#Two old men eating soup
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Wow. Y'all. I truly never expected so many awesome responses on the post I wrote last night about Dieter, Goya and Pedro on Talk Art. It is the first 'fun' thing I've written in so many years - after having felt blocked/paralyzed re: creative pursuits since 2020 (shit happened) -, without stressing about how I wrote it, and it means the world to me that so many people liked it and shared it.
I don't want to clutter up all the feeds by individually sharing and responding to the reblogs etc, so I'm throwing it together in one post here - because I want y'all to know I appreciate it so much. And it honestly made me even more excited that some of my favorite PP fic authors did so, because I've been enjoying YOUR work so much!
@chaoticgeminate Sending those hugs right back, and your fic was absolutely not a silly little piece! I truly love(d) it, and I'm glad it sent me down this little rabbithole. And yes, while writing that piece I also became more convinced that Pedro himself was a really big part in shaping Dieter and his background story. It's so damn intelligent and very much his style.
One thing I didn't mention yesterday (and I'm sure this is something a lot of people already spotted since the first day that the movie was online) is that I also came to realize how much Pedro has based Dieter's outfits and some mannerisms on Jeff Bridges' character The Dude from 'The Big Lebowski'. Never really saw that movie but I put it on today for a bit, and it was striking -- I'd even dare to say that the "'Bola, hold my hair!" moment on the toilet is a nod to how The Dude (who has longer hair) gets his face shoved into a toilet. Also, at one point when Bridges' character is addressed with "Mr Lebowski", he dismisses that and tells the guy to call him Dude, or even 'Duder' which, yeah, that's just a small step from 'Dieter Bravo'.
amycben on Reddit said the same thing about Bridges, and shared these Dieter pics, which definitely made it clear how our Feral Raccoon Boy's style is inspired by 'The Dude' <3 I don't care much for the Lebowski movie, but I love a good reference, especially since it's a Coen brothers movie - and we all know that Pedro now has a small role in Ethan Coen's upcoming movie 'Driveaway Dolls'. Anyway, I honestly hope that at some point Pedro will be asked about the work he did in shaping Dieter, because I'd love to hear more about this. There's no chance in hell that'll happen, because which journalist would ask him this? But I'm cool though if the universe wants to manifest one of us getting to interview him some time in the future, haha.
Anyway, again @chaoticgeminate - thank YOU really. I needed that deep dive more than I knew thanks to your writing!
@nicolethered thank you too for being responsible for my deep dive, haha, it were your screenshots that made me recognize the other Goya paintings! <3 (and I love your gifs btw!
@mysterious-moonstruck-musings well hearing from you that you loved MY writing is just such a super awesome thing after how much I've been enjoying your Dieter story! <3 <3
@julesonrecord I'M TOTALLY IN hahaha, I saw your comment right before I went to bed last night and it made me smile so much!
@imaswellkid I'm def not an Apatow person either, and I'll be honest - the first time I watched the Bubble I couldn't get past the first half, haha. But I later began to realize that you should indeed watch it through a critical lens and as a reflection about the craziness that was going on, rather than 'oh this is a movie about the pandemic'. The Mando bud is great btw! But even better is the Baby Yoda bud - I have no clue how growers/dispenseries (I'm in the midwest) get away with naming their product after Disney stuff, but I'm sure glad it got me to try that hahaha.
@lunapascal IKR artist Dieter is so damn underrated, and I'm so glad that at least a whole lot of fic authors are giving him more of what he deserves! OK and I totally want to write some too now, hahaha. Especially because there's a lack of Dieter x OMC/m!reader fics, which tbh needs to be fixed.
@survivingandenduring @sp00kymulderr @thesimulationswarm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @gemmahale @sin-djarin @perotovar @ladamedusoif @gracie7209 thank you so much for your kind words, they honestly mean so much to me! @angelofsmalldeathandthecodeine WOW, that Dali piece is fuckin incredible! And @basicoccult woahhh maybe y'all did!? See now I feel like I need to inquire about whether y'all take new initiates! <3
@chronically-ghosted God don't get me started, it's so tempting - next thing you know I'll have suckered myself into writing Dieter fic (while I'm only just getting started now on two other WIPs), haha. But yes I'm so curious about what the unspoken canon is there -- and most probably Pedro is the one with answers to that since it seems so much like he created Dee. I ended up googling some Apatow interviews this morning and saw that he set out to make the Bubble as a sort of Christopher Guest movie (the mockumentary style), and other articles said that there was a lot of improv involved - so obviously Pedro must've contributed a lot. Particularly because I've read at least interviews with four directors (Zeke who did Prospect, Craig Mazin from TLOU, I wanna say Patty Jenkins, and I'm currently blanking on the other name) who spoke about how involved Pedro was, down to specific dialogue and character's motivations etc in shaping the movie (I think Zeke said that Pedro worked with them to tone down Ezra's Shakespearian manner of speech a little, which I can totally see happening since Pedro has done/read so much Shakespeare and it's easy to picture that he wants to fine tune it so it's accessible enough for audiences). Ugh, it's probably gonna take a long while until there'll be any long form interviews with him again, and sadly interviewers are probably not gonna ask about any of this.
Re: painting or acting, yesterday I read @blueeyesatnight 's That's Not Your Name-Dieter fic (LOVED it, can def recommend it!) and one of the coolest things about Dee's character development there is that it indeed delves into 'okay how did he pick acting versus art' and more background story, plus how in the current day events of the story he is even making his own oil paint. That has become my headcanon now <3
@tessa-quayle I'm so glad you liked my post!! I really really wish that Russell and Robert would do another episode with Pedro. I love Russell in particular (sorta followed his work since Being Human was released, which holy crap was already 15 yrs ago?), but the way they attempted to interview Pedro back then was kind of a hot mess - and I say that lovingly hahaha. They were so enthusiastic that they talked over him so/too many times, so I'd love a tad calmer conversation where P has the opportunity to go more indepth.
@tvversionperson IKR there is SO much plot and character development to be explored with Dieter in that movie, which of course it doesn't have room to delve into but shit I wish they would/could. Or at least to just hear Pedro talk about what his thoughts are on it, because you know he most definitely had Dee's entire back story fleshed out in his head when he shot this movie.
Super long post, but again, I just wanted to thank y'all for the love. This is the first time I've done anything writing wise re: the PP cinematic universe, and all your responses have been so heartwarming and really encouraged me to do more stuff in one way or another with the Pedro boys, be it rabbit hole analysis or fic.
#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x f!reader#goya#francisco goya#black paintings#saturn devouring his son#witches sabbath#two old men eating soup#he-goat men#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal#dieter bravo fanfiction#the bubble#art#talk art#painting#oil painting#mural
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Two old men eating soup (1819-23) by Francisco de Goya
#Two old men eating soup#1810s#1820s#Francisco de Goya#Miss Cromwell#Halloween#spooky season#spooktober
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NOW I KNOW WHAT THE MINISTRY OF LOVE REMINDS ME OF:
soup.avi
Forever going to picture O’Brien as Ray Ray LOL
#1984 book#soup.avi tw#cannibalism tw#just in case#Don’t worry guys; soup.avi is a piece of performance art#It’s so bleak tragic and macabre…. I kind of appreciate it now that I’m not a petrified twelve-year-old#From the graininess of the camera to the comically large spoon to the sterile monochrome set and characters juxtaposing the man#the table and the bowl#Even though the two guys are obviously costumes; the way everything is done makes them appear as if they are some real alien entities#And the fact that there are two that look exactly alike is reminiscent of the “men in black” urban legends (not the movie LOL)#And the fact that you cannot see anyone’s faces really dehumanizes everyone: the Brothers Ray look otherworldly#and the man looks like an abused animal#There is no real dialogue either; only crying from the man and silence from the Rays#which adds to the anonymity of the piece; making it seem more believable as a “video from the dark web”#Especially considering the fact that the way the man’s face is censored is with the use of a black bar across the eyes#Because the eyes are the windows to the soul; so it symbolizes the loss of a soul on his part… because he ate the soup. He is defeated.#He was forced into destroying his sense of identity and morality by some unknown circumstance#If it is his wife he’s eating (as the theories say); then why is he eating his wife? Likely to save his children from the same fate#Sorry this got dark#Why the fuck am I analyzing soup.avi#Get a grip woman
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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters fluctuate between past and present, beginning in 1934. SPOILERS FOR THE BOYS S3
Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered the Door
Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor
Chapter 3: Summer Has to End Someday
Chapter 4: It's My Party and I'll Eat Cake If I Want To
Chapter 5: The Man, The Myth, The Legend
Chapter 6: Batter Up
Chapter 7: Are We Old Friends Or Old Enemies?
Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...
Chapter 9: Wedding Bells or Gong of Destruction?
Chapter 10: How Did It End Up Like This?
Chapter 11: I Can't Think With You Yelling At Me!
Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly
Chapter 13: You Made A Plaything Out of Romance
Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of
Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?
