#I'm incapable of keeping things short and simple

[intrepidacious]

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

[lakesbian]

💝 for Rachel (for the ask meme)

💝 A headcanon about their love language

yeah these are def just shaping up to be analysis of canon vs. headcanons for most of 'em because we already have interesting canon answers for a lot of these questions but that's ok because that's fun too. this is gonna be a bit messy bc i'm real tired but anyway:

the long and short of it is that she's a dog. she loves like a dog. and i love how that behavior interacts w/ the specific way taylor is fucked up. it is So meaningful and compelling. taylor is for the most part absolutely incapable of admitting or even noticing when something has hurt her, let alone reaching out for support. she's very similar to brian in the sense that people verbally acknowledging that she's upset (generally synonymous with 'weak' in her mind) is intolerable to her, because ignoring and repressing that emotion is critical to her ability to force herself to stay standing & push herself thru the agony to achieve what she wants to achieve. there's this moment during the echidna fight where she sees wards verbally checking in w/ each other and she thinks that she's glad that her team would never ask if she's okay because she wouldn't be able to stop from breaking down if they did.

and the thing abt rachel's love language is that she's Direct About Everything All Of The Time Forever because she doesn't know how not to be. but it's not in a "asking if someone is okay" way, because even that is a level of indirectness, of giving someone the option to say "yes" and reject comfort! she instead directly notices when taylor isn't okay, and moves straight to offering comfort without forcing taylor to experience the weakness of admitting that she needs it. she's not great with words--she frequently feels frustrated by not knowing how to communicate what she wants to communicate--so instead she shows love through simple, blatant acts of physical affection, devotion, and trust. she's the equivalent of a big ole dog that just silently huffs and climbs into your lap when you're sad, and you can't do a damn thing about it because you're getting cuddled now and that's just how it is. she doesn't force taylor to acknowledge the situation to her, she simply notices when taylor needs a hand to hold and very firmly grabs taylor's hand. she's silently, unobtrusively understanding. she sees things as they are, and responds not with social niceties, but with firm and direct kindness. if you start crying while she's sitting next to you, she won't make a big deal out of it, she'll just keep sitting next to you. and that's exactly what taylor needs--affection and comfort sans expectations for her to have any sort of coherent explanation or conduct.

the devotion & trust is also Sooo. auugh. ough. when taylor turns herself into the PRT and she's unquestionably faithful that taylor has a plan, regards everyone else like they're idiots for having even the slightest sliver of doubt in her. during gold morning, when she willingly steps into taylor's field of control, saying that taylor is smart & to let her do what she needs to do. there's this moment during the behemoth fight that i think a lot about where rachel says "you have a plan" in response to taylor, y'know, having a plan, and taylor sort of confusedly reads it as smug & then satisfied without really grasping why. and the reason why is that rachel has put up with so much social bullshit she doesn't understand--the way the undersiders interact w/ her, coil, the prt--and taylor, without fail, has made things make sense. she's the only undersider to successfully speak to rachel on terms she fully understands, the one to kill coil, the one who soundly trounces the heroes every time. whenever things are confusing or scary or nonsensical, taylor, smart and strong taylor, fixes them with her plans. the earth is cracking and coming apart around them, because There's A Fucking Kaiju, but it's okay, because taylor is there, and rachel knows taylor will always make sure things turn out alright. genuinely doglike levels of unquestionable devotion, where there are ways she understands taylor more intimately than anyone else on the planet, and there are ways she can never understand taylor, but she still unquestionably trusts her enough to place her life in her hands. taylor even remarks that rachel trusts her too much when she steps into her radius during gold morning--and the reason that rachel trusts her too much is because she trusts like a dog trusts their person. i've seen ppl say that taylor is rachel's dog, but no, rachel is 100% taylor's dog. she loves that girl like a dog would. it rocks. autism forever.

#ask #parahumans #scarf don't look #worm spoilers

[hapi-transformers-enthusiast]

A Soldier, Nothing More.

The first part of an Ultra Magnus x Human Reader fic I'm writing. I know it's short, but I felt like that last sentence was good to cut it on. I hope you all enjoy it!

WARNING: This is a work of fiction, and not affiliated with Hasbro in any way, shape, or form. This work contains no NSFW, but one mention of Lust as an emotion. Reader discretion is advised.

Ultra Magnus was, first and foremost, a soldier. That was the one thing he did best. Made as a heavy transport frame, and immediately shuffled into the military by the caste system on Cybertron, he was literally groomed to be a commander. Everything he had ever been taught, he learned in the Military. Was that a good thing? Absolutely not. Ultra Magnus knew that such an upbringing stunted his social skills; He knew that people disliked him because of his rigid, authoritative nature, burnt into him by millennia of military experience. He knew that he was an outlier; A man of order and procedure, surrounded by freedom-loving wildcards who longed for an open society. He too longed for that open society - after all, that was what he’d been fighting for, for almost 4 million years now - He just didn’t know how to operate in such a world. A world without need for a rigid outline, without any desire for one.

When you, a college-aged, short-lived human being were placed under his protection, he didn’t complain. Unlike the other bots, he didn’t think of it as babysiting: Because you were an adult. A grown person, fully capable of making your own decisions. You were here because you knew of their existence, and that alone put you in danger; That was all. Sure, every now and again you’d make a bad decision, and he’d chide you for that, but he was nowhere near as strict on you as he was with the Autobots, because you aren’t his soldier. You’re a civilian, and that’s how he thinks of you. A citizen in need of protection.

However, things started changing after only a few months of being with you. Somehow, with that sweet smile you’d always give him when he’d pick you up from work, and the way you encouraged him to keep trying to integrate himself in the family that Team Prime had become… you slid right through the metaphorical walls he’d built around his spark. He began looking forward to driving you to and from dierent places, or conversing with you about the many confusing things about human culture, and he didn’t even realize it until he caught himself talking about it with one of the other Autobots. He didn’t realize that he’d began to enjoy the simple feeling of your hands on the interior of his alt mode until you commented on how warm he got after you’d goen in one day. Things that he’d never even considered important before now were coming to the front of his processor, because they were things that you considered important. He just didn’t understand it.

At first, he contemplated visiting Ratchet and asking about such a feeling, wondering if it was something medical. Then he heard June talking about the way she felt when she met her rst husband – A raised temperature in his presence, a faster heartbeat, wanting to do things that he approved of, all of it – and he had a startling revelation. One for which he had to seek solitude in order to fully process.

Love.

It was something he’d never experienced before, and something he never thought he would experience. Not that he thought that he was somehow incapable of it, but rather that it was just one of the many things about civilian life that was on the boom of his priority list. He’d experienced comradery, friendships among his brothers and sisters in-arms that went deeper than simply ghting with one another… but never this sort of Love.

This particular feeling of trust and companionship, a desire to help and assist, and even Lust, all melded together into one, painfully intense feeling. He didn’t know what to make of it… so he didn’t.

For now, he believed that it’d be too dangerous to get involved with you. He was a soldier – someone who could die at any moment, or be called to battles that lasted for months at a time – and you deserved beer than that.

You deserved someone who was guaranteed to be able to stay.

And he wanted to give you what you deserved, and nothing less.

#my writing #tfp #maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #tfp x reader #ultra magnus #ultra magnus x reader #tfp x human reader #written by hapi transformers enthusiast #tw lust mention

[romanarose]

Fucker Notices Everything

Marc X Reader

Masterlist

Drabble Summary: A sound triggers you in a small way, but Marc still noticed.

This was supposed to be like, 2 paragraphs, but I'm incapable of sticking to lengths I initially intent to write. Oh well. Just wanted to write a short lil something with my baby boy Marc.

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

You lay in Marc’s arms, listening to the sounds of the outside lulling you to sleep. The night was cool, but you liked the windows open. The two of you had taken a little trip, just out of the city, to a simple hotel in the suburbs. Just to do something different. He held you close, fingers training your body in your warm PJ’s. You had packed sexier lingerie, but the night was so peaceful, you wanted to keep the windows open. This, of course, meant it was too cold to dress like that. Luckily, Marc thought you were sexy in your Star Wars themed pajamas, and anything else you wore. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, and he wouldn't take his hands off you if you’d let him. 

You wondered how you possibly found someone like his, someone who was so in love… your whole life you were taught to settle. That men were something you were supposed to chase, that you should be so lucky if they looked at you. But Marc? Marc chased you. You never even considered him someone that was possible outside your fantasies, well, look at him! And yet, somehow, you found yourself the object of his interest. Slowly but surely, you allowed yourself to believe it, and he proved his love to you again, and again, and again. 

You were deep in thought, and pretty sure Marc was asleep, when you heard it. A motorcycle outside. You briefly, and ever-so slightly tensed and then relaxed as it continued on down the road. You still your heart rate back down, and continue falling asleep. No big deal, it happens sometimes. You usually don’t notice, with all the sounds of the city surrounding you, but it was quieter here. Nevertheless, it comes and it goes.

“What was that?”

You wince. Marc. Of course he noticed. Fucker notices everything.

You play dumb. “What was what?”

He’s spooning you, arms wrapped around your chest, face in your neck. “You tensed.” He’s sleepy, but painfully aware. As always.

“I was just stretching my back…” A bad lie.

