#I have been too busy to make stupid posts but I’m now up to early 12

[teacupsandcyanide]

the twelfth doctor is such a homewrecker. Love him

#hmp42 #an idiot rewatches doctor who #I have been too busy to make stupid posts but I’m now up to early 12 #my fave doctor

[thewritergremlin-rae]

Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall - Who's the Most Alien of Them All?

Pairing: Loki x Reader Characters: Loki, Thor, Brock Rumlow, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Frigga, Heimdall Rating: T Words: 3229 Content: 2nd person, kidnapping, chloroform, manipulation, soulmate AU, Hydra!SHIELD at work, set during/post Avengers 1 Summary: You'd never thought there was anything strange about your soulmate in the mirror, apart from how handsome he was, but as fate as it - he's trying to invade New York.

Notes: I am an absolute sucker for Soulmate AUs so here we are! I'm thinking of using this same AU for some others (Bucky and Steve) but I'm not sure if it'll be in same universe

In this AU, you see your soulmates face as your own reflection~

Banners by cafekitsune

Something considered normal would rarely be considered wrong. 

So, registering your soulmate’s image via looking in a mirror at 18 and having a photo snapped had never worried you.

Everyone did it.

It was normal.

It was safe. 

It was how most people found their soulmates, and even then some just didn’t.

This early spring day started as every day usually did. You got up and ready for work, took public transport to the office, and logged in at 9 a.m. 

Lunch came and went, spent with the coworkers you got along with best, all venting about the small annoyances of the morning. You all returned to the office and the afternoon crawled by.

Last minute, your boss asked you to finish a report now rather than tomorrow morning and you waved goodbye to your co-workers with a shrug and a put-upon smile. They’d all been in your position at one time or another. No-one found it strange.

The report dragged on for a few hours and you had no idea why it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, but your boss was hardly known for his patience. He at least had the decency to stay behind too. 

You sighed and printed a quick copy before knocking on the door to your boss’s office. 

He called out and told you to come in, taking the report when you handed it over. His eyes barely scanned it before he spoke again; “Hey, I know it’s late, but we have a visitor in the conference room. Go keep them company, will you? It will just take a couple of minutes.” 

You bit back the sigh and the roll of your eyes, knowing both could lose you your job. Stupid, tight ass boss. “No problem, boss,” were the words that came out of your mouth, a false smile before you turned and left - heading to the conference room.

You took the liberty of rolling your eyes hard before you plastered the smile back on and pushed the door open. “Hello.” You stepped into the room and held out your hand as you gave your name. “Mr. Dickson is sorry to keep you waiting, but how can I help you?” 

Not the normal sort of client, if a client he was. Most clients showed up in suits or some sort of business attire, but this man wore a black T-shirt, combats, and a jacket certainly not of the suit kind. 

“Brock Rumlow.” He smirked over at you and you saw the way his eyes gave you a once over. Slowly. Urgh. Double ugh when he continued with; “No problem at all, sweetheart. Don’t suppose you could get me a coffee?”  He nodded over to the machine as he eased back into his seat. 

“Of course, sir,” you answered with a smile.

“Feel free to grab yourself one, too. Your boss sent you in here to keep me company, huh?” 

“Something like that, Mr. Rumlow.” The pot only needed warming before you poured two cups and offered him one, taking a seat opposite the man.

“I hope he doesn’t make you stay this late all the time, I hate it when my boss makes me work overtime.” He snorted and rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. “Do this, do that, clean up some mess, collect an alien’s soulmate, kill that politician, clean up more mess. Not a day’s rest I tell ya.” 

You nodded politely, staring down at your cup as you fully processed his words. Aliens, soulmates… killing politicians? You didn’t know which was the most out there. “I-’m sorry I’m not sure I follow…” 

He only looked more delighted at your confusion and the way your body had stiffened. “Well, you see, sweetheart, there’s this guy, Loki, who showed up outta nowhere and, see, he talks a big game about taking over the Earth and we figured, seeing as you’re his soulmate, that he might rethink those big ideas if we offer you up instead.” Brock shrugged as if this was just casual conversation and didn’t have you frozen in your seat. “’Course, if that doesn’t work, maybe threatening to harm ya will change his tune. But what do I know about aliens? I’m just part of the STRIKE team.” 

Brock smiled, as though he hadn’t just threatened you or spouted what sounded like absolute bullshit. A beat passed as you stared into the cup in your hands, eyes unseeing. “So why don’t we-” 

He growled angrily as you threw the coffee and the cup containing it at him and jolted to your feet, running for the door, pulling it open-

Your short-lived escape attempt ended when another similarly dressed and built man stepped into view. His hands clamped down on your arms and the panic really set in as you protested and tried to escape. “Let me go!” You kicked and thrashed, hoping the noise might cause your boss to call the cops, but that small slice of hope was soon ripped from you. He appeared from his office, face like thunder. 

“You said this would be quick, hurry up before someone hears this racket.” 

Brock huffed from behind you, fingers sliding into your hair and tugging hard to drag your head back. “We coulda done this the nice way, bitch, but that’s off the table.” He pressed a cloth to your mouth, harder than necessary.

The thought of not breathing hadn’t even crossed your mind before the fumes entered your body and you soon slumped into unconsciousness.

You woke already knowing you weren’t at home. Everything felt off and you hadn’t even opened your eyes yet as you laid on what felt like a bed. You took a shallow breath, trying to remember, but everything before falling asleep stayed fuzzy at the edges. 

You had been to work and… right, your boss had made you stay late and there had been coffee and…

Your eyes snapped open but so far it seemed like you were alone. The edge of the bed wasn’t far from the wall and you hesitated before rolling over. Good. No-one there either and this side of the wall had windows.

You shuffled over to them, eyebrows furrowing at their size. Small and curved at the edges. you slid the blind up to be met with the sight of clouds and uninterrupted sky. 

You scrambled to the edge of the bed and the one door that led in and out of the room. “Hey! Hey!” you yelled, banging on the door, fear skittering through you. How long ago had last night been? What time was it now? Where were you now?

“Quit ya banging!” A stern thump that made the door rattle had you stumbling back and falling down to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’re nearly there, no need to get your panties in a twist, bitch.” It sounded like the man you’d met in the office… Brock if you remembered correctly.

He’d certainly changed his tune, but you had thrown coffee at him. Bastard deserved it. 

“Where are we going?!” You had no idea if he would answer, if anyone would. Did it even really matter?

You were to be offered up as some consolation prize to an alien invader in the hopes he might go away. 

You weren’t convinced of the plan; who would change their plans for the mere idea and appearance of their soulmate. You probably wouldn’t if you were in Loki’s position. 

“New York,” came the answer before you heard footsteps leave the door. 

You sank to the bed and flopped back on it, unsure what to do with yourself or for the rest of the flight.

You sat in what had to be some kind of interrogation room, a bit rich considering these guys had kidnapped you. A window made up much of the wall in front of you; the blank expanse of glass left you with nothing to look at but the reflection of your soulmate. It hadn’t changed for several years, but you’d noticed recently his hair had grown longer and it didn’t seem as well kept as before.

The sharp lines of his face had always left you flustered, but now they left you worried at the gaunt paleness that clung to him. What had happened? You couldn’t possibly know, you didn’t even know his name. Well, you hadn’t.

Loki. An alien. An invader. 

You continued to sit silently in the chair, not knowing that an agent and your soulmate’s brother were busy deciding your fate.

“Father will not be pleased. Midgardians are not welcome to our realm and Loki is likely to remain in prison the remainder of her short life.” Thor spoke calmly but firmly. “Besides which, you tell me she is dangerous? A criminal? Why should Asgard take a criminal of Midgard to the golden realm? I do not think our prison is the best place to introduce them.” Thor couldn’t be certain, but he doubted the two would get along from what SHIELD had told him. 

His brother would likely perceive another criminal as a threat or he would keep his guard up. Loki was not one for letting people in so easily. Especially not now. Whether she deserved kindness or not, he doubted Loki would afford her any.

“What if your brother wants to bring her?” 

Thor’s eyes narrowed, giving the agent a sidelong glance. Hardly normal to accept a prisoner’s request… but he did love his brother fiercely - despite his recent tricks. “If,” Thor stressed, “Loki wants to bring her… I may agree,” Thor conceded. But he doubted such a thing would happen. “I will speak with him.” 

Neither you or Thor knew the thin thread by which your fate hung.

The car rumbled through central park, you seated in the back wearing handcuffs and some gag like thing over your mouth that stopped you speaking. You still wore the bright orange scrubs and white shirt as though they’d plucked you from a prison somewhere.

You were free of Rumlow at least, you didn’t even know if the agent driving knew that you hadn’t been picked up from a penitentiary. This new one aligned more with what you imagined an ‘agent’ to be. Black suit, white shirt, sunglasses. Very Men In Black, which, ironic, since you were about to meet two aliens. 

The car came to a stop and you looked out at the people milling around. You only recognised two for sure - one of them being your soulmate. Tony Stark confused you, for a moment, before you recalled his shift into heroism the last few years. 

An equally tall, blond man held your soulmate's arm just above his elbow, so you had to assume this was the brother you’d heard murmurs about. 

Your car door opened and a hand grabbed similarly below your elbow to help you out. Curious eyes turned on you and all you could do was silently, desperately, plead for someone to step in. Someone to take the gag off. You just needed one of them to be curious. 

“Er… I don’t remember any plus ones going out to this little party.” Tony Stark gave the agent at your side a look over the top of his sunglasses, his gaze briefly sliding to you. 

“She’s Loki’s soulmate,” the agent replied, no judgement but not much other emotion in his voice. He turned and marched you towards the pair of aliens. 

“Now, hang on a minute.” A different voice objecting this time and you craned your head behind you to see a blond dressed in a check shirt and a brown jacket. You thought you might have seen his face somewhere before, but you weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders and you couldn’t place him. “She might be a criminal of some kind, but you’re going to send her to another planet?” 

“I’m sorry, Captain, but it seems she may be more dangerous than a Midgardian prison could handle,” Thor answered. “My brother told me he has made many a visit to her on Earth.” Fucking news to you! Your eyes flicked to Loki, brows furrowed, but he didn’t meet your gaze. “I do not think he could have taught her many of the tricks he uses, but SHIELD assures me that they have indeed met before.” 

Now you understood the reason for the gag. Can’t contradict made up bullshit if you can’t speak. You were about to turn a furious gaze on the agent that brought you out of the car when the soft clinking of a chain drew your attention.

Loki curled a chained arm around your waist, grip firm, and tugged your back flush against him. The action forestalled anything you had been about to do or say and you attempted to catch his eye. He ducked his head and you felt the cool press of his own gag to the top of your head. 

The gesture had you stilling in surprise and seemed to only cement the story that Thor had been spun.

You felt eyes on the two of you, studying intently, before Loki’s little stunt seemed to be accepted as proof and preparations began again. You assumed for travel to this Asgard, but how exactly? There weren’t any space ships nearby and you were fairly certain the car you’d arrived in wasn’t about to escape Earth’s atmosphere.

Something with Loki here?

Thor reappeared in your line of sight holding one of two handles of some canister. A blue cube glowed inside, but it didn’t make any more sense than it had a few minutes ago. He caught your eye, his look intense and serious. “Make sure you do not let go or you will be lost to space as Loki was before he came here.” 

You felt like and meaning lay beneath the words, something you were supposed to glean from them, but still struggling to process what had happened the last few days you simply nodded and took hold of the other handle. Loki’s hand settled beside yours, overlapping slightly. Unsure if this stemmed from kindness, or an attempt to be sure you didn’t let go. or something else to drag you further into the fiction and lies that had been created around you... Well, you had no way to protest, anyway.

You hoped nobody would spend too long looking for you. Maybe the local police had already told everyone you were dead, covering up the act that you still couldn’t quite understand. 

You wondered if you would ever see Earth again after this.

Your hand unknowingly reached for Loki’s at your waist, gripping tightly in fear of what was to come and in sorrow that you didn’t know what mess you were leaving behind. 

Silence as Thor turned the handle, anticlimactic, but you felt it as your stomach dropped similarly to when an elevator descends too quickly and you were pulled upwards. The blur of colours was almost too much for your eyes to bear as your vision blurred, but soon enough your feet settled on solid ground once more. 

You desperately blinked back the blurring at the edges of your vision to take in the bright gold that lined the room you had landed in. Or maybe an observatory of some kind.

“Welcome home,” a deep but firm voice greeted, your eyes drawn to a man in gold armour whose eyes glowed just as brightly as the metal. He sheathed the sword into the metal stand in front of him and approached the three of you.

You thought you could see something sad in his gaze as he touched the metal on your face, drawing it easily away from you and returning your ability to speak. “I am sorry you were dragged into this mess, miss.” 

“How did you…?” 

“My name is Heimdall and my duty is to watch over the Nine Realms. While I cannot see all at once, and some have managed to evade my sight in the past,” At this he gave Loki a look before returning his gaze to you - eyes softening once more, “I have kept an eye on your journey these past few days.” 

“Heimdall, of what do you speak?” Thor asked in utter confusion. 

But you found the words and breath to speak first. “They lied to you, I’m not an inmate! I’ve never even gotten a parking ticket!” you protested, courage mounting with every word you got out. “I was just doing my job like always and a couple of thugs came to the office and kidnapped me.” A squeeze at your waist reminded you of Loki’s presence and you pulled out of his grip, turning your annoyance on him. “And we have never met! I’ve only ever seen his reflection.” 

“Loki-” Thor growled at his brother, but received only a simple shrug and a look that lacked all remorse in reply. “Why did you-?”

Warm hands took your wrists and distracted you, your gaze drawn by watching Heimdall break the cuffs on your wrists as easily as if they were made of paper. “My apologies, miss. I had no way of letting anyone on Earth know of the misconception.” He didn’t smile, per se, but he seemed genuine and his greeting kind. 

He took a step back and you breathed with relief to finally be free of all your chains. “At least someone knows what’s going on.” Though Loki had to have known too, so why had he lied to Thor and SHIELD? “How exactly am I supposed to get home?” you asked, looking between the two brothers as if scolding children. 

“Heimdall is to use the Tesseract to restore the Bifrost and once it’s fixed, he will be able to send you home. If I can, I will return with you and explain the situation to the Avengers - they’ll be sure to help,” Thor rushed to assure you.

To be fair, they had tried, but Thor had been so convinced by SHIELD… Well, he just seemed to have gotten all mixed up in all of this so you nodded. “So, I’ll just have to wait until the bridge is fixed?” 

Thor smiled brightly this time, like the sun bursting through on a cloudy day. “Yes, just until it is fixed. I’m sure Mother will be happy to provide hospitality.” 

“I see my son is already volunteering me.” Her voice sounded light and happy despite the situation, drifting over from some as yet unseen doorway off to the side. 

“Your Majesty.” Heimdall bowed to her and you quickly followed suit - you didn’t want to end up in the dungeons for however long it would take to fix the Bifrost. 

You straightened up to find her gentle smile turned your way, her beauty and motherly face stealing your breath. “I’m glad to finally meet you, though you are such a familiar sight that I feel as though I know you already.” Her arm settled softly around your shoulders and she started to steer you along the beautiful bridge you stood on. 

Loki huffed behind you and you wondered if he might be embarrassed? No, probably not.

“I’m sorry you were brought here under such circumstances, but welcome to Asgard.” Weird space travel and spy stories coming to life aside, maybe spending some time in the golden city laid out before you wouldn’t be so bad. 

#loki laufesyon x reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki layfeyson imagine #soulmate au #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson imagine

[muniimyg]

22 | maybe

series m.list

note: hi 🥹 it’s been a while :o how are you guys? sorry this update took so long 🤡 i was on vacation and jus got home yesterday... trying to catch up with my personal life and resetting my room in time for school has been tiring! but ,, i’m back and will be updating again soon <3 here is the promised fluff and “angst” if you’re a CRYBABY ��� thank u for being so patient and wishing me a nice break ✨ i can’t wait for more of this story to unfold because as you know… we are near the end 🫣💓 ps: this ch is unedited 😤 i jus wanted to post it nd get it OUT so we can carry on gawd daYuMmm..

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “your universe” // please DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

taglist: @yukiehyukie @tarahardcore @bbsantc @jeonqkooks-main @whoa-jo @ellesalazar @exhibitachol @pamzn @floweryjeons @boraength @4ksj @joonsjuice @taegijns @avtrns @taegix94 @bloopkook @jihopesjoint @firesighgirl @vantxx95 @damn-u-min-yoongi @yoongukie-ff @hopeworldjimin @thisisaburnphone @pb-n-juju @xjiminsthighsx @miss-rainy-days @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase​ @whitefoxgirl​ @slutforheeseung​

No one ever talks about how difficult it is to unlearn feelings of rejection. 

To begin with, the entire concept is so ridiculous! it practically comes off as insincere, stupid, and careless. Yet, it’s so rare to experience. Usually, rejection is rejection. No means no. So how could it be shocking for you to be struggling right now? From being someone who was so familiar with rejection to now struggling to accept the love you deserve; it’s hard.

But Yoongi makes it easy. 

Ever since the talk between you two, he has shown over and over again that he heard you, he respects you, and most importantly he understands you. Every day, every handhold and tight hug was a step closer to loving again. Obviously easier said than done, you’re thankful that the time between you two makes things better. 

Time with him. 

With Yoongi, time seems to heal.

While you’re grateful for the effort and complete change in atmosphere between you and Yoongi, you know deep down that his actions would have meant nothing if he wasn’t constantly in motion investing his time with you. Texting you, calling when he can, showing up early, and leaving late… They all play such a huge part in convincing you that he cares. He’s here now and he’ll want you for as long as you’ll have him. 

To have him the way you do now… Well, it simply doesn’t feel real.

Every minute spent with him, every smile he dedicates to you, and every laugh shared in between—it creates a stronger bond between you two. As of now, time spent with Yoongi has evolved to be routine and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Tuesday is your busiest and earliest day. 

It begins with an early 7:30AM class and a schedule packed with the class until 5:30PM, then you attend practicum and club meetings that run as late as 9:45PM. Apart from that, it’s also your laundry day and usually the time your favourite shows release new episodes.

It’s always just been like this. 

Yoongi, for some reason, has recently taken it upon himself to be a part of your busy Tuesdays. He knows how easily grumpy you become when you feel overwhelmed. You aren’t too sure exactly why, when, or how he began to show up outside of your 7:30AM lecture building with a cup of freshly brewed coffee; he just did. 

How could you complain? 

Even if his place is right in front of your lecture, waking up to meet with you for a few minutes is such an inconvenience and a waste of good sleep. The fact that he makes an effort to get up, brew you coffee, and sleepily meet with you… It makes your heart glow. 

It’s safe to say that the coffee he brings you does more than wake you up. It wakes your feelings up and serves as a constant reminder of his care. Sleepily, he would hold the cup of coffee above your head and pucker up his lips. Cheekily and sleepily, Yoongi is always ready to tease you. 

It’s funny because his eyes would be closed half of the time. Regardless, you would lean in and let his soft lips kiss your puffy morning cheeks. After he gives you a kiss and your coffee, he’ll hold the door open for you to head in. Waving him goodbye, Yoongi continues with his day and looks forward to catching up with you later. 

However, this Tuesday is different. 

Tuesday Morning Lecture: Class Cancellation. 

Good morning students! This email was meant to be sent last night but unfortunately was scheduled inaccurately. My apologies!

Notes will be provided for the module and extra time will be set aside next week for review and questions. 

Best regards!

You squeal. 

Your classes never get canceled! You also slept later than usual last night so this is truly a blessing. Pulling your covers above your head, you drift back to sleep and completely forget to text Yoongi about the change of plans.

As you continue sleeping, Yoongi drags himself out of bed. 

He gets himself ready and brews your coffee. Then, he heads out the door and stands outside in the cold spring air waiting for you. He waits.

And waits.

And waits even more. 

Yoongi waits until you’re officially late.

Yoongi waits until you don’t show up. 

A few days ago, you two talked about your feelings regarding his efforts. Everything since that talk has been going great! You two were communicating better and are even a little closer than before. Therefore, it confuses Yoongi as to why you aren’t here right now with no notice. He goes back home and sets your coffee on his kitchen counter. Taking out his phone, he doesn’t even bother to text you. 

He calls you right away.

Half awake, you pick up. 

“H-hello?”

Yoongi feels relieved you answered but can’t help but feel protective and entitled to your whereabouts. “Are you sick?”

“... W-what?”