Chapter 16: Please Come Back To Me
Chapter 17: How Could I Ever Forget?
CHAPTER 18: COMING SOON!
Last Updated: 05/18/2024
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If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)
Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm @lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove @mrsjenniferwinchester @vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake
(Photos on mood board from Pinterest)
#jensen ackles soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#the boys fanfic#the boys series#soldier boy#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys amazon#jensen ackles#soldier boy/ben#soldier boy fic#the boys season 3#jackles#billy butcher#homelander#hughie campbell#the boys#You Call It Madness But I Call It Love
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Hello ❤️
Can you please write something about Jason x Danny? Maybe something about Jason having a crush on this new guy (maybe Danny works in a library or helping people as a nurse) and just falling cause Danny is sincerely nice and isn't afraid of his Lazarus's rage
Jason first notices the new face volunteering at the soup kitchen when the guy hand-makes flour tortillas for the beans. Just like his mom used to make, alongside Mrs. Huerea before she got into drugs.
It's been years since he last had some, not because Alfred refuses to make it but because the butler never has the time.
It's usually a treat for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, or his birthday. Sometimes if Jason is lucky, there is another important holiday for the many members of Wayne Manor, and there is time for Alfred to get them done. He can have them more.
But mostly, Alfred had them store-bought.
That's why he wanders to the other man's line, mouth already watering as the volunteer piles smashed beans with cheese and tortillas onto plates. A name tag has a simple "Danny" on top of a white NASA shirt coupled with slightly baggy pants is the whole outfit of the stranger - odd in Gotham's winter time.
He offers Jason a smile, then, with a wink, places two more fresh tortillas on his plate.
Before he can say anything, Danny pushes the plate toward him. "I can tell you're a man who appreciates fine food. Take them. I can always make more. "
He jerks a thumb to the back, where a press awaits use. It looks just like Mrs. Huerea's iron-clad tool that, for a second, he's six again, early happy the women preparing for Christmas.
When his mother was sober, the Huereas had always opened their home to them. The elderly couple had always felt like grandparents to him.
"Thanks," He says around a forming grin. It matches Danny's.
Jason accepts the food with an excited thrill; for once, the memories of his mother are not so bitter and ruined. He moves out of the way for the next person, making a mental note to tell his men to ensure Danny gets home safely after his shift. It would be in his employee's way.
He does this often, assigning some Red Hood boys to make sure no one bothers any of the volunteers. Jason knows he can't get rid of all crime, not like Bruce believes, but he can at least protect those trying to make this place less of a shit hole.
He sits, savoring the flavor with great appreciation. He's got time to relax a little.
One of his Lieutenant is in the back, speaking to the director of the Soup Kitchen. This is one of Jason's protected areas, but to make sure people know it's not to be taken lightly, the Red Hood gang does require protection money.
He doesn't ask a lot but Jason knows that any place that doesn't have protection money is a bigger target. Of course he also here pretending to be hungry just to make sure the place is actually doing what they promised to do and feed people.
When Jason first took over, this particular place had been known to only give out half of the money they donated in food. The rest was going into the old director's pocket. When he caught wind of the senior director often refusing kids just to save money to steal, Jason quickly fed him to the fish.
His Lieutenant, Rogers, would not be able to recognize him. Jason was eating without a mask. What better disguise than his own dead face? Much less the other people in the soup kitchen.
Although he was meant to observe his surroundings for any funny business, Jason glued his eyes on Danny the entire time. It seemed the man had an easy smile for everyone and a calming personality that seemed to put even the most hostile at ease.
Snow. Jason thinks while watching Danny make more tortillas while chatting with a street kid until the young girl feels she could make one. He lets her round the table easily, showing her how to press down on the metal lever with the same soft ease. He's like pure white snow.
He would not last long in Crime Alley. Nothing pure ever does.
Jason fishes his food, unable to look away from what he knows would be a broken man in only a few weeks.
He leaves just as Rogers returns to the front clutching a brown bag. It looks like he didn't need to worry about the upkeeping of this place. He needs to check on the other kitchens in his territory before the day is out.
After three other Kitchens, Jason is satisfied that he's secured two. He must send Rogers to the last one because a few girls seemed uncomfortable with the leering crew. He'll have the creeps removed by this Friday.
He's swinging around as Red Hood on his normal patrol when he catches sight of Danny again. It's close to two in the morning, so he's surprised to see the other man cheerfully strolling about without any signs of exhaust.
He's also not wearing warm clothing despite the snow slowly falling around them. The only difference between what he was wearing earlier is the large black backpack. Jason half wonders if Danny only has nothing else to wear until the man pauses at an alley entry.
He crouches down, unzipping his bag, before pulling out a plastic-wrapped package. Jason watches him cautiously walk into the alley, following on the roofs out of curiosity.
His eyes widen when he spots a young boy hiding behind a trash bin, squishing himself against the wall as Danny carefully approaches him.
Jason hadn't seen the kid when he had passed by earlier, likely due to the boy knowing how to hide himself in the shadows. How had Danny seen him?
"Go away!" The boy yells when Danny gets too close for comfort. Jason's hackles rise, pulling out his gun in case he needs to intervene. He remembers the days when the sound of approaching footsteps to his hiding places in the streets meant.
Danny stops just on the other side of the trash bin. He places the package on top of it and backs away quickly. "I don't mean to bother you. But I thought you could use these. Stay warm, and if you need to escape the snowstorm, go to the address in the right pocket."
The boy doesn't answer, and Danny doesn't seem to wait for one. He leaves with quick strides. Jason watches him from the roof, noticing he returns to a slow stroll once he's back on the main street.
Below, the street kid carefully pulls the plastic bag towards him once he knows Danny is gone. He unwraps the bag only to gasp in delight at the jacket, gloves, hat, scarf, and socks inside. He quickly slips them on, burying himself in the small amounts of warmth they offer him.
Jason watches the boy for a few minutes before jumping down. The kid scrambles away until he realizes it's Rood Hood. Everyone knows that he won't harm street kids.
"Hey," He says, noting that the boy's new clothes seem to be made from expensive material, all in black and neon green. "Do you have somewhere warm to sleep tonight? Snowstorm is coming."
"I can handle it." The boy scoffs despite the shivers that wrack his body.
"I know you can. But it's not safe out here" He kneels at the boy's eye level. He seems about twelve, likely new to the streets since he has yet to find proper shelter. Dirty blond hair and dark, weary brown eyes stare back at him as Jason offers. "Let me get you somewhere safe."
"I won't go back to the stupid system."
"Nah, that shit's broken. I got a safe house for you to crash in."
The boy thinks it over. "Just us?"
Jason isn't a mind reader to know what the kid fears. "No. It's full of other people."
It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, he convinces Max to follow him. They travel across Crime Alley to one of the empty warehouses he had turned into an illegal shelter. Inside are various Red Hood gangsters passing out blankets and setting up cots for people from the streets to sleep.
The heaters are on, but a few still refuse to remove their warm clothing- likely in fear of theft or that it proves an extra layer of comfort- as they settle down.
Max thanks him as the boy rushes to a corner that seems to be taken over by children. He doesn't approach the others to speak to, but he looks more comfortable picking a cot close to them. Jason's eyes widen slightly when he realizes that all seven children are wearing some form of the Black and Neon Green outfits Danny had given Max.
Rogers strolls up next to him, nodding his chin at the children. "Some street kids have been saying a man is offering them free supplies. He doesn't ask for anything in return and leaves them alone with they tell him to. His calling card is the little neon green ghost he places on each item. Want me to take a few of our boys and check him out?"
Jason grunts. "No need. I already know who it is. He seems like a non-threat."
Rogers appears flabbergasted for only a few seconds before pulling himself together. "If you say so, boss."
Jason turns to stare at the man, and Rogers raises his hands. "All I'm saying is that it's a little odd how good the guy is at spotting street kids."
"How good is he?"
"It's like he can see in the dark. He might be a meta."
Jason thinks back to Danny walking around in his light clothes like it's the middle of summer instead of winter and finds some weight in the meta-theory. "I'll pay him a visit soon."
Rogers lets the matter drop, even if he is confused by Jason's involvement. Usually, he has some of the newest members of the youngest ones who reckon a personable target- or new recruits.
But something about Danny called out to Jason. He couldn't say it, but the man's snow-like personality eased the Pit Rage in him. Strangely it felt like Danny was the calm winter promising rest to the wounded parts of Jason's soul.
He didn't want to see Danny's pure heart ruined by this city.
Jason wonders if he could keep it safe and if Danny will even give him the chance to try.
He hopes so. Danny has such a lovely smile.
#dcxdpdabbles#Dead on main#Red Hood's snow#Jason falls for the man trying to make Crime Alley less terrible.#Danny is just vibing being a help to anyone that he comes across#Jason was raised along side a sweet Mexican family cause I say so#Jason falls for a man with a pure heart.#Rogers is freaking out#His boss??? with a crush???#Hope you like!