“Sweetheart, please. I felt your heart rate pick up.” Fucker really notices everything… You turn over, letting him hold you as you look into his eyes. They were big, brown, and compelling, even half asleep. “Talk to me, please?”

You sigh. It was hard to deny him. It wasn’t that you were hiding it, necessarily, but Marc was a fixer, and this couldn’t be fixed. This… wasn’t a big deal. But he wanted to know, and you couldn't say no to those eyes, not for something as small as this. “My dad rode a motorcycle.” His concerned look softened in understanding. But he kept giving you that face, so you continued “Since he worked evenings, he’d come home when I was usually in bed. I was almost always up.” Marc knew that you slept painfully little as a kid. “We’d have our windows open any chance we had to save money, and my town was so fucking quiet, I could hear him from miles out. And I just pile listen to him come on 9th, turn onto our street, come up the drive and shut the bike off, hear him open the the door and then it just depended on the day whether he’d go watch TV or start slamming things or yelling…” You bury your face in his chest as he holds you tighter. Marc knew of your chaotic and tense home life, this wasn’t new. And likewise, you knew of his abuse. “So when I hear a motorcycle go by at night, it just… I don’t want to say triggers me… but it does. But it’s silly and it just comes and passes super fast. I promise…” You look at him again, wanting to reassure him.  “It’s not a big deal, and I promise to tell you if it ever is, okay?”

He studies your face for a while, seeing if you were hiding yourself from him or downplaying something upsetting. He nods. “Okay. If you’re sure.. and I don’t think it’s silly, baby.”

You smile and kiss him, happy he believes your truth, and you settle into his arms. He lays on his back to allow you to rest your head on him. You were starting to learn that not only was honesty best with Marc, but you were safe in your honesty. If you had a bad day for the 4th time this week, you could tell him and he wouldn't say you were dramatic or ask if you were on your period. You could tell him to slow down or stop during sex at any time, for any reason, and he would never show the slightest sign of being annoyed. You could be honest about your past, and in return, he was honest with you. There weren't secrets. And when two people come from the background you and Marc have, openness is key. There is a comfortable silence, happy and in love.

“Wine bottle cork.” A sleepy, soft voice speaks above you. You look up to face him, but his eyes are closed. You watch his beautiful mouth, lit by the moon, as he continues, spurred on by your silence. He was muttering, voice slightly slurred by the sleep that pulled at him. “When the corks in wine bottles get popped off, it startles me. Makes me think of my mom. She drank about everything, but wine had a distinct sound.”

You carefully touch his face, the start of stubble on his pretty, perfect, brown skin. Your heart hurt, and you wished you had paid better attention. You wished you had noticed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He shrugged, eyes still closed, chest steadily rising and falling under you. “You like wine.”

“Oh honey…” You swore to yourself, no more wine with corks. Twist off wine only. Fine by you, Stella Rosa is great.

“The point is, I get it. It’ll startle me for a moment, then I’ll be fine.” A smaller shrug this time. “I guess we’ll always be this way, to a certain extent.”

“Yeah.” You kiss between his pecs. “But if I ever need help, I got you. So I’ll be okay.”

He gives your arms where his hand was resting a squeeze “And I’ll be okay, as long as I got you, babe.” He sounded far off, drifting off into sleep. “You alright? Do I need to go break every motorcycle in the the city or anything?”

Despite the fact he was clearly almost asleep, you could hear the little bit of play in his voice and you didn’t doubt he’d do it if you asked. He’d do anything, if you asked. “I’m better than okay”

“Arighty.” He mumbles. Now you knew he was tired. He wouldn’t say ‘alrighty’ without a gun to his head. As always, he reassures you that you are safe. “You can sleep now. I got you.” You were pretty sure he fell asleep right then, a soft snore escaping his perfect nose that you loved.

And you didn’t doubt him. Even fast asleep, you knew you he would protect you. His senses were always going, always aware. It’s why he was always so tired, he never really, truly rested. You would gladly take the ‘super high risk’ of him turning his brain off, just to let him get a full night's rest…. But he would never. Not right now, anyway. Maybe someday. 

You hug him, a quick, innocent hug you might give your friend in college as you left a party. “I love you, Marc Spector.” you say quietly into his skin.

A whisper. “I love you too.” Fucker notices everything.

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

If you like this, you might like Seattle, which is also Marc focused. very much protective!marc, but it's a situation he's largly helpless. It started as a one-shot fanfic, but I'm turning it into a miniseries. This one is quite a bit jewish!marc and Jewish!reader.

You might also like Marc Spector: Angel, Knight, Protector. A darker fic, but a big protective! Marc Spector fic.

#marc spector #marc spector reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #soft marc spector #loving marc spector #marc spector needs a hug #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #Marc spector comfort #marc spector fluff #marc spector hurt/comfort

[blueskittlesart]

hiiiiiiii so um. ik a while back you posted a doodle of yourself with short hair and i’ve been thinking about cutting mine short—do you have any tips about picking a style or anything that might not be obvious about having short hair?

oh fuck yes I do! I've had short-medium hair in a few different styles since I was thirteen (im 20 now, so it's been a while) and I recently buzzed my head for the second time so i'm pretty experienced in this area lol!

first thing you should know is that if anyone has ever suggested that you don't have the "facial structure" for short hair or that you're not gonna look good with it is full of shit. no one tells men they don't have the face for short hair. i promise it's gonna look good. chop that shit off

in terms of style, be aware of the amount of work the style you pick is going to take. when I first cut my hair short the reference photo I gave my stylist was of a heavily styled cut--something that would take gel and hairspray and a lot of effort to maintain every day. The base cut was fine, but it didn't look like my reference photo without a ton of effort on my part, and at 13 I wasn't really willing to put that kind of effort in, so my hair ended up unstyled and kind of flat and weird for a while. if you're someone that doesn't like to put a ton of work into styling their hair every day, pick a style you can just wake up and go with. my personal favorite lazy bitch haircut is the buzzcut that i currently have. insanely low maintenance and comes with the added benefit of stopping weird men from talking to you in public. perfect haircut.

Also be aware of how your cut is going to grow out and/or how often you're going to have to get it trimmed to keep it looking the same way. that was something i remember being really surprised about when i first cut my hair off--when your hair gets to a certain length, it grows more slowly and you don't have to cut it as regularly to maintain its health and your look. when you have shorter hair, your hair grows FAST, and if you're not planning on growing it out you're going to need much more regular trimming to keep it in check. Make sure that that's in your budget or that you have the time and skill to trim it back yourself! Alternatively, if you're planning on growing it out after the cut, look into how it's gonna grow out so you know what to expect in terms of look and styling. I like to buzz my head mid-summer and let it grow out for about a year before shaving it all off again, because I know that I like all the stages of growing out that cut and I know how to style all of them. there's always gonna be an awkward stage of growing out your hair, but make sure that you're not gonna spend a ton of time hating your look just to get your length back if that's your plan!

my final advice: if you're looking for a specifically masculine haircut as an afab person, do not go to the same older female stylist you've been going to since you were 10 years old. trust me. You can show that woman a picture of a whole grown man for reference and you will still be leaving with a karen cut. she is incapable of giving you what you want. Either try to find a stylist who you trust to use your reference faithfully, go to a male barber, or cut it yourself! especially if you're going for a simple buzzcut or something similar, it's really easy to cut your own hair at home with a pair of electric clippers from amazon. I've been cutting my hair with safety scissors and some clippers borrowed from a friend for going on 4 years now. it's easier than you think!! youtube tutorials are your best friend.

now onto things you might not know:

listen to me. this is the single most important piece of advice i can give you. buy spray-on sunscreen and SPRAY YOUR FUCKING HEAD. there is no hell like a peeling sunburn all over your fucking scalp. it will happen and you will not expect it and you will want to die. you are going to think your hair is thick enough that it won't happen and it is going to happen anyway. do not take chances with this shit

you do NOT need nearly as much shampoo and conditioner for a short cut as you are instinctively going to put in your hands after years of having long hair. think, proportionately, about the product-to-hair ratio you were using BEFORE your haircut, and do not squirt out more than like a nickel-sized pool of product at the absolute most. your bank account and your hair will thank you.

short hair still needs to be taken care of especially if you're bleaching/otherwise chemically treating it regularly! if you're putting harsh chemicals in your hair you should be using restorative treatments afterwards regardless of length. no matter how short your hair is it can still get stringy and gross and break!!

in that same vein, you CANNOT be applying bleach to your short hair in the same way you do for your long hair. listen to me. Drugstore bleach cannot be sitting directly on your scalp for more than 20 minutes. if your hair is short, any amount of bleach you put in it is going to end up sitting directly on your scalp. i know it's tedious to do multiple passes but chemical burns are even more tedious. please do not put bleach on your skin

also in regards to bleaching/color, keep in mind that your semipermanent color is probably going to have less longevity in your short hair than it did in your long hair. Since all your hair is close to your scalp now, it's taking the brunt of your shampoo regimen and therefore the dye is going to wash out quicker than it would in long hair where most of the dye is further away from the scalp. if you're regularly trimming your hair to keep it your desired length, you're also going to be cutting out a lot more color than you would by just trimming dead ends on long hair. you may find yourself spending more on hair dye if you dye your hair regularly!