“Are you mad at me?” Yoongi paces back and forth, feeling a little nervous. He runs back to his last few encounters with you and struggles to pinpoint where he could have fucked up. 

“Huh?”

“Are you avoiding me?”

Once you register it’s Yoongi’s voice and the worrisome tone attached to his words, you force yourself to sit up from your bed. Checking the time, you gasp as you connect the dots. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, aki… I fell asleep after I read my class cancelation notice and forgot to text you.”

Yoongi sighs.

“Okay.”

You groan. “Aki…”

“Mhmm?”

“I’m really sorry… I should’ve remembered. I was just so tired and it slipped my mind.” Feeling guilty, you can’t help but feel upset with yourself. Yoongi didn’t deserve this!

“Okay.”

“Don’t be mad,” you beg him. “Please..”

“I’m not mad. Who said I’m mad?” Yoongi huffs. His words are sharp and his tone feels so superficial. It’s like he’s just saying things for the sake of saying them and not because it’s what he truly feels.

In all honesty, he’s not mad.

Why should he be? He feels a little disappointed but that’s it. It’s just an innocent misunderstanding and it would be unfair to you if he blamed it all on you. It’s not that deep…

You sigh, taking his word for it. “I have the morning off.. Do you want to study?”

He bites his tongue. 

He doesn’t want to study. He wants to spend time with you for no reason even if you practically just stood him up. 

“I don’t want to study.” 

“That’s fair. Oh, wait! Never mind, don’t you have class in an hour or so? Just rest up until then. I’ll call you again when I’m more awake… Sorry, aki.”

Yoongi nods out of habit. 

He can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Seeing you all sleepy and cold, needy for his coffee and hugs… Well, it was something he looked forward to every morning. Despite all these arising feelings, he manages to mumble, “you better,” as a response. You laugh sweetly and thank him. 

“Have a good day, aki.” You sing sweetly.

“Ace?”

“Mhmm?”

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat form. He swallows it away and shyly reaches for reassurance. 

“Call me later?”

“I will, silly. Goodnight,” you promise. “Sorry again.”

“It’s okay,” he tells you. “... And good morning, ace. I miss you.”

“Good morning, aki,” you yawn before ending the call. “I miss you too.”

Yoongi bumps into you on his way out of his 2PM lecture. 

You’re laughing alongside some of the swimmers that tried to bid on you. He glares at the sight of them crowding over you and the way that Jungkook is standing on the sideline, shoving his face with a bag of cotton candy.

He approaches Jungkook first. 

“What the fuck is that?” Yoongi growls. 

With a mouth full of blue cotton candy, Jungkook smiles. “Swimmers gave me cotton candy for bringing ___ to our practice today.”

Yoongi hisses at Jungkook. “Thanks for trading our friendship for cotton candy.”

It’s not like he saw this coming. Jungkook is an easy guy to win over. Loyalty isn’t his strongest forum…

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“As if she’d ever get over you. You can’t possibly be this insecure! Actually, I take that back. Let me see your abs right now so I can accurately measure how insecure you should be—”

Then, Jungkook reaches for the hem of Yoongi’s crewneck and tries to lift it up. Yoongi shoves the blue sugar-stained hands away and glares at Jungkook angrier than ever. Yoongi’s darting eyes make Jungkook feel uneasy. 

It totally ruins his happy vibe. 

“Geez… What crawled up your ass today?” Jungkook asks, disliking Yoongi’s attitude.

Yoongi has always been grumpy and shy but he has never been so moody and lost. It’s like he’s a puppy that just got kicked.. Jungkook feels bad for him.

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and ignores his friend’s question. He watches you nod politely at the swimmers. You look so pretty today. He should’ve seen you first—not them. 

“She has class until 5:30PM on Tuesdays.. What’s she doing here with you?”

“A few of the education department profs have a conference a few cities away. Her entire Tuesday and Wednesday classes are empty this week! Except for her 7:30AM one today but apparently that got canceled. Didn’t she tell you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi rather dumbfounded. “Stop looking at me like you want to kill me.. I’m not the one that’s flirting with your girlfriend—”

“I’ll kill you, you little brat—”

“Yoongi!” 

Your voice calling his name makes him gulp. He turns and sees you breaking through the crowd of swimmers and practically running to him. You giggle as you crash into him and greet him with a hug. 

He wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight. Yoongi wishes for this moment to last forever.

When you pull away, you smile at him brightly. “I was about to surprise and meet you at  your lecture but I bumped into Jungkook and he asked me to watch his practice—”

“Your classes are canceled until Wednesday?”

“Oh? Yeah. I mentioned it a few days ago,” you tell him. “... I think?”

“You think?”

“I let Jungkook know!” you defend, knowing he’ll be a little upset. Honestly, these past few days have been so hectic… It’s not surprising that this slipped your mind too. 

Yoongi pouts. “But you didn’t let me know.”

Your heart aches. You feel so bad.

“I’m sorry,” you hold his hand and squeeze them. “I should have left his practice earlier to catch up with you. I promised a friend a late lunch today so I’m going to meet up with her now.. I was just on my way. I’ll call you later though.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

With that, Yoongi feels empty when you let go of his hand and wave goodbye. You walk in the opposite direction and soon enough, he’s left alone with Jungkook.

“___ looks pretty today,” Jungkook comments.

“I know,” Yoongi groans. He turns to see the other swimmers watching you walk away as well. He instantly feels annoyed. “I fucking hate this.”

Later that night, you forget to call. 

The day just went by so fast and by the time you get home, you knock out. It’s a little funny since you spent the morning sleeping in and now you’re asleep before 9PM. 

Yoongi stays awake until 2:30AM waiting for your call. 

He falls asleep feeling more and more anxious and annoyed.. It doesn’t last long though because he remembers how pretty you were as you ran to him this afternoon. How brightly you smiled and how tight you hugged him. It’s okay if you break a few promises… As long as were his… Everything should be okay.

And then it hits him. 

You aren’t his yet.

The next day, you wake up to a bunch of texts from Yoongi. All updating you about his day and random thoughts that had popped up. You find it touching how he’s truly trying to be more communicative and feel like a complete asshole for falling short since yesterday. 

Today, you hope to do better.

Today, you will do better. 

You begin today with calling him. He answers after the third ring. 

“Yoongi…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “You forgot to call. You’re sorry. It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

You sigh and take a deep breath. “I liked your texts… They were really cute. Thanks for sending them.”

Yoongi can’t help but half-smile. He’s getting dressed for the day and your call surely made him feel relief from his overwhelming thoughts last night. 

“It’s whatever. You never replied by the way…”

“I’m on a call with you right now,” you snicker, finding his sulking attitude to be quite cute. “Wow, I never knew you were this needy! To think you come off as a bad boy? Crazy…”

Your realization hits you hard. He’s always been a softie deep down, of course, you knew that… But this… This is a whole other level. 

However, he ignores your comment and decides to prioritize his pride. Yes, he was needy and clingy when it comes to you… But if you already know, there’s no need to re-establish it. 

“I know you’re probably busy today too so I’ll let you go… And I only updated you because I know you’d like it.”

“Awh,” you whine at his goodbye. “Don’t go. Don’t sulk. Don’t act like you don’t miss me.”

“I do miss you,” he confesses. 

Your heart skips a beat.

“Where are you right now?” you ask him, recalling on your own that he should be free today. 

“Home.. But I’m probably going to head to the gym. Jungkook’s been commenting on my abs lately and now I’m starting to be a little self-conscious.” A forced laugh escapes Yoongi’s lips. “Anyways, bye. Have a good day. Don’t call me… Maybe you’ll remember to do things you’re not supposed to do.” 

In response, you gasp. “Stop it! Stay home. I’m coming over.”

“Why?”

“I miss you, duh.”

This time, Yoongi’s heart skips a beat. 

“That so?”

“Yes, it is so. Don’t leave, okay? I’m coming over,” you practically nag. “… And fuck Jungkook.”

“No thanks.”

“Oh, it’s you... What do you want?” he crosses his arms and leans against his door. Downplaying his excitement is the best solution he’s found for this interaction. His greeting is his way of masking his pain.

He feels like he hasn’t seen you in forever when the truth is; it’s only been a day or two. 

You roll your eyes and push past him, carrying a bag of groceries and your books. You set them on his kitchen island and begin to unpack. 

“I brought over some of my lesson plan prep for next week. I think my kids will love our upcoming themes! Like, my partner and I planned a Disney theme at first but she suggested we do something like—”

Your words are cut off by Yoongi resting his chin on your shoulders and wrapping his arms around you. Hugging you from behind, he takes in the scent of your just-washed hair and nuzzles into your neck. 

“Missed you.”

You like the way his body feels against yours. Heavy and comforting, you feel so safe and happy to be with him. You let him hold you and stay silent for a moment. 

“Are you upset with me? I really didn’t mean to be such a lousy friend—”

“Girlfriend.”

“What?” you laugh as he breaks away from you. 

He nods, holding your hands together and kissing them. With puppy eyes, he begs. “You need to make it up to me. Do you know how much sleep I’ve lost because of you? How sick to my stomach I’ve been without you? How neglected I’ve been feeling? Ugh, this is the least you can do.”

Yoongi never fails to amuse you. You lean back, playing along to his mood. “Oh my! How could I do such a thing to this sweet angel kitty face,” you tease, reaching for his cheeks and squishing them together. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Let me be your boyfriend,” he says through pucker lips. Your eyes widen and he takes your surprised reaction as a good sign. In a way, you look excited. It’s like he can feel your heart beating fast. 

Before he continues, he gives you a minute to compose yourself. Yoongi then tilts his head at you and pouts. “___, I’m asking and confessing to you for the second time. This is it. I want to be yours. I want to miscommunicate, get upset, makeup, and be happy with you.” 

Yoongi feels like every part of him is on fire. He’s so nervous and yet so foolishly confident. Time away from you made things so clear. He can’t do it! He can’t be away from you. He needs you. He wants you. He likes you so much… What else could he do but ask for you to his? 

“Maybe.”

His mouth drops. “Maybe?”

“It’s not a no,” you laugh, pushing away from him and continuing to unpack as if he didn’t just cash in his second try. As if… As if he didn’t just put his heart out on the line again. 

“It’s not exactly a yes either,” he counterpoints, shifting to face you. “___, be serious. What’s your answer?”

You look at him lovingly, knowing damn well that the answer isn’t what he wants to hear right now. You want to say yes. You want to give in so badly and just be happy together… But a part of you feels like it’s too early and too easy. Yoongi’s rejections made you go through so much and even if this isn’t about revenge—it’s a good lesson and journey to go through. 

At the end of the day, Min Yoongi has always been dreamy. 

To have him the way you do now… It’s a dream you don’t want to wake up from. So, you stay sleepy. 

You press snooze.

#yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #bts suga fic #bts fic #bts smau #yoongi smua #yoongi scenario #yoongi x yn

[veryinnovative]

how would et james react to reg bringing someone home for the first time (like in the first couple months that he is living w him as clem)

I HAVE THIS WRITTEN OUT BUT IT'S SUPER ROUGH </3 also 98% dialogue bc i build fanfics around dialogue since that acts as the spine. i usually don't post shit early but im so far behind on tt that it might take a while for alien au to take up the spotlight again, especially with how January is gonna be a SUPER busy month with my exam week coming up

“You’re kidding me,” the stranger rumbles. “Don’t tell me he’s gonna be watching us.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m being ridiculous? He’s been staring at us the entire time! You’re not listening.” “What’s it with everyone and my cat? Maybe you just have to know how to behave around him,” Regulus mutters, taking off his shirt. James wants to scream because he’s undressing in front of a stranger, which he has learned is something exclusive to very close friends or intimate partners, but he’s trapped in cat form. Then, Regulus points towards the door. “Clem, out.” James meows, backing into the corner. “Come on, darling. You can’t be in here, I can’t traumatize your poor eyes like that.” “Did it just shake his fucking head, what the fuck?” the stranger almost yells. “Clem is a very smart cat.” “No fucking cat shakes its head!” “Clem, come now. Be a good boy. I’m trying to enjoy myself tonight.” James doesn’t know what that means but the implications and the stranger taking off their shirt are making him very determined to stay. 

But pretty much james hates their fucking guts. stares them down. fucking panics when they walk into regulus' bedroom and its just him almost reverting to original form and killing the dude. reg carries him out of the bedroom and in his anxiety, james accidentally scratches him, which lands him in timeout. he knows he upset reg and tries be good and sit in the corner in the hallway but absolutely loses it when he smells a strong scent of reg and the nightstand getting serious and starts clawing onto the door and crying. the dude is absolutely fucking fed up and is like 'if you let that stupid cat interrupt us one more time im fucking leaving' and reg is equally fed up and p much kicks them out of his house before tending 2 james

Regulus sighs, hair disheveled, and drops to his knees. “What’s wrong, Clem?” James makes sounds closest to that of a cat crying while pawing onto Regulus’ leg until he picks him up. Regulus makes a face but remains crouched on the ground. “You were supposed to be on time-out.” James noses the small, thin scratch on Regulus’ arm and licks it, apologetic “So you’re sorry is what you’re trying to say?” “Meow.” Regulus sighs and finally, finally takes James into his arms. Instantly, he lets out engine purrs of content, butting his head against Regulus’ jaw. Downstairs, the front door slams shut. Good riddance, James thinks. “Don’t worry, you helped me out there. He really sucked at oral, and not even in a good way.” James blinks, confused, and gives the sideways cock of his head. Regulus drops himself onto the bed, which smells too strongly of the stranger, but James tries and not focus on this too much. Instead, he buries himself in the crook of Regulus’ body, chasing after the spots where his scent is strongest, wants to live in the curve of his neck “I wish I was a cat. Life seems so easier.” Reg murmurs James agrees with this. If Regulus was a cat they’d have a nice cat life. They’d cuddle up in an Amazon box and James would groom him until he was [man idk insert more cat couple shit Or. Or, James could turn into a human.

#answered #fic / e.t. #<3

[charlywrites]

Requested by anon

Request; Can you write something where you and lando is fighting over something stupid but make up in the end and cuddle

Warnings; a few swear words, an argument, also this is more of a blurb, hope it’s still fine! <3

Note; I feel like I’m posting a bit too much, if that’s the case, I’m sorry!

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

It had been a long Sunday for your boyfriend, you were aware of that, especially after the Grand Prix where he finished in the seventh position- after the positive results on Friday and Saturday, you knew he had hoped for more, that he believed he could get on the podium.

When Lando got out of his car after the race, you could tell he was upset but didn’t really thought much of it and went to greet him with a hug, telling him how proud you were of him- it wasn’t the result he was hoping for but still had brought back points.

However, when Lando disagreed, saying that his race had been bad once again and got out off your embrace before you could even fully wrap your arms around him, you were taken aback to say the least.

You weren’t used to this kind of reaction, of course it wasn’t the first time he was disappointed after a race but usually, at least up until now, he would melt in your arms and would instantly feel better.

For the rest of the day, you tried your best to make your boyfriend feel better, to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work out as he kept dismissing you until you finally gave up as you headed back to the hotel.

You had grown tired of trying to help his mood when he clearly didn’t want anyone to help- it was worth wasting your energy over. For the rest of the evening, you minded your own business, you did your night routine earlier and went straight to bed without warning Lando.

It was to your biggest surprise that not even twenty minutes later, you felt Lando joining you in bed- you weren’t sleeping yet, it was still to early for you, and you being mad at him wasn’t helping neither.

When you felt his arms wrapping around you, you didn’t wait to push his arms away as you huffed, he had no shame to act as if he hadn’t been an asshole the whole afternoon and evening.

Lando had forgotten that two could play this game, and it was now your turn to be petty- and to be fair, you had every rights to be after his behavior throughout the whole day, you had cut him some slack, knowing it was hard for him to not get the result he had hoped for but you had done nothing to be treated that way.

You didn’t say a word, waiting to see or hear your boyfriend’s reaction who came almost right away, “ what the fuck?”

“ What? Maybe I’m not in the mood to be hugged by you.”

“ Why? You always love to fall asleep in my arms.”

You scoffed and finally turned on your other side to be face to face with Lando, “ maybe not tonight after being an ass to me today.”

“ You knew I was mad and it wasn’t directed at you! Oh my god, stop exaggerating things.”

“ Oh, I’m exaggerating now? I spent my whole afternoon trying to cheer you up and you kept pushing me away, so fuck you!”

“ I didn’t push you away, you were just too suffocating!”

Those words were harsh and definitely hurt your feelings, and when you remained silent instead of biting back at your boyfriend, he realized the weight of his words, “ fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“ Yet, that’s what you said.”

“ I know, babe I didn’t want to say that, what I meant was that I needed to be left alone after the race but you were there trying to cheer me up instead.”

“ You could’ve just said that to me and I’d have given you space.”

“ I’m so sorry, I know I fucked up,” he said as his hand gently reached for your face, caressing your cheek he added, “ please, forgive me?”

“ You’re lucky I’m even letting you sleep in the bed.”

“ I know.”

You sighed, not fond of the idea of already forgiving him but you could never stay mad at him, “ I forgive you but next time, just tell me you need to be left alone, okay?”

“ I will, I promise. Can I have you in my arms, now?”

“ I think you’re the one who like to sleep with me in your arms, actually.”

You could feel Lando shrugs, he probably had a sheepishly smile on his face now, “ maybe you’re right, I love to cuddle with you.”

It was enough to convince you to cuddle with your boyfriend as you rolled directly in his arms, nuzzling yourself against him, you smiled when you felt Lando pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #x reader #mclaren #request

[anonymouspuzzler]

god help me i'm Writing

i did a little prose one-shot with Buck and Davey just to test out how it felt, and my buddies talked me into puttin 'er up, so now You All Must Read It Too. art at the bottom too if you make it through!

content warnings for: "Buck is basically about to have a panic attack the whole time" and "brief, not especially graphic description of that time Davey lost an arm", "maybe some secondhand embarrassment because Buck can't pick up a hint if his life depends on it", and "Like Exactly One Sex Joke". Okay Enjoy Or Don't

A bit of a crash after a job was standard. You know, the adrenaline wearing off, replaced by aches and exhaustion. The contrast of going from a dramatic heist or a bombastic fight, to mundanely washing up and scraping together dinner and such. The early stirrings of inevitable cabin fever, lying low for however long it took for things to blow over and the heroes to move on to newer, shinier threats. That ever-present, anxious itch at the back of his skull - the one certain that one day, his luck would run out, and he’d be tracked back here by someone who knew he wasn’t quite unkillable - growing just a bit louder in the aftermath of drawing so much attention to himself. Yeah, all that was normal; something he’d come to expect.

He was not currently experiencing that. No, the cold crawl in his gut as he looked around the empty hideout was decidedly not the usual post-job, I’m-gonna-be-cooped-up-a-while anxiety. This was new, and he knew exactly the cause.

Davey still hadn’t come downstairs.

No-- no, Dynamo. Dynamo hadn’t come downstairs. He kept letting himself slip like this, into that casual, dangerous familiarity. He absolutely could not keep doing that. He’d already gotten too close, crossed the unspoken boundary that kept them both safe in their line of work. It was exactly what’d gotten him into this mess in the first place.

For a few beautiful moments right after the heist, running on pure adrenaline and the high of victory, it had been like none of those concerns existed. Just him and Davey-- Dynamo; him and Dynamo-- and a giant, freshly-swiped stash of unstable compounds in the backseat. A job neither of them could have pulled off alone, and that had gone off with nary a hitch together. The strung-out, victorious cackles from them both, grinning wide, hands gripping each other’s shoulders, heaving breaths passed between each other so closely, he could still feel it in his lungs if he concentrated on the memory.

(So close to each other, that he could’ve lurched forward and kissed him like it was nothing. It took all his willpower not to do so, and that was one of many, many things here that terrified him; that his willpower could be so easily tested by what should have been the easiest, most obvious boundary.)

Of course, that moment couldn’t have lasted. Of course. It couldn’t have just from the baseline, but especially not when they had to deal with handing over the material to Practis. (Practis, stupid fuckin’ Practis, if he hadn’t owed them the favor he would never have gone to deal with ‘em.)

Davey-- Dynamo wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite. All it’d taken was one well-placed question from Practis while Buck had been busy unloading the goods, and all the dots connected from there.

“O-positive?”

“...excuse me?”

“Your blood type. It’s O-positive. Am I right?”

He’d cut in before they could talk any further, of course, hustling Davey-- Dynamo into the car and bidding Practis a curt farewell, but it was too late. Dynamo was silent as they drove off, tightly-drawn lips betraying that he was deep in thought, even with his eyes hidden behind his goggles.