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taskforce 141 + könig x sick! reader
warnings: emetophobia trigger warning, mentions of puking/being sick, fluff, hurt/comfort maybe??, not proofread
a/n: omg here it is. the first cod thing ive written! but not actually theres some filth hiding in my documents. this is totally lowkey a self insert. geared towards female! reader but if you squint at the petnames could be gn. i've been so so sick lately and tbh scares me a lil but what cant be fixed by fictional men?? nothing.
Ghost
A little bit of a germaphobe
Will take off his mask, but replace it with a medical mask
Only so he can still hold you, just with a peace of mind
He does NOT want to get sick too
Because then how could he take care of you?
Always has a puke bowl at the ready
Orders your favorite takeout, even if you don’t feel like eating
Because hes a firm believer in leftovers.
Which may just be the cause of this
But you'd never tell him. poor man would get so guilty he had forgotten to throw it away.
Puts on a movie and lets you fall asleep on his chest
I feel like he’s a cold-blooded type of person, doesn’t generate much heat
but makes up for it in comfort
so many blankets
so so many.
Checks your temperature in your sleep
Lowkey counts respirations just to be sure
Makes sure you keep hydrated
Will bring you to urgent care if he’s really worried
No matter how much you protest!
Soap
Squeamish when it comes to throwing up
Will try his very best to stay with you, but sometimes ends up running from the room
Because the last thing he'd wanna do is gag at you
While hes ran away he gets a cold rag to press on your forehead, and clean you up a bit in the process
"yer hidin? awh bonnie i wasnt meanin' to embarrass ye" he says while taking your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes
"sickness and health yeah? i wanna take care of you"
Insists on rubbing vicks/ vaporub on you
Not because hes a little perv (he is)
But because he loves you and the sniffles break his little heart
peppers kisses across your collarbones, vicks smell clogging his nose
but he’s too focused on the goosebumps that rise on your skin, your little shivers
“Awh, my poor sick lass,”
Constantly checking for a fever
Forcing you to stay in bed, even after you feel better, “not takin chances, rest up.”
this man on the other hand is a human space heater
throwing a blanket on and off the two of you, getting too hot and then shortly after too cold.
not as convenient when it’s hot out lol
head rubs
head rubs
Gaz
Tries to bring you to a doctor/ urgent care immediatley
Will try to call an ambulance over a slight fever
Stocks up on pedialyte/makes sure youre hydrated
Cuddles constantly, does not care if he catches anything
loves being the big spoon so he can lay in the crook of your neck and still hold onto you tight
Has extra blankets on deck
entertains you with silly little jokes
but then apologizes while giggling because you laughed so hard it hurt a little.
Will feed you cold medicine/tums
teases you when you complain about taking them
“i don’t need you gettin any grumpier love”
Will hold back your hair/ stroke your back while youre getting sick
gets offended when you get embarrassed about it
“are you judging my girl?” he teases you
Tries his best to cook, but lowkey fails miserably
Resorts to cup of noodles and lipton packets.
Price
Such dad vibes
Will make soup or other comfort foods from scratch
And his cooking skills are unmatched
Runs you a shower/bath and washes your hair for you
back rubs and massages
pressing small kisses to your shoulders as he works
also a human heater but not too hot, just the perfect temperature
also just the perfect shape to spoon you, cradling every inch of your body
“I hate it when my baby’s sick,” he says, rubbing soft circles into your side
Doesnt even have to make a pharmacy run because hes so well prepared
Feeds you medicine, on the dot, every few hours after it wears off
(he totally sets reminders in his phone. [typing like an old person with reading glasses on])
Will stay in bed all day with you, quietly typing and mumbling to himself while you nap at his side
occasionally leaning down to kiss your forehead while he works
the computer goes away as soon as you wake up
"how're you feeling princess?"
loves having you in his arms, pulled close to his chest
Carries you to bed if you fall asleep on the couch (bridal style ofc)
Will hold your hair back, refuses to leave your side
“Of course youre not gross darling, we all get sick,”
Konig
rubs your back as you're hunched over the toilet
will sit down with you on the floor, back up against the bathtub when its too much of a risk to leave the bathroom
just wants to keep you company :(
"take as long as you need, liebling"
fills up the tub while still convincing you to get in
he promises you'll feel better after
caves and offers to join you as a last resort to get you cleaned up
Long baths, cuddling in the warm water
Letting the steam clear your sinus
Brushes and braids your hair
when you start feeling better but are still running a fever, hes worried.
but youre dealing with a burst of energy and simply must start with the housework
konig will put you over his shoulder and escort you back to bed
will paint your nails in bed to entertain you, anything to keep you still and in bed
Lets you put your cold feet on him, but only when you dont feel good
totally unprepared because i feel like this man has an immune system of steel
makes a quick pharmacy run, but has to call you for the shopping list bc oops he forgot
depending on how sick you are, lets you come along for the ride
“promise you’ll stay in the car ja?”
always returns with a sweet little treat or small gift/toy for you
“gesundheit!” as he chuckles at your sneeze
jokes that maybe he should put a mask on you
#cod#mw2#mwii#ghost#simonghostriley#simon ghost riley x reader#simonriley#johnnysoapmactavish#johnsoapmactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soapmactavish#johnnymactavish#kylegazgarrick#gazcod#kylegarrick#john price x reader#johnprice#captainjohnprice#konigcod#konig#konigmw2#könig#141#taskforce141#t141#cod imagine#cod imagines#mw2 imagine#cod x reader#cod fanfic
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DEAD KIDS ✦ Chapter 2
SUMMARY: A group of university students kidnaps their rich batchmate for ransom. However, things take a darker turn when the new recruit grows a dangerous obsession with the captive and all hell breaks loose.
PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader
GENRE: Slow burn Yandere, Crime AU
WARNINGS: Not suitable for audiences below 18. Please do not engage with the story if you are underage. WATCH OUT FOR: dark and morally corrupt characters, foul language, mention of Catholicism, slut shaming and objectification of women, mention of inappropriate relationship between professor/student, mentions and depiction of “rape” and “rape fantasy” throughout the story, masturbation, threats, MC has an NSFW blog with hard kinks and fantasies, non consensual touching. Overall, this is a disturbing chapter – based on my standards – so if you are not comfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Inspired by the film, Dead Kids (2019).
TAGLIST: @hopeworldsupremacy @aliajomarie011 @ackercute @tatumrileyslover @ane102 @jjk174 @dontcallmeelle @merrygo1427 @taekritimin123 @r1r111 @gguksfilter @coralmusicblaze
If I didn’t tag you – either your blog doesn’t exist according to Tumblr or because you did not show your age in your blog. Thank you!
ANDI: I send my love to the beautiful souls who sent me asks about Dead Kids as well as these equally beautiful souls – @.taekritimin123 @.hellbornsworld @.tinytangerineangel @.namjesusdaughter – for commenting on Chapter 1. I cannot express just how much I appreciate your words. I would have tagged you directly, but I wasn’t sure if you would want that. But I wanted to show my appreciation.
WORD COUNT: 3K
“Why did you really want to take her?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as they sit and eat the ramen he cooked around the living area. Beside him, Yoongi and Hoseok are fast asleep, the latter clutching onto the former’s arm like it’s his plushie while the former has his head thrown against the headrest.
Namjoon, who is seated on the other makeshift sofa, gulps down the soup from his ramen before letting out a satisfied sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth. “How many times do we have to say that we kidnapped Y/N for ransom?”
“I’m not stupid, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “We’re already tied to this shit until the ransom drop. The least you can do is be upfront on why you did this in the first place. I’m not taking a bullet for you or anyone.”
The buzz-cut haired man leans his back against the sofa, which unlike his premium one, is built from scratch by Jungkook using old wood and cases of beers around the warehouse. He gazes at Jungkook for a while, studying him while swimming in his own thoughts. The tattooed man wonders if Namjoon is contemplating telling him the truth. He wonders if the two sleeping men beside him also knew the truth.
They claim to have been friends since the fourth grade, but does time really make you know a person inside out?
“My father didn’t used to be the way he is now – corrupt. Growing up, I looked up to him because of how honest and upstanding he was as a cop. I knew he did some off-the-books shit, but he still had a moral compass, still had lines he didn’t cross. But then he met Y/N’s father, Kim Seokjin, when I was ten. Suddenly, everything changed,” Namjoon narrates, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head and rubs his palms on his baggy jeans. “He went from being a great husband and father to my mother and I to a complete asshole. We didn’t have religion but after meeting Kim Seokjin, we were suddenly Catholics, attending church with his family every Sunday. I was baptized and Kim Seokjin became my godfather. But the worst part was seeing him erase all the lines he drew and swore never to cross when he began to use his position as a detective and then eventually sergeant to now the chief of the entire police force in Seoul to protect Kim Seokjin and his criminal empire.”