#hope this helps <3 i am very much looking forward to the growing-out phases of this current buzzcut cycle i already miss my pigtails lowkey #but i do still love my short hair and i think everyone who wants short hair should go for it!! its so fun and freeing #asks

[hiorisgf]

Lovemail Booth:

Dear Itoshi Rin,

I know you’re not fond of receiving letters (especially during this time of the month) so would it be alright to ask if you could spare me just 5 minutes of your time? I promise to keep this letter short (for as much as I can… that is…).

I have something to confess. I used to hate you. Loathe you even, because of what you did to my friend (Yoichi-kun) before but after consideration, contemplating, and sometimes witnessing you during your practice/matches… Also, although I planned to tell this to you face to face… I feel like I will just disturb you even more if I do so… I would like to apologize for quickly judging you based on what transpired that day. I didn’t know how deep and what soccer means to you so after learning a bit from Yoichi-kun, I want to support you and your goals in life!

So imagine my shock when you’re about to face the U20, especially against him (I don’t want to mention his name in this letter because I thought it would make you angry). The game was so intense– I feel like if I were to shift my eyes somewhere off the field quickly, I would miss the perfect opportunity to see your kicks straight toward the goal!

However, there’s one thing about the match that made me feel so… worried about you… despite the crowd cheering because of what they’re witnessing, to me, something doesn’t… feel right… even Ego-san mentioned it was twisted. It's about your flow state. I can’t bring myself to grin in delight like the crowd because of what astonishing moves you’re displaying, instead, I just– watched with brows furrowed in distress and a huge concern (maybe I'm just being weird). Did something hurt inside your body when you were in your flow state? Are you alright during your flow? What about your aftermath? Please don't forget to take care of yourself! Please don't hesitate to rest if you feel like your body is going mush- You're the captain of the team and- Never mind, don’t answer those questions if you don’t want to… B-but enough of that! I didn’t know you’re an owl person too so.. before I go, here’s a video that I found, feel free to watch it! 

https://youtu.be/XeFxdkaFzRA

Pardon me for being weird at the end and t-thank you for reading! I'll always cheer for you inside the crowd! Please beat the hell out of your big brother!

-M.S

As Rin reads through the first part of the letter, his face forms scowl, thinking it was a dumb decision to spend money just to send him some hate letter—when he finally gets to the later half. Concern, it was a constant throughout the letter since then, a feeling one shouldn't feel for their supposed enemy, laid inside the letter sent anonymously. The letter, that contained a concern so genuine makes his eyes soften and twitch his lips into a small small smile.

Wait. No. Disgusting. Absolutely not.

For a minute, Rin considered throwijg the letter away, before ultimately deciding against it. With a pause at the start, Rin begins moving his pen.

Hello;

I appreciate your concerns—your cheers too. But I have no need for them. I will be fine. If I fail to do something so simple such as handling the setbacks of my flow then that would only mean my incapability as a striker—Or a football player for the matter. I do not need your lukewarm pity, or cheers for the matter. I will be the best striker—and nothing will ever dare change that.

You don't need to tell me that, I will beat my brother. There's no point if I can't do it.

Although, thank you for your consideration. And the owl trivias too. A lukewarm way to waste time, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Event Navigation

#this was so hard for no reason help #SO SORRY IF THE LWTTER'S TOO DRY—I TRIED TO MAKE IT LOOK RIN-LIKE😭😭 #blue lock x reader #♡xylvie's 100 + valentines event!! #rin itoshi x reader

[veronicaphoenix]

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: swearing, talks about physical abuse, implied depression, anxiety. | Word count: 1.4k | Cross posted on AO3.| Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

The sound of the doorbell ringing through the house startled Lia and set my alarms off.

It was nearly noon when the sound flooded the house. Lia, Jolly, and I were in the studio. Rather than spending the morning overwhelming her with further discussions about what had happened, I suggested diving into the details of our upcoming tour, hoping that it would ease Lia’s mind a bit.

It did, until someone rang the doorbell.

As I opened the door of the studio to cross the hallway, Jesse stopped me in my tracks, his face contorted in alarm. He raised a hand and put it level with my chest, as if to stop me.

“It’s Mitch. He’s outside,” he announced, his words rushed and fraught with tension.   

Lia, mere steps behind me, went stiff. Her tension and anxiety reached me as she rose from her chair. The color drained from her face.  

“No violence,” Jesse continued, pleading. “Please. Let’s avoid it if we can, all right?”

I glared at him, my look laden with anger.

Turning lightly, I reached out to gently stroke Lia’s hair, a feeble attempt to comfort her before chaos unfolded.

“Stay here,” I told her. Then, turned to address Jolly, “Jolly.”

He nodded in understanding, falling into step behind me. Jesse trailed behind, murmuring about keeping it civilized. Yeah, just like Mitch had with Lia.

Seeing Mitch at my front door was the last thing I wanted, but I would lie to myself if I said I hadn’t been waiting for the chance to confront him.  I had spent the last days thinking about how I was going to tear him apart when I had him in front of me. However, imagination was sometimes far from reality, and even more so when it came to a situation where there were so many emotions at stake.

Wordlessly, we locked eyes, weighing what we were carrying, because it was obvious that we both knew how it was going to go.

“She's here, isn't she?”

His audacity was astounding, his attitude betraying no hint of remorse or accountability for his actions. It was as though he believed he could waltz in, unscathed by the consequences of what he had done, indifferent to my righteous anger.  

“You've got some balls. To come here and hope we don't break your face,” Jolly’s words cut through the tense air, igniting the smoldering fury within me. The urge to lunge at Mitch, to unleash my pent-up rage, threatened to overwhelm my restraints.

Mitch merely raised an eyebrow and snorted.  

So, that’s the way it was? He was going to fucking laugh at the situation? The never he fucking had.

“What do you want?” Jolly asked. His question simple, yet Mitch’s answer would fall short, incapable of satisfying any of us. Whatever he had to say wouldn’t matter.  

With a chuckle, Mitch’s shoulders twitched as if to shrug off the gravity of the situation,

averting his gaze for a few seconds.

“What do I want? For my girlfriend to go home.”

Was he really that stupid to believe that Lia would go back? That I would stand idly by, allowing her to walk back into his toxicity?

“That's not going to happen," I interjected, finally finding my voice.  

“You'd better turn around, Mitch," Jolly interjected, maintaining a firm tone and a neutral expression that was unmatched by my own.

Mitch narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly in our direction.

“I'm not leaving here without Lia.”

“Lia doesn't want to go with you. She doesn’t want to talk to you, let alone see your face.”

“That's for her to decide, don't you think?” Mitch countered, arrogance filling his voice and etching his expression.

I couldn't believe his attitude. Stepping forward, I loomed over him, using my height to assert dominance. Behind me, Jesse looked at Jolly with growing concern all over his face.  

When I spoke again, my voice was ragged, “You've got some nerve coming all this way to ask Lia to go back with you," I spat. I could no longer hold back everything I wanted to say to him.

His countenance changed immediately.

“You better shut your mouth, Noah” he snapped, jabbing a finger in my direction. “This is all your fault," he accused. “Lia!”

“Get out," I shouted, seizing his hand and forcefully pushing him away.

“I said I'm not leaving until Lia comes out,” he retorted, barely restraining himself after my physical assertion.  

“Mitch, get the fuck out,” Jolly ordered.

“Shut up, Jolly," Mitch shot back.

“I won't shut up. Lia is here by choice and doesn't want to leave, so you shut your fucking mouth and get out of our porch before we call the cops.”

I wanted to tell him that he was lucky Lia hadn't already done so.

“What's the matter, now you're going into bodyguard mode because she called you whining?” Mitch taunted, goading me.

My hand twitched. I was about to seize him by the collar of his shirt, to throw a punch.  But Lia's voice behind me stopped me.

“Go away, Mitch.”

Jolly turned his head to her. Lia’s presence obviously drew Mitch’s attention like a moth to a flame.  

“Well, look at you,” he sneered, a smug grin creeping back onto his face. “The princess finally deigns to show up.”

I stood my ground, determined to shield Lia from his reach.  

She stood several feet behind me and Jolly, Jesse standing at her side. I didn't even look at her; my focus remained fixed on Mitch, hoping to intimidate him enough to make him finally walk away. I refused to give him the advantage of diverting my attention from him, leaving an opening for his movements to reach Lia.

“Pick up whatever you've got here and let's go,” Mitch demanded, his tone laced with entitlement as he looked at her with loathing.

“No," Lia replied.

I felt a swell of pride at her tone, unwavering and defiant.  

“We're done, Mitch. Just… go.”

“What?” He asked, incredulous at Lia's command. Was he really that mental to think that after everything he had put her through, she would just follow him like a lost puppy? He was more deranged than I thought.

“Get out of my way,” he said then.

He tapped me on the shoulder and made a gesture to push past me. The gesture would have escalated into a physical confrontation had it not been for Lia, who interceded by positioning herself between us quickly, her arm extending protectively over my chest.  

She was too close to Mitch…

“Mitch, get out. It's over. If you don't leave, I'll call the police.”

“Now that you're with these three you're feeling feisty, I see,” Mitch spat, his words obviously attempting to provoke her, to make her feel small.

