. You desperately wished to be that woman he was fucking senseless.

“So when are we planning the bachelorette for party again?” Karen asked, her attention on Marci now.

Marci absently toyed with the beautiful engagement ring on her finger, a dreamy smile on her face as the diamond sparkled in the dim light of Josie’s bar. “In two months, and you bitches better be there.”

“We’re your bridesmaids,” you reminded her. “It’s like, literally our duty to be at the bachelorette party that we’re planning.”

“With phallic shaped objects,” Karen added.

Marci giggled as Foggy only rolled his eyes, clearly wishing Matt was here so he could tune out this conversation.

“I can’t believe you found dick-shaped lipstick,” Marci said.

“You can find almost anything in the shape of a dick,” you deadpanned.

“Confetti,” Karen threw out.

“Penis-shaped gummies,” you added.

“Straws.”

“Temporary tattoos,” you listed.

“Balloons.”

“Whistles, which we actually did get,” you told Marci.

“Crowns,” Karen continued.

“Sashes,” you told her. Marci opened her mouth and you quickly cut her off. “And yes, yours has a dick on it.”

Foggy held up a hand, shaking his head and interrupting the conversation. “Okay, can we save the penis talk for when I’m not here?” he asked.

Marci pouted at him while Karen laughed at his discomfort, taking another drink. You shot Foggy an exaggerated sympathetic look.

“Feeling left out?” you asked. “Want me to get you some tit-shaped objects for your party?”

Foggy chuckled, shaking his head. “No, and don’t give Matt that idea.”

“Oh, I’m definitely giving Matt that idea now,” you teased back, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're getting a boobie beach ball, Fog."

You’d ended up spending the next couple of hours at Josie’s with Foggy, Marci, and Karen. The night had taken a turn more towards wedding planning since Matt was not around to help bring up anything else. Foggy had looked bored out of his mind, staring at his beer when he wasn’t checking his watch for the time. 

Eventually it had gotten late enough that you figured you’d need to head home. You were looking forward to that bit of pizza you had left in your fridge and to being able to sleep in tomorrow morning, so you’d said your goodbyes and headed out of Josie’s, choosing to walk the couple of blocks like you usually did. Though, Matt usually offered to walk you back home when he was out with you all since he didn’t live too far from you. 

Unfortunately tonight you would be walking alone. 

The night was a little chilly and you tugged your cardigan tighter around yourself, hugging your arms over your body as you made the journey back to your apartment. It was a walk that had become incredibly familiar over the last year. You’d spent almost every Friday night after meeting Matt at Josie’s throwing back at least one beer with the group before heading home. And you’d liked that your life had changed that way.

But you hated that you still thought about Matt as more than a friend. Hated that deep down you were still hoping and waiting for that phone call of him finally asking you on a date. It didn’t help that Karen and Marci shot you sympathetic looks every time someone flirted with him or gave him their number. It had happened so much this past year that you thought Foggy was even starting to notice at this point. 

“Hey!” someone called out.

Your heart rate quickened, your eyes darting to where the voice had come from. There were two men standing in the nearby alley looking directly at you. And then you heard one of them call out your name and you felt fear flood your veins like ice. And then you bolted.

You were running down the sidewalk, trying to escape the two men now chasing you, but after the few beers you’d just had and the fact that you weren’t the most athletic person, you weren’t very fast or very graceful. And as you neared the corner of the street, a third man appeared and you realized they were intentionally trying to trap you. The only place to run was down the alley to your right, which clearly was a deadend. When you glanced to your left, you saw one of the men behind you making his way into the street, blocking your path in that direction now, too. You were cornered.

“Figueroa doesn’t like that you’ve been digging into him,” one of the men called out.

You winced, recognizing the name immediately. It was the story Ellison warned you not to chase a year ago. One you’d still been trying to unravel, slowly picking away at.

“He sent us to teach you a lesson,” the man from behind said.

You spun, turning and walking backwards until your back hit the building behind you. And then you were really trapped as all three men advanced on you, your heart pounding thunderously in your chest.

“Nowhere to go now,” the first man taunted.

A figure to your left stepped out of the alley just beside you and you flinched back instinctively, assuming it was another man here to hurt you. But instead he stepped in front of you, putting himself between you and the three men. And that’s when you realized it was Daredevil, complete with his red suit and horned helmet. Your eyes widened in shock; in all your time here in Hell’s Kitchen you’d never seen him before.

“And I’m about to send Figueroa a message,” Daredevil growled back. “He doesn’t touch the journalist.”

He flew forward, simultaneously attacking the three men in a barrage of fists and kicks and impressive flips. Blood was spraying through the air in conjunction with the sound of bones breaking and men screaming. Daredevil was brutal in his attack and your wide eyes were glued in shock to the way he moved so gracefully despite the violence he was perpetrating. 

Nearly as quick as he’d appeared, the fight was over. The three men were unconscious on the sidewalk and Daredevil’s chest was heaving as he took a moment to recover from the fight. And then he turned, focusing on you.

“You should drop that story you’re working on for now,” he told you, his voice sounding oddly familiar. “It’s not safe for you to investigate this anymore.”

Your heart was still loudly pounding in your ears as your eyes left the sight of the unconscious men and focused on the infamous vigilante. Your eyes were scanning him over, your gaze lingering at his mouth and his jaw. They looked so very familiar…

“How do you know I’m a journalist?” you breathed out, eyes studying his face.

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking in his cheeks. “I recognized the name they called out,” he answered quickly. “You work at The Bulletin.”

“How do you know I’m working on a story about Figueroa?” you asked him next.

He swallowed hard, head canting to the side as he studied you. And that’s when it hit you–you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at that mouth, memorizing the exact shape of his plump lips because you’d so often imagined kissing them. And that jawline with that dark stubble–you’d often fought the urge to drag your fingers along it many a drunk night at Josie’s. His voice was slightly off as if he was intentionally pitching it lower, but the frame and build of his body was the same. You’d studied Matt far too closely this past year not to recognize the same way Matt canted his head to the side, too.

Your heart was racing even faster in your chest now and you saw Daredevil’s lips thin into a straight, disapproving line.

“Matt?” you asked hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper.

He blew out a sharp, surprised exhale from his mouth. “How did you–?”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him, Daredevil’s voice shifting back to one that was so very obviously Matt’s. “Holy fucking hell–are you serious right now?”

“Your apartment,” he said firmly. “Not here.”

You stared at him in shock for a long moment, mouth gaping like a damn fish as he stood in your living room, red helmet in one hand. He’d climbed in through your fire escape shortly after you’d gotten into your apartment. Your brain was still taking a moment to process everything that had just happened.

Matt was Daredevil. 

“So wait,” you began, a hand to your forehead as you tried to understand, “while we were at Josie’s discussing penis whistles just a bit ago, you were out running around as Daredevil ?” 

Matt’s head tilted to the side, his dark brows creasing together as he blinked hard a few times back at you. He shook his head a moment later, his sightless gaze landing at your chest as a look of confusion and disbelief washed over his features. “You find out I’m Daredevil and yet somehow you still manage to bring up…penis whistles in the same sentence?” he asked, the corner of his lips beginning to tug upwards.

“Well I mean,” you began, mind still reeling, “poor Foggy was left to listen to bachelorette party discussions because you were out doing all of that.” You waved a hand in his general direction for emphasis. “Which, by the way, he definitely needs tit-shaped decorations for the bachelor party. I'm buying him a boob shaped beach ball." You tilted your head to the side for a moment, vaguely aware of Matt lightly laughing as you added, "Come to think of it I think there's a sash that even says 'one clit that's it' and I think he needs that, too. You can tell him I said ‘you’re welcome’ for them. He’ll get it.”

Matt was smiling now, shaking his head yet again and chuckling to himself as he stared back at you in something akin to amused awe. “You’re…you’re telling me to buy Foggy tit-shaped decorations for his bachelor party about fifteen minutes after discovering this huge secret about me?”

“Well, you’re already attractive and successful, why not be a fucking superhero ninja, too?” you blurted.

Matt burst into a laugh, a hand running through his disheveled brown hair. You groaned and collapsed onto your couch, throwing your face in your hands. 

“I’ve reached the point of the evening with drinking where that filter between my brain and mouth,” you grumbled, voice muffled behind your hands, “has entirely disintegrated and that was not meant to be said aloud. I’m also going to blame that on shock from nearly being murdered a bit ago.” Your head darted up from your hands as you looked back up at Matt, who was gazing uncharacteristically fondly down at you with a soft expression on his face. You tried to ignore the way it made your heart flutter in your chest. “Which, thanks for the last minute save, by the way," you continued. "Don’t think I’d manage to take them out with second-hand embarrassment alone.”

“This is by far the most interesting way someone has discovered my secret,” he said, still very amused as he came to sit beside you on the couch.

“Wait, who the hell else knows?” you asked in shock.

“Karen and Foggy,” Matt answered. “They uh, didn’t take it quite as well as you seem to be taking it.”

"It's not like I really know much about all of this to form an opinion," you admitted. "It's shocking but also…" you shrugged a shoulder. "You could be doing worse things I suppose."