Jungkook inhales deeply. “So, kidnapping Y/N is you taking on revenge against Kim Seokjin for corrupting your father? It is personal. It’s never about the money?”
“Of course, the money is important and integral to the plan. But yes, you are correct – I want to avenge my father from Kim Seokjin by hitting him where I know it will hurt the most: his only daughter, Y/N.”
“You promised that we are not going to hurt her,” Jungkook counters immediately.
Namjoon doesn’t say anything.
“Namjoon,” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “If you do that – what makes you different than Kim Seokjin?”
“Why are you so protective of her?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “What? Just because she gave you a boner, you’re suddenly fucking in love with her? Don’t think I didn’t notice. We all did. Yoongi is right – drop the morally upright act, Jeon. You’re just as demented as we are. The moment you agreed to this plan, you’re just as fucked up.”
The sudden call out makes Jungkook turn crimson and Namjoon smirks, placing his leg over the other. “Don’t worry – unlike you, I don’t judge people. To each our own. If shit like that turns you on, then that’s on you. Why don’t you take the opportunity to act on it?”
His eyes widen, shocked and disgusted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Jungkook knows exactly what Namjoon is talking about, but he is completely aghast at the insinuation.
The de facto leader only widens his smirk, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter from the front pocket of his large, oversized coat. “You know what I’m talking about, Jeon. A pretty naked girl tied to a chair in your warehouse – it’s perfectly normal to feel aroused by such sight. We won’t judge you if you just get it over and done with.”
“You’re more than fucked up,” Jungkook hisses, face flushed and veins popping out on his neck. “I’m not going to fucking touch her.”
Namjoon lights the cigarette in between his lips. Then, he inhales, and smoke leaves his lips as he replies, “Why not? Y/N is a dirty slut who fucks her married professor with kids her age after church and dinner every Sunday night and more – I bet you all my cut that she’s not going to resist you because she’s probably into fucking someone having their own way with her. No, in fact, I can tell you she’s going to enjoy it.”
Jungkook feels hot. Images of your naked trembling body and whimpering pleas filling his mind and ears.
“She has a blog, you know? A secret blog where she writes these fantasies and kinks she has. Posts her nudes on there too. Do you wanna know what is one fantasy she keeps on writing about?”
“No, I really don’t,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth.
“It’s a rape fantasy, Jungkook. What a fucking dirty slut she is, right? I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”
He stands up in a jolt, hitting his knee on the makeshift table he made from old tires and steel roof and stammering some excuse that he needs to go the bathroom or air – he can’t remember. Jungkook finds himself in his room, back pressed against the door. His shirt sticks to his skin because of the sweat, and he takes it off, leaving it discarded on the floor. Namjoon’s words mixed with the flashing images of your perky nipples, smooth skin, sound of your whimpers, pleas, your smell – it makes him hard. Harder than he’s ever been.
Before he knows it, Jungkook is unbuttoning his jeans, pulling it down along with his boxers, his erection springing free. He spits on his palm before he begins stroking his length, shuddering at the touch, making his mouth dry. He presses the back of his head against the door, eyes closed as he imagines you on your knees – like you were with the professor – those lips around his shaft, head bobbing as you suck him dry. He imagines hearing your moans, imagines his dick hitting the back of your throat as you go deeper and beg him to fuck your mouth like a whore. Jungkook’s stroking himself faster. He imagines hearing you gag as he fucks your mouth, not stopping even when you’re clearly suffocating. Then, he cums, toes curling and a guttural groan escaping his lips.
As he comes back from his high, Jungkook stares at the white sticky substance covering his hand and cock. He just jerked off to you, a girl they kidnapped, and he knows it won’t be the last time.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi hisses at him the moment he comes back from his room, showered and changed into more comfortable clothes.
Jungkook deliberately ignores the stare of Namjoon and flops on the seat beside Hoseok who is eating the remaining ramen. “Why the fuck do you care?”
“I’m going to punch this kid, I swear to God,” Yoongi grumbles, rolling his eyes. “We’re making the ransom call, you dumb fuck. Or rather, you are.”
Jungkook furrows his brows. “What? Why me?”
“Every one of us here has already encountered Y/N’s father at least once. The man remembers everyone he encounters. You’re the only exception,” Namjoon explains as he hands you a black phone. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable. I took it from my dad. And this is what you’re going to say – make sure you sound intimidating at least. Put it on speaker too.”
Namjoon places his phone on the makeshift table and Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The deal was you only use my warehouse. So far, you got me doing far more than that.”
“Do you want 25 million or not?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cos if you do, you better start calling Kim Seokjin.”
I’m going to punch you soon, Jungkook tells himself before he unlocks the phone and goes to the contact list where Kim Seokjin’s name is the only one listed. He takes a deep breath, going over the script on Namjoon’s phone before clicking on the contact and putting the call on speaker. The ringing sound echoes throughout the warehouse. The tension is palpable again, like it was back in the car earlier that night.
After a few more rings, Kim Seokjin’s voice fills the warehouse. It’s light but a hint of roughness and irritation is noticeable right away.
“Who is this?”
Jungkook licks his lips as he read the script in front of him. “We have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 million won and bring it to 2020 this Friday night. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see her is on the news, dead.”
Hoseok covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing while Yoongi stares hard at the phone. Namjoon, on the other hand, is relaxed on his seat, smoking.
“You sound young, boy,” Seokjin remarks. “You are not the first person to call me in the middle of the night asking for ransom. Do you really have any idea what you’re doing?”
Namjoon motions for him to repeat what he just said.
“If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 mill—,”
“Don’t you think I would be able to find my daughter faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know who you’re talking to?”
That triggers Jungkook. He’s been hearing that question – that discrimination his entire life and he’s sick of it. He’s fucking sick of it.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Either you give us 100 million in exchange for your whore of a daughter or I will personally make you watch as we do everything we want with her, make you watch as she begs you to make it stop, make you listen as she takes her last breath before I fucking slit her throat so deep her head nearly decapitates. You have until Friday night – and you better make sure the police don’t get involved. Don’t fucking ask me who the fuck you are again.”
He ends the call, gripping the phone tightly.
“What the fuck was that? Why the hell didn’t you stick to the script?! Are you trying to get us all a one way ticket to prison?!” Yoongi exclaims.
“Did you not hear what he’s saying? He caught on that we are fucking amateurs. I saved our asses – you should be fucking grateful,” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw. “If you didn’t want me to do the call, maybe the three of you should have done it yourselves. Fucking useless bastards.”
“Hey! What did you say?” Hoseok stands, pushing Jungkook by placing his hands on his chest. “Who are you calling useless, huh?”
“Who do you think?” He scoffs.
“Let’s fucking kill this son of a bitch, Hobi.”
“Gladly.”
“Enough,” Namjoon says sternly. “No one is going to kill anyone. Not amongst ourselves. What Jungkook did is right, Yoongi. Jungkook saved our asses. And you,” He turns to the long-haired man, glaring at him. “Mind your fucking tone and language with us. We’re not fucking useless. Remember that we recruited you. Not the other way around. If anyone should be grateful to someone, it’s you. We’re the reason you’ll get out of this shit hole.”
Nobody says a word.
“It’s getting late. Let’s gather here tomorrow after our classes. Just go about your usual days until the drop. Don’t be suspicious,” The de facto leader reminds. “Jungkook, keep an eye out, okay? Don’t forget to check in on our little friend from time to time. Make sure she’s still breathing.” He smirks as he pats his shoulder on his way out.
Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit. Once Jungkook hears Namjoon driving off his – rather his aunt’s – property, he resigns to the sofa behind him. He buries his face into his hands. Five days. You’ll be stuck with him at the warehouse for five fucking days. Granted, he has classes to attend to, so he won’t be at home all day, but he’s sure you won’t leave his mind wherever he goes.
The phone in his hand buzzes and he stares at the new notification on the screen – a text message from an unknown number. Jungkook unlocks the phone, goes to the messaging app, and clicks on the new text.
avirgins1ut on tumblr if you wanna read some things tonight
“Fuck you, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. However, when he goes to his room, grabs his shitty phone and opens his data – he installs the app despite knowing it will consume almost all the remaining gigabytes he has left.
Jungkook lies down on his bed and creates his profile. He doesn’t bother customizing it, going straight to your blog which is all black and hot pink. Instantly, he’s drawn to your profile picture – a simple mirror shot of you hiding your bare chest with your arms, head tilt slightly to the side and a black panty covering your cunt. He swallows the lump in his throat as he scrolls down, reading your pinned post:
“Hey. You can call me Angel. I’m 23 years old. This blog is filled with all my fantasies and kinks, sometimes my nudes. Feel free to send me yours too.
My kinks: cnc, free use, somnophilia, spit, slapping, marking, choking, daddy, and more.
My favorite fantasies: rape play, kidnapped, kept as sex slave, knife/gun play, forced gangbang, and more – why don’t you help me unlock those? DMs and asks open for all your threats and nudes.