Lia didn't answer.

All four of us were staring at Mitch.

He must have realized he wasn't going to get anywhere, anything, because after a while —which felt like an eternity to all of us—, he said, “You're wrong if you think this is over, Lia,” his words punctuated with an accusatory finger.

We watched as Mitch turned on his heel and made his exit, getting into his truck and disappearing down the street.

With his presence far away, a heavy sigh of relief escaped Jesse’s lips. Jolly let his shoulders drop. It seemed as if calm had suddenly returned to the house. Yet, the echo of Lia’s heartbeat echoed in the walls.

Jolly and I stepped away from the door. I shut it, still feeling like getting in my car and going after him.  

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse muttered, his hand anxiously raking through his hair.

Turning my attention to Lia, I found her standing silently in the middle of the living room, her gaze fixed on the closed door, a blank expression veiling her features but her lower lip trembling and her breaths growing rapid.  

Jolly gave me a gentle pat on the back before quietly retreating to the back of the house with Jesse. I reached out my arms to Lia and enveloped her in a comforting embrace, allowing her to let out the tears she had been holding back, breaking the silence of the room.

“It's over, Lia. You were so brave," I murmured soothingly into her hair, unaware myself that it was far from over.

“I'm sorry,” she choked out between sobs.

 “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic

[dwaekkistar]

Chapter IV

Jade's POV

        I woke up to my bed empty, any signs of Felix sleeping in my bed long gone. I pouted still half asleep before carefully getting out of my bed. I picked my phone up off my nightstand, seeing a notification that I had an event added to my schedule. Upon further inspection, I realized the event was that we had a music video shoot today. I softly sighed out of anxiety because I didn't expect a video shoot so soon. The thought of having to record a video that I knew the entire public was going to see whether I liked it or not scared the living daylights out of me. What would happen if I messed up during the shoot, would the fandom notice? Would they drag me and call me an incapable idol, talentless like all those people back in school expected me to be? Or worse would the company void my contract and kick me out? So many negative what-ifs spiraled through my brain, my anxiety rising with each second.

         I tried to take a few deep breaths, which did help a little before deciding to stretch. I then opened my door, only to be met with a very sleepy and grumpy Minho.

         "We have a video shoot for Levanter today. Don't make us late," he said with a strong glare before walking off. I stared at him in surprise, wondering where the attitude suddenly came from when he was so nice on our day off. I then made my way to the bathroom which was not in use. I assume because everyone was already up and ready, as I heard distinct chatter coming from where the kitchen was. I quickly head in and shower, brushing my teeth while I'm at it. I figured straightening my hair was definitely out of the question as I most likely didn't have the time. I quickly placed my pajamas used previously worn garments into my designated dirty laundry basket, before quickly heading back to my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my body hoping to god I didn't bump into the boys in this state. To my great luck, I avoided everyone, locking my bedroom door behind me. While searching for my undergarments, I got a text from Sua, telling me to just wear a simple tube top and black spandex-like shorts, as the stylist was gonna style me in clothing very quickly, and having to undress and redress was going to take up to much time that could be used to shoot more content for the MV.

         I opted out of wearing a standalone bra, for one of my tube tops that had a strapless bra built in. I wasn't one to have gigantic boobs, but they were about a decent size thanks to my mom's genes saving my dad's, and filled the top out pretty well. I'm pretty sure my body type though, especially the bottom half all came from my mom as everyone always made it necessary to point out that had an ass bigger than the average native Korean woman. I quickly pulled out one of my safety shorts and to keep things still publically decent I put an oversized graphic tee on. I then put on some socks and slipped on my vans before walking out of my room just as Sua texted me that she and jun arrived.

        I walked to the front door, completely ignoring all the guys as they said good morning to me, which caused them all to slightly frown except Minho, who gently scoffed in response. I opened the door allowing Sua and Jun in, both smiling at me and wishing me the best of luck behind the camera today. I kind of needed that as I had been ignoring the feeling all morning, and realized the entire time the feeling was settling in my tummy. Their smiles and pep talk immediately made the feeling disappear. Jun headed to the rest of the boys to talk before the shoot while Sua stayed next to me.

        "Well how have things been since I last saw you?" she said sweetly, as her energy radiated from her. "Do you like things in the dorm?"

        "I mean besides sharing the bathroom with like 8 guys," I softly chuckled as I handed her my phone, " I think I'm good. The constant chaos might take some time to get used to though."

        "Ah, I can talk with Jun and see if we can have the company get something worked out with the bathroom situation," she said while chuckling along with me. I nodded in response, my brain immediately thinking about the shoot when I realized nobody had gone over the choreography with me, which made my anxiety come back tenfold. Is that part of why Minho was being so rude? maybe he thought I was gonna mess everything up. The weird feeling I had in my tummy returned and felt way much heavier than before. Sua then got a text message and she quickly read it before looking back up at me.

       "Uhm," she says calmly with a soft reassuring smile, "Jun says the reason why we're leaving so early today is because the boys need to go over the choreography with you."

       "oh.." I said feebly, my voice dripping with worry and anxiety, becoming even more anxious than I had ever been and my breathing becoming uneven. My body felt like it was violently shaking, although I'm sure to everyone else it looked like I was perfectly still. The last time I ever got this anxious was during my audition period for the company. It seemed like she noticed the worry in my voice so she quickly gestured for me to put my mask on and grabbed my hand as we left the dorm to head to the van.

         When we finally got to the van the driver automatically opened the door from his seat as I quickly headed into the farthest seat in the back, my anxiety constantly nagging at me as I tried to hold back tears. Sua followed in after and handed me a box of tissues she had in her bag insinuating that she wanted me to have them in case the tears building up at the corner of my eyes decided they did want to fall. I quickly take one and pat my eyes dry not wanting all the boys to see me so vulnerable, and it's bad enough I let Felix see me that way last night. The boys eventually came downstairs to the parking lot and filed into the van, confusingly looking around until they spotted me in the back. I'm sure my eyes were somewhat red and puffy even if I didn't give myself the chance to cry because I knew that was how bad my anxiety tended to become. They all sat in their usual seat in silence as Jun slipped in the back with me and Sua and the driver began to drive to the shoot location. I gently poked Sua and asked for my phone remembering I asked her to hold it as I had no pockets on my outfit. She carefully handed it to me, and I carefully grabbed it going to play some random games as I tried to take my mind off Minho's attitude and the anxiety for the shoot.

Small Time Skip

          The driver eventually reached the location which was a modern industrial-looking building, Jun and all the boys rushed out of the van to go in. Sua got out once the van was empty of the boys following Jun and I quietly followed behind them. Our bodyguard was quietly waiting for us at the door making sure we all carefully got in. Everyone then got into an elevator and went upstairs to what looked like a small dressing room with stylists already waiting in it. I quietly followed everyone inside pulling my mask off like everyone else, when a Stylist just as tall as me walked towards me gently grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the area where she and a few others were already set up. They pulled out this garment bag that contained various pieces of clothing and accessories in it prepping to dress me in. I tried to get a better look at it before when one of the stylists spoke up.

        "Hi, we're your stylist for the shoot, could you put this on for us so we can see if we need to make a quick alteration before we start makeup?" She said with an energetic smile.

"Yeah," I quickly nodded and responded grabbing the bag and pulling the clothing out as I stopped paying attention to my surroundings. It was a pair of brown jeans with a leather belt, a brown cropped shirt, a white/cream cropped sweater vest, a brown beret, platformed boots,  a necklace with a cross pendant, a black and silver bracelet, a channel bracelet, and pearl earrings. I quickly removed my graphic tee and current shoes and slipped everything on quickly, all the stylists smiling as everything seemed to perfectly to their liking. They then led me to a chair, one of the stylists swiftly pulling out a Flat iron. Had I known they wanted me to have straight hair for the shoot I would have done it myself, but that would have been a bad idea seeing as time wasn't on my side when I woke up. Minho and the words he said and the face he held replaying in my brain a few times when I shook myself out of it deciding to focus on what was currently taking place. It seems in about the few minutes I zoned out the hair stylist was almost done. She finished the last section of my hair when another stylist zoomed to my side and started applying light natural makeup. She began to finish up, carefully applying this soft pink lip tint before gesturing her hands away from the chair to let me know she was done. The hairstylist then came back and carefully placed the beret on my freshly straightened hair before applying a decent amount of hair spray.

     When I finally got out of the chair, my attention was brought back to the room, Changbin and Han were already done and sitting on a couch going through their phones as they waited for the others to finish. Changbin looked up from his phone to see I was done and softly smiled as he took my appearance in.

     "You look really cute Jade," He said with a soft chuckle, " I see they put you in platform boots...How does it feel being the shortest member of the group now."

     Han slapped Changbin's arm in laughter causing the other members to look over as some of their stylists fidgeted with the accessories of their outfit. All I could do was stare with my mouth agape in amazement at how boldly he said it. 'Two could play at that game' I quietly thought to myself. If he was gonna roast my height, then I would just have to use my baby face visuals to my advantage.

     "Meanie~," I said as I softly pouted with puppy eyes and tried to walk opposite the couch, but before I could even get anywhere someone grabbed a whole of my wrist.