"Worse things?" he asked, brows raised. "What would you deem more upsetting than finding out I'm a vigilante?"

"I don't know," you shot back, your brain grasping for examples. "Selling drugs to children? Illegal sex trafficking? Eating dog meat?"

"Okay, well one of those is very clearly not on the same level as the others," Matt pointed out. 

"You asked what I deemed worse than being a vigilante," you countered. 

He laughed, his body shaking you on the couch along with him at the movement. His eyes creased at the corners as he turned his full attention on you. "And that's what you came up with?" he asked. “Eating dog meat?”

"You put me on the spot!" you shot back.

His laugh died out after a moment and then his expression turned serious. His sightless eyes studied you before he asked, "How'd you know it was me so easily?" 

You swallowed hard, hands fidgeting with the stitching in your cardigan. "Not many people know about the story I've been working on. And I…recognized your, uh, mouth."

You could feel his gaze boring a hole in the side of your face and you refused to look at him. Your cheeks were aflame after that admission. 

"You recognized my mouth?" he asked in surprise. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, your gaze still intentionally avoiding his. "I plead the fifth," you muttered. You heard him open his mouth, about to speak, but then you quickly cut him off. "Are you hungry?" you blurted, finally looking at him and taking in his confused expression. "Because I had every intention of coming back home and reheating some leftover pizza. You want some?"

"I–yeah," he answered slowly, brows creased together as if he was trying to keep up with what was going on. "Uh, yeah, sure."

You rose from the couch, heading to the kitchen and pulling the pizza box from the fridge. Matt was leaning against your kitchen table, watching you with a bemused look on his face as you closed the fridge door. 

"I was going to toss it in the oven to heat it up," you told him. "Better than the microwave. Unless you have some sort of pizza-heating super power I am also unaware of?"

Another smile broke across his face, the lone dimple in his right cheek appearing. You always loved that dimple, it only ever showed up when he was really smiling. 

"No, no pizza heating abilities," he answered softly.

"Bummer," you commented, heading to the oven and setting the temperature. You turned back towards him, resting your back along the kitchen counter as you eyed him. "So what can you do? Do you have laser eyes? Can you lift cars? Read minds?" Your eyes immediately widened at that thought. "Please tell me you don't read minds," you added quickly. 

"No," he said, still smiling as he shook his head. "I don't read minds. Or have laser eyes or lift cars. I do have heightened senses though."

One of your brows rose curiously. "What's that mean?" you questioned.

"Means I can smell exactly what beer you had at Josie’s tonight," he told you, "and that you had four of them. I can also tell you had lunch at that sushi place you like." Your jaw dropped as he continued. "I can also tell you've been blushing since you said you recognized my mouth a minute ago," he continued, his mouth in question quirking up at the corner in amusement which only made you blush further. "And I can hear your heart racing. I’ve noticed it’s often racing around me."

"I'm a nervous person," you muttered awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest. You did not want to give him the real reason he probably hears your heart racing around him frequently. "Pretty sure you knew that."

You watched as his head tilted to the side, his eyes scanning along your chest as if he was looking for something. 

"What're you doing?" you asked curiously. 

"I can tell if someone is lying by the sound of their heart," he answered.

One of your brows raised questioningly at him. "And you think I'm lying about being a nervous person?" you asked him suspiciously. 

He shook his head, the smile on his face looking almost sad unless you were imagining it. But why would he be sad?

"No," he answered slowly. "Was just checking something. You're uh, a little harder for me to read because of the nerves. Most people's bodies react a little more predictably and it's pretty straightforward for me to understand. You've always been a little more difficult."

You sighed heavily, turning and placing the rest of the pizza from the box on your pizza pan. "Of course I'm weird even to your abilities. Why wouldn't I be?" you mumbled, opening the oven and throwing the pizza in.

Matt snorted in amusement behind you. You turned back to him at the sound, noticing him grinning back at you as you frowned.

"I tell you I hear heartbeats," Matt points out, "and you think you're the weird one?"

"Fair point," you mused. "But at least you can hide your weirdness. Mine is perpetually on display and usually scaring people away."

"Didn't scare me away," he told you gently, his tone softer than usual. “I like your weirdness.”

Matt was staring back at you with that look again. It was that tender and almost affectionate look he'd had on his face a bit ago when he had first shown up and you'd been rambling on about the boob-shaped beach balls and penis whistles and had your heart momentarily skipping in your chest. 

Why was he looking at you like that?

You cleared your throat, glancing away. If you kept staring at that look on his face you might start foolishly giving yourself false hope for something more with him. And that would just be painful and stupid.

"So what, I'm supposed to drop the story on Figueroa that I've been working on for a year and let him keep trafficking women?" you questioned Matt.

Matt sighed softly at the change in topic, the sound almost too quiet to notice. And then he pulled out one of your kitchen chairs and sat down running a hand over his face. You watched him from your place against the counter.

"Drop it for now," he told you. "I'm looking into it. When I get the proof I need, you'll be the one I give the information to. You can publish it, expose him for what he's doing. It’ll help get him arrested. In the meantime I’ll just…keep an eye on your place when I’m out. Make sure he’s not sending more guys after you."

"Do you…want the notes I've gotten so far?" you asked him curiously. 

"Sure," he answered. "Maybe you have something I haven't found yet."

You pushed off the counter, heading past Matt towards your room and grabbing your laptop. You brought it back to the kitchen table and opened it, turning it on. And then a thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t resist the laugh that came out of your mouth. 

"What?" he asked, his sightless gaze warm as he stared at you.

"I feel like your oddball sidekick," you joked. 

Another large smile broke across his face as he chuckled. You couldn't help the matching smile that spread across your face in return.

"You'd need a name," Matt teasingly pointed out. “And a costume.”

You snorted in amusement, shaking your head as you pulled up your notes on the laptop. “Pretty sure I’m embarrassing enough on my own without a Halloween costume and another ridiculous name for people to call me,” you answered.

“As I said already,” Matt replied, that fond expression returning to his face as he gazed back at you, resting an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “I like your weirdness.”

[frozenjokes]

I’m Really Sorry About The Whole ‘Crush On My Alter Ego’ Thing, But We Could Still Totally Make This Work

Grian woke up early to a harsh alarm as he had every day since Scar’s.. confession..

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but it probably would in an hour or two, so Grian wasted no time getting right on his morning routine. Which is to say. Doom scrolling for at least an hour before actually getting up. Though before choosing one of many social media platforms to waste his time with, he checked his texts, expecting to find a meme or work schedule change from Cub, and instead:

Good morning sunshine👊👊👊👊👊!!! ❤️ Time to get ready for another day of stopping crime and KICKING ASS👉👊👊‼️⚡️⚡️⭐️✨✨💥💥💥💥 I would say I hope you slept well.. but I KNOW you did and that your going to have a certifiably SLAY DAY⭐️💥⭐️💥⚡️⚡️⚡️ I just wanted YOU to know that your killing it (👊👊👊👊👊👊) and you’re awesome and very cute😳 like cUtEgUy you know and everyone loves you❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️Me included!! Can’t wait to see you today🫵🫵👊👊🫡💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 *dhoots arrow* HOTGUY

It went on for quite a bit longer, but Grian had seen enough actually, and consequently was no longer inclined to stay awake. This would be a problem for future Grian.

Future Grian was not very happy with past Grian when he woke up a few hours later, stumbling in his disoriented state to the kitchenette for coffee. Cub was at the kitchen table scrolling through his phone, and once Grian had the presence of mind to interrogate him, he pulled up the text, shoving his phone in Cub’s face.

“What is this. Did you have something to do with this? Did you write this for him? That’s probably something you’d do. What’s your prerogative here?”

Cub took a long moment to read, a small smile creeping across his face before outright laughing, “Oh, this is great.” Cub gently took Grian’s phone to keep reading, adjusting his glasses, “It just keeps going. How long do you think he spent typing this?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care! What the hell am I supposed to do? Why is he even texting me in the first place?”

“I’m failing to see how this is a big deal. He’s probably just sorry about the Micah thing and this is how he’s chosen to express that. Oh- here. ‘You don’t have to worry about seeing Micah again because I killed him. He’s gone.-‘ several explosions emojis ‘-I also tried to kill HotGuy but when I brought it up to one of my buddies who’s in with the higher ups he said No No Definitely Not Do Not Bring This Up To Anyone Else Ever For Your Own Safety so I’m feeling a little bit more insecure about my place in the world but that’s okay! I mean I know my life has always been in the hands of government doctors but I didn’t actually think through those implications until right now. You know me though, I’ll just keep doing my best! HaHa!’ Oh god. That’s a lot more text with very few emojis. Do these things not have character limits? I don’t think he’s okay actually. This just keeps going.”

“The- Okay, how am I supposed to be upset at him after you just read all that out to me? This is not fair. Can we just put that aside for later because how the fuck am I supposed to look at Scar in even remotely the same way after Micah- You can not possibly understand, Cub, I told Micah everything. We like- connected! And it was just fucking HotGuy the whole time! The guy I can’t fucking stand!”