Update: already got myself a master/daddy. Asks and messages are off.”
As he scrolls further down your blog, Jungkook doesn’t even realize he already has his hand wrapped around his dick as he masturbates to your the latest fantasy you wrote albeit months ago.
I can’t stop masturbating to this dark fantasy of mine – being raped by someone so brutally after they kidnap me. How they would keep me chained to the bed, always naked so they can easily rape me whenever and however they want. They would mock me whenever I would tell them to stop (“You shouldn’t have worn those skirts if you didn’t want to be raped. But you did. So, this isn’t rape. You were clearly asking for this like some depraved filthy bitch in heat. You’re fucking loving this, don’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”) and choke me as they pound into my wet and clenching pussy relentlessly. They would slap and spit on my face, abusing my cunt for hours until I’m full of theirs and their friends’ cum whom they called to let them have a taste of their new toy.
They would rape me day in and out until my body gets so used to it that I start asking for it – crying and begging to be fucked. “Shh, angel, daddy’s going to fuck you, okay? Don’t cry.” Slowly, I would forget all my autonomy and identity, wholly submitting myself to them because I was never my own in the first place – I was always theirs.
“Fuck, Y/N!” His entire body shakes as he cums again. Jungkook can’t stop – he wants to read more, see more as you posted a picture of your cum covered cunt at the end of the post and he imagines it’s his. But he gets a notification that he is out of data and Jungkook slams his phone on his bed, frustrated beyond bounds. He is still hard. He still wants to see more of you, read more of your fantasies.
Namjoon’s words echo in his mind. I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”
And before he knows it – he is standing across from your limp body. You’re still unconscious – sack over your head, tied and bound on the metal chair. Jungkook walks towards you, gently touching your shoulders to see if you would react but you don’t. He bites his lower lip as his eyes fall on your naked chest. He reaches down to trace its curves before ultimately cupping one breast in hand, fondling, squeezing, twisting the nipple and pinching it. No response.
He begins to stroke himself as he continues to fondle your breasts. This is wrong, but why does it feel so good?
“F-Fucking slut, you’re asking for this,” Jungkook hisses through his teeth. He’s not going to last any longer – not when those perky nipples are so inviting and moments later, he cums all over tits. He’s panting, an exhilarating feeling he hasn’t felt before rising within him as he stares at your cum covered chest. He swallows, breathing heavily. Should he stop now or keep going? He doesn’t have data anymore, but he does have the real thing right in front of him. But you twitch and he jumps in surprise. Suddenly, the realization of his actions washes upon him. He feels a coil in his stomach. What has he done? He scrambles out of the room and dash straight to the bathroom where he extensively washes his hand and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he throws himself on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling as he pants. Namjoon is right – he’s just as fucked up as they are.
CHAPTER 3 is coming soon.
TAGLIST: Wanna be part of Dead Kids’ taglist? Fill out this form and don’t forget to read the short note in order for me to tag you.
ANDI: I do not condone the behaviors exhibited in this story. The characters of Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok do not reflect who they are in real life. Fanfiction is just fanfiction. I have no schedule in writing – I write whenever I can. Please try to refrain from sending asks about updates (or at least be kind and polite about it) and let me know your feedbacks instead as they help a lot in motivation and inspiration! 🦉
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCED, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.
#yandere jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook au#yandere jeon jungkook#yandere bts#bts x reader#bts fic#bts smut#bts fanfic#bts au#dark jungkook#dark bts#andi.writes 💭
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Hi,
I really liked your chef yuu au. Could you continue that for Leona, Lilia and Sebek as well as Silver and Rooks reactions to their home cooked meals
"The Way to a Man's Heart" (part 2)
(part 1) (part 3) ( part 4)
Chef!Yuu au x Twisted Wonderland characters
Characters: Leona, Lilia, Sebek, Ruggie, Silver, Rook
Warning: Leona is my least favorite but he will eat, by God will he eat.
Notes: Since you guys keep asking here is part two. jk I love you guys.
Lilia
Yuu has been a victim of Lilia's food before. She had made the mistake of going to Draconia when it was Lilia's turn to cook. It was a mistake.
The other students must of built up a tolerance to such food.
It was burned but cold. Salty, mushy, and absolutely a sin in food disguise. Yuu wanted to cry from just the sight.
Yuu feared it and she feared the great powerful force that could make such a thing.
At first she wanted to teach Lilia how to cook but realized it was a fruitless endeavor as Lilia has had so long to learn and still can't cook shows that nothing could be done.
Dad always said for men like that, there is nothing to be done. At best find them a capable partner who can help them survive or starve trying.
Still Yuu felt sorry for the Draconia dorm and insisted on joining them for cooking duties. Serving a decent meal or two during the week as long as Lilia stays out of the kitchen.
One night she served a classic borscht. The taste of red vinegar, vegetables, and potatoes isn't usually for the pallet of young people but it's had a nostalgic factor for Lilia. It's harsh and cold like the winter but comforting like a grandmother. The other students agreed.
Other nights Lilia favored the Margarita pizza she made. His favorite part was the sauce even if he looked her in the eye as he put sugar on his slice. Yuu looked like she was going to throw a chair at him.
"So cute, I've never seen you so mad!" The troublesome old bat said clearly goading her.
"Lilia-Sama don't you think you're a little to old for this?" Yuu said politely through her teeth.
"For what dear?" He played coy but he was actually nervous she wouldn't cook again after this stunt.
"I think I'll make baked yams next time, with lots of marshmallows." Yuu said now ignoring him.
Sebek
Sebek was lucky, incredibly lucky that Yuu didn't take him seriously. Only the gods would know how he kept his head otherwise. Such a sweet docile girl like that could be fierce when needed.
As long as Sebek kept his backhanded compliments to himself they were golden.
The first time he tried her food was an eye opener.
"This soup is pretty good from a human like yourself." Sebek tried to give her a complaint.
Unfortunately, Yuu was already riled up by Lilia and Malleus was too distracted by food to stop what happened next. Sebek ended up with his face shoved in that cold soup. After that Sebek kept his words to himself when Yuu was in the kitchen.
Still, Sebek made himself useful and carried her giant bags of produce to the kitchen. She would praise him when he helped peel potatoes and garlic. I wasn't unpleasant.
Yuu treated him like puppy who needed to be taught how to not nip heels, which is a funny image. Over time Yuu adjusted to Sebek's personality and Sebek became more polite.
She made sure to reward him with a special dish of smoked planked salmon. It needed to be cooked perfectly on a cedar wood and seasoned with the right herbs. Sebek enjoyed it throughly as he ate like a child on his birthday.
Yuu couldn't help but laugh as she patted his head.
"Can you make this again if I help?" He asked almost innocently after cleaning his plate.
Silver
Yuu wouldn't admit it casually but she had favorites. She loved anyone who treated her food and her with respect. Silver was one of those people. To be fair he believed anyone who could cook decent food were amazing.
Silver was a receiver of Yuu's highest honors a lunchbox whenever he wanted. Such a gift was mostly due to Yuu knowing the quality of Lilia's cooking and the pity of knowing he grew up on said food. Also Silver genuinely enjoyed food and trying new foods with Yuu.
One day Yuu took Silver on an outing in the forest and pulled out a basket hidden behind a tree. Luckily no animals, beastmen or Rooks got to it yet.
They had a picnic of club sandwiches, veggies and hummus, and cut fruits with caramel sauce. It was a beautiful afternoon and as they ate a few of Silver's animal friends visited and ate with them. Yuu wondered if she had seen something like this out of a story book.
"We must look like a prince and princess like in a fairy tale." Yuu mused out loud as Silver dozed off with a rabbit eating the lettuce out of his sandwich.
"You'd make a good princess." Silver mumbled not completely asleep.
The one time he isn't randomly asleep and it had to be now?!
Rook
Rook was a thief, that was for sure. Just not one Yuu minded.
Rook was welcome at her table but with the hunter alway coming and going, he has more fun stealing a morsel or two.
They shared a unique bond. A hunter and a chef, what could be a better match?
He brings her fresh game meat and she prepares it. Some dishes require more then just cuts of beef, they need bones or fat. Rook eagerly obliged with quails, phesent, boar and anything else she needed. His skills were put to good use with her around. His hunting had purpose.
Yuu would also fawn over him was she prepared the food. There was something almost primal to their interactions, like scratching an itch that was as old as time. Old fashioned? No. vintage. The oldest bond there was.
After delivering a fresh rabbit to Yuu he stayed for dinner again. She worked diligently to prepare the meat for Rabbit au vin, a traditional French stew. Rook eagerly awaited as he snuck bites of the cut vegetables when she wasn't watching. He even got caught of purpose to watcher he pout and try to push him out of the kitchen.
"Mon cher lapin, I only wish to sample your divine art." He said being moved to the dining room.