"Noona, please don't ever do that again," Hyunjin said visibly cringing and furrowing his eyebrows as I turned around, realizing it was him holding my wrist, " I understand you're cute but that was so...no."

"Okay I won't do that again," I said as I softly giggled at his reaction. The other members minus Minho were smiling at me at our shenanigans and quickly joined in. We got deep into joking around when Minho harshly grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the dressing room, causing me to wince in pain. He pulled me to a small empty room before closing the door behind us and looking at me with a deep scowl.

"We're gonna go over your moves in the choreography," he said as he turned towards a wall and rested his phone against it playing a practice version of the song, " you're mostly going to be in the back since you joined very last minute... But you better get it right other I'm just going to request to have you removed from the group."

What actual hell was his problem? Why was he treating me like this, I softly furrowed my eyebrows as I stared at his back, but quickly changed my face deciding to put it behind me. I wasn't going to let Minho down my mood before the music video, it would just negatively affect my performance, and prove him right and everyone else right. The music started and he started demonstrating the dance moves that I was gonna be doing, and to his surprise, I was picking up on it very quickly and attentively following behind him. His eyes furrowed the more he continued to watch me as I followed him, doing the choreography with the same energy, mannerisms, and passion as he was. The song eventually came to an end as we finished the choreography.              "How did you get all of that down so quickly ?" Minho said softly as he furrowed his eyes in confusion.

       "Dude I know you didn't just ask someone who auditioned for a dance position..." I started sarcastically, "How they're able to keep up with a decently complex choreography.."

        He looked down at the floor, softly pouting, as he seemed to regret being so hard on me. I know he wanted our comeback to do good, but to act like that to me with no logical reason was uncalled for.

       "That my honestly my fault." he said sincerely with slight guilt as he stepped closer to me and gave me a soft hug, " I know Chan chose you to join the group, but he never told us your positioning in the group... we all just immediately assumed you were mainly a vocal position and I didn't want the music video to go bad.. I'm sorry. " I quietly accepted his apology by hugging him back just as tight before we left the room to join the rest of the boys. 

         Minho held my hands and quietly led us back to the managers and boys, and it was quite a feeling. I couldn't help but blush as he somehow managed to make me feel 180 from just a moment ago. The stylists swiftly stepped in front of me when we finally got back to everyone while Minho let go of my hand and headed to the others, double-checking that I still looked good before they ushered me to head to the set. When I walked closer to the boys, the director quickly instructed us that the specific set we were on was for the performance version and that some parts of the recording would be used in the main video.   We were then told to go to our marked starting positions, and upon reaching our spots the music was cued and the director yelled action. We passionately danced until the song was over, and relaxed a bit while the director and staff team at the shoot went over the footage.

       "That was a good take but I think I wanna do another one just in case." the director spoke out through the speaker. We all returned to our spots as before when the music started. Despite remaining in the back and barely being seen by the camera due to Felix being taller than me, I was still somewhat very happy because it oddly felt like I finally belonged somewhere. I know I barely knew most of the guys, but while we were going through the choreography once more for the camera I couldn't help but get this strong instinct that this was where I was meant to be, that these boys were who I was meant to spend the next few years of my life and hopefully more with.

      The directors congratulated us on the first part of the shoot, and then told us to get changed because we had to get ready for the acting part of our music video. All the boys began cheering in response as they were finally able to be unserious for the first time today, their usual chaotic energy exploding everywhere.

       The boys began playing and joking around as usual as we headed back to the dressing room. Han jumped on Changbin's back earning a loud help from the latter which made us all laugh and chuckle at his expense.

       "We barely got through a third of the shoot, and I already feel like I've been hit by a massive truck." Chan jokingly blurted out as he held his back with his right hand.

       "Chan hyung is an old man" Seungmin spit out in response with a chuckle causing everyone to laugh.

        "YAH I'M NOT OLD!" Chan yelled at him as he began to chase after the younger. They both ran back to the dressing room, Chan on Seungmin's tail. Suddenly Felix took it upon himself to slide under me and lift me onto his back essentially giving me a piggyback ride. We all continued joking with each other.         When we got to the dressing room finally, Seungmin was accepting defeat as he pleaded with our leader who was currently sitting on top of him. Our stylist soon followed in pulling out 2 more garment bags per each person in the group. They told us to pick out scene 1 outfit, and upon doing so I pulled out a garment back that contained a black and white blouse, skin-tight black leather pants, a different pair of black boots again, and a velvet choker. I quickly slid out of the outfit I had on, as Jeongin waddled over to me with pleading eyes.

       "Noona I can't see behind me to put the necklace on," he said pouting gently before turning red in the ears at the sight of me in just the small tube top and safety shorts, " the necklace keeps unclasping somehow."         "Aw, come here my little Innie, I'll help you," I said with a smile as I took the necklace from his hand and carefully put it on him. He turned around once more thanking me as he blushed even harder than he was a second ago and ran off across the room to one of the other members. I carefully and swiftly put on the leather pants with minor struggles as I had to do little hops to get it past my ass. However, once it was on- the fabric was super comfortable to move around in. I slid the blouse over my head and quickly went for the choker and clasped it around my neck carefully, not wanting to experience Baby Bread's distress from earlier. I chuckled to myself as I thought I would have to call him that from now on because he truly did resemble a human personification of bread.  I fixed my hair once more before putting the shoes on and walking towards Hyunjin, Minho, and Chan. They all lifted their heads to look at me as they heard me approaching, Hyun-jin and Minho watching attentively both biting their lips in slight shock at my outfit, when Chan spoke up.

     "The stylist seems to know what they're doing if they've got you walking around like that." he softly chuckled, his little dimple making a sudden appearance at the moment.

     "Chan! What does that mean?!" I said with a slight whine not appreciating his sudden flirtatious teasing. The boys all laughed at my response and I blushed heavily. Knowing how shy Chan was back when I was training, his boldness at the moment had genuinely caught me off guard. As the boys continued to laugh and joke about other things Jisung, Changbin, and the maknae line joined us. I sat in a corner near Chan as I was starting to feel somewhat self-conscious, and it seemed like Chan took notice of it. He turned towards me and gave me a soft gentle hug, squeezing me to give me extra reassurance.

     "Don't be so nervous cutie pie," he softly whispered in my ear, " you got this, I wouldn't have picked you if that wasn't the case you know." He gently rubbed my arm as he held me resting his head on top of mine as he continued to try to calm me down. I took in a deep inhale, catching a whiff of Chan's scent, noting he smelled strong of sweet fruits like strawberries and such which only added to his attempt at calming. It helped as I was able to get my thoughts back to normal. I took a quick look around the room, noticing that all that time some of the members shifted from talking to going on their phones, even the stylists and our managers were using theirs.

      A staff member eventually came in and told us the director was ready for us, so we all quickly headed out. If I was being honest, now that I've taken everything in, the boys all looked pretty hot in their current outfits. For some odd reason that gave me a big wave of reassurance, because if they looked hot, I must have looked hot as well. And that's when I noticed my and Chan were slightly matching as we both had stripped shirts on.

     "Channie," I said tenderly, tugging at his sleeve as I walked next to him. He looked down at me in response, "Did the stylist intend to make us match?" that's when he took a step back and assessed both our outfits. When he finally looked up, he wore a huge grin on his face.

      " I guess so," he said as he gently held my hand as we continued our way to the set.

       "Why are you two matching ?" Changbin said his eyebrows creasing in confusion once Chan and I caught up with everyone else.  The boys all turned to look at us upon his words, realizing he was indeed right about our outfits.

        "Did they do that on purpose?" Jisung added his voice taking on a mischievous tone, "Cause that would honestly explain Jade's ass in those pants."         Everyone including me groaned in response to Jisung's taunt, which earned him a thwack on the back of his head from Hyunjin. We honestly should have expected it from him sooner or later but we got our hopes up thinking maybe he would quit it for one day.

       The boys and I eventually got to our instructed spots and the rest of the shoot went by in a blur, as we constantly acted out scenes and changed outfits a few more times. I knew that being an idol was gonna be stressful, but I honestly didn't take into account this much work had gone into the outfits, all the small things that were usually taken for granted. We quietly finished up and headed back out of the building to go home.

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fic #straykids fanfic #9th member of skz #kpop fanfic #kpop #fanfic #female original character #skz x 9th member #skz x female reader #skz x female original character #straykids x original female chracter #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad

[moonshinemagpie]

Just like an example of us all being trapped in our own brains and how you should honestly never feel hurt by what a stranger says to you because it is probably about them and not you:

I have brain fog as a symptom of my disease. Brain fog is very real, and I appreciate the term, because that's exactly what it feels like: like my thoughts are trapped in this opaque fog and I don't have the resources to go out and hunt them down.

One of the things that's most affected is my ability to remember short-term information.

But, like, for me this is normal, right? And we all operate off the implicit assumption that what we experience is applicable to everyone, even if we consciously know this isn't true.

So I had to tell a worker at a fast food restaurant what number table I was sitting at. It was a 3-digit number, and I am often literally incapable of keeping 3 sequential digits in my head. This is a real disease symptom! Pre-disease me memorized pi and did extreme sudoku and liked calculus.