“Out of costume I think he prefers you just call him Scar.”

“Okay. Sure. Fine. Scar fucked my brain! How can he even expect me to look at him the same way! He just let me think for all that time he was a different guy! Do you know how crazy that is? He talked shit ABOUT HIMSELF constantly! He tricked me!” Still, after a whole week to think about it, Grian couldn’t make sense of that. That he had met someone, made a real connection with a real person, but he hadn’t, not actually, because all of it was a facade. It was just Scar. But it didn’t feel like just Scar- it felt like Micah. Micah, who was just an act. Micah who he’d never see again. And maybe that hurt the most. That he’d lost someone like that. That he’d lost a friend. Someone who he thought might be able to be more than a friend.

“If it helps I think he has serious enough issues with his identity that he was not just ‘Scar but playing a character.’ Micah was a different person to him, I think.”

“Yeah.” Grian’s shoulders sagged, the idea not much of a comfort, “That. I got some idea of that. He was asking me a lot of questions about alter egos when-“ Grian cut himself off to groan loudly, “This is so stupid. This is so stupid. He needs to go directly to therapy for weeks at a time so I don’t have to see him for at least another month.”

Cub shrugged, “Maybe it would be good for you to see him. Maybe you should go in today.”

“How would this help me.” Grian glared, but Cub wasn’t looking up, still reading-

“I don’t know,” Cub said, setting Grian’s phone down on the table to return his focus to his own coffee, “I just kinda want you to.”

“Seriously.”

“I do. You’ve both been a bit of a wreck all week, maybe this’ll clear the air. And unless you plan on never speaking to Scar again, which is not practical for your work or your home life, you’re going to have to tear the bandaid off at some point. If he wants to apologize, you should let him say what he has to say at the very least. You don’t have to forgive him.”

“You- Are you in on this? I think you’re in on this.”

“I didn’t know about the text. Honestly, the majority of that message comes off as very.. in the moment. I don’t think that was planned. But he has a plan. No idea what. He wouldn’t tell me. It’ll probably be funny though.”

“So do you want this to fix me or do you want to laugh at me?”

Cub waved a hand dismissively, not looking up from his coffee. “I want to laugh at Scar.”

“Great.”

“You should go to work though.”

“I know your motives, Cub.”

Cub only shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m also just curious. I want to know what he does. Don’t you? Wouldn’t it be sad if he planned some sort of big I’m Sorry event for you and you never showed?”

“This is extremely appealing to me.”

“But then you’ll never know what it was. Or if it even happened at all.”

“Scar will text you.”

“He might not.”

Grian scoffed. “If you want to see what Scar has done so badly then you can go and see it for yourself.”

“You think security would let me in?” Cub looked a bit too excited by that idea, the kind of expression that crossed his face holding Great Intention. Always a terrifying look on Cub, and definitely not something to be encouraged lest he get himself arrested.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

Cub deflated (a great relief), but didn’t budge on his prior sentiment. “You should go.” Grian rolled his eyes.

“Well I am going, I want to go, but I'm not trying to see any of Scar. If he wants to talk to me he can chase me down. I’m not playing into anything he has planned.”

“Oh,” Cub blinked, then looked back at his phone, “Great. My job’s done then.”

“You are in on this!”

“I maintain my innocence. Hope it’s a good day though.”

“It won’t be.”

“If you say so.”

Grian rolled his eyes, taking his coffee off the maker and heading back to his room. He dressed in his underclothes, grabbed his bag, then headed out with a passing goodbye. Cub’s focus was elsewhere anyway, getting ready for his own work. One day Cub would be able to quit that damn job. Now that Grian had he means, he was going to make sure of it.

…

With the ample warning, Grian made sure to steer completely clear of his and Scar’s offices. He intended on lingering here as little as possible, only dropping in to change and collect a radio.

Apparently Scar had anticipated this.

“Well hello there!”

Grian didn’t catch more than a glance of him before slamming the public office door closed, but had to open it again seconds later because what the fuck was Scar wearing.

Scar had laid himself out over the center desk, dressed head to toe in the most garishly abhorrent green crop top, booty shorts, and sparkly jewelry Grian had ever seen all on top of his uniform. ‘IM SORRY’ was written across the chest in neon pink fabric marker chicken scratch, a miserable failure at matching CuteGuy’s colors. The entire outfit clashed so horribly that Grian couldn’t help but stare, for a moment too long apparently because Scar took this as an invitation to continue speaking.

“CuteGuy! I had a rose for you, but you took your sweet ass time getting here and I got bored, so I ate it instead. You know how there’s rose flavored candy and shit? Does not taste like the flower. Would not recommend. Actually!” Scar rolled over onto his stomach, kicking his legs, and Grian choked on a snort when he saw the text across Scar’s ass said ‘WHORE.’ “I was trying to spit it out, you know, and I’m pretty sure my saliva is purple now. It turned my water purple. I might have poisoned myself.”

Grian found himself stuck between bafflement and a laugh, but he refused to show Scar he was any amount amused by this display, his voice stilted in suppression when he finally spoke. “Give me. A radio.”

“Sure thing!” Scar plucked one off the dock, spinning it in his fingers before tossing it across the room. Grian caught it, turning on his heel to leave. “Hey! Where are you going?”

Grian didn’t feel the need to answer, shutting the door behind himself as he went, but it wasn’t long because he heard the tip-taps of Scar’s boots behind him, not running, but certainly trying his best to catch up.

“Did you see my message this morning?”

“I saw it.”

“Did you see the part where I asked to take you to lunch?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go to lunch then? Later, obviously. You don’t even have to go with me!”

Grian scoffed through a chuckle, rolling his eyes. Ridiculous. “No thanks.”

“I thought so. That’s okay! Maybe another time! I’m going to go now, but it was nice to see you, CuteGuy!”

Grian frowned, not responding or turning around. If Scar wanted to dress like an idiot, that was his prerogative. Grian wasn’t going to be the one to stop him. He had actual work to be doing.

…

Grian liked how often he got to fly in this line of work. CuteGuy the villain didn’t fly anywhere; he laid low, he scouted the streets from roofs of buildings, he stuck to the shadows. ‘Grian’ didn’t fly much either, not without a reason. Sometimes he’d fly just like anyone would go for a walk, but he liked doing something, he liked having places to go. As much as he loathed superhero culture- and the whole damn city for that matter- he loved this.

It wasn’t unusual for a crowd to gather at the scene of a fight or crime, but maybe Grian should have known that a crowd this large, this dense, was a red flag. It had been a couple hours since he’d set off into the city, so his guard was down, he was in the zone. He had just assumed someone was hurt. That people were trying to help or panicking. Clearing the crowd revealed otherwise.

Scar was laying on the sidewalk, still wearing his clashing clothes, signing a book from a fan before shooing them away while looking distinctly like the two of them were in on some sort of inside joke. He.. didn’t have his legs.

“CuteGuy!” Scar swooned, drawing a gloved hand across his forehead, “I have fallen and I can not get up! I need a handsome and capable superhero to assist me!”

Grian cringed, but despite the majority of people having backed up, no one seemed to actually have left, encircling the both of them in a tight barrier. Scar knew plenty well how their fans felt about the two of them, (Grian had stumbled upon some.. choice pieces of fanart before) and he’d never miss an opportunity to tease under the scrutiny of eager eyes. Though, there was something beautifully normal about that; the teasing, the invitation of banter. The kind of normalcy you long for, even when things aren’t well. (Even when Micah was never real, even after you lost a friend.)

“You’re plenty capable. This is a severe waste of my time.” Grian flapped his wings, not intending on leaving, just needing more space from the onlookers.

Scar watched him carefully, delight dancing across his face when he realized that Grian was going to stay. “Well of course, of course, but going all that distance walking on my hands? No no, I don’t think so! I don’t even want to think about the kinds of calluses I’d get! And it would take hours.”

“Serves you right. Did you make sure that call only wired to me?” Grian huffed, making a grand show of his annoyance since Scar couldn’t see the roll of his eyes. And.. well.. he couldn’t quite help himself with the crowd. Everyone gets a kick out of dramatics sometimes. “Where’d your legs run off to anyway?”

“Oh! Funny story! The Goat took them.”

“You paid him to do that?”

“That would have been a really good idea! But no. He just happened to see me, and after laughing at me for like ten minutes he said ‘iF yOu aRen’t uSinG thEsE tHen I wiLL’ like he does, you know him. It was a little ominous actually. I’m a bit worried. My doctors are going to be pissed when they find out, so personally, I would rather be delivering this news with legs in hand.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. It’s not ideal. If it wasn’t already clear, I’m going to need help getting them back.”

“I hope you know how unbelievably a ‘you problem’ this is because I am not helping. Good luck hunting him down. First I’d recommend calling someone to bring you your chair.”

“No!” Scar jolted upright, proving just how capable he was of not laying pathetically on the concrete, “I want you! Look, look at me. Listen. Close your eyes.”

Grian made a face, scoffing to hide the hint of amusement that was threatening to show in his expression. “Do you want me to look at you or do you want me to close my eyes.”