"Set the table before I send you back with a to-go plate. Then tell Vil what you've been up too." Yuu scolded knowing Rook couldn't tell Vil how he was ruining his diet plan.
"I'm sure he'll forgive me, he has sampled your culinary masterpieces." Rook said as he began setting the table as told.
He watched her cook from his chair he briefly indulged himself in fantasies. That ancient desire that came so naturally. A life of a hunter coming home to his beautiful and hardworking wife. Handing her his query so she can make dinner and being pushed out so she can work. Eating together and sleeping next to one other when the day is through. A simple life in simple times. Perhaps getting news of her with chi-
"Rook? Foods ready." Yuu called as she pulled the bread from the oven.
'Perhaps I indulged a bit too much.' Rook thought as his face turned red.
Leona
Leona was not someone Yuu cooked for very often this is mostly due to Leona being ungrateful. When Yuu first shared some of her chicken skewers with him be began demanding more. He felt entitled to her cooking and jealously guarded anything she made. It was the last straw when he was caught taking Ruggie's lunch.
Hell had no fury like Yuu's that day. Since then Leona was banned from eating her food.
Since then Leona was on his best behavior to get Yuu to cook him something again. Making sure to butter her up with attention and bribes.
Yuu only relented when Leona came with his tail between his legs after a particularly awful day. He was pitiful, which for someone so prideful it was painful to watch. Yuu invited him into her dorm and discided to cook something comforting.
Japchae; glass noodles with seasoned pork and vegetable stir fry. Seolleongtang; A creamy ox bone soup. And finally soy-sauce braised short ribs.
Nothing could beat a meal like this. Leona didn't disagree. It was heavy, warm, and meaty. The short ribs were his favorite since they were so soft and Yuu made sure to cook it medium rare.
Leona almost immediately went to sleep after eating getting the best sleep he had in weeks. Nothing like a good meal to knock you out.
Yuu would believe Leona was a bear and not a lion with how he slept. She would cook for Leona again as long as he checked his behavior.
Ruggie
It started when Yuu first started cooking. Ruggie had paid attention to Yuu giving lunch boxes to Ace and Deuce. She was also doing it for free!
Of course Ruggie wanted in on this grift. He started by making sure to sigh pitifully around her to get her attention.
"Ruggie, you okay?" Yuu asked checking the hyena over.
"Oh, I'm so busy with taking care of Leona that I keep forgetting to eat. You know how he is." Ruggie sighed again his ears drooping.
Yuu gave him a look that screamed "Poor baby." Unknowingly, Ruggie was driving a deeper wedge between Yuu and Leona. Not that he would care. His pitiful behavior touched Yuu's heart.
Yuu came back the next day with a big lunch packed with food. Smothered chicken and rice, collard greens with smoked turkey neck, and 5 cheese macaroni. A good southern meal. Ruggie ate it up immediately as he thanked Yuu.
After that the hyena was very clingy and ate every snack Yuu would have on her. He stayed at Ramshackle more then his own dorm just to eat dinner with her. Of course he pulled his own weight and helped around the house as well.
One evening after a full dinner he lounged on the couch with his head on Yuu's lap entering a food coma as he munched on his fluffy Chinese donuts. He was in heaven as she rubbed his ears and told him how helpful he was that day. Ruggie would never leave at this rate.
"Ruggie you are my favorite person to cook for, you know. But don't tell the others, okay?" She said stroking his hair.
How could he not tell everyone?
Ruggie knows he's spoiled and acts like it too. He loves food and Yuu loves cooking. They were perfect together. He wanted it to say like this forever.
He would marry this woman and honestly she might just agree to it.
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland yuu#rook hunt#twisted wonderland rook#rook hunt x reader#leona kingscholar#leona x reader#ruggie x reader#twst ruggie#ruggie x yuu#lilia twisted wonderland#lilia vanrouge#twst lilia#sebek x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#sebek zigvolt#twisted wonderland sebek#silver vanrouge#twst silver#twst#twisted wonderland silver#lilia x reader#lilia x y/n#leona x y/n#chef!yuu
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Sick day (Twilight)
This is the second place prize of my 300 follower event for @mickleloaf
Pairing: Twilight x Reader, chain & reader
Rating: G
Summary: You've under the weather, so of clothes the boys take care of you as best they can.
Warnings: being ill,
Other: If I missed anything please let me know! And mickleloaf of this isn't what you envisioned please let me know.
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You leave the doctor's office with a packet that contains your diagnosis, symptoms, and how to care for yourself. Thankfully, your hyrule has free healthcare, so all you've got to do is go buy some over the counter meds and try to take it easy.
And also find a way to eat your food in a liquid form if possible. Maybe a blender or protein shakes?
Definitely soup.
Possibly smoothies?
You'll figure it out.
You find Twilight and Time waiting for you outside the building, both men having their arms crossed as they lean against it. Their conversation is quiet, but you can tell it's pleasant.
Twilight sees you first and flashes you a smile. "Hey, darlin'."
You wave, deciding it's not worse trying to use your voice again if you don't have to. It's so hoarse it's hard to hear anyway. Not to mention that it hurts.
"Are you feeling worse?" Time asks, pushing off the wall and closing the space between you.
He sets the back of his hand on your forehead. "You're warm.... You can have another dose of fever medicine in about an hour. We should get you back."
"He's right. Did the doctor give you anything to help?" Twilight asks, reaching out to take your hand gently.
You hold up the packet in answer.
"Oh- I can't read that. Does it have instructions?" Time asks, squinting at the words.
You nod, cracking a smile as you watch both him and your boyfriend try to read the words through sheer power of will alone.
It's sweet that they're ignoring the several severe changes to the language since their time.
Also, very silly.
But it's just very them. They are always taking care of people. Especially their loved ones.
"Can- well... Maybe Wild can help." Twilight suggests after a pause, "His time is the closest to yours in language and all."
You nod again. Hopefully, Wild can tell the others what to do. Even if it isn't perfect, he should at least get the jist.
"Let's head back. Wild's making your favorite soup." Time says, "We'll ride this 'bus' again."
"Time you sound so old." Twilight says with a grin, "Just say bus."
"I did."
"Okay. Let's just get (Y/n) to a bed. Poor thing could use some rest." Twilight says, squeezing your hand in affection.
You rest your head against his shoulder for a moment before straightening back up. Now, the task of getting two ancient heroes back to the hotel you're staying at by using modern transportation. This is fun.
You pass the packet to Time and grab your phone to pull up the bus app with the schedule, route plotting, and your digital prep-aid card.
They follow your lead and restrain themselves from outright gawking at all the things they're unused to.
Every few moments, one or both of them will look to the packet again, brows knitting.
-------
Once you've navigated through the trials that public transportation brought, you finally make it to the room you're sharing with Twilight, Wild, and Wind.
You collapse onto the bed you're sharing with Twilight, thankful that Time is handling, giving the packet to Wild. You just want a break.
"You want some water, love bug?" Twilight asks, watching you with sympathy as he shifts his weight.
You nod. Water is good. Even if swallowing hurts, it's better than being dehydrated on top of all of this.
Twilight goes and grabs your water bottle before filling it and bringing it back to you. "Here you go, darlin'. Careful now. I don't want you to spill it, I know you don't like wet clothes."
You nod, flashing him a thankful smile. You take the bottle and uncapped it before taking a swig.
You wince as you swallow, but it's over quickly. You know this is just how it is for right now.
You readjust to be sitting under the covers, eyes roving the pastel walls of the hotel.
"Alright. So this says (Y/n)'s got - two things real wrong with their throat. I think it says Tonsil-pain? Anyway, their voice might be hard to use. They might run hotter than usual, and their throat is going to hurt. A few other things I don't quite know... oh, and a list of medications that will help are on here." Wild explains, brows knitting as he puzzles out the words a little further.
The others all share a look, and then their gaze shift to you. The way they all seem worried is touching- but you know that with modern medicine, you'll be okay.
They don't seem to understand that, though.
"I'll see if I can't ease the pain, at least." Hyrule says, "They look ready to keel over if they weren't sitting."
"Good idea." Wild says with a nod.
"You need more blankets." Legend says firmly, pulling a comforter out of the room's closet. "Take this."
You blink at him. You're a little chilly, but this is not what you had expected. You'd expected playful teasing.
You do appreciate this, though. It's sweet and it's very nice to know he cares.
Legend and Twilight each take a side of the new blanket and spread it over you gently.
Twilight presses a kiss to your temple while he's bent down.
You smile at him as he straightens back up.
"I made tea." Hyrule says, bringing over a chamomile based tea.
Hyrule has fixed it, so you will at least drink it. If you like tea, he's made it how you like it. If you don't like tea, he's made it taste bearable.
"Thank you." You manage to croak, throat thoroughly protesting use.
"Save your voice." Time says gently.
Hyrule smiles at you as he hands you the tea. Knowing he's used Faerie magic to make it better for your throat. Short cuts to healing and all that.