Buck’s mouth had been dry. Barely able to glance at him out of the corner of his eyes, heart pounding as he wondered whether he ought to make small talk just to distract from the elephant in the room.

He didn’t get a chance. Davey spoke up first.

“You went to them for help when I lost my arm.”

It wasn’t a question. Buck couldn’t tell if the tone was meant to be just observational, or perhaps accusatory. “...maybe,” he answered regardless, cringing the second it was out of his mouth. Repulsed by his own noncommittal cowardice.

Davey would have been entirely within his rights to cuss Buck out for the breach of trust; for hiding that from him all this time, leaving him in Practis’ debt without even realizing. He stared down at his lap instead, silent for a long moment. “...this job was the payment for that,” he added, another not-question. Nothing for Buck to answer; to clarify. “You had to do all this because of me.”

“Not because of you,” he retorted, only mostly lying. “It’s, just… you know. And, you ended up helping me get this stuff for ‘em in the end. So, like. You’ve more than returned the favor, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not, actually.”

“Oh.” Shit. His grip tightened on the steering wheel; his eyes honed in on a suddenly-very-interesting stretch of empty road on the horizon. Great job convincing the guy he owed you a favor, Buck. (Why do you care? Why care what he thinks? Why do you need his approval so badly?)

“...why the hell’d you go through with it, Buck?”

Shit. The million-dollar question. The one he kept circling around himself, trying desperately not to confront the obvious answer. (His name, his real name on his lips, again casting aside the safety of Dynamo and Bulkhead.) He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, seeing his gaze averted, gloved hand just barely tracing the edge where his newly-minted battle prosthetic attached to the stump of his right arm.

He needed an answer. (Deserved one.)

“...well, you would’ve done the same for me.”

The truth of it lingered in the space between his words, and he was terrified Davey would catch on. Because yes, Davey would have done the same for him, but because, Buck suspected, he would do the same for anyone - far, far too kind; too adverse to death for someone in his line of work. But Buck - Buck would not do the same for anyone. For Dynamo-- for Davey, only for Davey-- he would. He would, he had, he would again.

(Because Davey was whip-smart and funny and kind and beautiful and he was all those things to him, of all people. And god help him, he was a sad, grouchy, lonely old man and apparently someone treating him like a regular-ass person, like someone to chat and banter and plot with, was all it took for him to start falling head over fuckin’ heels.)

The rest of the drive back was silent, and in some deep, horrible, cold part of Buck’s gut, he was certain Davey had heard the words between his words.

And now here they were. They’d pulled the car into the hideout, Davey had mumbled out something about doing a bit of cleanup in the workshop before turning in, Buck had nodded and mumbled something about washing up so the shower’d be free when he came downstairs, and now here he was discovering Davey still hadn’t come down. (Avoiding him. Had to be, right? He wouldn’t blame him. Hell, maybe he’d grabbed his stuff while Buck was in the bathroom and ran out for good.)

He managed about five minutes of awkwardly milling about the hideout, valiantly trying to convince himself he’d flip channels on the TV or get out something for dinner, before finally succumbing to morbid curiosity and slipping upstairs to see if Davey was still working in the shop. (Making up excuses, trying not to acknowledge the inevitable. Maybe he was just engrossed in some task or another. Maybe he needed help with cleaning up and hadn’t thought to bug him about it. Maybe he sat down for a minute and fell asleep in the backseat of the car. Anything that wasn’t “running off without a word because Buck got way too close to him for people in their line of work”.)

He wasn’t there when Buck got upstairs, and for a moment his heart sank into his stomach, but then he noticed the golden sunset-light filtering in around the corner - the garage door was open. Davey was just in the entryway, just out of sight, Buck rationalized. (He left the door open when he ran off, the more realistic part of him countered. All contradictions in his head right now, both desperately trying to protect his fragile heart and steeling himself for the inevitable reality of the heartbreak.)

He rounded the corner.

Davey was there.

He was there (he was there, he really didn’t run off), back to him, not yet noticing Buck had walked in. Watching the sunset, it looked like, orange-and-gold light spilling across his sharp shoulders and thick curls. He’d removed most of his work gear - the massive prosthetic, the helmet, the goggles, the gloves - leaving him slim and exposed compared to the imposing figure he cut on the job. (Exposed both metaphorically - though Buck knew better, anyone else would see him like this and think he was fairly vulnerable to attack without all his gadgets and armor - and literally, overalls hanging loosely by a single strap in a way that made Buck fight not to ogle.)

It was a quieter, softer moment than Buck expected to find. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to slip quietly back where he came, leaving Davey to his private contemplation. But, at the same time, he had already trespassed, and it felt wrong to keep that fact to himself, too - reluctant, he cleared his throat, trying to hit that careful, contradictory midpoint of gentle yet forceful; enough to alert to his presence without making it seem as if he was demanding Davey’s attention.

(Dynamo. Dynamo. Dynamo. He was slipping, he kept slipping, and it was getting more and more dangerous every time. Harder and harder to pull back.)

Davey-- Dynamo turned, sharp, eyes wide, hair bouncing in its ponytail with the force. (God, he was beautiful. Objectively. Purely objectively. Big eyes, thick lashes, the way he worried at his thin lips with his gap-teeth.) At a loss of what else to do, Buck forced a grin and waved; Dynamo responded in turn. (Warmth in his eyes, but tightness in his smile. The heavy, anxious feeling from the drive returned to Buck’s gut in earnest.)

“Hey,” Dynamo started, tone light. (Yet forced; Buck knew how he spoke well enough at this point to tell - and god, god, what a sign of the danger he’d put them both in, knowing him well enough to recognize that subtle tell.) “Sorry, I didn’t realize that, uh, y’know-- time-- I-I’m just watching the sunset.”

“Cool,” Buck replied, feeling somehow even more socially inept than normal. “Cool. I can, uh--” He gestured behind him, back to the door; trying desperately to communicate he’d leave Dynamo to his privacy if need be. (To reflect, to escape, whatever. Maybe both. Maybe reflecting on how much he clearly needed to get the hell outta there.)

“No!” His voice cracked with the suddenness of the exclamation, sending Buck’s brows skyward - that he’d never heard before. Davey-- Dynamo seemed embarrassed by the outburst on his part, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck, gaze averted. “I mean-- nah, you don’t have to, you can, uh--” And he trailed off, gesturing dumbly to the empty space beside him, an unspoken invitation.

An invitation Buck, by all accounts, should have refused without hesitation.

…he didn’t, of course. Fuck, of course he didn’t. No, instead he shuffled awkwardly up to the empty space beside him, hands in his pockets, balled tight into fists. (He had the good sense to at least leave a polite gap between them, of course. Room for the Holy Spirit, he quipped to himself, trying desperately to lighten the mood in his own mind. He conjured an image of a cartoonish high school dance chaperone, screeching and shoving balloons between dancers’ bodies to force the distance. The thought only cheered him a minute before detouring into grim memories of his own high school dances, spent watching awkwardly from the sidelines, mooning over handsome young men who barely even knew his name. Multiple decades on and he still wasn’t too different from that pathetic kid. Fuck.)

Get back on track. Hands in his pockets, staring out at the (actually quite beautiful, damn) sunset, Dynamo beside him at a polite distance, doing the same. A variation on their side-by-side silence in the car before, but now with barriers removed - their expression-obscuring goggles, Buck’s imposing jacket, Dynamo’s massive prosthetic. Two men off the clock, without their armor, without defenses. (And he hated it, he hated how easy it was, how those walls just came down around Davey without him even thinking about it. This was rule fucking one of the villain lifestyle, not putting yourself in positions where you’re vulnerable around others. You never knew who might be just desperate enough to sell you out.)

(...Even if he was increasingly certain, in some part of his anxious mind, that Davey would never dream of doing so.)

“...You wouldn’t happen to have any cigarettes, would you?” Dynamo suddenly asked, finally breaking the silence. The question came so out of left field Buck couldn’t help but turn his head to stare, finding Dynamo’s gaze locked on the scenery ahead, left hand fidgeting subtly with the outer lining of his pocket.

It took a second for Buck to even process the actual, y’know, words of the question. “...no, I don’t,” he finally replied. (Even if he wanted to smoke, frankly - which he didn’t - his chronic asthma decidedly wouldn’t appreciate it, and asthma attacks were one of those little things his super-durability didn’t prevent. It chilled him how he had to actively stop himself from freely sharing that sensitive, this-could-actually-kill-me information with Davey.) “...you smoke?”

“No, I quit years ago.” A quick, practiced reply. Automatic, in many ways.

“...then why did you--”

“I don’t know.” A quick, barked laugh, no humor behind it. “Just get the craving when I’m nervous, I guess.”

The easy honesty of his words stuck in Buck’s throat, choking down any response he might have been planning. (Too honest, too honest. Was he like this with everyone? Or… did he dare imagine this kind of trust was only for him?) He should have dropped it, he needed to drop it for both their sakes, but unfortunately, his brain was still reeling and he instead responded with a quiet, “You’re nervous?”

A pause. Too far. Davey’s-- Dynamo’s expression was tight. “Maybe,” he replied, quiet. Honest. Too, too honest, fuck.

Buck’s gut twisted and flipped, instinct of shut this down shut this down you’re in danger fighting heartily with a desperate, primal need to return the openness he’d been shown. “...is it… am I…?”

“No. Yes? No.” A heavy exhale, Davey’s hand coming up to scratch at his face, fingers nearly catching at the edge of his now-healed scar. “It’s not you. Exactly. It’s not your fault. Fuck.”

The silence settled back in for a long moment. Buck’s heart was pounding in his chest far too hard for him to dare try and say a word. Davey, for his part, continued to look out into the distance, shoulders tense, hand having come to rest with two fingers on his chin. (Now that he’d asked about it, Buck looked at the gesture and could practically see Davey holding an imaginary cigarette between his fingers. Must have been a long-held habit before he quit, the muscle-memory burned in subconsciously.)

Finally, Davey-- Dynamo broke the silence again with a heavy, shaky sigh. Something in his expression Buck couldn’t quite read. “Listen. I-- I think I gotta say some stuff. I don’t know exactly what I’m gonna say. But I think I gotta talk it out anyway. So if you could, like-- I dunno. Just listen until I feel like I’m done, I guess? That cool?”

His heart was beating so hard, it felt like he was going to throw it up. This was bad. This was bad. He needed to stop this, put up the safe and comfortable barriers between them again. Before it was too late.

Instead, he choked out, “go for it,” because he was an idiot.

The way Davey’s posture instantly relaxed sent him spiraling - forgetting his self-flagellation in the gut response of I did that I made him feel less nervous, followed immediately by a vicious reversal, because that’s all it takes huh you’re so lonely and pathetic that all it takes is a guy kind of half-grinning at you for you to fall all over yourself - until Davey starting to speak snapped him back to the moment.

“I’ve just… been thinking about today,” he began. “And like-- more than that. But, today specifically. The heist and all. It was just… it went well. I mean, you know. You were there! You saw how well we worked together. And it… look, I’m just gonna say it. That was the most fun I’ve had doin’ one of these jobs, like, ever. And maybe I’m reading into it, but… it maybe kinda seemed like you were enjoying it, too?

“It all just… it got me thinking. About that, and livin’ here while I healed up - which, by the way, also has been the most fun I’ve had since I, y’know, started being Dynamo - and just, everything to do with all that, and I… well… you’re not gonna like this.” He chuckled as he said it, mirthless, raising a cigarette-less hand to his mouth seemingly without realizing. “But I… I think. There might be something to… us keeping up with this. Like, working together. Full time. Full-on villain partnership. And I know that’s like-- we’re not supposed to do that. Safety-wise and all. How risky it is for us both. But I-- god, this is gonna sound stupid. But I… trust you. I do.

“I mean--” He gestured emphatically to the stump of his right arm, the haphazard stitchwork Buck had done with shaking hands, kneeling over him on the garage floor all those weeks ago. “If you really wanted me out of the picture, I feel like you had plenty of opportunity and kinda fumbled the bag with it, you know? And I-- I dunno. I hope I’ve made it clear I don’t wanna do nothin’ to hurt you, either. Or that I… can make that clear, you know? Do whatever you need to believe it. But the point is, I-- I like workin’ with you. I think we do good work together. I think we could keep doin’ good work together. And I… want to. Do that.” A heavy breath, a sharp exhale, rolling his shoulders like there’d been a physical heft to what he’d been saying. “Hoo!! God, really wish I had that cigarette right now. But, uh, yeah, that. I think that’s all. For now. Maybe. Yeah. Uh, yeah. Your turn, then. Thoughts, feedback, whatever. Go for it.”

His eyes were bright, his face split into a grin, but Buck -- he-- maybe he was reading into it too much. Maybe. But he could feel the anxiety rolling off Davey as he spoke, a mirror of his own. The words between words. Asking, practically begging for his approval the same way Buck kept longing for his.

His throat felt dry. He couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to, thoughts rolling frantic and aimless in his mind like marbles in a glass spiral. Words turning themselves over and over as his heart pounded and his stomach did enough backflips that it probably oughta qualify for the next Olympics.

We do good work together.

I trust you.

I want to.

Thoughts rolling themselves around in his mind. The dangerous pull, on the precipice of something he knew he couldn’t come back from. Exposed and armor-less here in the setting sun, nothing but the Holy Spirit and this question between them.

It was getting harder and harder to pull back to the boundary.

He had to. He knew he had to.

(Why?)

(He just had to.)

(...but why?)

Inhale. Exhale. Staring out into the sunset, filling the conversation with golden light. A warmth to counteract the anxious chill spreading from his gut as his mind worked itself into overdrive. He felt like he could choke on his own tongue, heavy with words he didn’t know how to speak. (Was afraid to speak.)

“...everything you’re saying is true,” he finally choked out. Almost without realizing it. It felt like he was watching someone else say it, just a little bit beside him.

Davey responded with a subtle, automatic grin and visible brightness in his eyes. It felt like it was putting his heart in a fucking vice. “Yeah?”

“I’m not finished,” he added quickly. Davey went still, went quiet in response. Automatically giving him the same space to ramble that Buck had given him. (Too much, too much, you’re in danger, what are you even going to say here, pull it back pull it back pull it back.) “Everything… everything you’re saying. Including that we’re not supposed to do this. And that it’s risky. Hell, risky doesn’t even begin to cover it; like--”

He felt sick. Panic welling up in his gut from all too many directions. (Shut it down, shut it down, before he notices, before he figures you out, you’re supposed to be the Invincible Fucking Bulkhead here--) “You. You do understand who I am, right? I’m Buck Armstrong. My family--” Bile in his throat, breathing tight; even to Davey, he couldn’t bring himself to reflect on his life before Bulkhead. Bring it back. Different approach. “No matter what I do - whether I’m stealing classified materials or a carton of eggs from the corner store, there’s gonna be a massive target on my back ‘cause of-- where I come from. And if you start associating with me full-time? Publicly? That target’s gonna be on your back too. And you--” His voice was breaking. Swallow it down, swallow it down, don’t let him notice. “...You can’t bounce back from it like I can.”

(There had been so much blood. There had been so much blood. There had been so much blood and it had been his fault, Davey jumped in because he’d already figured out Buck was weak, that he wasn’t as unkillable as he tried to make everyone believe, and he’d known and he jumped in the way and saved his life and look what he’d gotten for his trouble bloody and shaking and heaving in the dirt there had been so much so much he could see the bone he didn’t know what to do he just couldn’t let him die there for him he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t not like that not for him not for him)

“...I mean. Yeah?”

The sheer casual-ness of Davey’s response snapped Buck out of what probably would’ve been a full-blown meltdown otherwise. He snapped his gaze over; Davey was staring back with the kind of mild dumbfoundedness one might get saying hey little-known fact, did you know water is wet. “Buck, I know who you are,” he continued, still utterly blasé about it. “This isn’t my first day in town, ya know. I’ve known about The Invincible Bulkhead since way before you and I started crossing paths.” (He winked at that, and Buck felt his panic coming from a completely different avenue now. God fucking damn it why’d he have to be hot.) “Point is, I’m not, like… stupid. I know your life is dangerous. I’m not saying all this, like, ignorant of that. I just…”

Now he hesitated, averting his gaze, moving to scratch the back of his neck again. Buck’s heart pounded in his throat. “I. I guess what I’m saying is that, it’d be worth it. For me. Like, ‘benefits outweigh the risks’ kind of situation. I mean, honestly, I’m gonna be living on the edge no matter what in this line of work, might as well have fun with it. So, uh. Guess what I’m saying is. If the only opposition you have to the idea is that I’m gonna be putting myself at risk without realizing it, you can toss that right on out. I know what I’m doing. You’re-- this is. Worth that risk.”

(The stumble of you’re felt dangerously deliberate. All at once he screamed in terror at it and clutched it close like a token.)

…was that his only opposition? If-- if Davey really was going into this knowing all the risks, wanted to go through with it anyway-- well, he was a grown-ass man, you know? And a smart one at that. (Smarter than Buck, it felt like, in more ways than one. He was constantly finding new ways to be impressed by this guy.) Did he… was there anything else, besides the whole well THEY say we’re not supposed to do shit like this, no I don’t know who THEY are either, which… all told, held increasingly little weight to him as the conversation went on. Was there anything, anything at all, that could convince him to stop this?

…

…oh, god, there was one thing.

There was one.

His whole body felt cold. His heart pounded so hard and so fast that it looped back around to being intangible to him, too quick to notice. Oh, god. Oh god. The one thing. The one thing that could take this sudden dream come true and throw it right back in the trash where it ought to be.

It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to Davey, to not put it out there, to not say it. To invite him into this partnership and have him inevitably figure it out down the line, be ambushed by it. It wouldn’t be fair to him. It wouldn’t be fair.

He had to say it.

He would give anything not to say it.

But oh, god, it wouldn’t be fair.

(Davey, stupid beautiful Davey, lit at all his most gorgeous angles by the golden light of the setting sun, watching him out of the corner of his eye, surely waiting for an answer. Davey, who he wanted so selfishly to keep here with him.)

He was at the edge of the cliff now. Teetering on the precipice. There was no going back if he did this.

But it wouldn’t be fair if he didn’t.

“...There’s one thing.” He felt like he was watching himself speak from a distance, words slow and heavy and cold on his tongue. He didn’t dare turn to look at Davey. Eyes trained on a suddenly-very-interesting point on the far horizon like it could get him out of this self-dug pit.

“...Yeah?”

“One thing,” he repeated. His whole body felt cold. God, Davey could probably see him sweating, even from the arm’s length away he was standing. He’d be lucky if he didn’t throw up in front of him by the end of this conversation. “If-- if we’re really going to seriously consider this. I have to tell you. It wouldn’t be fair not to tell you.”

“All right.” A long, long pause, tangibly so. Oh, god. His gut was so tight and cold it felt like he might shit blocks of ice, and then probably just keel over entirely to avoid engaging in this conversation further.. “...are… are you going to…?”

“Trying,” he choked out. Davey went quiet immediately. (Giving the space, waiting for him to be finished speaking. Fuck. Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t do this. Maybe he could just walk it back, pretend he was joking, ignore this whole conversation and just go back to the way things were this morning, before the stupid heist that had made everything go so complicated. But--) “It wouldn’t be fair. If I didn’t. Say this to you now. If I let you, like-- stay here and start working with me and uproot your whole life and didn’t tell you this and let you-- let you opt out.” (Because he would, surely he would, there was no way he would just let it go once he did.)

He went quiet again. Davey didn’t interject this time. Waiting for whatever he had to say.

(Couldn’t pull it back. He couldn’t pull it back again after this.)

His hands clenched white-knuckle at his sides. Sweat down the back of his neck. He had to say it. He had to. He had to. And then Davey would leave and he’d go back to his normal pathetic life and never see him again.

His mind, miles away as he finally forced his mouth open, idly noted that it’d probably been over twenty years since he last made himself say this out loud to another human being.

“...I’m. I’m gay.”

No response. Whether the polite space to continue or the cold silence of judgment, he couldn’t tell and he was scared to dwell too far on it. Forced himself on; no turning back now. “I’m-- gay and I. You. It’s. I-- I think you’re a v-very. Attractive man. And that’s--” he all but retched; suddenly the words were pouring out of him rapid-fire, like he just had to get them out of him no matter the cost-- “I’m not saying that cause I think you’re, like, obligated to be okay with that if you stay, I-I just know it’s not fair to have you like, living here without knowing that-- like most people wouldn’t be cool working with someone they know has a big stupid crush on them so like it’s no hard feelings I can pretend we never talked about this and you can just go and we can just wave from a distance when we run into each other during jobs and it’s fine it’s cool.”