“Listen. Imagine. HotGuy and CuteGuy: Dynamic Duo-!”

“This sounds awful.”

“-I’m up on your shoulders, we’re infiltrating The Goat’s home base together! You’re punching bad guys and I’m shooting my bow from above-“

“And how do you think you’re going to hang on, huh?” Grian interrupted, tapping his foot.

“Obviously I’d-“ Scar moved, seeming to realize too late he didn’t have the legs he was planning on using. This did not deter him, a sharp smirk splitting his smile, “Velcro!”

Grian snorted despite himself, “Yeah. That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it. I foresee zero issues.” With a great irritation that gripped him out of nowhere, Grian was suddenly aware of other voices, the crowd, speaking loudly amongst themselves. Someone started to chant his name. Another chanted ‘Velcro!’ That caught on much faster. Grian flapped his wings far more aggressively when the crowd began to close in, hitting civilians out of his personal bubble, but this didn’t seem to be very effective, anxiety crawling under his skin as the attention started to be too much. Scar seemed to notice, but despite his efforts to control the onlookers, they were too rowdy, too caught up in their excitement to listen.

“Goodbye.” Grian hissed, straining to be heard, and Scar half-shrugged, a possible attempt at apology.

“So that’s a no, then? You’ll fetch my legs at least, will you?”

“No.” Grian beat his wings hard, forcing civilians out of his way and prepping to take off.

“Oh! Okay! Have a nice day then!”

Grian was gone before he could hear another word, before any other body could brush the backs of his wings. Anger painfully out of proportion boiled in his stomach, spilling out and staining the rest of his insides in its pulsing fire. He wasn’t angry at Scar. Well. He could certainly blame Scar, luring him around and speaking like that, stoking the fire of fans who adored the both of them, but Grian hadn’t minded the show, he hadn’t even cared all too much that he’d been tricked, not when the resulting interaction felt so.. normal. He liked an act. He liked being CuteGuy. So why was he so upset? And maybe that was it. He was just angry for no reason, and that made him angrier, because despite everything, despite trying so damn hard, he was still broken.

He could punch someone about it. He wanted to punch someone about it. Cub wouldn’t want him to.

So he flew instead. Flew like he liked, fast and far and high until the air was too thin, then let himself fall, playing games with his life as he hurtled through the sky before catching himself under spread wings and doing all of it over again. Eventually he got tired. Eventually he had to stop. But the aftermath of a senseless episode still buzzed under his skin, nearly as unpleasant as the burn that caused it. Grian could feel it. He could feel it under his skin. He wanted to tear it out. He wanted to fly, exhaust himself until he couldn’t feel anything at all, but he was too tired, so instead he found himself gliding to Cub’s workplace. He didn’t know where else to go.

“CuteGuy-“ Cub’s manager was frightened by his sudden entrance, stumbling through the front door aggressively enough to rattle the attached bell into senseless noise.

“Hello Diane.”

“How do-“ but Grian cut her off with a frustrated groan, not caring to listen as he dragged himself to the back. Cub looked even more startled to see him than his manager did, though surprise quickly melted into concern when Grian collapsed into a pile of cardboard boxes. He grunted. They were not as soft as they looked.

“Ah CuteGuy, friend of HotGuy who I am friends with and know for this reason- it’s fine Diane, it’s fine, let me just- I can handle it.” Grian heard the soft arguing from the doorway, but didn’t care to say anything. He didn’t care to think. He just wanted to be better.

Eventually the door closed.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Cub’s hand flew to his shoulder and Grian viscerally cringed, lips parting in silent discomfort until the hand was swiftly drawn back, “I’m sorry. Do you need me to call an ambulance? Are you okay? You’re not okay.”

“I’m not hurt,” Grian mumbled, narrowing his eyes against Cub’s panicked expression in his peripherie. “Angry. Stupid.”

Cub jolted in his recognition, gears shifting immediately. “Scar, then. Was it Scar? I mean, I can’t say I haven’t been keeping tabs on the news- social media, the like. I’ve seen more than a few videos- people are going kinda nuts over nothing in my opinion but- It was too much. I’ll tell Scar to stop bugging you, he’ll stop.”

“It’s not Scar. I don’t care about Scar.”

Cub made a bit of a face, enough for Grian to tell he wasn’t so sure about that, but Cub didn’t voice the thought, instead asking, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Nothing.”

“Is- I’m struggling a little with the tone, man.”

“I don’t know! I was fine, I was kinda having fun and then I just wasn’t and out of nowhere everything just sucked and I was so mad and that’s not supposed to happen to me! Nothing happened and I wanted to rip out my hair and punch things and I didn’t, but now I just feel stupid! Why is my brain so fucking dumb.”

Grian let his head drop, face down in a pile of cardboard, but Cub didn’t move, intense in his silence. Eventually he sat down, right on the floor. “I need to break these down anyway,” he hummed, almost subconsciously as he leaned to grab something off his desk. The next couple minutes were filled with the sound of a boxcutter against tape and cardboard. It wasn’t awful.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Cub asked, not much more than a whisper. Not like he was sad or anything either, just focused on the task at hand.

“Okay,” Grian mumbled, the word coming out entirely indecipherable as anything but a noise of assent.

“I think you were nervous this morning. I think maybe you had an alright day, but got overwhelmed near the end. You can be having a good time and still get overwhelmed. There were a lot of people around you from what I could tell; it looked kinda claustrophobic.”

“But I didn’t- I didn’t care. It was like a switch in my brain just flipped! No build up!”

“Sometimes that’s how it happens. Sometimes there is build up and you just don’t notice until it’s too late. It’s not always so simply defined. There’s not always a reason. And there doesn’t have to be. You’re not regressing because you had a bad day, Grian. You’re not stupid.”

“I feel awful.”

Out of the corner of Grian’s eye, he saw Cub nod. “Yeah. I get it.” Cub continued with the boxes and Grian didn’t speak, only shuffling a little to grant easier access to the few he was laying on. But Cub stopped almost abruptly after breaking down one box, the room blanketed in a meaningful silence. “Have I told you yet? How damn proud of you I am?”

The question jolted Grian out of his daze. He didn’t know what to say. How to respond. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Of course you have. You’ve been dealt a pretty shitty hand of cards, but you haven’t stopped working with them. You haven’t given up. And you have your moments, you have bad weeks, bad months, but you still pick yourself back up at the end of today. I think you’ve grown. I don’t think Grian from a couple months ago would have walked away from the crowd and taken his anger somewhere better. I don’t think Grian from a couple months ago would have come to me. I respect you, Grian. You’ve come so damn far. I’m proud of you.”

Grian shook his head. “I haven’t done anything. It’s all you. I don’t pick myself up at all, you’re just pushing me back on my feet.”

“I haven’t known a single person that overcomes any of these kinds of challenges without support. That doesn’t make you any less capable, Grian. You’re still standing on your own two feet. I am proud of you.”

Discomfort burned in Grian’s chest. Cub didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. “It’s all for you. I’m only here because of you.”

“Having a strong motivator doesn’t discount all the hard work you’ve put in for yourself. You want to be better, Grian. You give your blood, sweat, and tears to make it happen. I’m not just dragging you along. You go to therapy and work your ass off. You keep track of your meds. You make the decision to walk away when all of you wants to haul off and kick someone’s shit in. You do it. You. And maybe most impressively, every time you fail, get arrested, relapse into old behavior, you peel yourself right off the concrete and try again. And there’s nothing harder than that. So that’s why I’m proud. That’s why I will always be proud. You’re a good man, Grian. You’re good.”

Grian didn’t know what to do with that. A soft chill rippled through his form, shaking him in his entirety despite its gentle nature. All of him felt so heavy. His lungs were full of lead.

“Can I have a hug?” A meek question, but he didn’t care.

“Of course.”

Cub’s touch sent another wave of coolness riding through his veins, contracting his muscles, making him sick and heavy and limp. And then, slowly, a steady march that began in his chest and spread outward; warmth. A soft, perfect warmth. The kind of love that could make anyone believe they were something to be proud of.

[seananmcguire]

Finished The Innocent Sleep! Woooooo! I knew from the Patreon stories that this was going to be good. I don't even know what's my favourite part. Let's go between the Costco and the noodle straws. This was a little experiment of yours with something different, and I do not mean to invoke the geas here so legally we must call it an expression and not a request, but can we do that again??? That was so much fun!!!

(Also, thank you for the determination in getting pins up across the border to Black Bond Books. Really felt like trying to get a package from the Undersea during this latest book, but it worked out in the end!)

I'm enjoying how much people enjoy the Costco, really. That was just the most random thing, and I think "let's go rob the Costco" is Tybalt's equivalent of "let's take an evil pie to the face" for sheer WTF.

So this whole thing was "here is an event big and complicated enough that following it from two POVs won't be totally repetitive." I don't know that we'll have another one of those; usually, Toby fixes things pretty solo, and then we mop it up. If what you want is just other POVs, period, I recommend my Patreon, which has a lot of stories narrated by Tybalt, Patrick, Simon, and August.