"Anytime, (Y/n)." The traveler says, pressing a hand to your shoulder before falling back to sit on the other bed.
Twilight sits down on the empty side of the bed, paying special attention to make sure he dosen’t jostle you too much.
"Wild and I aren't going to find the medications your doctor recommended." Warriors says from where he's been watching over you.
"Be careful." Twilight calls as he watches both knights leave.
You just look around, taking another sip of the tea. It's- nice to be taken care of. The way the boys all come together to make sure you're okay is- well, you wouldn't call them anything but family now.
"Do you want anything else?" Wind asks, legs swinging from where he sits on the room's dresser.
You shake your head. You don't want anything else, really. Two of the boys are out to grab you some medicine. The others are all here watching over you. And Twilight is holding your had gently.
Of all the ways to be sick- there are certainly worse.
Time just starts cleaning up from tea and such, making quick work of any mess.
"Would you like to watch something?" Sky asks, sort of aware of television and how it works. But the concept still seems to confuse him.
You nod, giving a grateful smile. They're all so considerate.
Time brings you the remote and goes to start figuring out how the shower works here - this is the first shower tub combo he's seen in the modern world.
You pick your favorite channel and turn the volume to your preferred sound level.
After you set it up, you take another drink of tea before settling in for a more permanent position.
The boys settle around the room. Wind stays on the dresser while Time and sky take the couch. Four, Hyrule, and Legend take the other bed.
Twilight's just squeezing your hand in his gently.
When you look at him, he looks so soft- so genuinely in love. It's amazing.
You take a slow, deep breath and take this moment in. The whole thing.
And yeah, you still feel gross. Your throat still hurts. And the exhaustion still rests in your bones. But, you aren't alone.
And between the tea, the warmth in your heart, and the careful care of your friends- you know you'll get better.
-------
You are asleep when Warriors and Wild retrun with the medications that your doctor had suggested. Which leaves someone the task of waking you.
Which no one wants to do - you seem so peaceful as you sleep.
But Twilight takes the role, gently shaking your shoulder as he says, "(Y/n)? C'mon darlin'. You gotta get up."
You open your eyes, giving a soft rumble of displeasure. Which unfortunately does agitate your throat.
"We have your medicine." Warriors says, holding up a bag from the drugstore nearest to you guys.
You nod, pushing to sit up in bed.
Wild gives you the medicine, figuring you'll be able to give yourself the proper doses since he can't quite figure it out.
So you take your medicine before passing it back to Wild and taking the offered bowl of your favorite soup from Time.
Twilight presses a kiss to your cheek, "I hope you feel better soon, (Y/n)."
#lu#linkeduniverse#misty writes#linked universe x reader#lu time#lu legend#lu hyrule#lu warriors#lu wild#lu sky#lu twilight x reader#lu twilight#lu wind#lu four
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whodunit? / one
Summary: the one where everyone annoys bradley and we might have a suspect?
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: 18+ only! f!reader, food and alcohol mentions, swearing, 80s inaccuracies, police inaccuracies, bank inaccuracies, I was born in the 90s i'm so sorry
mo's note: our favourite hometown sleuths are back! thank you to everyone who came into my messages and walked through the massive rewrites i did for this chapter. also how do we feel about bob wearing leather bracelets? lmk
prologue / one / two / whodunit? masterlist
“Did you really have to bring them along?” Lieutenant Bradshaw (or Lieutenant Mustache as many of the patrol officers - and yourself - fondly called him) rolled his eyes before spearing the men beside you with another glare.
“Eat my shorts,” Fanboy muttered under his breath, scuffing his Reebok Pumps against the government-issued linoleum. Bradley was a bit older, and didn’t grow up here. While you and he got along when your dad invited him over for the occasional dinner, he had nothing but disdain for the amateur crime solvers he annoyingly had to deal with when cases weren’t open-and-shut.
Or when you requested their help. Bradley was still annoyed with you. The police had this handled.
The muttered insults and eye rolls had been shooting back and forth since you walked the several blocks from the bank to the police station. Your father had offered you in a ride in his cruiser, but is there anything more embarrassing? Besides, that short walk had provided you plenty of time to catch up your childhood friends on what all had happened that afternoon.
You left work early on Friday to attend the city’s fundraiser to restore the old movie theater off the town square. About as fancy as the town got, members of neighboring towns joining in on the festivities. You had changed in the employee bathrooms and went on your way, meeting up with your parents and then some friends. Which had quickly turned into ditching the stuffy money raising event for the bar and then beers on a friends back patio. And then you spent most of Saturday hungover on your parent’s couch - their converted garage was very cost efficient - before remembering today that your paycheck was still in your locker on your way to get mushroom soup for dinner. You had your eye on the new The Kinks album, and the record store was on the way home.
But once you entered the bank - your key turning in the lock and the metal shutters lifting - the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Something was whack. Sure enough, the large metal vault behind the teller stations was slightly ajar and all the money deposited the day before from the fundraiser (to be picked up by a carrier since the town vault was too small for such a big deposit) had disappeared into thin air - a lone Andrew Jackson against the linoleum.
Where had $150,000 gone?
It was a small town. Something you lamented about often - the closest roller-skate rink was miles away - and the technology wouldn’t catch up for another decade. The bank still utilized practices from when your dad was in high school. It was a miracle a robbery hadn’t taken place since your grandmother’s generation. But wasn’t that Malibu Ken on security supposed to keep that ancient vault safe?
Your temples are starting to itch from rubbing them, trying to massage the stress from your brain. Your one The Kinks album short, dinner is ruined, and your Sunday veg out has now turned into wanting to rip the mustache off Bradley’s face if he asks you to recount exactly what you saw one more time.
As he often does, it’s Bob’s soothing voice that softens the tension. “Instead of pointing fingers at your Captain’s daughter, let’s think about who had access to the vault. Who else has a key?”
Thank god for the voice of reason.
Twenty minutes later there’s a short list of bank employees gathered and Fanboy is asking how well you know everyone. Bradley shoots another death glare. He is the one asking the questions.With one hand on the lieutenant’s arm, you go over everyone.
Julie is extremely pregnant and it would be a miracle to pull off something like this. Devon is far too dumb to even think to rob a bank (last week he asked you how to open his cash drawer - he’s worked there two years). Barb and Kevin are out of the question, from across the room where they talk to a deputy they seem distraught beyond reason. Your managers are some of the best people you know. And Jake on security…surely someone is already got him in for questioning. That really only leaves -
“Has anyone talked to Richard?”
All three men look at you bewildered. “Who’s Richard?”
You scoff. For being the only person without any sort of mystery solving under your belt in present company, you seem to be the only one who knows everyone in this town. “Richard Ito?” Blank stares. “The senior teller? He’s literally worked at the bank since the 50’s or somethin’ like that.”
While the three men sputter with various excuses, your dad walks in. He comes over and ruffles your hair, saying he’s already called your mother and explained the situation. Great. Bradley sits a little straighter, while Fanboy and Bob slouch a little more just to irritate Bradley that little bit further. It works. You can barely stifle your giggle. You’ve missed them.
“How’s it going over here?” The police captain’s eyes roam over the various notes strewn over Bradley’s desk. Bold lettering of $150,000 catching his eye. This was so bad. Your group catches him up, various details from the past hour together, your dad’s mustache twitching every time he frowns. Nothing this big has happened since he was a deputy. Or ever.
“Fuck.” The one word perfectly expresses the situation.
Your dad pulls a chair over from another desk and sits beside you, putting distance between you and the thriving hub of testosterone you’ve spent your afternoon with. Protective on the job and off.
“I met with that security guard…Jake?” Seresin, you quietly remind him. “Yeah, yeah, him. Absolutely no help. It was there this morning when he did his rounds at 7, but he’s short a guy and was training the replacement most of the day on the opposite side of the building.”
“Cameras?” Bob chimes in.
The captain gives him a withering look. “They haven’t been replaced since you were in diapers. The last one with any good quality cut out last week. Repair guy is a week out.”
A collective groan. Your dad’s frustration is palpable. He’s the captain, it’s his job to keep the town safe, but also to reassure the townsfolk that he will ensure justice. And with little to no evidence and the money the town has been raising for the past year completely gone, a wildfire of gossip will engulf the town in no time and no one will feel secure.
“Captain, don’t worry, I’ll get all our best guys to interview the rest of the bank employees, maybe some of the nearby businesses, and we’ll have this solved in no time,” Lieutenant Bradshaw reassures his superior officer, straightening up his notes and motioning to one of the patrol officers to take his list of suspects.
Fanboy eyes up the tall, broad officer, measuring up the way his wavy auburn hair catches the florescent lights. Oh fuck, he’s getting to the diner to interview Danielle before this guy.
Already halfway out of his seat, Bob grabs onto Fanboy’s bicep to stop him from sprinting to the diner. The curly-haired sleuth gives him a glare, annoyed that he is that transparent. But really Bob just wants to sit with his high school crush a little longer.