And there it was.

Oh, god, and there it was.

The careful, safe boundary of Bulkhead and Dynamo was no more. Instead, Buck Armstrong, pathetic, lonely, middle-aged man with a big stupid gay crush, stood there sweating like a pig and watching the sunset on the horizon, waiting to hear sweet beautiful Davey turn on his heel and walk out of his life forever.

Davey laughed.

His head snapped around so fast he swore he could hear the vertebra crack. That-- much as that awful little voice in the back of his head wanted him to believe otherwise, he knew that wasn’t a mocking kind of laugh. No, no it was quick, breathy, high; the kind of laugh he’d heard from Davey as they drove away from the scene of the crime earlier; the kind you let out when you were so overjoyed and relieved that all you could do was laugh.

Davey was staring at him. Davey was smiling. Ear-to-ear, crinkling up the corners of his shining eyes, golden and glowing in the sunset light.

An entirely different kind of chill went up Buck’s spine.

“I was hoping--” Davey started, and then laughed again, drawing a hand back through his hair. “I mean-- you, you get the vibes, you know, but you don’t know if it’s just you reading into what you want to see or if it’s actually there--”

“You were hoping?” He repeated, quiet, dumb, cracking in the back of his throat. Did he hear that right? He couldn’t have, right? Or it was like, slang for something? He didn’t know slang. It was probably some kind of slang that didn’t mean anything remotely like it sounded like. That was the only thing that made sense here.

Davey barrelled on like he hadn’t even spoken. “I mean, all the banter when we ran into each other on jobs, right? And-- and I kept trying to tease it out, like, see how you reacted if I got kinda flirty, but I still wasn’t sure and what was I supposed to say, hey Buck thanks again for not letting me die alone in the dirt by the way do you like men. Like, come on--”

“What you wanted? Flirty?” Surely none of this meant what it sounded like it meant. Surely. Or maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he finally got so panicked he died, like a rabbit does. That would make sense. That would make sense. That was the only thing that would make sense.

Davey finally stopped speaking.

Buck froze.

Davey turned. Eyes on his. Boring right into him. And then he smiled, a different kind of smile, slow and warm and half-lidded in a way that instantly turned that icy chill in Buck’s gut into something molten-hot instead. The slight part of his lips around gap teeth; the crinkle in the corner of his brown eyes; the something something something undeniable in the way he looked at him.

He took a step forward. Buck remained frozen in the headlights of his gaze.

A hand, reaching out, slow, gentle - enough to pull away from if he wanted (like he ever fucking would) - fingers grazing across his knuckles and taking his hand. A slim, calloused thumb circling against his palm in a way he could only possibly describe as intimate, fingernail catching ever-so-slightly at the skin.

He stared down at their hands like it was something utterly alien. (Which-- might as well be. When was the last time he held hands with someone? Oh my god, was he so utterly lonely and pathetic that he was reacting like this to holding hands??) Moved his gaze back, heart pounding at that warm, warm look of his, straight down into his soul. He was so close, now, obliterating the Holy Ghost between them; that imaginary chaperone must be losing their ever-loving shit right now. He was certain Davey could feel his hummingbird-pounding heartbeat this close, smell the way he’d fear-sweat so badly during this conversation he already needed a second shower. (As it stood, he could already feel the slight rise-and-fall of Davey’s chest as he breathed, smell the detritus of the car and the dried-sweat stench of earlier exertion.)

They were back in the car after the heist again. Close, so close, passing the same breath between each other, close enough that Buck could easily just lurch forward and--

It had been a very, very long time since he’d done this. His nose bumped Davey’s, mustache catching awkwardly at his lip; Davey simply hummed a laugh into his mouth and tilted his head to better the angle. Fuck. His lips were thin and chapped; his teeth dragged across Buck’s lip and bumped momentarily into his own as they drew closer. (Maybe, he thought with uncharacteristic optimism, it’d been a while for Davey, too.)

One final half-step forward, the last of the gap gone. Buck’s massive barrel-chest awkwardly slotting against Davey’s sternum, his hand squeezing as they pulled together. He drew his other hand up to rest against the back of Davey’s neck without even thinking, feeling the baby-hairs at his hairline against his fingertips. Passing the same breath between each other, slow and warm and deliberate.

They pulled away too quickly. They pulled away after a million years. Buck’s eyes fluttered open, finding Davey smiling down barely inches away, cheeks dusted red, a terrifying adoration in his eyes, framed golden at the edges by the sunset-lighting in a way Buck was already scrambling to commit to memory.

It was all too much. He was going to-- fuck, start crying, or throw up, or both, and he frankly didn’t want to ruin this moment with either. So instead, burning beet-red, he ducked his face into Davey’s shoulder because it was the only place he had to hide. Davey - sweet, perfect Davey who just let him kiss him, what the fuck, that was real, right, that was real - just laughed again, light as anything, and he felt his face come to rest on top of his head, still toying with Buck’s hand in his grip.

“Take it there’s no further arguments, then?” He giggled. Buck could practically hear the wink in his voice, and it did nothing to calm him down.

“God. God. You really are serious about all of this.”

“Christ, Buck, yeah. What’s it gonna take to convince you I mean it? I could kiss ya some more, if you want. No opposition to that.”

“Fuck, man.” He couldn’t help but wheeze out a laugh himself, relief suddenly forcing itself out of him in waves. (Holding Davey like this felt really nice. Really nice. Wonder if he’d let him keep doing this.) “Fine. Yeah. Yeah. If you’re really so sure you wanna settle for dying in this shithole with me.”

“Don’t be silly! I’ll die outside this shithole with you. We’re infinitely more likely to beef it on the job.”

“God. Fair enough.” A slow inhale, head swimming with the smell of Davey. Dear god it all kept sinking in. “I know-- w-what I said still stands, you know, you don’t-- you’re not obligated to reciprocate or--”

“You think I’m feeling obligated? Christ, Buck,” Davey laughed again in reply, squeezing his hand tight. “You really haven’t been paying attention. I’ve been trying to goad you into making out with me practically since we met.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No, see, that’s what I was hoping my flirting’d eventually lead to--”

“Christ alive, Davey--”

“Too much?” There wasn’t the slightest hint of repentance in his tone.

“You’re the worst.”

“You like it.”

“...I do.”

Another sweet, slow laugh; Buck felt Davey press another kiss to the top of his head and thought he might spontaneously combust. “Well, I like you too. You wanna head upstairs about it? I need a shower.”

“Mhm. Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Go ahead. Just… I need a second.”

“All good.” A long pause, a warm silence. Davey’s thumb still stroking circles into his palm. “...uh. One thing. If you mean you wanna stay down here another minute while I head up, I, uh. You gotta actually let go of me.”

He blinked. Somehow he’d gotten so wrapped up in holding Davey, he’d forgotten he was doing the holding. “Oh. Oh, uh-- right. Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

His bastard traitor of a body did not release his hold on Davey.

Lucky for him, Davey responded to the clear freeze-up with a good-natured chuckle, finally releasing Buck’s hand to trace up his arm and wrap around his shoulders, holding him in return. “Or, y’know. We could just both take a second. Go up together when you’re ready.”

“I-- th. Y. Yeah. Yeah.” His burning cheeks had spread to a slow warmth all through his body, tingling at every nerve, lit up with the long-forgotten ecstasy of human contact. He moved his own freed hand to the small of Davey’s back, settling against him, for a moment forgetting all his usual terror of vulnerability. Somehow, somehow, against all logic, against all odds, he felt safe here.

Bulkhead and Dynamo disappeared, up on the shelf with all their gadgets and armor. Buck and Davey remained, holding each other close, breathing the same breath back and forth, illuminated in the golden light of sunset.

[Image ID: A digital illustration of Puzz's OCs, Buck (a middle-aged, barrel-chested white man with balding red hair, a large nose and a bushy mustache, wearing a green turtleneck, kahki pants and brown boots) and Davey (a middle-aged, lanky black man with amputated right arm, diagonal scar across his face, large ears, large eyes with long lashes, large eyebrows and curly dark-brown hair in a ponytail, wearing overalls with one strap down and pointy brown boots). They are hugging each other tightly, with Davey's back slightly facing the camera. Buck's face is buried in Davey's chest, blushing furiously, while Davey rests his head on top of Buck's, with a slight smile visible. There is golden light painted behind them and illuminating the edges of both their figures. End ID.]

#anonymous puzzler art #anonymous puzzler writes #anonymous puzzler originals #long post / #ask to tag! content warnings in the body of the post! #Villain Coded comic

[sgtjamesrogers]

Been Too Unkind

Rated: T | roy x jamie | post episode: 0308: We'll Never Have Paris [also on ao3]

Roy’s alarm goes off at 3:40 am the Monday after their Sunday match right on schedule, and when he rolls over to his nightstand and switches it off, the next notification is a reminder from his calendar. 

After his eyes adjust he sees ‘PHOEBE DAY’ in all caps, with three swords emojis and a snake emoji after it. Roy had let her pick out the emojis. 

“Fuck.” He sits up out of bed in the dark, fiddling thick-fingered through his phone to press Jamie Tartt’s contact and then ‘call’. It occurs to him, his brain slowly waking up as he listens to the line ring, that he could have sent a text. Jamie is always awake and ready to go now when Roy shows up for training, these days. 

Too late, Jamie’s already picking up before Roy can think too hard about it. 

“...Coach?” He yawns into the phone from the other end. “You’re like, forty minutes early. And calling me. You don’t call me. Did you get hit by a car on your way? Nah, no you didn’t. You’d still show up, wouldn’t you, holding someone’s bumper and saying summat like ‘Move your ass Tartt, I have some new weight training for you to do’.” 

He sounds sleep-raspy but still manages to tip some more gravel into his voice for his Roy impression. Tragically, it’s not half bad. 

“Was that supposed to be me?”, is what Roy says out loud. “You made me sound like Eeyore.” 

“Ain’t that you?” Jamie responds breezily, the sound of a tap running water into a glass somewhere in the background. “Anyway, what’s going on? I haven’t even mixed my pre-workout yet.” 

“Oh, right,” Roy says, and then continues gruffly, “I’ve got my niece today, she’s off school. We’ll have to cut training short.” 

“Can’t you just strap her into a baby bjorn and we’ll take her with?” Jamie asks, the clatter of his blender bottle like a cup full of Yahtzee dice. “She’s like, two, isn’t she? How much could a toddler weigh? Two stone at max, I bet.” 

“No?” Roy says, making a face. “Add five years to that. She’d hate it, and her legs are too long.” He shoves his sheets off, his free hand automatically feeling out the muscles above his knee like he’s making sure he has enough gas in the tank of his car. They feel loose enough, so he hefts himself out of bed.  

There’s a long pause before Jamie smacks his lips into the phone receiver, the prick. Roy can almost smell the neon green sour whatever of his pre-workout. “Hold on, I might have something else.” 

---

Fair is fair: the pedicab driver is easier to bribe than Roy expected. 

Or perhaps ‘easy’ isn’t exactly the correct term, seeing as Jamie’s pocket ended up roughly five hundred pounds lighter by the time the driver seemed satisfied enough to hand over the cab to them, followed by a warning that he had a GPS marker tacked on, so ‘no funny business!’ 

“What funny business would we do with a cycle rickshaw anyway?” Jamie asks, turning to put his words over one shoulder.

The little shit’s not even out of breath yet; pedaling with his elbows propped lazily on the handlebars as he prepares to make a righthand turn at the next intersection. 

“Oh, I dunno, scamming tourists hundreds of pounds for fucking taxi rides while playing whatever this is—” The inlaid speakers on the passenger wagon are vibrating faintly as they play a hellacious club remix of Karma Cameleon. “—at top volume with stupid flashing lights and feather boa trim, that sounds like funny business to me, fucking HELL!” 

The wagon of the pedicab lists dangerously to the left side as Jamie takes the corner too quickly, the shiny silver Jaguar behind them honking repeatedly and at length. As soon as Roy feels like he’s not going to slide right out of the cab and go rolling across the pavement like he’s an extra in John Wick, he twists around to give the Jag’s driver the finger. 

“If you get me killed, I’m killing you next,” Roy says shortly, checking his phone. A quarter to nine. “Take a left up here.” 

Unfortunately for Roy, Phoebe is just as ecstatic as he thought she might be when they pulled up. 

“Uncle Roy! I always wanted to ride in one of these, Mum always says they’re not for us, they’re for fleecing tourists.” She hops up into the wagon of the pedicab next to Roy, bouncing a little with excitement on the seat. 

“That’s exactly what they’re for,” Roy says. “Tartt’s gonna pedal us around as part of his training, then we’ll get late breakfast at McDonald’s. Sound good?” 

Turning around on his bicycle seat, Jamie gives her a jaunty little salute and a grin. “I’ll be your driver for today, miss. Any musical requests or sights you wanna see, you just let me know.” 

Phoebe looks from Roy to Jamie skeptically and back again. Roy helplessly remembers every time he’s complained about Jamie Fucking Tartt while utilizing every curse under the sun, as well as making up some of his own curse words. Like a deranged Looney Tune. He gives her a wincing sort of smile in return. 

Roy’s niece turns primly back toward Jamie. 

“Do y’have any Little Mix or Jorja Smith?” 

---

They make it through the DNA album and get partway into Salute before Roy takes pity on Jamie and has him stop in front of the McDonald’s on Eden. It’s not quite mid-morning and there’s a shambling group of uni students already queued up inside, looking so violently hungover for a Monday at 10 am that even Roy feels a little nauseously sympathetic. 

Roy sends Jamie inside and attempts to send his card with him, but Jamie waves him off with a roll of his eyes. 

“Put that away old man, I’m good for three McMuffins,” he laughs before heading inside to join the crowd. Roy doesn’t realize until after Jamie’s walked off that he didn’t even try to fight him on it. There’s something a little discomfiting about that, but Roy can’t exactly put his finger on why. 

“Is he your new Keeley?” 

Roy whips around to look at Phoebe so quickly that he feels a crick in his neck. She’s looking up at him with a squinting expression, not quite unimpressed so much as mystified. 

“No one could replace Keeley,” he says quickly, something like a little minnow of panic swimming through his guts while he looks at her. 

Even the fucking abstract concept of Keeley brought up unexpected is calling to mind standing in the Nelson Road car park and feeling words rolling out of his mouth like vomit while he asked for details he did not need, because he’d let himself think that assuaging his own culpability was more important than her privacy. If he hadn’t deserved her before, he certainly didn’t now.  

Roy takes as deep a breath as he can, and rights himself. He looks at Phoebe sideways. She deserves to have a Keeley, even if he doesn’t. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like Jamie, she rolls her eyes at him. 

“That’s not what I mean. Mum says old people don’t really use ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’.” Her expression goes a little disapproving. “Boys can like boys, Uncle Roy. Don’t be silly on purpose.” 

Roy puts his hands up in exasperated surrender. “I know that boys can like boys. Girls can like girls, for that matter.” 

Phoebe crosses her arms. “Obviously. Keeley and Jack took me to the Science Museum last weekend. Her new Uncle Roy,” she adds, confidentially. 

Closing his eyes, Roy counts to ten. Considers praying. “You didn’t call her that, did you?” 

Worryingly, Phoebe doesn’t address that question. Instead, she looks inside the McDonald’s, and Roy follows her gaze. Jamie’s waiting for their food, and while Roy and Phoebe look on he visibly checks their order number on the ticket in his hand and compares it with the orders on the overhead screen. They watch him do it three more times in the next minute, as if he’s concerned he might have forgotten their number. 

“See! You’re smiling!” Phoebe accuses him before he can look away. He looks down at her and resists the urge to clap a hand over his own mouth. 

“I’m allowed to fucking smile,” Roy grumbles. 

She crosses her arms, her earlier prim expression returning. It reminds him of Keeley when she knows she’s one hundred percent correct and is being horribly polite about it while she waits for Roy to figure it out. 

“He’s different than you said,” she hedges. “He hasn’t been a selfish moronic cunt or a shallow fucking idiot this entire time.” She pauses. “There was one more you used to call him a lot, but I can’t remember it. It was really good, too.” 

“You should probably forget the first two as well,” Roy says ruefully with a sigh. “...alright, he is different than he used to be. I’ll give you that.” It’s something that Roy knows in an abstract sort of way, but having his niece call it to his attention brings back that discomfited feeling from earlier. 

Before he can get any more words out, Jamie’s back and distributing wrapped sandwiches. He pauses when he hands one off to Roy, tilting his head. 

“Why’re you looking at me like I just shot your dog?” He shoots a horrified look at Phoebe as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I mean—” Jamie attempts a smile as he reaches back into the bag and offers her a bottle of Tropicana. “Orange juice?” 

“I like this one,” Phoebe says decisively to Roy, nodding at Jamie as she accepts it. 

After breakfast, they head to the park and give the pedicab a rest. Phoebe sprawls on the grass reading The Phantom Tollbooth while Roy has Jamie run drills in the springtime overcast sunlight, and Roy feels prickly with awareness in a way he hadn’t before. 

It’s as if his eyes are independent of his brain, and they just keep noticing. The bunch of Jamie’s shoulders. The tendons that leap out at the back of his hands as they flex. The wrinkle of his nose as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe his face. 

Roy’s not quite angry that he’s noticing all of this, but perhaps it’s frustration that it’s happening now. He’s had all the time in the world—from their shared locker room to now—to see these things and now his brain is treating them like an I Spy sort of puzzle book. 

“Show me that one again,” Roy says after he’s sat next to Phoebe to check in on her reading, “It needs to be quicker.” 

“And I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Coach,” Jamie tosses out with a grin, but dutifully runs through it as directed. 

Roy wishes he wasn’t paying attention. 

---

“Alright, what do you say to Tartt, then?” Roy prompts as she exits the pedicab and starts hopping up Roy’s front steps. The midday sun is high overhead as the clouds part for a few minutes, and Roy figures he ought to make her lunch from home after having fast food breakfast. 

“Thank you Jamie for pedaling us around and also for the McDonald’s,” she sing songs. Her clear plastic backpack clunks against her back as she waits for him at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet. 

Jamie grins as he gives her the same cheeky salute from this morning. Roy tries not to look at him too hard where he’s sprawled across the handlebars again. “You are very welcome, a girl with good music taste is always welcome in my cab.” 

“You don’t have a cab,” Roy grouses as he follows after her. “You half-borrowed, half-stole this one.” He’s halfway up the steps and expecting a joke, a retort, even a goodbye—anything but a hand on his elbow, halting his movement. 

Roy looks back at Jamie. Down at the hand on him like it’s a wet tentacle wrapping around his arm. Back up at Jamie. 

He’s not even bothered, the fucker. He just points down at Roy’s shoes. 

“Laces are undone. You can’t afford a fall, grandad. That’s when they all start going, you know. Real dark ‘beginning of the end’ business.” Jamie lets him go, and Roy relaxes. He’s in the clear. 

Jamie takes a knee at Roy’s feet. Bending forward, he grasps Roy’s dirty shoelaces and makes them into bunny ears before he ties them neatly and double knots them. 

While he’s bent over, Roy can’t stop staring at the tiny short hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, at the barely there tan line from a necklace, at the faded roots of his highlights where they’re grown out from the crown of his head. 

Roy’s hands flex at his sides. 

After neatly and unnecessarily retying Roy’s other shoe, he looks up at Roy with a grin that crinkles his eyes. Roy feels like only weeks ago (months ago?), the sight of it made his blood boil and made him assign Jamie adjectives like ‘conceited’ or ‘arrogant wanker’.

Now he sees it spreading over Jamie’s lips and feels like he’s missed a step walking down the stairs. 

“There, all safe now.” 

Roy has never felt less safe, somehow. 

#ted lasso #roy x jamie #royjamie #jesse writes fic #my fic #grips the sink and stares into the mirror......... Who Am I

[peaceisadirtyword]

august (modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!! Please don’t hate me, July was a mess for me and I’m in Denmark right now trying to get my life together in some way! I will explain everything in a separate post if you want me to! But anyway, I had this written and as August just started I'd thought I’d post this😅 I think my writing is not what it once was, but I truly hope you like this one♥️ because I really enjoyed writing it. 

I won’t bother you anymore, I’ll let you read and (hopefully) enjoy🥰 thank you!