Getting the international mailing done this time was a nightmare and a half, but it's all over but the mopping up.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

hii !! i love your fezco/ashtray imagines a lot, i was wondering if you could write smth like fezco x sunshine reader who has a rlly close platonic bond with ash and they’re both v protective of her and just some fluffy domestic stuff 🫶

I love writing this type of trope with Fez and Ash. Warms my heart.

"I don't know why you're with him." Ash calls out suddenly, lifting the blunt from his lips as Fez and I both turn to look at him, shocked and mildly disappointed that he's tearing our attention away from the movie playing on the TV.

"What do you mean?" I ask, lifting my head from Fez's lap so I can sit up, still tucked safely in the crook of his side and I link my fingers with Fez's hand that's never left my shoulder as I shifted.

"He's so fuckin' tough and shit a-and he's seen some shit and you're just..." Ash pauses with a taunting expression, trailing off as Fez's shoulders square, totally prepared to stand up for me against Ash's incessant teasing.

It's been this way since Fez and I started seeing each other; all three of us would be hanging out and all of a sudden Ash and I would be taking shots at each other until one of our 'insults' forces a laugh out of the whole room- like true siblings.

Sometimes Fez jokes that Ash and I are more like siblings than they are.

"Just what, Ash, spit it the fuck out." Fez mutters, taking a hit off his joint before hanging it in my direction but I hold a hand up to him, waving the smoke from my face.

"You're so nice." Ash's words are a compliment but they don't exactly sound like they're meant as a compliment especially with the sassy smirk that spreads easily across his lips.

"Am I'm not nice?" Fez asks, feigning offense with a quiet laugh and I reach over to pat his chest, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You're the nicest, Fezzy." I whisper, dragging his attention towards me as he leans down, pecking my cheeks a few more times before he tilting his head just right to catch my lips in a brief kiss. Ash groans in response to our outward display of affection but it only makes me want to do it more, a snicker escaping me and Fez smirks.

"Thank you baby."

"You're literally like the fucking sun and he's like a fucking storm cloud, dude." Ash sits up, waving his hands between the two of us, trying to get the point across but it's a point that Fez and I are painfully aware of already. We're different, we always have been, but in the ways that I've made him softer, he's helped me grow a bit of a backbone.

And in this household, you need a pretty damn strong backbone.

"Yeah well, when you're old enough, you'll realize that opposites do attract." I throw a wink in his direction which forces a scoff and an eye roll from Ash as he rises to his feet, muttering under his breath as he passes us.

"When I'm old enou- shut the fuck up." He thwacks the side of my head as he walks by and Fez chuckles, head tipping back in laughter.

"Love you Ash!" I call out, hearing the sound of his bedroom door closing and I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment that I was finally able to tease him into submission. I won!

It only took nearly two years of knowing him.

"He doesn't like to be teased." Fez chuckles, looking down at me with a soft look, a knowing smile spread across his lips as I shrug. I tuck my knees to my chest, reaching up to cup his cheeks in my hands, squishing his cheeks playfully.

"Well then he needs to stop teasing me."

"That's never gonna happen."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

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[sunsafewriting]

Do A Flip - chapter 7 (11.2k words)

chapter excerpt:

Shannon.

She’s always been a light sleeper, prone to waking up a few times a night, and the effect is magnified when she’s somewhere different. 

Tonight, different is their backyard: Diego has been desperate to go camping, and sleeping out under the stars behind Shannon and Mary’s house is their trial attempt at the whole experience. 

Beside her, Mary is still out, eyes closed. She tends to frown in her sleep, which Shannon finds charming; or perhaps what she finds charming is the way the frown clears when Mary wakes up, how she sees Shannon and her expression changes, first thing. 

Shannon slips out of their makeshift bed and stands, stretching her arm, working through a couple of nerve glides. Sometimes, when the weather changes too much too quickly, her old shoulder injury still twinges. It’s not too bad, anymore, but it’s better to get ahead of these things. 

From here, she can see the banked remains of the small fire they’d had in the pit, and the arrangement of the others, strewn out across the lawn. 

Diego, Ava, and Beatrice are lined up on a collection of mats. Ava has curled around Beatrice, and the way the two of them are pressed close makes Shannon sure they’ve slept like this before, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Together, Ava and Beatrice have made an art out of avoiding change, or rather, of changing everything except that last little thing that makes it impossible to go back. 

Diego’s head pops up from his nest of blankets. In the moonlight, Shannon can see him blink, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. He catches sight of her and squirms free, scooping up his water bottle from the ground nearby before weaving his way over to her. 

He’s wearing a hoodie that he inherited from Ava recently — it features a graphic of a turtle in a judge’s wig, with the word TORTLE printed below. Shannon’s not sure he actually gets it, but he wears it all the time now anyway. 

"You’re awake, too," he says — softly, so he won’t wake everyone else.

"Yep. Thought I'd check out the stars for a bit."

They sit down together in two of the chairs by the firepit and tip their heads up to look at the sky. 

"How are you liking camping so far?" Shannon asks. 

"It’s cool," he whispers back. "Definitely marshmallows are the best part." 

Only Shannon, Ava, and Diego eat marshmallows — Beatrice is bothered by the texture and Mary finds them too sweet — but between the three of them, they’d managed to finish off a whole packet. Shannon had about three marshmallows total, so most of the credit has to be split between Ava and Diego’s industrious efforts. 

"Marshmallows are the best part," Shannon confirms. 

Diego’s attention drifts back to the stars for a moment, and then over to their campsite: the inflatable mattresses and the sleeping bags and the heaps of pillows — almost every single pillow from their house.

His expression shifts, and she can’t quite read him anymore.

"Everything okay?" 

At Diego’s age, if asked anything about how she was feeling, Beatrice had a variety of responses. She’d inform Shannon, stony-faced, that she was fine, that it didn’t matter, or just change the topic completely. Occasionally, when she did open up, it was almost always accompanied by a preface: this is ridiculous, but —

It’s a habit that stuck through her adolescence, a sense that emotions could only be discussed after having gained distance from them, after positioning them as inconsequential or unimportant. 

Shannon doesn’t really hear Beatrice talk like that anymore. Maybe it’s growing up and growing into herself, and being away from her parents. Maybe it’s Ava’s influence, and how she wants to put every one of Beatrice’s feelings under light and examine it and take it seriously. Or maybe it was a conscious choice, out of fear that Diego might pick it up, might start to speak and think in the same way. 

"Yeah," Diego says. "It’s just nice, isn’t it? It’s really nice."

"It is," Shannon replies. 

There’s a beat, and then Diego admits, "I wanted to try it because of what you said. You said that camping trips were your favourite thing when you were a kid."

Actually, what Shannon said was that family camping trips were her favourite, but this omission, it seems, has been made deliberately: Diego is watching her very carefully, now, his fingers tugging at his hoodie sleeve. 

"Is this like the ones you remember?" he asks. 

"Well, my brother used to snore like a tractor," Shannon answers, and Diego’s nose crinkles in amusement. "But other than that, they were exactly like this." 

Diego nods, satisfied, and the two of them sit there a little longer, until Diego yawns, and then he’s off again, saying goodnight to Shannon before disappearing back into his nest, wriggling a bit closer to Ava before going still.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Back with more ‘aliens beeduo save human Techno from an interstellar fighting arena and accidentally adopt him’

---

The food on the spaceship is almost worse than what he got at the arena. Maybe not in appearance, Techno will take these sterilized packages of indescribable paste over raw meat any day. But in tastes, there's not much of a difference.

Also, they are much harder to open.

They'd probably not be an issue for anybody with proper dexterity, but Techno's hands have been a trembling mess since he got taken in by these aliens. And part of that is due to stress, though the many scars that litter his palms and fingers would betray deeper tissue injury is also at fault. He's making a very unpleasant expression as he tries to rip at the flimsy foil to no avail.

He doesn't even want the grey stuff inside. It's disgusting and flavourless and has the texture of baby food after a baby's already eaten it.

But Techno also would like to stay alive a little longer, which sadly means he'll have to take any nutrients he can get.

As kind as Bee and Boo have been when taking him in, they don't understand Techno's attempts at communicating. Like, at all. So he hasn't had much chance to enlighten them about the wonders of human cuisine yet. And most of the things they cook for themselves, Techno won't risk. At least he knows the goop won't kill him (unless trying and failing to get into the tube causes a heart attack out of sheer frustration).

Man, what he wouldn't give for a can of spagethios right now.

Suddenly two hands close over his shaking ones, Boo's long fingers gently prying the food from his weak grip. Techno has a protest halfway up his throat - perhaps an attempt at keeping his dignity by telling this alien he'd totally be able to take care of his own meal if prolonged trauma hadn't left him with a tremor. But they wouldn't understand him anyway.

Boo quickly rips the foil open before giving it back to Techno, making a small and encouraging buzzing noise deep in their throat. Techno hated that sound at first, likening it to a broken television.

He has since learned it's meant to come across as friendly.

"Uh, thanks," he says lamely as he takes the food back. Boo blinks at him with lids that close vertically over his dark eyes. They tilt their head a bit. They don't understand his gratitude.

And Techno knows it shouldn't matter, but he feels bad.