But anyway. I'm at the restaurant and I tell the worker my table number. I then repeat it twice more, in different ways, to help her remember ("one-zero-three. One-oh-three. A hundred and three."). I do this because, if she were me, this is what she would need a customer to do in order for her to be able to type it into the computer. I myself cannot remember the number. I am staring at a little paper that tells me the number.

But she looked very hurt and kind of huffed out, "Just because I earn fifteen dollars an hour doesn't mean I'm stupid."

And I felt really bad! But there's also no way to explain in that moment that my body has experienced chronic systemic inflammation for three years, and I have forgotten what it's like to have a brain that can remember simple numbers on the fly.

I almost told tumblr this story the day it happened but then didn't. But it keeps happening! I drive the person I live with crazy because we'll be planning to go to the bank, and then I get in the car and say, "remember we are going to the bank," and then she snaps that of course she remembers, but what I am really doing is trying to get myself to remember, because if I don't say it out loud several times during the drive I will not recall where it is we are going.

It's not about you!!

People now say to me pretty regularly, "Do you think I'm stupid?", which I actually don't recall anyone ever saying to me prior to the disease, probably because I'm not in the business of making people feel stupid. But all that is really happening is that I am trying to survive in the world even on days when I am, well, stupid.

#disability #brain fog

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

no one asked but here's my opinion anyways

things i hate seeing in fanfic [CW: i'm mean]

uwu shy smol reader: what.

gn!reader!! and then reader is not gender neutral: is it hard. is it so fucking hard for you. please log out for me

fem!reader with no tag/no warning: shut the fuck up shit the fuck up shut the fuck up. do you know people who aren't women exist. did you know that the world does not revolve around you? its not hard, it's 2 words, 10 letters. you are terminally stupid.

no commas: why,,,, why....

reader is completely helpless and useless: why would anyone want this???? please get some self respect

abusive/toxic relationships, with no tag: yeah thanks i love being abused by my favorite character this is so nice. unless you like angst why would you want this?? ah uh yeah, this character would totally abuse you and manipulate you <3 because that's just so them <333 yes this is totally canon and plausible wdym? <3333

"hey can reader do anything dominant or like be confident or assertive" no lol! this character who is dominant cannot not be in control! they will literally do anything to have the higher ground!! they will wrestle any bit of control out of your hands! and also they'll make fun of you and you will be all blushy and flustered an like "n-no character!! stoppp *uwu eyes*": what. are you okay? this is not healthy behavior i don't think

this character has 1 (one) personality trait and that is that they are incredibly mean and do not respect you as a human being!! you are nothing but a plaything to them! they are incapable of positive emotions!: i'm 90% sure this is some weird kink thing. also, why would you want this in a relationship.

character is mean to you and reader does nothing: no tf? i'm beating they ass. no one is allowed to disrespect me especially not my damn s/o

reader is so small and short and frail and petite and weak!! character needs to protect them!!!: stereotypes about a certain body type that piss me off

reader is flustered easily: it's really fucking annoying to me, idk why, honestly.

reader blushes: i'm black. people who are not pale read fanfic too yaknow. it's really not hard to just?? not write that??? you can be bashful/embarrassed/flustered in other ways

sub and/or bottom reader not being tagged: you are stupid. also, why is it always sub reader? why is it always bdsm? why the fuck

obviously, there are exceptions to each of these!

and authors are totally free to write what they want! i'd just like some sort of warning first before reading anything like this.

also, i'm confused on writers making it a point that reader is very much weaker/less smart (in any way) than the characters. if a character is super strong or intelligent, realistically reader would be less so. but why would you go out of your way to emphasize that? and why would you want this? you could literally be anything, the possibilities are endless, and you choose this?

these are almost all about annoying incompetent y/ns and unhealthy relationships

Simple: black people don't exist ❤️

In all seriousness I try to avoid certain troupes in my writing or at least try an justify what the reader does. I love angry or wild characters but I also like rational ones or MCS that have a feel or personality to them. For example this MC isn't shy, but it wouldn't be wise to start anything right now because of X or maybe they'll get revenge later.

As for nsfw I feel like ppl immediately assume bottom=sub when service tops and power bottoms exist. I usually write MC as a switch that can go either depending on my mood cause it's so boring if you just stick to one imo.

And the skin tones... I come from a mixed af family and have some black sisters that have a hard time finding content for them. It's why I try and keep MC as neutral as possible. Hell, my ocs are alien monsters that are cold-blooded they can't blush. So unless stated otherwise MC is completely up to the readers interpretation: Pale, Dark, Scaly, ect. For much more monstrous mcs that require more descriptions I tag it as monster mc.

My advice for people who dont really know how to write neutral. Describe actions or feeling of an MC that would make sense. Rather than blush why not say "they felt a little flustered/off guard" or "a flustered expression crosses their face." Try not to describe hair, and if you mention it even for a second, let people know.

As for characterizing MCS. It's okay to want to make a Mary sue or a weaker MC, as long as it's written well.

Give your readers a choice. "You decided to to punch them, whether it's because your exhausted or they're not worth the trouble, you don't know." Or give a bit of vague backstory. "You remember what happens if you stay out to long. Best to keep quiet/get home/be wary."

You can leave your readers or mcs backstory up to interpretation for the reader and hey is you get comments on your fics or discussions about then, like for example Food Truck Yuu/Beast Tamer Yuu then you can incorporate it into your work as people all decided to agree on what character they want to be. This way it doesn't feel like someone's OC but rather, developed instead.

Idk sorry for the weird rant advice it's just my take. Even I mess up sometimes you know?

#not writing #not requests #rant tw #rant #in case #advice #long post

[littleoddwriter]

Babe, I’m so sorry, I know you’re already drowning in requests but I just saw you’d potentially write for Frenchie. So…

I’d love some simple relationship headcanons with a short reader. You can make it gn if you wanna! Like, Joel Fry is literally 6’1 while I’m like 5’2 and I wanna climb that bitch.

Just some fluffy, maybe smutty as well if you feel like it, headcanons. If that’s alright!! :]

Frenchie x Short!GenderNeutral!Reader | Relationship Headcanons

Hey there, love! Ah, no problem at all, no apology necessary!!! <3 Aw, gosh- I'm about 3 inches taller than you, maybe, so I feel for you! Thanks for the request, I really hope you like these, despite the lack of smut, sorry. :') <3

notes; Gender Neutral!Reader; Short!Reader; Established Relationship; Fluff; Kissing.

At the beginning of your relationship, he was often running his mouth about you being short and what it might mean because of all the things he's heard from others (legends, superstitions, etc.), which was endearing in its own way.

He's quite the romantic and loves to take his time to make it a beautiful date with you, whatever that may look like, given the circumstances.

Sometimes it is a nice dinner, where it's just the two of you; and other times, you're on shore leave where he likes to spoil and indulge you with anything in the realm of possibility for him.

Loves to serenade you any chance he gets. He never has to think much about what he's going to sing to you, because it just comes to him while he's looking at you.

Whenever he sees fit, he bends down to kiss you, just because, and the smile he gets from you in return makes warmth spread through his chest every time.

He really likes to pick you up and carry you around for a bit. The proximity of it is really comforting to him; especially when your arms and legs are wrapped around him and your chests are pressed together.

Frenchie feels really protective of you because of your height; although he knows very well that you can protect and fight for yourself better than he can. He still feels the need, though, just because you're so important to him and your height adds something to it.

Adores you so much, which he tells you all the time because he is incapable of keeping it inside. He loves your reaction to it and to hear you say it back. Especially when he's rewarded with a kiss, for which you have to pull him down and get on your tiptoes.

#jfhdhfdskjfk y'all with calling me babe AH <3 #what better way to try out writing for him than with HC's? also i have no energy and a headache and this is the only HC request i have #well not the only per se but the other one is either fic OR headcanons so- yee and a fic would fit the theme better but anyway!!! #we'll see if i manage a fic today #frenchie #frenchie our flag means death #frenchie ofmd #frenchie x reader #joel fry #gender neutral reader #our flag means death #ofmd #our flag means death headcanons #ofmd headcanon #dating headcanons #relationship headcanons #headcanon

[tonberry-yoda]

YOO, i saw one punch man x reader and i immediately got my ass here, I've been looking for a opm matchup since ages.

Romantic matchup for OPM (obv)

I don't have a preference, but both is fine if possible. He/they

What i want out of a relationship:

is well something simple. A nice relationship, one where i can spoil my partner a lot, since i genuinely love doing that. I like giving headpats so yeah I'm just an overly affectionate person in a relationship, i will respect their boundaries if they do not like pda, i would mostly like one where my partner is like me in someway, as in like same type of personality or the polar opposite either way I'll still give them affection! However if they something like "don't" and actually mean "do it" I'll be in a lost cause so i end up just... Not giving affection. I'm quite oblivious and dumb as it is.

Personality:

I am very crabby, moody and hotheaded. I spend a lot of my time insulting and ranting about shit i find hilarious or interesting, often times rambling or complaining. I'm extremely short-tempered and will become enraged with anything although sometimes i can be comical and childish at random times.