Warnings: smut, a bit of angst, it’s ivar, he’s in love with Freydis 

Words: +8k (I’m so sorry lol)

based on the song august by Taylor Swift🖤

Moodboard by me (taking screenshots and pics from pinterest!)

Ivar Lothbrok was the last person you expected to ask you on a date. You had been nervous about his presence for the entire evening, while Ivar and his brothers were sitting in the small bar you worked at, just in front of the beach, and ordering drinks as they watched the football game. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see them there, half of Kattegat went to the bar whenever there was a match, as your boss had decided to put an enormous TV to attract more customers to the big terrace just outside his local. He was happy as hell, but you preferred the quiet evenings of the early summer, when only some tourists and regulars came to grab a quick beer and maybe something to eat. But that day was even more chaotic.

Dealing with drunk guys was a nightmare itself, but when those guys were also mad because Norway was losing against Sweden it became too much to handle. Luckily, your coworker was nice enough to change tables with you so you wouldn’t have to deal with them. He had more experience in that field anyway.

But turning around and seeing the Lothbrok men sitting on one of the largest tables made you wonder whether it was better to deal with drunk men or with your childhood crush and his entire family.

They were polite and nice. Apparently, Ragnar Lothbrok was back in town for the summer, and Björn, his eldest son, was back from southern Europe where he had spent the entire winter working on his own business. So the entire city of Kattegat knew they were there, even if they didn’t make an effort to acknowledge the rumours surrounding their family.

Hvitserk and Ubbe recognized you. It wasn’t until Ragnar asked why you looked so familiar and Ubbe added that you were always in Ivar’s class that he raised his head to look at you with curiosity. Even if Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd knew you -they had hooked up with some of your friends back in high school- you didn’t remember talking to him since primary school, when you broke some kid’s nose because he was messing with Ivar. The both of you were in detention together that day, until Aslaug came to pick him up and he left. Even then, he barely talked to you. But it didn’t stop you from developing a very strange crush on him, a crush that no matter how many people you dated, it wouldn't go away.

Until he got a girlfriend. You remembered the way your heart seemed to stop and your stomach twisted so much you thought you’d be sick when you saw them together on campus. You had cried, feeling stupid because he probably didn’t remember you existed, and had to endure an entire year of them being together, until Freydis left him just before summer. You tried not to feel happy, knowing Ivar was head over heels for her and he would probably be heartbroken but even if you felt the worst person in the world, you were still happy she left.

It was the first time you saw Ivar since the summer started, and he barely curved his lips to smile at you for a second and he went back to looking down at his own lap while his brothers chatted around him.

After taking their orders you went back to the bar to get the drinks, and you spent the rest of your shift so focused on your work that you missed Ivar’s stares. Hvitserk wouldn’t stop pestering him about how nice you looked that summer, and that he should ask you out as you had always had a crush on him. Ivar didn’t fully believe his brother’s words but you did look cute, and the thought of moving on and forgetting Freydis with someone else was very attractive for him, so maybe it was that what made him walk over to the bar while you cleaned some glasses and prepared to close, after his family was already walking down the street after Norway lost the match. Not that they cared so much, as they were half Swedish and half Danish.

You looked completely taken aback when he left the piece of paper with his number on the bar, barely making any eye contact with you in case you burst out laughing.

Instead, you stuttered a bit while asking him what was it, and tried to fix your hair, flustered and knowing you didn’t look your best, after an entire evening of running around carrying drinks.

“I thought we could maybe…” Ivar had cleared his throat, hating Hvitserk and himself at that moment “Go out sometime, if you want to”.

So a week later, after a few days processing that Ivar Lothbrok asked you out and building the courage to text him, you sat on the now cold sand of the beach with an ice cream on your hand and looking at the fjord in front of you, still tense because you sat next to your crush. He invited you to the cinema, and he had been polite but still distant and somewhat cold when you went to grab a late dinner, almost like he was being forced to be there. His blue eyes avoided yours and he barely spoke.

You had a very interesting conversation about politics, when you commented on a very hot topic on international politics and Ivar raised an eyebrow and seemed to listen to you for the first time that day. But the conversation died when you couldn’t find common ground on a specific topic.

And you were about to finish your ice cream and go back home, to inform your friends that it had been a disaster and that Ivar was by no means interested in you. It would hurt to process that, but a night out with your girls and maybe a hookup with a random tourist would help.

Until he spoke, with his eyes still fixed on the sun that disappeared behind the ocean.

“I remember you”

You stopped licking the ice cream, turning to look at him with a confused expression.

“I remember you would defend me in school” he added, finally looking at you “I remember you standing up for me even if I didn’t ask you to”

“Yeah” you shrugged “I know how it feels when everyone decides to hate you just because they feel like hating someone”

“You were the only one in class that stood up for me” he shrugged “I never said thank you”

“It’s nothing” you giggled “Honestly, it was many years ago, you had enough on your plate to stop and think about me” you shook your head. Ivar as a child not only had to deal with a disease, but also with his parent’s separation, his father’s absence and his mother’s addictions. You remembered hearing your family talk about it for years.

“Yes but I kept seeing you in high school and at university” he said “And I never said anything”

You tried to hold back an excited smile.

“You didn’t need to invite me out to thank me”

“I didn’t invite you out because of that” he raised an eyebrow “I did because I thought…” he looked down, his cheeks reddening softly “I thought you were interesting and I would like to get to know you…”

And my brothers pushed me, he thought. Ubbe and Hvitserk wouldn’t stop trying to make him talk to girls since Freydis left. And you were the only one Ivar kind of liked out of all the girls they had proposed.

“Oh” you smiled brightly at him “Well, that’s nice” you giggled “Nice to meet you, then, I’m Y/N” you offered your hand. Ivar looked at it for a moment and you’d swear you saw his lips curved on a small smile. The first time he smiled at you.

“Ivar” he took your hand “Nice to meet you”

____________________________________

Kattegat’s Port was one of the biggest in Scandinavia. Everyone agreed that it was impressive and the entire city was proud of it. But soon, you learnt Ivar preferred the old, small harbour that had only small boats and ships that imitated the viking longships. Most of them were made by Floki, Ivar’s uncle (even if you were very sure that they didn’t share the same bloodline), and he had spent most of his childhood in that place. A bit further away from the city centre, it looked like the perfect place for a late picnic on a summer evening, and somehow you managed to change shifts at work as soon as Ivar called to invite you.

This would be your third… Date? You weren’t sure whether they could be called dates or not, as he hadn’t made any move towards you, maybe he was just lonely and in need of a friend. In any case, and even if your heart broke a bit more whenever you thought about it, you were fine with being his friend, way more than you had ever imagined.

You had to admit the place was beautiful, cosier than the port and even romantic. Ivar was already there when you arrived, with your favourite dress on and a strawberry cake you had managed to make even if you were too nervous. There was some food over a plaid blanket and Ivar admitted his brothers helped him to do it.

“This place is beautiful” you muttered, looking at the closest longship that swayed in the water.

“Floki built all of these” Ivar said, making you look at him with a small smile. After spending some time with him, you learnt that his tone of voice changed whenever he talked of someone or something that meant a lot for him.

You remembered Floki and Helga, as she had been the best doctor in town and probably the sweetest human being you had ever met and Floki was known for being Ragnar’s close friend and the best carpenter in all of Scandinavia.

“Where are they now?” you asked softly, they had left one day, no one truly knew where or why and no one was brave enough to ask.

“Iceland” Ivar shrugged “They left”

You pouted, his sad tone contrasted with the other times he had mentioned Floki.

“Everyone ends up leaving” he added, shaking his head and turning his head to grab a few grapes he had brought “Ubbe is leaving now too, and Sigurd, not that I care about Sigurd” he rolled his eyes “But soon it will just be my mother, Hvitserk and I, until I finish the degree at least”

“Not everyone leaves, then” you smiled, trying to cheer him up a bit “Hvitserk and your mom are still here with you”

“My mother has no choice, she’s my mother” Ivar looked at you almost like he thought you were mocking him “And Hvitserk… He could leave with Ubbe but for some reason he wants to stay… Ubbe is going to England to work on my father’s business” he explained “Which is now run by Björn and his mother… I understand Hvitserk, I would rather drown than work for Björn''

You held back a giggle.

“And he’s also staying with you” you pointed out, taking a sip of the champagne Ivar brought. It was one of the expensive ones, way better than the one you drank during Christmas “So not everyone leaves”

His small smile faded again.

“I suppose he will do it someday too”

You moved to kneel closer to him. Ivar eyed you with curiosity.

“You have very little faith on people, Ivar” you said, shrugging “It’s not fair, you can’t possibly know what people will do”

“I thought Freydis would stay” he cleared his throat “And she left too, like my father, like Floki, like Ubbe”

It was the first time he talked about Freydis in your presence. You licked your lips and drank a bit more.

“You’re still young, handsome, smart… You could work on being a bit nicer, but… You have time to find someone else'' you giggled, even if you didn’t mean it. You really liked Ivar, but you hoped he wouldn’t find someone at least for a while.

“Someone that thinks I am handsome and smart?” he asked, tilting his head with a playful smirk. Your head felt a bit lighter then, and the sudden nerves made you tremble. He was closer now, and you had to take a deep breath and think very carefully about your next words.

“Maybe, someone you like”

“That I like someone doesn’t mean that I can make them happy” he added “I’m not ready for another relationship, I’m not ready to have all of Kattegat talking about it, wondering when they’ll leave me again” his smirk faded, and now he sounded serious. You knew he wasn’t talking hypothetically anymore “For now”

You nodded.

“Until you’re ready, I guess”

“Until I’m ready” he repeated slowly, almost like he was amazed by those words “Until I don’t feel like a replaceable, useless thing?”

“I’m no psychologist, but I’d say so” you smiled softly “You’re not a replaceable, useless thing, Ivar”

“I can’t have another serious relationship right now, Y/N” he sighed “I truly can’t”

“That’s okay” you muttered, biting your lip. Your eyes never left him, even if he was looking at the sea now. You were more than ready for a relationship, but a mere glance, a promise, a smile and a kiss was more than enough, knowing he only needed time and maybe he’d be yours one day.

“Are you sure?” he turned to look at you, and you looked so pretty and innocent, looking at him with doe eyes under the dim light of the twilight that he felt bad for using you in some way. But he hadn’t felt as good as when he was with you since Freydis left.

And it wouldn’t hurt to try and move on, right?

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him softly. Ivar closed his eyes, sighing, and kissed you back. You tasted sweet, like the strawberry cake you had brought, and somehow you were softer than Freydis. Ivar had warm and soft lips, better than you had ever imagined, and his hand cupping your face was comforting. It felt like your first kiss all over again, and in some way it was. It was the first kiss you wanted.

When you broke the kiss, Ivar looked much more relaxed. And he smiled at you. Your heart fluttered, and you didn’t remember feeling so happy in your entire life.

______________________________________________________

The sky lit up with a new flash of lighting, startling you, just as Ivar opened the door to his house. You hesitated before entering, but he practically pulled you in with a roll of his eyes. It was the first time you stepped into the giant Lothbrok house, and it was… Quieter than you thought.

“I don’t want to wet the floor” you muttered, looking down at the beautiful and flawless wooden floor. Probably his mother would kill you if you damaged it.

“It’s okay, you can’t stay out there” Ivar scoffed, part annoyed and part amused. He saw your widened eyes as you glanced around the entrance while taking off your shoes, and he thought you looked sweet, all wet and intimidated. It felt good to bring you to his house, almost like he was exposing a new part of himself. It helped that everyone was out that day too.

“Come” he pointed at the hallway that led to his room. While all of his brothers slept upstairs, he couldn’t walk upstairs sometimes, so Aslaug reformed the old playing room and Ivar moved there when he was too big for Aslaug or Floki to carry him. It had bothered him sometimes, especially when his brothers would stay in Hvitserk’s room playing video games and he found himself all alone downstairs, crying and feeling lonely. Or when during their high school years Ubbe or Hvitserk would bring some friends to spend the night and Ivar would be left apart when they finished eating and went upstairs to listen to music, drink and talk.

“You can have a shower if you want” he pointed at the bathroom as soon as he entered his bedroom. You glanced around, the large shelf full of books grabbed your attention, as well as some vinyls and posters, but you didn’t stare too much, thinking he might not enjoy people staring at his things.

“Thank you” you smiled softly, and Ivar’s face softened when he looked at you, taking a couple of steps towards you, he kissed your wet cheek softly. After a couple of weeks he was way more comfortable in your presence, and he kind of liked how excited you looked whenever he’d take the first step and kiss you.

“You have fresh towels in the bathroom” he continued “I’ll give you some of my clothes while yours dry, okay?” he walked over to his wardrobe and you turned around so he wouldn’t see your excited smile.

When you closed the bathroom door behind you, your eyes travelled around the room. It was enormous, like the rest of the house. Especially the shower, which was obviously adapted for him. The big mirror was spotless, the sink and walls were made of marble, but the floor was still wood, less slippery and warmer.

You took your clothes off, leaving them carefully folded next to the door and entered the shower. It was big enough so Ivar could move inside with no problem, and the water was warm. You let it run down your body and relaxed under it, immediately forgetting the cold rain that had surprised you during your date. The plan had been to go to the beach, nothing too special, but the rain had interrupted you and you had ran into his house, which was close and also empty.

You wondered if he would have invited you in with his family inside.

Even if that shower felt like heaven, you stepped out after rinsing off the soft gel that felt like gold on your skin and quickly took one of the fresh towels you had retrieved from the small cabinet under the sink. After drying off your hair, you secured the towel around your body and took your damp clothes before opening the door.

Ivar sat on the bed, looking down at his phone and only raised his head when you stepped out. For a moment his eyes wandered down your body, only covered by the white towel that reached the middle of your thighs. You trembled under his stare. Not even weeks hanging out with him were enough to calm you down in his presence.

“Give me those” he cleared his throat as he stood up, leaning into his crutch with a small wince of pain. You pouted and looked at his legs “I’ll put them in the dryer”

“I can do it” you mumbled, wondering if the rain and the dampness worsened his pain “Just tell me where it is”

“Are you sure? My brothers could arrive at any moment, maybe receiving them half naked is not a good idea” he bit his lip to hold back a laugh when you widen your eyes “It’s fine, I’ll do it and I’ll give you some dry clothes so you can change” he shrugged and you gave them to him and immediately your hands grabbed the towel to make sure it stayed in its place. Not that you’d mind getting naked in front of Ivar Lothbrok.

When he was back you still stood awkwardly next to his bed. That seemed to amuse Ivar, who opened his wardrobe and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“I’d give you something from my sister’s but she’s not in Kattegat now and keeps her bedroom locked when that happens” he shrugged. Smart choice, you thought, knowing you’d do the same if you had to share a house with five brothers.

“It’s okay” you muttered, grabbing the clothes “Thank you”

“What happened? The cat’s got your tongue?” he looked about to laugh again, and you looked down a bit flustered.

“Don’t laugh at me” you replied, biting your lip and glaring at him playfully.

“I’m not” he widened his eyes and pouted with feigned innocence.

“Being naked in someone else’s room is never comfortable, right?” you raised an eyebrow before you realised what you said, but Ivar was already laughing and shaking his head.

“I’m going to take a shower now” he said “You’re welcome to grab something from the kitchen or anything, but get dressed first” he raised an eyebrow.

You nodded and turned around to face the bed and give him some privacy as he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and faced the wardrobe again, probably to get dry clothes for himself. But when you heard the shirt falling to the floor, you turned your head slowly.

His back was amazing. You already knew it, you had seen him grow into a huge and strong man, and you had touched it during some of your makeout sessions in the past couple of weeks. You had seen him shirtless on the beach other summers, with his brothers and always with his legs covered. Out of all of them, except maybe Björn, he was the strongest one, the muscles of his chest, arms and back toned from all of those years carrying his own weight. His skin had a golden undertone that seemed to glow, especially now that it was slightly wet. And his long hair collected in small braids  and a ponytail brushed his shoulders.

But what made you part your lips in awe were the tattoos. They covered the upper part of his back, shoulders and chest and you had seen a peak of them when he wore short sleeves, but they were even more beautiful from up close, and when his muscles tensed underneath them it almost looked like they were moving. They were nordic designs, like the ones everyone in his family had. You always found them fascinating.

But his head turning to look at you interrupted your thoughts and you quickly turned around, biting your lip when you realised he caught you.

“You were looking” he said, and he sounded partly amusedand partly surprised.

“Just wanted to see your tattoos” you muttered in reply, and it was in part true “Sorry”

“Don’t be” he shrugged even if you couldn’t see him. You heard his steps and his crutch approaching you and your heart started beating faster “Want to see them?”

When you turned around again he stood just behind you, and you had to look up to meet his eyes. When you looked at his chest again, your fingertips tingled with an avid need of running them over the ink lines.

“How did you get them?” you asked. They were a bit less perfect than the ones you had seen, the edges weren’t as clean but they looked beautiful anyway, almost like the ones a viking would have worn.

“The technique is called stick and poke” he shrugged “It’s a more traditional way”

“Sounds painful” you frowned, and Ivar’s lips curved on a smile.

“I’m used to pain”

You pouted again and raised your head to look at him, but didn’t say anything. You had seen him struggling over the years, knowing he spent long periods in the hospital, with long and painful treatments…

“I would like to get a tattoo” you commented, knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk about his legs and his pain “Maybe this summer”

You finally felt brave enough to run a finger down one of the lines that crossed his chest, still looking down to avoid his gaze.

“I can take you” he said, and you nodded absentmindedly, amazed by how soft his skin felt under your touch. Then his hand touched your jaw, making you raise your head and the next thing you felt were his lips against yours. You whined in surprise but kissed him back, suddenly his chest was closer than ever and his warmth surrounded you. His hand left your face at the same time as yours grabbed his shoulders. It travelled down your body, and it burned your skin over the towel. When he reached your thigh and the edge of the towel, Ivar pulled down, and it fell down faster than you thought. It pooled around your feet, and you sighed against his lips nervously. Was it always this hot inside this room? Ivar’s lips left yours to kiss down your neck and collarbone. You were surprised to hear the sounds that were coming out of your mouth.

Suddenly he stepped back, but his ocean eyes didn’t leave yours as he walked over to the bed and sat down, taking sharp breaths with his chest rising quickly. He let the crutch fall down to the floor and leant back, supporting himself with his arms. You blinked quickly, suddenly feeling a bit conscious as you were completely naked in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, scanning his face looking for any sign of discomfort. But when you stood close enough, he grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled you closer. His warm lips reached your belly and you gasped. It was more difficult to focus on being insecure about your body when his lips came so dangerously close to that zone between your legs…

When Ivar finally pushed you so you’d straddle his lap, you felt his already hard member pulsing against your core and your eyes fluttered shut when he kissed your collarbone again. When you opened them he was looking at you with his mouth on your chest, and it didn’t take long before you leant in to kiss him again. You had been with other people before, but you had never been so aroused in your life, feeling almost like you were floating.

Your fingers left his shoulders to caress his hair. Not really caring if you ruined his braids, you ran your fingers through it, finding it the softest thing you had ever touched. He let out a low moan, and you moaned in response. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. But both the kiss and your caresses were interrupted by his hand reaching between your legs. Your entire body tensed and Ivar made a shooting sound with his mouth into your ear as he found your clit. This time the both of you groaned at the same time, you when he started moving his fingers and him when you bit down on his neck a bit rougher than you intended.

You let your head fall down onto his shoulder when one of his fingers entered you, letting out a moan a bit weaker, even if your volume only went up when he pushed in a second one and his thumb pressed on your clit. When Ivar curled his fingers and breathed into your ear, your walls clenched around his fingers. You were going to cum embarrassingly soon.

“Are you going to cum for me?” he whispered, and the sound of his voice so close was what you needed to start trembling and nodding desperately “Yes?”

“Yeah” you moaned “Ivar don’t stop… Fuck” you gasped when you finally felt it travelling down your lower belly. His mouth found your soft spot under your ear, and the force of your orgasm was enough to make you see stars behind your closed eyes, not even aware of the sounds you were making anymore.

When Ivar retrieved his fingers, he made you look at him as he licked them, into  his now darkened eyes before pulling you in to kiss you again, biting your lips forcefully and making you moan again when you tasted yourself on his tongue. He didn’t even let you breathe before he whispered again against your ear.

“Good girl”

You let out a strange sound, and as he crawled back to lean his head onto the pillows of his bed, still looking at you with a smirk of satisfaction on his face, you were more than sure that you’d do anything for him. As long as he looked and talked to you like that.