Suddenly he remembers what the little pig child does sometimes when the older two aliens help them. It might be a weird bet, but as far as Techno can tell the gesture is meant to convey thankfulness.

So slowly - very slowly, not stupid enough to risk making any sudden moves - He tucks in his chin, bends forward and bumps his forehead into Boo's shoulder in some kind of weird headbutting motion.

When he pulls back Boo is staring at him.

Techno thinks he might have done something wrong, still shaking hands pinching at the foil of his food. But then Boo jumps up, the staticky noise increasing in excitement. It's enough to lure the smaller one - Bee - into the room. Boo instantly starts chirping at them.

Techno shakes his head as he brings the food to his mouth, distracting himself from the taste by watching the two that have taken him in flit around like proud parents whose child just said a first word.

Communication efforts will definitely need to be revisited later.

[senditcolton]

call my bluff... call you babe (4)

CHAPTER FOUR

summary - New Year’s Eve usually signifies the hope that a fresh start brings. And after a New Year’s party, that seems true for Maddie. But for Tyson, he is left wondering if he’s ruined his new year before it even had the chance to begin.

word count - 3.9k (plus edits)

warnings - alcohol consumption

previous part ~ playlist ~ series masterlist ~ join the taglist ~ bonus! ~ next part

“A Mediterranean cruise?” Maddie says, her face scrunching incredulously although her parents can’t see her expression from the other end of the line.

“Yes! With stops in Italy, France, and Spain. Can you believe it?” her mother squeals.

“I’m sorry, I’m still just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you guys won a vacation… by watching Wheel of Fortune.”

“It was a giveaway – you know the ones where if the contestant wins, you could win – and they finally pulled our Spin ID!” Madeleine’s mother explains for what feels like the dozenth time since Maddie accepted their call. “But, there is some bad news.”

“You aren’t bringing your favorite child along with you?” Maddie sighs dramatically, before taking a sip of her coffee.

“You’re our only child, honey,” her dad chimes in from the background.

“Makes it easy to be the favorite then.”

“Well, yes, there’s only two tickets,” her mother says, the worry in her voice dragging out the sentence.

“Mom, I was just joking,” Madeleine huffs out a little laugh at her mother’s concern that she was seriously upset about not being able to go. “What’s the actual bad news?”

“It takes place at the end of December.”

This time, her mother’s confession did make Maddie place her coffee cup back down on the café table, her eyebrows furrowing at the implication.

“You mean, during Christmas?”

“Yes. I know that you wanted to visit, honey, and we want to see you and hear all about Colorado but… we couldn’t turn this down.” Madeleine can feel her heart softening with her mother’s gentle explanation.

“No, I totally get it. You guys deserve to have a vacation, especially one as awesome as this,” she replies, a smile forming on her face. “Besides, airplane tickets are expensive and I am a broke college student again.”

“Except you’re not a student,” her dad teases, his voice now coming through the phone clearer as he sits down next to her mom, the shifting of the fabric crackling through the phone.

“A broke college employee, then,” she quips back.

“Fair enough. Alright, Lanes, we gotta get going okay. But we’ll talk to you later, okay?”

The chime of the front door pulls Madeleine’s attention towards the sound to see Ashley walking into the café, her vintage briefcase pack slung over her shoulder.

“Sounds good,” Maddie says, lifting her hand to catch Ashley’s eye. The brunette responds to her wave with a nod, walking through the crowd towards her. “Ashley just got here so it’s a good time to say bye.”

“Ditching us for your cool new Colorado friends?”

“If I told you that it was Tyson, would you feel differently?”

The contrasting answers of her dad’s “no” and her mom’s “yes” has Madeleine breaking out into giggles.

“Well, we don’t have time to unpack all of that, so I’m going to hang up now. Love you, miss you, send me tons of pictures of Italy and Spain,” Maddie says.

“And France! Don’t forget France,” her mother calls out.

“How could we ever forget France?”

“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe, have fun, and we’ll talk to you soon,” her father says.

The three of them finish uttering their goodbyes and Madeleine hits the disconnect button at almost the exact moment Ashley sits down across from her.

“What this I hear about France?” Ashley asks, taking a sip from her insulated water bottle, her expressive and inquisitive eyes landing on Madeleine.

“My parents are going on a Mediterranean cruise over the holidays,” Maddie explains. “Which unfortunately means that I will be alone on Christmas.”

“Nonsense, you can come over to mine. It’s just going to be me, Amber, and Dominic,” Ashley says, referencing her partner and their adorable three-year old son.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. No one should spend the holiday alone.”

*~*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*~*

Four months.

In approximately 5 and a half hours, it would’ve been four months since Madeleine packed her bags and moved out of the country that she had previously called home, leaving so many memories behind.

And that was the best decision she’s ever made. She had a great job, a great apartment, great friends. She had never been happier. And, of course, there was Tyson.

Tyson, who told her about all the best restaurants in the Denver area. Tyson, who added her to his family ticket list so she could see the Avs play any time she wanted. Tyson, who sent her weird memes and random texts while he was on the road. Tyson, who somehow managed to make time for her despite his hectic schedule. Tyson, who invited her as a plus-one to almost every team event.

Like tonight.

Madeleine stops staring out the passenger window to look towards her best friend, his hands on the steering wheel, the streetlights illuminating his profile.

“Hey, thanks for this,” she says, her voice soft.

“You’re always my plus-one Maddie,” Tyson laughs. “Besides, I think that if I didn’t bring you, I’d get an earful about if from Gabe and Mel. They seem to like you more than they like me.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m so much more responsible than you are,” Maddie teases.

“So, I can’t tell them about that one summer in high school where you - ”

“If you finish that sentence, we can’t be friends anymore.”

“We’re friends because I can finish that sentence.”

“And we pinky promised to never talk about that again,” Madeleine quips back. Tyson glances over at her and she can see that boyish sparkle in his eyes, one that was surely reflected in hers.

“You know I’d never break a pinky promise.”

“You were dangerously close.”

Tyson just chuckles, a soft shake of his head as he turns into Gabe’s neighborhood. Madeleine looks out the window again and sees the cars already lining the Landeskog’s lengthy driveway. After somehow managing to parallel park, Tyson hops out and walks around to opening the door for Madeleine. She easily takes his hand, exiting from the car and moving to tug at the hem of her black dress.

“I’m not overdressed, right?” she asks, her blue eyes darting to Tyson. She watches as Tyson’s eyes trail down her body, taking in her outfit for the second time that night.

“You look great,” Tyson says. “And if you are overdressed, it just means you’ll be the best dressed here.”

His encouraging compliment makes her blush, a soft smile appearing on her lips. Tyson returns her grin before he leading her up the driveway and to the Landeskog’s front door.

The party seems to be in full swing when Tyson opens the door, the sound of music and chatter hitting Madeleine’s eardrums. She lets Tyson take her grey trench coat from her as she walks deeper into the house, her boots tapping on the hardwood floor. She rounds the corner into Gabe’s expansive living room, her eyes scanning over the crowd of faces. Before she can even decide who to greet first, a squeal of her name from across the room calls her attention.

“MADELEINE!!!”

Maddie barely has time to turn before Sydney is crashing into her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here. Is Tyson with you?”

“Right here,” Tyson’s voice sounds behind Maddie. Both her and Sydney turn to see him wandering into the room.

“Perfect. Can you go talk to your boyfriend? He’s driving me crazy.”

Tyson just responds to Sydney’s exasperation with a laugh before he disappears into the crowd to find his ginger best friend.

“What’s JT doing now?” Maddie asks.

“Nothing,” Sydney replies, hooking her arm in Madeleine’s. “It’s just easier to steal you away from your boyfriend by distracting him with mine.”

“I’ve told you before; Tyson isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just didn’t want him hovering over you the entire night – which he would have!” Sydney says, pulling Madeleine into the kitchen. “Boy needs to learn that separation is healthy.”

“We hadn’t seen each other for five entire years before we reconnected. I think we can handle being separated at a party for five hours.”

“We’ll see about that. Now red or white wine?”

Once a full cup of red wine is securely placed in Madeleine’s hand, Sydney brings her back into the main room, the two of them finding a free space on the couch to squeeze into. They spend a few minutes there, catching each other up on their respective lives – Syndey about her holiday break and Maddie about her dread concerning the upcoming semester and the workload it brings to her job.

Eventually, Sydney gets pulled into another conversation and Maddie takes the opportunity to get up and wander around the party. She waves hello to a few people, briefly talks to Andre, asking him how he was settling in, before getting roped into a game of pool with Nate and Mikko – a matchup which she miserably fails at. She departs from the table with the excuse of needing to get a consolatory drink. When she wanders back into the living room with a freshly refilled glass in her hand, her eyes take in the scene in front of her.

Even in the hubbub and the chaos of dozens of bodies and voices, a sense of calm falls over her. There was still a part of her that couldn’t believe this was her life. Here she was, in an expensive house surrounded by people who made more money than she could ever hope to, and these faces that used to be strangers were now people she considered to be her friends.

And it was all thanks to Tyson.