I am one foul mouthed motherfucker, i have a habit of cursing, either regular swear words or the most absurd sounding swear words come out of my mouth. (E.G. : “you blithering feculent shithole” “primitive fuckjam” “putrid shitsmoking cretins” “you dickreeking undulating fuckass” “fucksquatting pain in the waste chute” “heinous ravaging trash" “reprehensible sanctimonious jitterfuckery.”) I am completely incapable of uttering a single word without fucking cursing.

I also tend to be very loud, i have a hard time being aware of my volume and adjusting it. I also go on heavy romcom binges, my favorite one to binge is 50 First Dates.

I am often screaming, pounding my fists against inanimate objects out of sheer fucking anger, or generally raging when talking to anyone. I'm not particularly patient when explaining myself, most of my advices seem to be just a massive wave of random insults along with sarcasm and heavy emphasis on it.

Despite my nubby asshat demeanor, i care deeply for my friends' well being, i will genuinely cry if something happened to them. I do litsen to their problems and comfort them in my own way and attempt to keep everyone safe. And despite my rash behavior, i do have a sense of morality and will occasionally do the right thing any normal person would do.

I also have a knightly persona despite my constant use of profanity, any chance i get to act like a knight I'll take it. In a relationship i would literally just obey my partners orders like an actual knight to his queen/king. I would also kiss their knuckles while kneeling down, i study arachnology and carcinology.

I'm also a huge fan of Shakespeare, I'll occasionally use it in a comical sense or when acting as a knight.

Myself fashion-wise: straight up metalhead fashion, i dress intimidatingly and also to add the fact that I'm tall (like 6'5) except i have no makeup or piercings, and instead wear glasses. I for my look i keep my hair messy or well try to, since my hair is curly and already looks about as messy as a fucking bird nest built by a living tumor.

My type: i don't know yet, all i can tell you right now is that i like men and women.

MUSIC TASTE: It honestly varies. Mostly deathcore or black metal, or just sad break up songs. Then there's songs in my native language. Angsty songs about inferiority complex, corny romantic songs and UHM... CupcakKe, Sabrina Claudio and Ginuwine... 😭💀 i am on the ace/asexual spectrum but i just find their music interesting, Pony and All into You slaps tbh i litsen to them at like any time of the day, my playlist varies from angry metal to sad to angst to brazilian music to straight up horny music. It's basically a mess.

Love language: all the motherfucking affection, cuddling (I'm the little spoon btw) words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service and affectionate teasing; with this i basically talk to my partner like how cat owners talk to their cats in that exact same baby voice saying the stupidest but yet endearing bullshit. Basically complimenting with teasing.

- god this is probably so long, and i apologize for that. - 🗡️ anon

I HAVE THE PERFECT PERSON FOR YOU! i read through this- oh also, real fast welcome to the party 🗡️ anon! it's super nice to meet you! :) ANYWAY BACK TO BUSINESS! I read through this and one person popped in my mind, who I adore and I hope you adore as well!

the person I chose for you is...

KING!

like in my head, y'all would literally be PERFECT together

you both have this metal head vibe, but softies deep down and AHH IM OBSESSED

he is big enough to hold you while cuddling and he would literally bury his face in the crook of your neck and it is so cute

he gets all flustered when you spoil him lol

he is just as affectionate as you, so yall are again, literally perfect

he definitely has the same music taste, like i just see it

Y'ALL LOOK SO INTIMIDATING OUT IN PUBLIC LMAOOO

like even if he is hugging onto your arm and giving you a ton of love, you guys will walk into a building and no one I MEAN NO ONE will mess with you

and seriously, you guys have so much in common

if you hear that something happened to him and it breaks your heart you will listen and cry, and he will do the exact same for you

LIKE THIS IS SO PERFECT! (look at me go lol)

he loves you to death and get's flustered when you show that love back because he's a cutie

also, if you're down, he'll play video games with you for hours and if not, you'll listen to music while he's just playin in the background

"I love you so much, King." You squished both of King's bright red cheeks and talked to him in a baby voice.

"N-No I'm not!" He got all flustered and tried to pull away from you, but immediately melted to your touch as you moved your fingers to his head, massaging his scalp.

"Yes you are." You smiled and pulled him close, pressed a kiss onto his lips. "I love you."

He opened one of his eyes and giggled. "I love you too." He pulled you into his giant arms and slammed the two of you on the couch. It quickly became a game of who could cuddle who, but eventually he won, making the two of you fall asleep softly, you pressed against his big chest and one of his large hands on your back.

#matchup #matchups #anon #🗡️ anon #sword anon #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #<3 #opm #opm x reader #one punch man #one punch man x reader #king #king x reader #king one punch man #king one punch man x reader #one punch man headcanons #hope you enjoy!! #literally perfect omg

[commaclear]

I'm curious about the whereabouts of engagement/wedding/promise rings in htid. Tbh I really wanna keep this short because I have four wip google docs open on my laptop and the last thing I need to do is write something that won't help me finish those, but that probablu won't work the way I want it to. Anyways

In htid there's four, maybe even five people who are part of this whole ring thing. The first one I wanna talk about is Sally, bc she's hot and traumatized and I feel like she'd throw a knife at my head if necessary. I know that technically she should have at least two rings, but I get the vibe she only has one and even then I doubt she got it in the traditional sense.

Sally only got married because she got pregnant, so I get the feeling that Fundy was the engagement ring. That being said, I feel like when you've got a relationship with two teenagers, there's a possibility that she has some cheap promise ring that Wilbur stole while they were at the mall together one day. He probably awkwardly presented it to her in the food court, and the memory is heavily skewed in Sally's head because she's over romanticized it in a sad attempt to stay in love with the man incapable of loving her.

I actually believe that she's done a lot of lying to herself for the sake of living in the safety of delulu land. I mean. I don't think. I know. It's very obvious. No one comes out of a relationship like that and still glorifies it without obscuring some details.

Anyways, Sally's probably got some long since oxodized shitty infinity ring sitting somewhere in a box. And then of course there's the formality of a wedding ring that I'm sure she did not get on the wedding day itself. It's probably not a lot, and she probably didn't receive it until well after Fundy's birth. Before their little courthouse marriage, Wilbur probably asked her if she wanted a ring, and she probably told him they needed to save money for the baby. Although, I'm sure she managed to convince herself she'd still get a ring as a surprise because Wilbur always was a bad listener. It was the small sliver of hope that was handcrafted to hurt by a little girl who dreamed of a grand white dress and a nice arrangement of diamonds.

I'm sure she eventually got a ring. And she'd probably taken how long it took a little personally, but she came around to the idea fairly quick. I feel like she still doesn't really take it off. Back then money was tight enough for the small little thing to mean the world to her, and even though she knows she could buy herself something way better now, the sentimental value is too much to even imagine removing it. She's probably been asked why she still wears it by plenty of people, Fundy and Jared included. And I'm sure she always takes extra care to remove it whenever Wilbur's around.

Now I'm pretty confident in saying Wilbur doesn't have anything more than a simple wedding band that he was very relieved to stop wearing. He's not quite sure where it is, and frankly, he's not trying to find it. He never really felt all that great wearing it. It felt more like an obligation than something he wore proudly. Quackity's probably seen it before, but he knows enough not to ask Wilbur about.

Wilbur honestly got some shit with rings and jewelry altogether. I feel like when he tried buying Sally's ring, the person working at the store seemed so judgmental and obnoxious that he shudders every time he sees a jewelry store. He also doesn't like that love is measured by how much of a diamond a man can afford. And he doesn't like walking around with expensive jewelry either.

That being said, I feel like Wilbur would be more than willing to face his fears if Quackity ever showed interest in anything from one of those stores. One of the main ways Wilbur communicates his love and affection, as well as how he tries to fix his guilt, is through gift giving. Wilbur doesn't really like himself, and he often assumes others don't like him either, so he attempts to make up for what he believes he lacks by spending whatever he can on them. And I'm sure that ties into his whole thing with being a foster kid and knowing how a single good gift can change how you perceive someone.

I feel like Quackity is pretty anti-ring after Karl broke off the engagement. He assumed it got lost in the car accident because Karl had probably taken it off, but he eventually finds it on his nightstand. It kinda puts the whole situation into a shitty place. Slime's probably asked Quackity about it a billion times, and Quackity eventually gets tired of it and puts it where Slime won't find it.

Wilbur's probably seen the ring before, and it made him feel incredibly shitty because something tells me the ring is rather flashy in comparison to anything Wilbur's even given or received. Wilbur kinda hates it because it's just another shitty reminder of how much Quackity must've loved Karl, and he'll never live up to it. It is also a representation of how much Karl was worth to Quackity, and Wilbur doesn't believe he has nearly enough to be deserving of something so extreme.

This whole thing is stupidly long and a mess, and I really need to go work on my own shit. But it's the best I could do

Also last ask you asked me why I have rusty scissors in my shower. And like. It's not like they were rusty in the beginning. I use them when I need to cut something. Sometimes you just need to switch things up, and rusty scissors are good at that. Ever stab a bottle of conditioner [Question mark] Ever cut a random piece of hair off[Question mark] That shit's refreshing. Also excuse the lack of question marks. I'll figure it out later. Turns out the question mark key is open. Shit's wild

-Quackity Analysis Anon

Ooooh, excellent question. I'm gonna run down this one at a time.