You didn’t even realise when you started crawling over him and straddled his lap again. With him laying down underneath you it was easier to unbuckle his pants, finally freeing his cock. Ivar let out a relieved sigh, but looked down to grab your wrist as soon as his pants were at the middle of his thighs.

“That’s enough” he muttered, and for a moment he looked shy. You stopped then, looking at him carefully.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, suddenly remembering his legs and the pain he could have been feeling with you writhing on his lap.

“No” he shook his head and grabbed your neck to bring you down and kiss you again “Just leave my pants on”

You nodded quickly, even if you felt a sting of sadness knowing he didn’t trust you enough to show you his legs. But the thought quickly left your mind when he caressed your body again, grabbing your ass and touching your waist and your thighs, making you let out needy moans again. It was like you couldn’t get enough.

You reached down to grab his member, and he took a sharp breath as his muscles tensed under your body. With a small smile on your lips as he lost control for a moment, you started moving your hand up and down. His eyes fluttered shut and his grip on your waist tightened. Ivar let himself enjoy your touch for a minute, letting out hisses and breathy moans before grabbing your wrist to make you stop. You licked your lips as he reached to open one of the drawers on the small table he had next to his bed, and you trembled in anticipation when he took a condom out. Immediately his eyes were back on yours, and you felt hypnotised again.

“Open it” he ordered, with the same, firm voice from earlier. You had to suppress a moan as you obeyed, ripping the package carefully “Put it on” your hands were almost shaking as you did it, finally realising the size and the thickness of his member, which made you gulp “Come here”.

Back on your original position, you straddled his lap carefully as he laid down on his back. His hands grabbed your hips and his eyes wandered down your body slowly. You felt a bit self-conscious again but he didn’t let you cover yourself. Instead Ivar lined his member with your entrance, teasing you with the tip until you whined in protest and made him smirk.

“Sit down” he said, and you obeyed again. His hand guided your hips as he filled you for the first time. It was overwhelming, slow and a bit painful, but even if you didn’t make the effort to hide your moans, you forced yourself to keep your eyes open, enjoying the way his face contorted in pleasure and he had to fight the need of thrusting up into you while his eyes narrowed. He didn’t stop until he was fully inside you, and he let out a groan as he waited a few seconds to let you adjust. Then he opened his eyes again and licked his lips before saying “Now ride me”.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You started moving your hips slowly, and immediately the pleasure filled every single corner of your body. His breathy moans only encouraged you to move faster, even if the tight grip of his hand on your hip still guided you, setting up the pace. His other hand caressed your waist, your belly, your chest, grabbed your neck and even touched your lips when he pulled you down to kiss you again. Your legs were already shaking around him, you felt light-headed and you nearly begged against his lips.

Ivar stopped then, guiding your hips to move in circles and then back and forth, which made you yelp when his member started pressing on a very specific spot inside you.

You didn’t even realise you had started to beg until Ivar let out a breath against your ear.

“Please what?” he muttered “Do you want to come?”

You only had enough strength to nod, sitting back down to make it go deeper. His hand left your body to touch your clit again, and you gasped when he made you move faster.

“You look so beautiful like this” he said, his voice breathy and deeper than ever “And you feel so good, Y/N…”

You whispered his name, as a warning. It was too much and the intensity of the pressure building in your lower belly told you it was going to be strong. Painful even.

Ivar gritted his teeth together. If your walls were clenching so hard around him then, he couldn’t even imagine how it would feel when you…

“Cum then” he whispered again as he started thrusting again “Cum for me”

You closed your eyes and let out a moan so loud he would’ve thought it was a scream. Your entire body clenched and trembled, you felt like passing away when a giant wave of pleasure washed over you, almost making you drown. Your nails dig into his shoulders and chest, and Ivar let out a hiss in between moans. He had planned to hold on a bit longer, but the feeling of your walls clenching so tightly around him was too much.

The both of you ended up panting and shaking, and you had to move away from him as soon as your orgasm ended, too sensitive to tolerate any kind of contact. Ivar sat down as you licked your lips and laid on the bed next to him, feeling dizzy and almost like you were going to pass out. Your limbs felt heavy and you weren’t sure whether you could walk at that moment. Ivar took the condom off, leaving it on the floor carefully before laying back down to catch his breath. You smiled then, for some reason you felt the need of smiling and giggling like an idiot. God, if that wasn’t the best experience of your entire life…

“Are you okay?” Ivar turned his head to look at you “Sorry if I was too rough…”

“I’m fine” you smiled at him “I just need a moment” you closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath. Ivar chuckled and rubbed his face. It felt good to have a distraction, to finally feel like he had taken Freydis out of his system. And you were so sweet and good to him…

After a few minutes, and completely against your will, you left the bed. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back in and cuddle him. Inhale his scent while leaning onto his chest and kiss him again, this time slowly, caress his hair and fall asleep with his heart beating under your ear. But he hadn’t made a move towards you, and you were already embarrassed remembering the sounds you had made just a few minutes before. Your legs still felt shaky as you grabbed the towel and covered yourself, even though it was maybe a bit too late for that, before going back to the bathroom.

After peeing and cleaning yourself as fast as you could, you stepped out again. This time Ivar was standing, and looked at you with a small smile.

“I’m going to have the shower now” he said, and you nodded, biting your lip “If you’re thirsty you can go to the kitchen and grab some water”

You nodded before the door closed again behind him, and finally got dressed.

A few minutes later, when you reached the kitchen with the intention of drinking at least two litres of ice-cold water, you found Ubbe and Hvitserk sitting next to the kitchen island, both talking quietly and eating something. Hvitserk was the first one that saw you, smirking widely and winking at you.

“Hello” he looked very amused as you stood there, dressed in his little brother’s clothes and wishing the Earth would explode at that moment.

“Hi Y/N” Ubbe smiled politely at you “It’s nice to see you again”

“Hi” you mumbled, knowing you couldn’t turn around and go back to Ivar’s bedroom without losing all of the dignity you had left “I… Can I have some water?”

“Of course” Ubbe stood up before you could add anything else and opened a cabinet to grab a glass.

“Yeah, I think you need it” Hvitserk chuckled “How was your day? Interesting?”

You nearly choked with the water, and Ubbe hit his brother’s head softly, rolling his eyes with an amused smile.

“Ignore him, Y/N” he winked at you “Want to eat something?”

_______________________________________________________

The small tattoo studio to which Ivar took you was located on a busy street, but somehow you had never noticed it before. The owner was a giant man with long, grey hair and a beard, and his serious expression changed completely when Ivar entered the local. They exchanged a big smile and a handshake while you stood next to the door shyly, looking around. You had insisted on getting a tattoo the modern way, and Ivar had laughed at that, reassuring you that Haakon -the giant man you supposed- could do that too.

“Today it’s not for me” Ivar shook his head when Haakon asked him which design he had in mind. Then he turned to look at you, and you smiled “She’s Y/N, she would like to get a tattoo and I told her you’re the best artist in all Scandinavia”

The man shot you a gentle smile and nodded, motioning for you to approach the counter so he could show you some designs. After a while discussing different ones and the changes he could do so it would look better on you and also be unique, you finally laid on the chair as Haakon printed the design and prepared his tools. Ivar sat on a chair next to you, a small smile on his lips. You got to hold his hand during the whole process, and the sting of the tattoo was somewhat forgotten when you realised it was the first time you held his hand and prayed so it wouldn’t be the last.

_______________________________________________________

When you got the idea of that improvised trip to Lapland, you didn’t expect for it to actually happen. But that day when the sun went up you were sitting on a train with Ivar next to you, and you looked out of the window feeling the luckiest person in the entire world, hoping that warmth would last forever. His leg was touching yours, and your hand twitched with the need of grabbing his.

A week ago, during a night in which the rain and thunder didn’t let you sleep, you opened your laptop and organised a trip out of boredom. Lapland was always a good idea, and even better when after Lapland you got to travel around Finland by train and fly back home from Helsinki. Trains were a cheaper option and way more comfortable for Ivar, who had now way more space to stretch his legs and a comfortable seat. You had messaged him at dawn that same night, thinking he’d say no. He took a few minutes but he said yes. And you had squealed like a teenager at the thought of a trip with him. Ubbe had given you a few tips to help with his legs, and Ivar was surprisingly very calm and even looking forward to the trip.

“Feels good to be out of that city for a while” he muttered, his eyes narrowed as he just woke up and the sunlight hit them directly “I needed a distraction”

You turned your head to smile at him. Ivar’s expression relaxed. He liked you, and found it very cute that you always had a smile for him.

“Yeah, I guess” you shrugged “It’s a good way to end the summer too”

Ivar nodded absentmindedly. His phone inside his pocket burned then, and he remembered the text he received a few days ago. A part of him needed that trip to get it out of his mind, to avoid overthinking. But her words were embedded in his head.

I’ll be back on September 1st. Then we can talk. I miss you♡

Ivar wondered how she could miss him when it was her who left him. For someone else. Ivar had had his heart broken for the entire summer, but August had been a bit more tolerable thanks to you. So when you proposed that trip he said yes. He hoped he could get her out of his mind but it seemed impossible. Not even with you next to him to distract him.

“I hope we can see the Northern Lights?” you said looking at the sky with a hopeful sigh “It’s romantic”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit early for the Northern Lights” Ivar chuckled “But who knows… I’m not a very romantic person, though”

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. You had seen him looking at Freydis, you had heard what he had done for her.

“I don’t believe that” you shrugged “I think everyone is romantic in their own way… Being romantic is not necessarily sending big bouquets of flowers every Friday, or organising a dinner with candles and rose petals on a Saturday, sometimes it’s just a simple gesture, or words”

“But sometimes a simple gesture or words are more difficult than a bouquet” he replied “Especially when you feel like you’re never good enough”

Your smile faded and you pouted, feeling your heart break for him.

“Who made you feel like you’re not good enough, Ivar?” you asked quietly, reaching to caress his hair softly. He didn’t move.

“Many people” he said with a sigh “When they leave me for someone better, or when no matter what I do that is never enough, when they couldn’t care less about me”

You frowned and stayed silent for a couple of minutes.

“I care about you” you said quietly “I wouldn’t leave if you don’t want me to, and no matter what you do it’s always enough” you smiled up at him, who looked taken aback “Don’t waste your time on people that don’t appreciate you”

Ivar gulped. He felt his eyes burning with tears but he refused to cry. He wished it was that easy.

“Don’t be sad” you pouted again “I want you to enjoy the rest of the summer”

Why do you care so much?, he wanted to ask. But then you stood up and closed the door to the compartment, locking it before drawing the curtains. And he knew exactly what you had in mind when you turned around with a shy smile. He thought it would be much easier if he could fall in love with you.

______________________________________________

August felt too short. Soon the days started to get shorter, and it rained more often. Suddenly you stopped going to the beach, and the university emails about the starting of the classes filled your inbox.

And Ivar stopped texting.

Finland had been a dream. It made you believe it could last, because for a few days it felt real. You didn’t hide on a harbour, or waited until everyone left the beach to sit on the sand. He kissed you, laughed with you, his fingers traced the lines of your new tattoo during the night, under the bedsheets of the cheap hotels you had booked. Those days were like a dream.

But dreams end too.

And suddenly you went from chasing Northern Lights to stare at your phone in silence, in the middle of the night waiting for a text, a call, anything that would calm your fears. He didn’t reply, didn’t call back. You saw Ubbe and Hvitserk on the bar a couple of times, but didn’t dare to ask them. You even went to the harbour a few times, waiting in case he’d appear from nowhere with a rational explanation. But he never did.

Sometimes you’d be angry, wanting nothing else than to send him a voice note or a huge text, but you always ended up deleting the whole thing before pressing send with the tears running down your face. Because at the end of the day, you could not lose someone who was never yours. And Ivar had never been yours, there was always something between the two of you that was impossible to ignore.

That first day of university you understood why.

Your friends were all back from their holidays, all tanned and with longer hair, new dresses and collars they had bought on those souvenir shops that are usually in front of the beaches. Maybe you should have been a bit jealous of them and their holidays around the world, but you wouldn’t change that summer with Ivar for anything else. In fact, you dreamed of leaving for a proper holiday with him one day. Maybe Italy, Greece or Spain…

They giggled around you, telling you stories about cute lifeguards, southern boys (and girls) with an accent and the best mojitos they had ever tried. You smiled with them, having missed them way more than you thought, until you spotted them in the parking lot.

Freydis was the first one. She jumped out of Hvitserk’s car laughing, and Ivar came out after her. He also had a big smile on his face, and said something before she giggled again, leaning in to kiss him.

Something inside you broke, and you couldn’t stop looking as they walked towards the main building. Hvitserk walked behind them, not looking very enthusiastic about Freydis’ return. But your eyes were glued to Ivar. Wishing he’d turn his head and look at you, acknowledge you at least, something that reassured you that what you lived that summer was real, even if it ended as quickly as it started.

He did look at you, his smile faded slowly when he finally spotted you, and you held back your breath until he looked away again.

“I heard she came back from Sweden not so long ago” your best friend spoke next to you, and you knew who she was talking about “She’s so pretty, it’s unfair”

“Yeah” you said softly. For some reason you didn’t feel the sadness you had been feeling since Ivar stopped talking to you. Instead you felt your eyes fill with tears of disappointment, which hurt even more.

“They do look cute together, Ivar is hot” she giggled “Maybe we’ll find something like that too, someday”

“I doubt that” you replied, thinking with your young innocence that you would never be able to love someone as much as you loved him. They entered the building then, and it was like seeing a door closing on your face, knowing it would probably never open again.

“Shall we get to class?” your friend, oblivious to your heartbreak, pointed at the hallway full of students.

“Yeah, I… I need to go to the toilet, save me a seat?” you replied, clearing your throat before taking a couple of steps towards the toilets.

“Sure, but don’t be late! It’s the first day” she winked at you and turned around, walking towards the classroom. You quickly entered the toilets, locking yourself in one of the stalls as the first tears started rolling down your cheeks, knowing you didn’t have much time because the classes were about to start, but relieved because at least you’d have a distraction.

The tears felt like fire on your skin, they burned and ruined the makeup you had put on that morning, hoping you’d see him and he’d give you one of his smiles, maybe cross that door with your hand on his. People would start talking but he couldn’t care less. It was the hope for that moment that kept you going for the entire summer. And you would have waited forever.

___________________________________________

Tags:  @mblaqgi​ @alicedopey​ @lol-haha-joke​ @hallowed-heathen​ @naaladareia​ @tephi101​ @captstefanbrandt​ @love-hate-love​ @titty-teetee​ @readsalot73​ @moondustmemories​ @thevikingsheaux​ @therealcalicali​ @chimera4plums​ @blushingskywalker​ @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1​ @justacripple​ @heartbeats-wildly​ @letsrunawaytotomorrow​ @inforapound​ @sallydelys​ @hellogabysblog​ @winchesterwife27​ @hecohansen31​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @eteramfools​ @tgrrose​ @flokidottirsstuff  @lovessce​ @tootie-fruity​ @didiintheblog​ @alexhandersenx​ @belovedcherry​ @fantasydevil2002​​ @xceafh​​ @astrape-the-weatherwitch​​ @destynelseclipsa​ @katarokkar11 @momowhoo​​ @heavenly1927​​ @mcrmarvelloki​​ @nanahachikyuu​​ @valopz​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @heavenly1927​​ @dini73​​ @loveforreading​​ @southernbe​ @smears-and-spots​ @natalielbeauty​ @mrsalwayswrite​ 

my taglists are a mess! I’m sorry if I fucked the Ivar taglist up😭 just let me know if you want to be tagged or if you want me to delete you from the taglist!

#ivar imagine #modern ivar #vikings imagine #modern vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar smut

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

New Records, New Beginnings

A/N: Y’all I haven’t posted a story on here in four months. Four months. I’m genuinely sorry but also first semester of college high key kicked my ass. So here’s a little Christmas gift from me to you, and yes it’s a bit cliche but Hallmark-y type things are what we all love around the holidays (don’t lie, you love those stupid chick flicks too). Hope you guys enjoy! Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Word Count: 2,852 words Warnings: A lot of fluff, like a lot of fluff.

You had spent most of your Saturdays like this, and nothing much had changed.

You would go out around midday after lunch at home, spend time shopping around whether it be physically buying something or just window shopping. It was a way to destress and reward yourself after a week of work that you felt was much deserved.

The only difference now was the increase in people shopping. Around late November and early December your usual shops became more crowded with people trying to find the perfect Christmas presents for everyone they knew. You were at least smart enough to have already completed your shopping for everyone in the first week… except your dad.

The guy who may have been your favorite person in the world also happened to be the one who was hardest to shop for. You loved him dearly, and while yes he did have a wide array of hobby on the spectrum of being a dad, it didn’t make it much easier to shop for him.

So you had landed yourself in a few record stores today, trying to find any album he would like. Generally he wasn’t that picky on music, he loved lots of artists and bands, but combine that with your mentality of record buying being “you better listen to it” and the task was becoming increasingly harder by the second.

You didn’t necessarily notice anyone around you, it was relatively busy given it being a record shop, maybe six to seven other people in the shop, but you were on a mission to find one of the few records you knew was actually worth spending money on given your fathers listening habits. You were also trying to draw away from buying yourself anymore records, given the two you already had snug under your arm.

Gerard, on the other hand, was like any other holiday shopper. Except he managed to be even worse.

He never shopped for Christmas gifts ahead of time, it was always about a week before when he started. He scolded himself every year for doing it, but never found himself changing the habit. So here he was, rushing into a record store and desperately trying to find this one damn record his dad wanted for his birthday… that happened to be tomorrow.

He didn’t scan around, take in any of these new surroundings, instead he promptly led himself to the cashier’s desk, nearly pleading to see if they had it.

“One copy left,” The older man from behind the counter said. He reeked of being pretentious based off of this record hobby, something Gerard found ridiculous when everyone was doing it now. “Back left corner.”

“Great, thanks.” He quickly made his way to the far left aisle and all the way down to where he was instructed to go, eyes scanning over the different bookmarks in-between each album marking a new artist or new letter of artists. He looked up, thankfully seeing you only about three feet away to put the breaks on his legs, but was met with ultimate grief and defeat.

Of course you had to be looking at the same album he needed. And of course, you placed it under your arm with the rest of your records.

So, he had one of two options here: One was to go home defeated, show up tomorrow with some lame card he got at a pharmacy for his dad, and get scolded at by his mother for not being more on top of these things. Second was to approach you, talk to you, and just see if you were willing to let him have it.

But he was bad at talking to girls. Like, really bad.

It was something his friends had joked about before, how he would much rather be reading or drawing than ever talk to a girl. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to (although many times he really didn’t) it was that he felt like he couldn’t. Women were just… hard.

“Um, excuse me.” He spoke up, nerves bundling in his stomach. Hoping this would be an easy interaction for him, he saw you turn around and instantly he regretted everything. You weren’t just a girl… you were a pretty girl. A very, very pretty girl.

“Hm?” You hummed a bit with your eyes growing a bit wide in curiosity. Wow, those eyes, he thought to himself, never seen that color before.

“I’m, um, not trying to be rude or anything,” He began nervously, “But my dad’s birthday is tomorrow and I’ve literally been to four other record stores and no where has the record he wants. This one only has one and you have the last copy so I was wondering-“



“Sure.” You replied before he could even finish, moving your arms a bit to reach for the one you had just grabbed, snugly fit close to your body. “It’s for Christmas anyways, for my dad too, but I have more time to find another one.”



“Really?” He asked, somewhat amazed that you would give this to him, and somewhat amazed that he could speak to you. “I- I really appreciate this, like you have no idea, really.”



“It’s totally fine.” You tightly smiled, “Besides, if not that one I’m sure I can find another one my dad might like.” He nodded.

“Um, thanks again.” He said with a kind smile and mini bow of appreciation which you chuckled at before he walked back to the register.

“Just this?” The same guy at the front asked him. Gerard nodded, placing the record on the counter and searching in his pocket with his other hand for his wallet. “I’m surprised you didn’t at least ask her out.” He mentioned as Gerard grabbed his card from his wallet, head shooting up.

“Excuse me?” He asked.

“I mean, not only were there clearly some sparks, but she gave up the record to a total stranger.” The older man explained, “That’s a new level of nice.”

Gerard looked back briefly at where you were, still browsing but approaching closer to the counter, before awkwardly clearing his throat and swiping his card. As soon as it was approved, he removed it, placing it back in his wallet and grabbing the bag.