She looks around, trying to locate him amongst the crowd of people, her ears pricked for the sound of his laugh. It takes a few moments before her eyes land on his frame; tucked against a wall and having a conversation with Cale. She starts to walk over to them, weaving her way through the crowd but by the time she gets to the opposite end of the room, Cale had vanished.

“Hey, Tys,” Maddie says, walking those last few steps towards him. “Where’s Cale?”

“Oh, he just went to get a drink, I think,” Tyson replies, his body slouched against the wall. Madeleine steps next to him, her body mirroring his as she takes a sip of her wine.

“What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing really. Just wanted to ask me a question.”

The natural follow-up to that statement was to ask what the question was. But there was something in Tyson’s clipped words and tone that warned Madeliene to not pull on that thread. So, she didn’t.

“I need to perfect my pool skills,” she laughs, turning the conversation to a new topic. “I can’t keep embarrassing myself in front of your friends every time a pool cue is shoved into my hands.” A small rush of relief flows through her when she sees Tyson visibly relax, that crooked grin appearing on his lips.

“Who’d you lose to this time?”

“Nate. And Mikko.”

“Well, playing against Nate was your first mistake. That man takes everything way too seriously. You never stood a chance,” Tyson jokes, poking fun at his teammate.

“Did you ever find JT?”

“Yeah. Don’t know what Sydney was complaining about. He seemed fine.”

“She actually just wanted to steal me away from you.”

“She’s gonna have to try harder than that.”

It is ridiculous at how fast the butterflies form in Madeleine’s stomach at his words, at the way he looks down at her with a gentle smile playing at his lips. She just takes another sip of from her wine glass, hoping that if Tyson decides to chirp her about the blush in her cheeks, she can blame it on the alcohol.

She glances back at Tyson, ready to breeze over… whatever that moment was. But before she could utter a single syllable, she hears her name being called from across the room.

“Madeleine!” Sydney’s voice raises above the din and Madeleine looks over the crowd to see the blonde waving her over to the bar, JT by her side.

“Speak of the devil,” Tyson chuckles, taking another swig of his beer. Madeleine just shoots him a small apologetic smile before pushing herself off the wall and making her way to Sydney.

Turns out Sydney just wanted her help convincing JT that Italy was the better vacation spot for their summer getaway instead of Barbados. The pictures conveniently stored on Madeliene’s phone were a good bargaining chip, along with the glowing testimonials from her parents about the coastal towns – information that Sydney knew Madeleine had, hence the summoning.

“I feel like I’m being ganged up on,” JT jokes, smiling at his girlfriend.

“We are just providing actual proof from people we know and trust, not random strangers on the internet.”

“Well, in that case, let me find Burky. I think he went to Barbados once.”

“No! That’s not fair,” Sydney protests, quickly grabbing her boyfriend’s arm.

“How so?”

“Because I’m your girlfriend and you have to agree with me. Those are just the rules.” Sydney’s elbow moves to jostle Madeleine. “Tell him, Maddie.”

“Sorry, I’m with JT on this one. We presented our evidence, now it’s only reasonable that he presents his.”

“Thank you, Madeleine,” JT laughs before turning a satisfied smirk towards Sydney.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Sydney whines, the sentence directed to both Madeleine and JT before she turns her full attention to her boyfriend.

Madeleine just shakes her head, a smile on her face as she puts her phone back in her purse. With a sigh, she rests her elbows against the marble countertop, looking out over the crowd as Syd and JT carry on their playful argument next to her. Another sip of red wine moves down her throat, the pleasant buzz settling in her sternum, before her eyes look up and connect with the baby blue eyes of Cale making his way towards her. She smiles at him, one that he returns, his usually rosy cheeks growing a shade redder. Madeleine chalks it up to alcohol as Cale appears directly in front of her.

“Hey, Madeleine,” Cale says, moving to stand next to her by the island.

“Hey, Cale. How you doing?”

“Pretty good. You?”

“Good. Party is fun,” Madeleine replies, her eyes dancing down Cale’s frame. It might have been her years of constantly observing people that made it easy for her to read body language, but it wouldn’t take an expert to notice that Cale Makar was nervous.

His shoulders were stiff, his arms crossed in front of him, a beer bottle hanging from his hand. And while he was trying to appear casual by leaning his body against the marble countertop, he seemed like he was trying a little too hard. Madeleine just listens to him talk, a bemused smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah, Mel usually does a good job with these kinds of get-togethers.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“Yeah. I mean Gabe helps out but it’s really all Mel,” Cale continues, the words a little stuttered.

“Cale,” Madeleine says, her voice a little sharper, the tone of it calling Cale’s eyes to connect with her. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

“Are you actually trying to regale me with Mel’s party planning or did you come here for something other reason or are you just drunk and can’t think of anything else to talk about?” she teases, watching the flush on Cale’s cheeks once again darken. “Any of which are perfectly fine options. It is a party after all.”

“Yeah, right,” Cale says, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I – um – did actually come over to ask you something.”

“Okay,” Madeleine replies, fully facing Cale. “Shoot.”

The deep inhale that Cale makes is noticeable, his chest rising with the action. His eyes close as he gathers his thoughts before turning his body completely to Maddie, his gaze locking with hers.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

“What?” Madeleine asks, the words hitting her unexpectedly, her smile slightly faltering as she takes in his request.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Cale reiterates, his blue eyes wide and earnest. His question finally fully registers and her immediate response is a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Cale.”

“Really?” Cale asks, making damn sure he was hearing correctly.

His need for reassurance makes her laugh, the smile growing. Madeleine doesn’t hesitate to put her drink down on the island before throwing her arms around Cale. The hug catches him off-guard but it isn’t long until his arms are wrapping around her tighter, holding her close. She finally pulls away, her blonde hair tickling her cheeks.

“Yes, Cale. Really,” she restates. Her response makes Cale visibly relax, his own excited smile appearing on his face. There is a brief pause before Cale pulls her into another quick hug.

“Hey, you two,” a feminine voice sounds from behind Madeleine which causes Cale and her to break their hug, Maddie turning back to Sydney. “Are you coming into the living room for the ball drop?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Madeleine replies, her smile not waning from her face. Sydney rolls her eyes as she takes JT’s hand, pulling him away from the kitchen. Before they completely disappear around the corner, JT shoots Cale a thumbs up. The gesture causes Maddie to turn around to face Cale, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Some of the guys may have been hyping me up earlier tonight.”

“That’s pretty damn adorable, Cale,” Madeleine replies before cocking her head towards the living room. “Shall we?”

Cale happily follows her in, the room already packed with almost the entire guest list. They two of them squish themselves into one of the back corners, the Time’s Square Rocking New Years broadcast displayed on the flat screen hanging above the fireplace.

The minute countdown begins, a cheer going up from the living room. The lingering conversation slowly dwindles as the clock does; the voices that were previously speaking about anything else now joining into the countdown. Madeleine eagerly joins in, the rumble of Cale’s deep timbre right beside her.

“Five… Four… Three… Two… One… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”

The hurrah is almost deafening as everyone raises their glasses. Madeleine takes in the celebration around her, smiling at the multitude of couples kissing, starting the New Year with their loved ones by their side. A small chuckle escapes her as she sees EJ lean in to place a smooch on Gabe’s cheek after the two of them pull away from their respective partners.

Madeleine is content to kiss the edge of her wine glass and take another sip of alcohol, a celebration similar to most of the other single guests. But she is slightly caught off guard when she feels an arm loop around her waist, gently pulling her into a strong frame before she feels the sensation of a kiss being pressed onto the top of her hair.

Her head turns, that broad smile on her lips as she looks up at Cale, her blue eyes sparkling in delight.

“You know, for someone who needed hype-men and liquid courage to ask me out earlier tonight, you seem pretty comfortable now,” she chirps.

“Eh, I can blame all that liquid courage,” Cale shrugs, a teasing smirk on his lips. Maddie can’t help the giggles that fall from her lips at his 180-degree attitude change before relaxing into Cale’s hold, her back leaning against his chest.

The mere possibility that her saying yes to his request for a date was the reason for his newfound confidence warmed her from the inside out. Which was good because in the back of her mind, she had noticed a small chill enter the room.

The sound of a loud splash echoes in from outside, almost everyone’s attention turning to the open back door. Curiosity takes a hold of the party, guests pushing into the backyard. Madeleine is among the first few to make walk out onto the porch.

The water of the Landeskog’s outdoor pool is still rippling, the dark shape of a body under the water unrecognizable until the person breaks the surface. Madeleine shakes her head the instant she recognizes the face.

“What are you doing, Tyson?” she laughs, walking closer to the pool’s edge, her boots lightly splashing in the puddles on the concrete from Tyson’s cannonball.

“Going for a swim,” Tyson replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

“In the middle of winter?”

“Pool’s heated.”

Madeleine just laughs again, shaking her head at her best friend’s antics. Her eyes are bright and her cheeks hurt from smiling when her gaze reconnects with Tyson’s, a similar expression painted on his face.

“Care to join me?” he asks, one arm beckoning to the open expanse of the water.

“You’re crazy, Josty.”