Wilbur: First, Wilbur had a chastity ring. He got it from his super conservative foster home and lost it as quickly as he could when Phil adopted him, but the memory of wearing it and what it stood for stuck with him for a long time. He and Sally did have wedding rings and a proper ceremony (before the Fundy was born), but everyone knew it was a shotgun wedding. Sally was very obviously pregnant at the time.

Sally: Sally did actually have an engagement ring, but Wilbur's experience of buying it was worse than you might think. As soon as her parents found out about the pregnancy, Sally's dad had a long talk with Wilbur about "doing the right thing" and then took him out to buy Sally an engagement, which he then paid for. It was humiliating for Wilbur, who gets a nauseating wave of anxiety whenever he goes inside a fancy jewelry store now. Unlike Wilbur, Sally still has her wedding ring, stored away in her jewelry box never to be worn, but never to be thrown away.

Quackity: He and Karl exchanged promise rings a few years ago, and for a long time after the cheap ring started oxidizing, Quackity wore it as a necklace. Once they got properly engaged, the promise ring necklace was moved to safe storage.

Karl: The doctors had to remove his engagement ring when he was hospitalized, and somewhere between hospital moves, it got lost. Karl was confused to wake up without it, and now it hurts to look at his left hand. He lost the promise ring a few years ago too while washing dishes, so now he has nothing.

The stuff you said abt Wilbur and Quackity's feelings toward rings is just so spot on actually, these men have Issues

#also that bit about wilbur and gift giving? #good soup. haha get it? but fr excellent analysis #anons my beloved #hi thirsty im dad #quackity analysis anon #all star asks #commaclear.tumblr.com/missingposter

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Hats and Height

How the staging and costume design for the Phantom helps support his character

Wow, this is worded like one of my uni essay titles... We'll go with it! I don't know how long this is going to be. I'll try and keep it short(ish) but I seem to be incapable of doing that 97% of the time, so we'll see what happens.

Couple of random notes before I begin to ramble:

I don't study theatre or anything in the creative arts so this is just my thoughts as someone who went to see POTO and was like "oh that's cool!"

This'll mainly be about the current London production because that's the only one I've seen

Waffle time!

I started thinking about this after I saw a clip from a non-replica production of the show (I think it was Romanian but I'm not 100%) from the Wishing/graveyard scene. Now I'm going to be honest and say that I was definitely not a fan of what they did with the staging there, but I'm not going to just go on a ramble about why I didn't like that version, but rather why I like what they do with the Phantom in the current London production (these points should also pretty much apply to the original).

Now, when it comes to terrorising opera houses, expressing yourself in a way that allows you to commandeer a room is probably a great place to start. The Phantom is very good at this! And both the costuming and the way he is placed help a lot.

Costuming

The Phantom knows how to stand out and his immaculate fashion sense is part of the reason for that. There's a general rule within animated media in particular that says that a good character design is one that can be recognised from just their silhouette and I think that this kind of applies to what's going on in POTO as well.

While the Phantom is wearing the standard 3-piece suit most of the time, we tend to see him with his signature fedora and cape as well. This helps put a distinction between him and the other characters on stage because he cuts a unique silhouette to everyone else; he stands out among other people. And because of this he automatically becomes the most prominent person, which allows him to take more control over things. Nobody is going to give you a second glance if you look like everyone else, but turn up with the best hat in the room and everyone is going to look your way! It's a physical distinction that not only represents his separation from society because of his exile, but also creates a difference in the presence he has.

But it doesn't just stop at his standard cape and hat. Just think about Masquerade! Despite being terrorised by a guy in a mask, the opera decide to host a masked ball and even though the room is full of people in unique and extravagant costumes, Mr I-need-to-look-better-than-everyone-else still turns up as the most noticeable person there.

And it's the same principle as before. By making him stand out from everyone else on stage, you know where the attention is supposed to be. As the audience, you are supposed turn your eyes towards the Phantom like all of the characters. He is the one in charge. He is the one talking. He is the one that all eyes should be on. And part of that is shown by the way he is dressed.

Staging/Positioning

On top of his immaculate dress sense, the Phantom also likes lurking in high up spaces. One of the best examples of this is during the Wishing/graveyard scene that I mentioned very briefly at the beginning. While Christine and Raoul are on the stage, the Phantom is up at the top of the mausoleum. Not only is he physically separated from the two of them, he is also above them (and he has an even better hat).

This gives the Phantom an aura of power. The only way that they can look at him is by looking up and it gives the impression that he is the dominant one in this situation, that he has the control (It's over, Raoul! I have the high ground! ...Sorry, I had to).

It's such a simple choice to make, but putting the Phantom above everyone else in a physical sense implies that he is also above them in a metaphorical sense as well. He has the grasp on the situation.

Vulnerable Phantom

And you know what's also interesting? In the two scenes where he is the most vulnerable (when he is maskless), neither of these things are there. He doesn't have the hat or the cape, nor is he above anyone else (in STYDI, he is literally dragging himself across the floor). The Phantom at his most scared and desperate is when he is most like everyone else. It really enforces the fact that he's just human; this is a man who was outcast because of his looks but is really just as scared and heartbroken and lonely as anyone else.

Okay, but what about sad Phantom in a hat?

I'm glad you asked! There is one instance where the Phantom is feeling particularly vulnerable while both wearing his signature outfit and being high up, and that's the AIAOY reprise (in the original production it was an angel, now it's a winged horse, but he's still off the ground).

The biggest difference in comparison to every other moment is that he's by himself. At the point when you see the Phantom here, there is no-one else on stage, so he doesn't have to stand out. He isn't separated from anyone because there is no-one there to be separate from. But really this just proves that a lot of it is an act. Yes, the hat and the cape and the being above everyone else helps enforce this powerful presence, but at the end of the day, he's still human and he's still vulnerable. They themselves do not make a person important. This moment is the crack in the facade, the moment when we see him at his most heartbroken (before final lair of course).

He's just a broken man and someone needs to give him a hug.

Concluding Thoughts

Uuuuhhhhh, how do I round this off? I don't have much else to say so I guess the final thoughts are

POTO is great and I love it

Someone needs to give the Phantom a hug

If you want to be the centre of attention, wear a bit hat and stand on a box

All images other than than Red Death are official images of Jon Robyns (plus Holly Anne Hull) in the London production (link)

The Red Death came off google so I don't actually know who it is :(

#the analysis of the phantom and his hats that no-one asked for #I didn't make it overly long though! #I just think it's interesting #also he has great taste in hats #poto #the phantom #phantom of the opera

[nonhumen]

anonymous : Does Dazai actually hate Chuuya or is he just full of it?

this is not a simple yes or no question. dazai is incapable of understanding his own emotions, especially during his teen years when they were partners. but there are two undisputable facts about dazai and chuuya: 1. chuuya annoys the hell out of him. 2. he developed a personality after meeting him.

dazai was nothing but a suicidal, antisocial child with the inability to make connections was other. he was quiet and hollow and spoke with a voice of boredom at the world around him. even when mori ordered him around he never really fought back, believing that nothing was ever worth the effort. and then chuuya came (literally) barreling into his life with a boisterous personality that dazai couldn't stand. and that would have been that if they hadn't met again.

but they did meet again. better yet, they were forced to work together. and this is the first time we see any sort of emotion out of dazai. he protests against working with him. he sasses chuuya whenever he says anything. he's snarky and sarcastic and diabolically childish. for the first time in his life, he has something worth making the effort for. unfortunately for chuuya, it's annoying the ever living daylights out of him.

i do believe that for most of their partnership, dazai believed that he hated chuuya but it was never anything of the sort. he needed chuuya, he needed what he gave him. he needed that spark of life.

okay, i'm going to go off on a little tangent but i promise that it's the best and most succinct example of how i see their relationship. so i'm gonna talk about chainsaw man for a second (makima is technically on this blog so i'm allowed).

minor manga spoilers ahead but nothing too crazy.

so for context, the trio is travelling together to visit aki's family grave. denji and power are being an absolute menace and aki spends the majority of the trip babysitting them. that night, is reflecting on the events of the day and tells denji this:

now take this day trip and apply it to dazai's entire life. it isn't a bad day that he dreads, it's every day. waking up in the morning is nothing short of depressing. he is constantly drowning, with no will to live and a horribly large tally of attempted suicides under his belt. and chuuya? chuuya is his pest. chuuya keeps him from getting lost in all of that. chuuya makes his burdens a little lighter.

of course, dazai doesn't realize this until it's all gone, until he's run from the mafia and in hiding for those two years. during then, he had nothing but time to get lost in the bad things. there was no buffer, no person to be annoying to distract him from the unending pain of living. dazai told ango that everything worth wanting is lost the moment i obtain it and i truly believe he thinks that because despite his incredibly sharp mind, dazai's own heart is a mystery to him. i don't think he ever realized that chuuya was his friend (or love if you're skk trash like me) until that friend was no longer there.

so no, he doesn't hate chuuya, but it took him their entire partnership to realize that fact.

#ooc. #𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 : KILL AND LOVE ARE THE SAME FOUR LETTER WORD / DAZAI & CHUUYA #do you ever just cry about them for 8 paragraphs #if i see any personals reblogging this i will block on sight #𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 : WAKE ME FROM THIS OXIDIZING WORLD OF A DREAM / CHARACTER STUDY