“My advice, kid,” The man continued, “Don’t waste up an opportunity like this. The worst she can say is no.”

Gerard stood there for a brief moment stunned, and wondering what to do next. Yes, this stranger had a point about you, but the thought of asking you out despite the fact he really wanted to seemed beyond his ability. But then again, he did ask you for a record. That’s the same thing, right? You could’ve said no then and you could say no now, but that’s the worst that could happen.

With no actual foreseeable good outcome, Gerard retraced his steps to finding his way back to you. This time, you seemed more attentive as he approached you, looking up at him with those same stark eyes again. “I just wanted to say thank you, one last time.” He began, “You really saved me from having to deal with my mom scolding me tomorrow.” You lightly chuckled.

“It’s no problem, really.” You admitted, still with a smile on your face.

“Is there anyway I could pay it back maybe?” He asked, trying to put on some level of confidence, “Like coffee, maybe?”

You seemed a bit taken aback by his request, but after a brief moment of thought, responded, “Sure.”

Gerard could feel his muscles release their tense holding as he took a small breath of relief. “Great, uh, could I get your number, maybe?”



“Yeah, of course.” He handed you his phone as you typed it in, handing it back to him. Y/N, it read, fits her.

“Okay, well, see you soon, Y/N.”



“See you soon-“



“Gerard,” He finished ahead of you.

“Gerard.”

“Are you ready, Gee?” You asked from the front door, throwing your keys in your bag and awaiting your boyfriend to appear from the living room.

“Yeah, just a sec.” You could hear the frustration of him fighting with his boot echo throughout the hallway, a rough sigh following afterwards in frustration. “Here.” He finally said after a few more seconds, walking down to you and grabbing his coat from the rack.

Just a year or so ago you would have found it a pretty large disruptions to your average Saturdays had another person been mixed into that equation. But now, Gerard comfortably stood by your side riding along your Saturday activities. He didn’t mind it much, more than happy to play the cart-pusher and attempt to control your irrational purchases, like buying every Christmas scented candle you could get your hands on, or anything that had some sort of a dog or cat on it.

But he found some peace in just walking by you and getting weekly errands done plus having some fun while doing it. He had learned to try many new things on these adventures: tofu for the first time, a face mask, and honey barbecue chips were just a few. But it seemed like most items you gravitated towards said something small about you, which helped him to learn all about you quicker.

It also happened to give him a lot of ideas for presents, which was helpful this time of year. He had already found you a couple hoodies you had fallen in love with, a new pair of slippers, and a few other smaller items, leaving the bigger ones to be more creative and thoughtful.

“I haven’t been here in forever.” You remarked, pulling into the space right in front of your local record store.

“I know, right?” He replied, “It’s just so easy to buy this online.”



“True,” You agreed, shutting the engine off, “But at least local stores have cooler, older things that aren’t crazy upcharged.”

“Also, true.” He smiled, getting out of the car and waiting by the edge for you to get out too.

One nice things about record stores is that they never change all that much. Everything was basically the same here as it was last time, which led to a much more relaxed experience looking through each section. Aside from a few new titles and artists, almost everything sat as it was.

Gerard always kept a close eye on you in these situations. He had learned little hints you gave as to when you wanted something. Eyeing it for a bit longer than usual then gasping a bit, excitedly showing him something with a fun fact about it, maybe even blatantly just saying you wanted it. He kept a mental list of all the things you had wanted, trying to make an effort to check off every one (well, almost, bigger things like a dog were for a later discussion).

But here, in the record store where he met you and you him, where you had managed to save him from a hell of a scolding from his mom, his eyes stayed practically glued to your fingers as you scanned each title, lingering on some for longer than others. He stayed like this a good few minutes but keeping his distance and hoping you wouldn’t notice. He had eventually resorted to sneakily walking around and picking out records you wanted or ones he knew you liked. Again, the mental list of these artists stayed glued to his mind.

He had realized relatively quickly that his hands were getting full. He had picked out six or seven right now and hadn’t even made it a third of his way through the store. He took a sigh, looking back to make sure you were occupied and not looking anywhere near the register, before walking up and placing the records down on the front counter. “Would you mind just holding these behind the counter while I look around a bit more?” He requested, “My hands got kinda full.”



“No problem.” A slightly familiar voice echoed, Gerard looking at the older man behind the counter who was smirking, looking between Gerard and you.

Not thinking much of it, Gerard went back to his shopping habits, picking out record after record. He had gone up for another drop-off trip before you finally approached him, “Hey hon.” Your voice spoke up behind him. He quickly turned around, looking down to see the gorgeous woman he got to call his. “I didn’t find much, I was planning on going to the Target here to grab a few things but it still looks like your shopping.”



“Yeah, I am a bit.” He admitted with a small smile, “Go on without me, I’ll meet you there and pull the car closer to that lot.”



“Ya sure?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing as they always did when you seemed to genuinely care. He smiled even more with a nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be good here.” You nodded back, giving him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the store.

Despite the distance making Gerard grow slightly more uncomfortable, and despite the fact he knew well that you were just a few store fronts away, he obliged to the opportunity before him and quickly collected every other record he knew you would want. The ridiculous figure holding at least half a dozen records under each arm was a man in love, every customer silently knew it. Because no one would buy that many records. That was a new level of head over heels.

“All set?” The cashier asked, the wrinkles on his forehead curling up as his smile grew, the question sounding more rhetorical and satire than anything.

“Uh, yeah.” Gerard awkwardly responded at the realization that he looked just a bit like a fool. The pile of albums in front of him stared right back as one by one they were scanned and placed into bags. He questioned how he would just sneak them by you, and with no avail to any answer.

As the total rang through his ears, he quickly slipped his card out of his wallet, handing it over firmly and not turning back. The cashier inched a smile, inserting the card into the machine. “So, things are going well?” He asked. 


“Yeah, ya know, life’s going alright-“



“Especially with the girl.” He commented back before Gerard could finish.

“Yeah, uh, really well.” He awkwardly chuckled at him, his lovesick state clearly clouding his vision at times.

The card reader beeped, allowing the older man to remove the card with the receipt and hand it back to Gerard. “Hey kid, do me a favor.” He requested, Gerard quick to nod his head and grab the bags, “When you guys are considering a song for your first dance, come to me and I’ll buy it for you two on vinyl.” Gerard turned to flustered as his eyes went wide in a moment of shock.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure-“



“You’ll be there.” He smiled from, clicking his ben against the desk, “Trust me.”



“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Gerard mumbled into your hair as you stood by your Christmas tree together. It was by no means Christmas, a couple days before, still, but you wanted to make sure to open all of your presents before you each went to your own families for the holiday.

“You too, hon.” You smiled back, tucking further into the arm draped over you his hand rubbing the small of your back. “Presents?” You asked cheerfully, he nodded back with a smile plastered across his face.

“Presents.” He declared back.

It had been a solid 15 minutes of ripping open the wrapping-covered boxes before hitting the last one, one which specifically Gerard requested you do last. You could tell by the shape alone that it was a record, a new one on top of the other stack of new ones next to you, but as you slowly ripped it open you realized what it was. You let out a small laugh as your fingers gripped the side of the two records.

“It’s supposed to make up for last year.” He briefly explained. You looked up at him and smiled.

“It’s perfect. Now I can actually give my dad this.” You replied, “But what about the second one?”



“Oh, I figured you give one to your dad, and then we keep one on hand.” He continued, “It was what caused us to meet.”



“That’s very poetic, Gee.” You softly said, standing up and walking over to his spot on the couch. You cupped his face lightly, leaning down to give him a soft kiss on the lips, which he gladly accepted and he moved his lips against yours. “I love you.”



“Love you too, sweetheart.” He smiled up at you, his hands now gripping your hips. “I figured we could put it up on the mantle somewhere, make sure it’s seen.”



“Sounds perfect.” Your hands delicately ran through his messy hair as he let out a purr of sorts in response, “Even if we never spin it, it’s perfect.”

#gerard way #mcr gerard #gerard way fanfiction #my chemical gerard #gerard way x reader #gerard way x you #gerard way x y/n #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader #mcr #mcr fanfiction

[flamingo-writes]

Caught Fire [Preview] — e.m.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

This is the preview of the monstrous fanfic I’ve been writing for the past week. The whole fic will be post tomorrow when I’m done proof reading it. Here is a small preview!! I made a post about it two days ago

This fic will have approximately 15.5K words! (Don’t ask me how it happened Idek)

If you wish to be tagged in this, let me know!

Genres: fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, smut, non canon, Eddie gets to graduate! Strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn ish? Idiots in love and too stupid to realize it.

That night, as he drove you back home at the usual ridiculously early curfew your father set, he parked in front of your house. You’d gone to the arcade and spent the afternoon trying to beat as many high scores as possible, competing between the both of you. And on the ride back home, you found one of the many D20 bouncing around in the cup holder of his van, and grabbed it and played with it in your palm for the entirety of the ride. As you say your goodbyes and as you were about to go inside your house, you stopped on your tracks and hopped back to his van.

“What’s up?” He asked once you opened the door and you returned the D20 to the cup holder.

“I was about to kidnap this little guy” You said, making Eddie chuckle as he grabbed it and handed it back to you.

“No, keep it” He said smiling softly at you. “Think of this as a piece of me…”

“Ed–“

“This used to be any other D20, like the other eight I have lying around somewhere in this same van…” He chuckled. “Now it’s yours. Keep it safe for me, yeah?” The smile he gave you was to die for as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“So dramatic…” You chuckled, as he smirked.

“A token of my trust, my gratitude, even a piece of my heart of you will,” He joked, playing along and moving his hands in a dramatic gesture.

“Alright then, Eddie The Freak Munson…” You chuckled. “Good night,” You purred as you leaned forward and kissed his cheek before sprinting out of his van and running towards your house.

If you had stayed for two more seconds, Eddie would’ve seized his chance and would’ve kissed you right there and then. Although, the flip his heart made and excitement rushed through his body, soon he felt the gloom washed over him, reminding him that you had your days counted in Hawkins. And with every passing day, you were closer and closer to leaving to New York, making him feel slightly bitter, and even sorry that he didn’t get to meet you before. You had spent almost four years there, and him six, and he had to meet you after you returned from Spring Break.

Just like every end of term, there was a party where pretty much everyone was invited and everyone attended. Even him, although he went more as a business trip, selling joints and weed to people at the party, and also because you’d told him you were going to be there. However, you were nowhere to be seen yet, and he came across Chrissy Cunningham. The sweet little cheerleader he had the pleasure of making a drug deal shortly before Spring Break. And most likely, the girl to steal his heart if you hadn’t come around exactly one month after his drug deal with Chrissy. He had felt that romantic curiosity and attraction towards her when they first talked in the woods, but that was before you came along. However, some sort of residual feelings were still there.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #stranger things x reader

[cdevroe]

Making Tuff improvements

My approach to building Tuff, my static site generator that I began working on last November, was to jump in as quickly as possible by publishing my personal website publicly very early in the development process. Doing so forced me to make rapid improvements and to focus on the most important features.

By spending 5am to 7am most weekday mornings I was able to publish my entire website publicly within 14 days of starting to code and I wrote a short blurb on how Tuff works within 30. Considering that my personal site has a portfolio, podcast, and thousands of blog posts I was surprised by that timeline.

As a quick aside, this 5am to 7am time slot for coding personal projects did not appear on my typical day post from January 2021 because I wasn't doing it then. As I get older I find myself waking earlier and earlier. Rather than blow all of that time on YouTube (I love my YouTube) I decided, just a few weeks after that post, to begin working on personal projects instead. I've done a lot of programming, photography, and side hustle business during these early morning sessions over the last two years and I hope to continue. Waking early and being productive feels like a super power.

Development on Tuff has not stopped. I've been chipping away at improvements to this website, the efficiency of the build process, and adding the capability to build multiple websites. As you can see in the changelog, each release brings a few small improvements but they begin to add up over time.

One feature that I've missed the most since switching to Tuff for my personal website has been search, which I finished a first version of yesterday.

In very early January, just a month or so into development, I added a local command line search command to Tuff to help me find posts in my archive. It works pretty well and I continue to use this to help me find older posts. But I knew I needed to add on site search so that visitors to my site could do some basic searching. I wasn't sure how I was going to go about it statically. Should I build a client side search forcing the visitor of the site to download some large index? Should I use a third party tool? Should I do what many have done and push people to a search engine?

I thought, don't be dogmatic about building static. Most modern content management systems are full of bloat, load too much unnecessary junk on the page, and have far more features than most people need for a personal site. It is why I decided to build Tuff to begin with. But that doesn't mean I have to get all self righteous about server-side code and only publish HTML, CSS, and JavaScript. I can sprinkle in some server-side code where it makes sense.

That is why I'm now calling Tuff a Static+ Site Generator. S+SG. Is this a thing? I don't know. Don't forget, in my original building Tuff post I mentioned that I never looked at other static site generators. And I still haven't. I'm oblivious to best practices.

As of today, I use Tuff to build three sites; this site you're reading now, a private local network website that showcases over 100,000 of our family photos by date, and a new static site for The Watercolor Gallery that I hope to finish before the end of the year. In addition to that I'd like to begin working on publishing Stripe Transfer, Stupid, and at least three other websites that I've yet to debut with it.

Tuff is now a tool I plan to use for the rest of my computing life (see also). I love it.

[tobe-sogolden]

Deuxmoi is hilarious because she still tried to shield Florence from criticism by claiming that “she was probably off with Zach, they look like they’re one of those on and off again couples”

First of all, there’s no reason to believe that’s the case at all. There have been no reported “off and on again” instances between them. Second of all, I was following her while they were filming, she was very much ON with Zach. She posted pics with him in stories, lived in his mansion, and mentioned him off handed in multiple of her cooking with Flo videos.

Third of all, it’s clear Deuxmoi doesn’t know its lore cause Harry and Zach HAVE BEEN FRIENDS FOR A DECADE. If that was real, Florence (and Harry) would be a piece of fucking shit, not only cheating on her boyfriend with her hot co-star, but also WITH ONE OF HIS FRIENDS.

This whole take falls apart the minute you analyze it for a second. Olivia was spotted in her slippers a mile away from Harry’s house in early November. When did the whole Flo thing happen? They didn’t start filming until October 26. 😭

Not to mention that Olivia and Florence interacted on socials and posted each other (which is the only reason people even try to say they don’t get on now) up until the second it was made public that Harry and Olivia were a thing. So??

And how would Olivia even go about this leak thing? That’s such a weak ass rumor 😭 so… what? She’d go to a tabloid and say they were hooking up? Let’s say she did that. Then Harry and Florence’s camps would issue statements saying it wasn’t true. What would hypothetical Olivia do in this scenario? Go on the record like “nu-uh!!! They are!! I saw them!” Have someone from the cast testify? Did she take stealth photos like an unhinged Sherlock Holmes?

And how would that scenario look for her potential directing career if it got out? Cause why would she want to risk adding that to her resume? Like??

Even more, how did this rumor got to Deuxmoi’s “reliable source”? Who leaked it? Florence? Olivia? Harry? None of the parties look good in this scenario. Was it a shadowy figure that happened to witness the whole thing and wait *looks at calendar* 24 months to talk about it?

Why would Harry witness someone blackmail him over his personal life and then go “you know what I wanna do with this woman? Date her SO HARD. I’m gonna move her into my house with her kids. And my family will ALL interact with her and all my friends too.” Like, duh, if someone blackmails you and threatens to expose your personal business you OBVIOUSLY make them your very serious partner for two years! Because remember this is the same Deuxmoi who claims she has a reliable source that says Harry and Olivia are SO serious and even engaged.

There is no scenario in which this makes a lick of sense. Deuxmoi has outdone herself with this one.

Nothing to add, this was great 😆👏🏾 it's all so unbelievably stupid I actually can't believe DM wasn't mortified posting that like GIRL 💀

#ask #the last part especially about his response to the supposed blackmail being to incorporate her into his life #and be in a serious relationship with her for 18? 19? 20? months now #yeah that makes sense.........

[everythingfromdust]

What Homestuck is About

I don’t remember writing this, I never finished writing this, and I just found it in my drafts. If you asked me today to come up with what homestuck is about I would not be able to go into this level of detail at all. here you go.

the post;

As told by someone who hasn’t read Homestuck.

Before I begin, lets go over my Homestuck experience. At some point in like 2010 probably people got obsessed with zodiac symbols for some reason, and also candy corn horns. I saw them around and they did not affect me in any way. A few years ago I was commissioned to draw Homestuck fanart, I was linked a video of nonsense about some dude who controlled planets with his veins maybe. This was for inspiration for the drawing. I drew fanart, they liked it. After that happened I found out that I had been drawing other Homestuck fanart by commission, about a green planet or something, this was a surprise to me. I found this strange, told my friend who liked Homestuck and he told me to read it. I read the first few pages and got bored, I am sorry to your fandom, it just wasn’t my thing. What was my thing, was reading random-ass theories about Homestuck and looking at fanart as it came on my dashboard.

Now, with that in mind, here is what Homestuck is about...

Homestuck is a webcomic about 4 teenagers, Dave, Rose, Karkat (Online handle?) and Egbert. Egbert and Rose are the same age, they are friends by convenience but don’t have a lot in common. Dave is Egbert’s cool older brother who is also an asshole sometimes but only to hide his fragile ego. Karkat is a loner type who is sarcastic. Rose has a crush on Karkat but they have never met in person. Rose is also very sarcastic, but hers is more mean spirited while Karkat is just defensive with a kind heart. 

Karkat is way more into videogames than the rest of them, and ends up being the ‘leader’ of the group, ironically as most of her motivation is to be alone. However, Rose likes her, so she follows Karkat’s lead with regards to what games they play online, Egbert follows Rose because he doesn’t have other friends, Dave has to keep an eye on his little brother so follows them on their adventures reluctantly (but slowly learns to be part of the group). The first story arc establishes the characters and the world. The viewer interacts with these characters through the occasional videogame interface but mostly a webcomic format. The characters are very meta and self aware which is funny without getting into too much action before...

Suprise plot twist Karkat realizes they have been playing a game copy of their own lives within a webcomic/web-game thing. We find out later that she suspected this all along and only wanted to be alone because she thought everyone else was a simulation. 

Almost immediately Dave thinks that this plot twist is stupid, and the meta commentary on Homestuck itself reaches new sarcastic heights. The fandom takes this idea and runs with it, causing many fans to insist that Homestuck sucks. 

When they break into ‘reality’ Karkat is shocked to find that the other three have come as well. Thus begins her overarching subplot of learning to trust others and believing she can fall in love with Rose. Karkat and Rose question still if this reality is really the real one. Spoiler: It isn’t. While they try to discover the why and how of their situation Egbert is busy altering the code of the game to give himself insane powers and become ‘god tier.’ Dave is doing stuff to, but I think it’s mostly just fucking off and making jokes. 

There are monsters called trolls with candy-corn-horns at some point, but I’m lead to believe that they aren’t actually a big part of the story even though they are widely loved by fans. They probably happen early on in the story which is why they are fairly iconic for the series. The trolls are sentient too, each represents a sign of the zodiac, and each main character has a troll that is ‘them’ in an alternate game reality. So there are 4 trolls that represent the main characters, and this is symbolic somehow especially when you think about the 8 trolls who have no ‘main character’ components. 

Insane Clown Posse is involved somehow but I don’t understand if they are plot relevant or just a joke that the comic creator likes to fall back on. 

So anyway, eventually all the characters go god tier, they have to figure out their own personal way to get there and I bet it is really plot heavy and long. They can control the base code of the game, and they all start fighting with one another. 

The plot gets really huge in scope, as they find that their simulated reality 

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

Apologies ahead of time, I didn’t mean to ramble on for nearly this long when I stared typing. Sorry! Also fandom salt warning. If you’re feeling down, some of this might be a bit too negative

This isn’t really aro hc stuff, but I’ve been reading a lot of ml posts lately, and something I’ve noticed is that pretty much everyone loves Alix, which is valid because she’s the best, but despite positive Alix content, I can’t help but get a weird feeling off of it because of how it compares to how people talk about other characters on her level of plot relevance.

I feel like the fandom is divided into two parts, the majority (typical ml fan) which is here exclusively/mostly for the main cast, and the smaller part that stans the supporting cast as well and views small subplots as equal to the love square and agreste lore and all that. I’m mostly talking about the former here.