“And you love me for it.”

If Madeleine hadn’t been distracted by the action of zipping off her boots and if her mind was cleared of the halo that the previous glasses of wine provided, perhaps she would have heard the weight behind Tyson’s words: that soft and subtle plea. A silent question that was begging for the answer ‘of course I do’ to fall from Madeleine’s lips.

But when Madeleine takes a few steps back before take a running leap into the pool, her body swimming up next to Tyson’s, it seems approval enough. If not for Tyson, then for the other guests to follow their lead, the heated water filling with bodies.

Maddie swims up to Tyson, her arms reaching out to him. Tyson easily extends his reach, his own arms taking a hold of her waist, supporting her as hers rest on his shoulders as they both tread water. Madeleine looks around, loving the smiling faces around her before she looks back to Tyson. He is staring at her, his lips curled in a small smile.

“Still think you’re the responsible one out of the two of us? Convincing everyone to jump in the pool?” Tyson jokes, referencing their previous conversation in the car.

“I think that statement is still accurate,” Madeleine quips. She can see Tyson’s eyebrow raise in question, silently demanding an explanation. “When it was just you in here, people thought you were being weird. When I jumped in, they realized what an amazing idea it was.”

The laughter that falls from Tyson is intoxicating, warming Madeleine more than the heated water ever could, as he directs his brown eyes back to her.

“So, you’re saying that I need you to make my wild ideas seem logical?”

“You always need me Josty,” she teases. “But I also need you. That’s what being friends means, right?”

His smile stumbles, the downturn of his lips so fast and subtle. It was a falter that anyone else could easily miss, but not Madeleine.

“Right,” Tyson replies, his voice twinged with melancholy. Madeleine is about to ask what was wrong but before she can speak, Tyson’s blinding grin is back, his eyes holding no trace of sadness. “Happy New Year, Maddie.”

The change in his demeanor is so drastic that Madeleine convinces herself that she must have imagined it.

“Happy New Year, Tys,” she replies before turning her head back to crowd of people splashing around her.

The joy and laughter from everyone’s lips fills the quiet night, the hope of a new year thrumming through the air. But in her reminiscing, Madeleine misses the subtle flex of her best friend’s hands on her waist.

As if he never wanted to lose her.

As if he was afraid that he already did.

taglist: @starjoyyy @fallinallincurls @kenna-thomson @tkachvkmatthew @m00nlightdelights @cixrosie​ 

[burning-sol]

on a dime thinking about characterstics different pcs tend to share across the players.

charlie: everyone says it and it is so real, religious trauma and imagery cause i mean literally just look at peter and exandroth, gillion's whole deal being the chosen one, william's incredible distress discovering the absence of god. horror but especially body horror cause AGAIN peter and exandroth, gillion's often scary n fishy descriptions, the way charlie describes how ghoulish william looks with william literally decomposing. comically exaggerated personalities with gillion the most hero of heroes he's so hero just look at his titles, peter to be mistaken for a literal doormat, exandroth the fanatical violent all around super evil angelic force, william wisp the freak from deadwood who has ghost powers and was so dedicated to solving mysteries he died that's his thing. might i say they are all quite obsessive, gillion obsesssed with being the chosen, peter obsessed with rocks and lizard, exandroth obsessed with retribution, william obsessed with mysteries, and this can create a strong disconnect with the world around them. of the pcs i would say they are usually the most outcast of outcasts and the most freak of freaks. also autism.

bizly: very straightforward characters with no subversion, what you see is what you get. NORMAL, AVERAGE, UNDERWHELMING, these are terms you can use to describe chip rand AND connor <- also they all have the same brown hair. this makes their badass moments stand out and be triumphant, where would we be without chip's badass sword, rand's badass finale, connor's horrifying but also sort of badass moment with the book, and also thanatos is a compilation of every badass moment bizly could probably ever want. there's always some sort of family issues see chip no family, rand strained relationship with family, connor i think had something going on but i cant remember, thanatos and the holy family. definitely most likely to get into conflict with other pcs might i say, gillion and chip, rolan and rand, rumi and thanatos, that's literally one of every other players' character what can i say.

grizzly: these characters are all struggling to live up to incredibly idealised persona and for the most part end up failing, rumi's persona literally breaking down until they shed it completely to be true to themselves, dakota always trying to be a hero which has worked out so far but we're just waiting for something bad to happen, kian who pretended to make it as a rockstar after most definitely failing, aster is by proxy sort of failing to live up to the perfect persona that is her father. shapeshifters? i mean rumi is a changeling, aster can alter her form, dakota has a feral mode, and kian got bugged so you know (joke). lot of these characters are incredibly gender lets be honest here.

condi: feel an intense pull towards conforming, jay struggling to push against her family, vyncent from another world trying to adjust and appear normal, rolan getting a respected profession, everything with ryan. there is a struggle of identity that is incredibly external, jay as a pirate vs the literal navy, vyncent's repeated experience of sharing a body, rolan being a fucking bug, ryan had a confrontation that was the most direct thing you could bear witness to. the actual perfect balance of two very smart characters and two of the most incredibly stupid characters i have ever seen. honestly very on point about their observations of others and themselves but can find difficulty to express that to other.

and i totally forgot about the prequel pcs but ms g and finn are also autistic, harlem shade definitely has that classic super cool persona also gender, jason king god bless this normal dude dragged into whatever the fuck the other two have going on, arlin is the source of the family issues. i literally am too tired to write anymore so i apologise if i fucked stuff up i cant be bothered anymore send post.

[petorahs]

what are your headcanons about Juliana and Florian?

oughhghghg where to begin

Both

-Juliana (Jules for short) and Florian (Flori, Flor, etc) are twins! Juliana is the older one. This is inspired by the fact that... they look so similar in their official art! All the recent protags all do but these two take the cake. It's so funny to me. -they look so similar in fact, that they could be body doubles! but that's totally wrong and unethical they'd never... right? -I like the HC that they're both from Galar (their mom having Skwovet and using a British term early-game, the Galarian pokemon stickers in their room, etc). They're both Paldeans, but were raised there before moving back to their hometown with mom.

-Fun thing about Scarlet/Violet is that they're such huge games that it's totally justifiable to have dual protags doing different things. Because of this, I decided to have Juliana handle the 'battle-heavy' routes like Victory Road while Florian, who is more research-focused (and has main character syndrome) features more in The Hidden Treasure arc. -I can't decide on who really does Starfall Street yet, but I'd like for Path of Legends to be the both of them helping Arven since it's the most plot-heavy and has to do with endgame. -Don't ask how but both Koraidon and Miraidon exist at the same time and the twins are their trainers. -In my recent art of them, you'll notice Juliana and Florian's eyes get all blue/crystal-like! this is an effect of their time in Area Zero/being exposed to that much Terastal energy. just them though, no one else...

Florian

-additionally, Flo's hair turns from a purply-brown to pink post-game because he's named "Haruto" in Jp, meaning spring. this carries over across all languages! I wanted to evoke a sense of a blossom coming to life over the course of his journey.

-hates battling because his sister will always be better at it than him, so he vastly prefers pokemon catching instead. (Galar's League-focus/prominence made him sickkkk. he was glad to move) -helped Jacq complete the Paldean, Kitakami and BB pokedex because of that. they're tight, the both of them. -his smile never reaches his eyes, early-game. -he is not naturally kind, nor does he see himself as the 'hero' of the story (that was always Juliana, not him), but he fakes being a main character to make people think he's just as good (this is also a byproduct of Galar's culture tbh) -that's why he seems like the more extroverted of the two, but really, he's just as quiet as her behind doors. -tbh even the fact that he has one beauty mark under his eye instead of two like his twin sis bothers him... blud thinks he'll never be enough! -Koraidon's trainer

-after meeting Kieran, Florian tried to be kind from a genuine want instead of to impress people. he wanted to be the 'hero of the story' that Kieran saw him as... and not because he needed to be out of his sister's shadow. Kieran made him want to try. -like the only way I see him winning during BB League wasn't because he was the main character who always wins, but because winning was the only way he could be friends with Kieran again. -his arc will conclude when he learns to be kind and do things out of selflessness :) which is why he takes a Tera Blast during the Indigo Disk's climax, the ultimate act of selflessness. help. sorry man it was for character development...

Juliana

-The actual main hero of the story. Really insanely strong in battles. like just straight up a beast -Juliana's names mean "youth", so she stays the same, forever a young battle prodigy Florian tries to match (but can't...). Also, youth to me can mean the future, which is why she's the Miraidon trainer! -Another reason why she's Miraidon trainer is because she can't express herself how she wants... she can't emote easily and speaks monotonously, like a robot. -Her arc would conclude when she learns that the people worth keeping in life are the ones that get her even when she doesn't feel "normal" :]]] true treasures. -big eater -read once that having beauty marks under your eyes means you'll have "trouble in love" and tried to scrub hers off... really envies Florian for having just one and thinks Flo's some kind of romance genius. goes to him for love advice one day and it freaks him out (he's having just a complicated time as any teen!!!)

-Heavily inspired by Pokemon Special's take on her. like look at her she's so cool.