I’ve noticed that when typical ml fans give opinions on side characters, they tend to hold their flaws over their heads a lot. If anyone does anything wrong ever, they won’t forget it. “Yeah Max is alright, but that napkin scene…” “I can’t accept a Sabrina redemption arc. She’s just so complacent with Chloe and doesn’t think for herself.” “Alya takes initiative too much when it’s not her business.” Even when the thing they criticize isn’t actually bad, which usually comes off as kinda ableist. “Rose’s childish behavior is so annoying.” “Mylene’s coping mechanisms are embarrassing.”

But I don’t think I’ve EVER heard this kind of thing about Alix. When people make AUs starring only main characters, a lot of them throw her in there as well. When salters say, “I hate every character in this show except […]” she’s usually on that list. Part of it is because the conventionally attractive, skinny, white-passing characters tend to be elevated while the rest are brushed off, which always makes me mad, but that’s a whole ‘nother conversation.

These types of posts and fan works made me realize that Alix really lacks flaws and bad moments in canon. Sure, sometimes she does dorky things that are usually overlooked in fanon, but it’s so heavily outweighed by her being badass and snarky and logical all the time.

Here’s where the aro part comes in. A lot of the characters’ fuck-ups happen in romantic situations. Not all, but a lot. ML relies heavily on the “love makes people do stupid things” idea. There’s Marinette’s common screw-ups of varying severity as soon as she hears Adrien’s name, Adrien getting clingy over LB and being emo about her not returning his love, Nino making mountains out of molehills and revealing his and Rena’s identities in Rocketear, Kim trying to suck up to Chloe in the early seasons, Nath being a dick in Reverser. Mylene and Ivan’s relationship is used as a vessel to portray their respective flaws and struggles. Luka took his first big L besides being corny in season 4 after not being able to get over Marinette.

As much as we like the “being aspec makes us immune from simp-induced idiocy” thing, could they be overdoing it here? Maybe something will happen later in s5, but Alix never makes mistakes. She doesn’t have interpersonal issues with anyone because everyone loves her. She doesn’t openly get stressed out or bothered by things, and laughs a lot off. She’s always chill, tough, and she’s almost always right. She’s never done anything embarrassing or needed support from anyone else.

She’s the only one like this. Kagami plays a role kind of like this now, but she has problems socializing, and was very much hated in earlier seasons. Felix is widely regarded as having OP intelligence, and some people love him for it, but some people hate him for, y’know, being a huge dipshit. Zoe hasn’t had much of a chance to do anything, but an overwhelming number of people hate her just for existing. The closest one is Marc, but even then, he has obvious flaws. He’s pretty emotional in a way that people just find endearing, but he still gets some criticism for writing fiction about real heroes and villains (even though that’s implied to be completely normal in this world) and his arc kind of reminds me of Meena from Sing.

Anyways, I want to see Alix fuck up. I want to see her make a huge mistake, and get scared, and make a mess of things. Show me her being afraid of asking for help, biting off way more than she can chew, and trying to deal with something she just can’t handle all on her own. Give me Alix finding herself being the one in need of saving or comforting for once. Show me her hiding things to keep up her cool reputation or bottling up her feelings to look tough. Let her get angry over something irrational. Make her say something a little too sarcastic that hurts someone’s feelings or make a teasing joke in poor taste at the wrong time. Make her shit on her brother a little too much or come off as rude when calling the girls’ romance talk dumb or ignore Nath while hanging out with other people. Let her struggle with being aro as much as censorship will allow, or, from a more meta perspective, being the only aro character in a show about and chock full of romance. Show me Alix who goes with the flow without thinking, doesn’t give af about consequences, then gets hit in the face by them. Let constant time travel screw her up a little. Let her resent Ladybug a bit, deep down, for giving her this super stressful job, even though she consciously understands. Let the team put all their faith in Bunnyx to save the day, only for her to totally blow it. Show me Alix who would never get emotional in front of anyone, except maybe a select few people, who finds it impossible to show vulnerability and fears showing weakness.

I want to see the Alix that has struggles and makes bad decisions like the rest of the cast, not the Alix that is interpreted as overwhelmingly badass and perfect in people’s ooc grim dark AU fan fiction. Maybe the time just hasn’t come yet, but this is what canon is currently missing to me.

Don't worry about the length of this ask, your meta is always interesting to read and it actually made me super happy to see a long ask about Alix sitting in my inbox! (And I'm sure this reply is going to get long as well, haha.)

You absolutely have a point, I've seen it too -- salters or people who don't like the show still tend to like Alix as a character, even if they don't like other minor characters. There doesn't seem to be anything to dislike when her main personality is basically just being a badass. The only time in canon I can think of where she really "screws up" was way back in Timebreaker, where she supposedly should have taken better care of the pocket watch and apologises for it at the end. But that always seemed silly to me because she didn't do anything wrong! She knew it would be dangerous if she kept it with her during the race, so it made sense that she gave it to her friends for safekeeping, and if they were careless and broke it then that wasn't anything to do with her! But the narrative portrays it as her not being responsible enough. (Lol it's been years but I'm still a little sore about it.)

So yeah, even the one time she really "did something wrong" it's clear to see that she really didn't, and so people don't have a flaw to pick at. I remember back in season 1 I used to wonder if she was a loner like Nath, because she didn't really talk to the rest of the classmates back then (like in the class election in Darkblade she says she doesn't care about running for class rep and seems just generally apathetic) but season 2 onwards made it clear that she's very friendly and everyone in-show loves her. Which on the one hand is awesome, but on the other hand it would have been interesting to explore a more aloof side of her -- like you were saying about maybe having her feel unable to show emotional vulnerability in front of people. At the current moment she seems like the perfect friend to all her classmates and as awesome as that is, it does seem kind of shallow when everyone else is shown to have flaws and depth!

"Simp-induced idiocy" is an amazing phrase omg that's going into my lexicon now. But yeah, you're right, the nonsense behaviour in the show usually stems from teenage awkwardness around romance, and Alix clearly doesn't have that. But aro characters deserve to have the same depth to them as allo characters, just as aro people irl are obviously just as deep and rounded as allos. All of the scenarios you suggested would be so fun to explore!

I especially think the burden of being the hero of time would be a direction the show could go in, since (s5 spoilers alert!!) she's now stuck in the burrow for what will probably be years, not being able to see her family or grow up with her classmates, all on very short-notice, and that's obviously going to be a lot to deal with. Managing the timeline in general must be a difficult, stressful job -- just imagine all the apocalypses she has to see! And if she does her job right then no one else will know about those, so no one will know quite how much of a burden it truly is! Chat Blanc x1000. And all she really has is Fluff and herself. Will she get lonely? It would be so interesting to see a loneliness arc solved with something other than romance.

I remember having a few ideas about how the show could try and make it obvious that she's aro in spite of censorship -- like having a reverse Dark Cupid-style villain who shoots arrows of love at people and it doesn't work on Alix, or having her be akumatised into a Dark Cupid-style villain herself when she gets too sick of her classmates' romantic shenanigans, and the theme could be about having a balance where she cares about her friends' happiness, but they also don't overwhelm her with romantic talk. Just the show having magic in general could show that she's aro in some kind of metaphor way. I doubt it could ever be explicitly stated (just look how lowkey Julerose and Marcnath have to be!) but more hints like her sarcasm in Gigantitan would always be welcome! I think Alix being aro in the actual show itself is still more likely than them finding a way to make Max outright ace in the show though, for obvious reasons.

Anyway thank you for this ask, I'm always happy to hear about and talk about Arolix! I think it's surprising that there's not more discussions of her aromanticism in the fandom, considering that she's a pretty popular character, but then again it was only revealed in a tweet so not everyone knows she's aro. And fandoms are not the most aro-friendly of places on a good day. (I've been yelled at for headcanoning characters as aro before, including Alix back in the days before it was canon... Ah well, I've stopped caring what people think now.) I hope in the future more facets of her personality will be explored, not just "she's cool and snarky"!

#random stuff #aish answers stuff #cayenne-twilight

[miss-ingno]

Hi!!! I love your fic "This is how the war is won", it's amazing.

Is it still giving you problems??? I remember you saying that the last chapter was fighting you!!!

Ahhh, I’m glad to hear it! 🥰 Thank you for letting me know <3

There’s a couple different reasons why I’ve been struggling with the last chapter, including that contrary to my expectations February and March turned out to be busy and nerve-wrecking irl.

[fair warning, the next three paragraphs are very personal and kinda negative, feel free to skip]

I’m also aware of how setting this in YOHE and making it a/b/o makes it a very niche fic, neither of them are particularly popular in this fandom. I didn’t really care about that when I started writing it (around late October/early November 2021), it’s my self-indulgence project. When I decided to post it early, it was because I felt like I was losing steam on it and needed some encouragement, but I was also okay leaving it on chapter 4 for a bit. That’s the story I wanted to tell, ch1-4, everything else is loose ends plot wrap-up.

And I’m very grateful to everyone who commented, or reached out, or left kudos! But I’ve also realized that subconsciously I was holding some expectations, and in that this is how the war is won didn’t really perform as well as, say, a Weilan-centric canon divergence might.

This is no one’s fault! I recognize that posting it in Jan-Feb was a stupid idea in hindsight, since irl was in such flux that the stress of that made me flee to fandom for validation more than usual, which forced this fic to shoulder more than it should. And I realized I was feeling bad about it as I was forcing myself to write chapter 5 and kept writing myself into corners and hating it, so I dropped it for a while in favour of smaller, quick fics that could hopefully fill the function I needed at the time.

[okay, oversharing of personal negativity part over with :’)]

Now, there are three major issues I kept getting stuck on writing chapter 5:

1) Ye Zun is a brat

He kept fighting me all February, and I ended up putting all my will and energy to put up with him in No Man Left Behind, since that had a deadline -- I wrote it for the Ye Zun Week fandom event. Afterwards, I was kinda wrung out on his character, so I focussed on the other scene first.

2) a worldbuilding faux pas that my beta thankfully pointed out and led to me rewriting several chunks. I really like how it made the internal logic flow better, too!

3) the goddamn politics

I love politics in fics. I do. They’re so much fun, it’s just like, a great big web of character dynamics. The same reason I love poly fics. But I had to figure out convincing reactions from several parties for this one and how to convince them of the action I wanted them to take without like. Creating a new rebellion or big split because I’m not dealing with that x’D it needed to make sense and it wasn’t, it felt very ‘because I’m the author and say so’.

I kept running into this wall at several different points, and it didn’t help that I had written a couple snippets ahead that I adore and want to keep, but that I needed to rearrange over and over and just. Stopped feeling like I could work in.

The last of that hurdle I actually figured out how to get around (by rewriting another chunk RIP me) last week, and I put the final edits on the scene tonight! Which leaves the first half of the chapter at 4k (mind, average chapter length has been 5-5.5k so far). I’m very hopeful to wrap up Ye Zun’s part soon, too, maybe even post this month? *fingers crossed*

Thank you for being patient and still interested in the resolution of this fic! Here, have one of those snipps I didn’t wanna lose as an I’m Sorry For How Long It’s Taking:

"General Kunlun has been remiss in his duties," he said solemnly. "We are bonded, however, I have yet to receive a gift." Heipaoshi reached out, picking up the figure marking the rebel chief's position. He stared at the figurine for a long, tense moment, turning it over and over in his fingers. Finally, he looked up, meeting Kunlun's gaze with a resolute expression. "I want Zei Qiu's head."

[...] Kunlun himself only had eyes for his omega, leaning forward intently.

"I will serve it to you on a silver platter," he swore.

#WIP game #anonymous #ahhhh this god long sorry! >.< #I had a lot to say RIP #I had to write this up TWICE because tumblr killed the first draft lol #anyway I'm wordy because I'm tired and sorry #I hate leaving fics unfinished :') #because the pressure to update builds until I hate the words I'm writing #and I don't wanna post subpar garbage! #it has to be gold-star garbage at the least lol #this is how the war is won #ingno writes

[calebvanponeisen]

The Post-Halloween Contest

In the early nineties, my youthful mistakes had caught up to me and I was broke. I was two months behind on rent, trapped completely alone in a shit job that barely covered the bills. No friends, no family, no one. Solitude didn’t bother me as an introvert, but life was still a struggle. So much so that I scavenged discarded cigarettes butts from the street to feel a small relief from the grim reality of life.

Now, I can’t remember the exact year. Might’ve been ‘92 or ‘93. But the day is etched into my brain until dementia absolves me from my memories or my life meets a bitter end. It was a stone-cold November day, and my unpaid bills meant no warmth awaited me at home.

That day, the 12th of November, I made a stupid decision. As I trudged back home from my shitty delivery job, I gathered as many pieces of paper as I could find in the trash or on the street. Yeah, I was about to make a campfire inside my apartment and risk the lives of every poor soul in my complex. Desperation does drive people to madness, and those of you who’ve experienced the tortures of prolonged hunger, cold, and frustration might understand my plight.

Just as I was about to ignite my makeshift campfire, an ad in a crumpled newspaper caught my eye. It read something along the lines:

“Post-Halloween Head Carvers Wanted. Free contest. Top Prizes $500, $300, $150. All Participants Get $25. Address: xxx. 13th Nov. 2100~”

The prospect of earning $25 just for participating in a pumpkin carving contest, with the potential to win hundreds more, was too enticing to ignore. That glimmer of hope may have saved my life and those of my neighbors at that time.

The following day, my shitty job didn’t seem that bad after all. I knew that that night, Friday 13th, I’d earn at least a day’s wage in a single night. As soon as my shift ended, I rushed to the location, the piece of paper safely tucked in my pocket.

The neighborhood wasn’t one of my favorites, and the narrow alley leading to the venue made me very uncomfortable. I remember hoping that I wouldn’t get mugged.

At the end of the alley was a black metal door marked with a sign reading “Nov. 13th Contest”. I had finally arrived. Three knocks on the door later, a pair of eyes peered through a peephole, followed by a gruff voice asking my business.

I showed him the ad, and with a clank and a squeak, the door swung open, revealing another narrow path without roof.

“Down that alley, second door to the left,” said the man who looked like the bastard child of Dracula and Frankenstein’s monster, snatching the ad from my hands.

Beyond the wooden door lay an underground hangar, it’s chilly atmosphere momentarily making me consider retreating. But the sight of the other participants, about three dozen or so, each standing before a table equipped with the necessary tools, made me a little more comfortable.

A porky man wobbled to the entrance and greeted me.

“Heya fellow,” he said in a friendly voice. “First time here I recon?”

“Er, yes,” I hesitated.

“You know why you’re here?” he winked.

“Of course, I do. I’m here for the first prize,” I jokingly said.

“Great,” he said, apparently relieved. “We’re still awaiting a few more guests. You can take that table over there,” he pointed somewhere in the middle of the room.

The metallic tables blended seamlessly with the similarly colored tools, fitting the industrial aesthetic of the place. Having some time to kill, I began to observe the other participants, who were a mix of weirdos bordering on the bizarre. But being a badly dressed, broke guy myself, I kinda shrugged it off, attributing their odd behavior to nerves or anticipation of the competition.

Twenty minutes later, the door behind me shut with a loud bang. The portly man from earlier ascended a small podium, his voice resonating throughout the cavernous space, even without a mic. He laid down the rules and carts began to circulate.

“… and this time, keep it to carving only. Understood, Jack?” The man on the podium directed his gaze towards ‘Jack’, a middle-aged man with a weird head tick who grumbled and nodded simultaneously.

“This time,” the man on the podium continued, “you won’t have the luxury of choosing your head. Haven’t been able to procure enough, so we’re distributing them randomly. No exchange, understood?”

In unison, all participants responded, “Yes sir.”

As the carts drew nearer, I noticed something off about them. It wasn’t until one was banged on my table that I realized the horrible truth. My ‘pumpkin’ was the severed head of a young woman. The sight was so shocking that I wanted to scream my lungs out.

The other participants seemed unfazed by the gruesome spectacle. I tentatively touched the head on my table, its lifelike texture making me recoil in shivers. My brain refused to believe it was real. I convinced myself that it was a prop and tried to regain my composure.

“And begin! You have an hour,” the porky man’s voice echoed. I had almost forgotten about the competition at that point.

I watched in horror how the other participants carved into the faces as if they were mere pumpkins. It became very clear that these weren’t props. I was shivering uncontrollably, staring at the head in front of me. There was no way I could bring myself to desecrate the face of an actual human being.

The man on the podium, whom I call Porky, approached, noticing my hesitation.

“What’s the matter?” he scowled.

“Er, I- I’m a little cold,” I stammered. “Didn’t bring my good coat.”

“Ah well. Be better prepared next time. Now, come on. Carve your head. You’ve already lost five minutes.”

I picked up the knife with my trembling hand, aware of Porky’s watchful gaze. So many thoughts ran through my head, like explaining how this was all a big mistake. Or perhaps I should bolt it. Or… Or do something, anything to avoid committing this perverse act unworthy of even the grossest of human beings.

But I knew. Yes, I knew. Any sign of dissent or attempt to flee would result in my premature death. Maybe my head would even end up in a freezer until the next event, just like this poor woman. How did she even end up here, I wondered.

Too afraid to act with decency, I began to slice my kitchen knife in her eye socket, focusing on making the smallest cuts possible to buy time. And also to keep my meager supper inside my stomach. A few cuts later, Porky had seen enough to leave me alone.

Somehow, I had managed to keep my composure until the end of the hour without throwing up or passing out. And, after the award ceremony, which my mind mercifully erased, I received my participation money. I was actually relieved that I hadn’t received a prize. Had I, I don’t think I’d have had the power to stay alive until this day.

After I left the place, I rushed to the nearby park to wash my hands, then returned home, curled up into a ball, unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

I considered telling the cops, but what then? Would they even believe me? Even if they did, I could be arrested for complicity.

With the first rays of sunlight, I found myself inexplicably drawn back to the site of the previous night’s horror. I needed to confirm whether the events were a product of my frayed sanity or a frightening reality.

I knocked on the door, unsure of what to do if confronted by the same pair of angry eyes that had peered at me the night before. Fortunately, nothing happened. I knocked again, and again. No answer.

With no one around the area, I climbed over the door and ventured inside. It was a simple door leading to an open hallway. From there, I retraced my steps until I was at the hangar’s door, which, oddly enough, creaked open as I turned the round handle.

A voice in my head screamed at me to flee, but I was compelled to enter the now-empty hangar, devoid of tables, tools, and Porky. Each echoing step amplified my anxiety. Despite my fear, I had to know whether this had been just a nightmare induced by the cold, insomnia, and hunger of the past few weeks.

As I explored the vacant hangar, a small piece of brain tissue and some bloodstains where my table had been confirmed my worst fears. It had all been real.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind me, sending me into a panic. I sprinted towards the exit, my mind conjuring images of a monstrous creature lurking in the shadows, whose hairy tentacles were always mere inches from pulling me into the dark abyss.

The door’s round handle kept spinning as I tried to open it. I repeatedly kicked the door, but it wouldn’t budge. In desperation, I climbed up a thick pipe I had spotted before, and broke a window to escape, the fear of being pursued by some unseen horror fueling my desperation. Miraculously the glass didn’t injure me, and I escaped through the roof side.

Despite my mind still reeling from the nightmarish experience, necessity drove me back to work that day. In the following weeks, I sought better employment, eventually landing an office job at a respectable company. Despite the low pay, it offered a glimmer of hope – a chance to leave the city and my nightmare behind.

Unfortunately, as it happens, one year passed without securing the funds to relocate. I scoured every newspaper after Halloween, hoping to find a similar ad and alert the authorities, but to no avail. And yes, like a fool, I even revisited the site on the same day, knocking on the door, but no one answered.

Haunted by the gruesome event and frustrated by my inability to prove its occurrence, I focused on advancing my career. Less than a year later, I moved to a city hundreds of miles away, vowing to never return, as the memory of that night is forever etched in my mind.

Over the years, I’ve tried to date women on several occasions, but the sight of a woman’s face, eyes closed, was reminiscent of the woman’s face I carved. Unable to overcome that trauma, I resigned myself to a solitary existence, haunted by the fear that one day, Porky might find me and turn me into a prop for their macabre contest.

And today, the 13th of November, I know that sleep will elude me, like it has every year on this date since that cursed day. With the darkness of the night, I am reminded that the monsters we fear are not hiding under our beds or inside the closet but walking among us. The most terrifying horrors do not lurk in the shadow; they hide in plain sight.

#horror #no sleep #nosleep #horror story #scary stories #halloween #jack o lantern #pumpkin carving #nineties #90s #scary #sad #today #november #friday the 13th #today on tumblr #industrial