Your dad gives a quick glance at the list, giving the final order for his squadron to head out, when he frowns.
“Honey, Richard isn’t on this list. Did he quit?” You shake your head awkwardly. “Given what happened, we should talk to him.” He scribbles a name and hands the list back to his officer, pushing back his chair to join them for questioning. He presses a kiss to your hair and promises to be home before the nightly news.
Three pairs of eyes bore into you. “You want to fill us in, honey?”
You fiddle with the knee of your Levi’s 501s, suddenly aware of the small hole forming. While you pointed a finger at him earlier, having to explain the Richard sitch to anyone sucks.
Richard was in his late fifties, a graying, miserable man with such a chip on his shoulder that you were surprised he didn’t stoop more. Growing up he would deposit your hard earned lemonade stand money into your meager account, a scowl always on his face. You were honestly surprised returning from school and he was still there. The most tenured employee and still just a senior teller.
It wasn’t your fault Barb and Kevin chose you over him for the assistant manager position. You went to school for business with a background in finance; you worked as a teller to get yourself through school. You were bubbly and pleasant with the customers. As Barb had put it, “It would be stupid not to choose you.”
Richard did not have the same sentiment. After thirty years of service, he gets passed up by a grown child? You flinch thinking about the hateful glance he’s given you for the past ten months. His resentment flowed off him in waves, stinking up the small bank lobby. He tried to soothe his anger with gambling, and now was dangerously close to foreclosing on his home. A fact you unfortunately know after hearing him plead with Kevin for a loan while looking for more deposit slips.
If you were a detective you’d put Richard at the top of your suspect list. Not sure how he’d get into the bank without a key, but motive and access were there.
Bradley seems to think the same, and is already out of his seat, grabbing his cruiser keys and sprinting after your father to question this Richard guy first. Surely this must be the culprit. “Gotta bounce, gang!” The sleuthing duo to your right giggle and you hear mutterings of teacher’s pet under their breath.
“Well boys, if Bradley’s out there catching criminals, what are you doing?”
It’s your bluntness that they’ve always liked. Raised by a police captain, it’s no nonsense and straight to the point. But despite their respect for your mannerisms, cheeks turn pink and they scramble to prove their worth. If the police were interviewing witnesses, how were they going to get their payday?
Amused by the blundering men in front of you, you try to think of something other to do than go home and deal with your fretting mother, a can of mushroom soup short. You didn’t even grab your paycheck. Was it too early to go to the one bar in town and drown your sorrows?
Before you can justify drinking before dinner and someone ratting you out, the door to the precinct slams open and an air of pomposity drowns the room. Oh goodie, Vaughn Carmichael. He’s worse than Malibu Ken.
Slicked back greying hair and a face that only a mother could love, the city manager was annoyingly one of your father’s closest confidants when it came to town business. You weren’t sure how your strait-laced father could stand being in a room with a man who believes he built Rome in a day. He manages a township of less than five thousand people. If you gave a shit, you could do his job. But instead he walked around like a god reincarnated, telling anyone who would listen about his big ideas. His only redeeming quality was choosing his second-in-command Natasha.
While Vaughn walked in with enough hot air to inflate the station, there was a nervous edge to his snarky smile. “Has anyone seen the Captain?” Several officers mumble about him being out. Vaughn looks disappointed, surely here to get the latest scoop on the largest crime to sweep the town in decades so he could lead the gossip rings. His beady eyes sweep the room, taking in the scuffed floors and overdue paperwork, straightening his godawful mustard tie, and then locks on you.
“Sweetheart! How are you holding up?” Oh great, the whole Stop n’ Shop must have heard you were involved. “Came to see if your old man needed anything from the knowledge hub that is me.”
It physically hurts to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
Bob lifts himself from the hard plastic chair and extends a hand politely, the sleeve of his camel jacket exposing the leather bracelets on his wrist from . Vaughn wrinkles his nose. For someone wearing a mustard tie and a suit half a size too big, it’s bogus he’s judging Bob’s attire. Fanboy’s highlighter green ball cap is much worse.
The city manager shakes the hands of the two men, vaguely aware of their existence, before continuing on about his own experience with the robbery. You know, the one he isn’t part of at all. “Just dreadful really. I’m just as shaken as the rest of the town. And to think all the money for the restoration just, poof, gone. Knew we should have gotten rid of that rotting back door ages ago. Guess the restoration will be on hold permanently.”
“Whoa, whoa, freeze! What back door?” Fanboy pipes in. No one has mentioned a back door up to this point. “And how do you know the thief used it?’
The older man’s eyes tighten just a fraction. Steely charcoal stilling the circle. And then it was broken, that smug smile back in its place. “Ran into the Seresin kid while trying to track down the captain - my good friend - and he mentioned that’s how they determined the thieves got in.”
Why hadn’t your dad mentioned that?
Suddenly bored being the oldest person, Vaughn Carmichael taps you on the shoulder like you’re old chums, sparing the boys an unimpressed look. “I must go, I have meetings all day tomorrow and must prepare. City manager stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” The three of you give him a look to say you don’t want to understand.
Watching him stroll out of the precinct, shaking several hands, he pauses just a moment before pushing through the heavy black doors. “Boys?” Fanboy and Bob turn to him, unimpressed. “Why don’t you leave the real detective work to the professionals.”
The vein in Bob’s temple flares. Fanboy accidentally snaps the pencil he was using to jot down notes. Vaughn Carmichael, such a peach.
Shaking your head to clear the stench of Givenchy Gentleman from your nostrils (could the man choose a more pungent cologne?) you look back at your hired sleuths to process the information that just landed in your laps.
“We need to find out about the back door at the bank.” Fanboy underlines back door several times on his notepad.
Bob furrows his eyebrows at you. “Wait, you don’t know about this back door? You’ve worked there for years.”
“If I did would I be saying we need to find out more?” Your hand lands on your hip in annoyance.
Fanboy nearly gags with how much tension has been lying between the two of you since high school. Even worse now that you’ve both grown out of your awkward teen phases. “Quit your bickerin’, grannies. Who does know about the back door?”
No one on your staff had ever mentioned a back door. In all of your years of training and now as assistant manager it has never come up. But Vaughn pointed out the one person who knows the building inside and out. Even knows when you mistakenly leave your lunch dishes in the sink to soak for too long.
“We’ve got to go see Jake Seresin.”
A collective groan. “Really?”
“Okay, we all know he’s the worst, but he’s been doing security for the bank since high school. He definitely knows everything about this mysterious back door.” You nudge Fanboy. “I promise I’ll protect you from your bully.”
“He wasn’t our bully! He’s just an ass!”
But you’re still snickering as you gather up your bag, picking a stray piece of lint off your quarter zip. All these years later and they’re still avoiding Jake like the plague.
The two follow you out of the precinct, aimlessly following where you’re pointedly heading. Bob runs a hand through his hair before replacing his ball cap, unsure what direction this case has taken.
“So what makes you so sure that Jake is even gonna talk to us? Especially if he’s already spoken to the police?”
You take a right, longingly looking at the record store where your beloved album lies, unpurchased. This day was bogus. How could you be so dumb forgetting your paycheck in your locker? In another dimension your mom is making your third favorite dinner, you’re listening to “Do It Again” on your bedroom floor with a cigarette, and the only worry in the world is making sure your alarm goes off tomorrow.
Fuckin’ gnarly, dude.
You make another turn, your Docs trudging over the pavement.
“He might not talk to us. But there’s one person he will definitely talk to if we can convince her.” They give you an impatient look. “We’re going to go see Cassie.”
“Who the fuck is Cassie?”
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series masterlist
part one • part three • part four • part five
happy golden days of yore • 2
pairing: dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. 18+ ONLY. later parts will contain noncon smut. 40s misogyny? pet names. masturbation. creepy bucky.
words: 3k
notes: part twooooo. let me know what you think 🖤
You’d thrown away the burnt cookies and quickly made a new batch, letting them cool off to the side as you started on your dinner. You were planning on just heating up one of the frozen pizzas you’d bought, but figured it’d be nicer to make an actual meal for your impromptu host.
You tossed the caesar salad together out of the ready to mix bag into a larger bowl and after moved to drain the pasta and lower the dial on the burner that held your homemade marinara meat sauce.
The oven dinged and as you bent down to get the bread out, you felt eyes on you. You stood and placed the tray off to the side of the counter, slightly checking your shoulder to see if he really was there.
“Smells good,” he complimented as he met your eye.
“Thanks,” you returned politely. “I haven’t made this in a while, so hopefully it tastes good, too.”
You looked at him as he leaned his back against the counter, his arms across his chest as he watched you. His hair was damp and pushed behind his ears, the stubble remained, and he was dressed in a dark-green cable knit wool sweater and black joggers. It was funny how he looked slightly more inviting now, the softness of his sweater making him appear softer, too, not so intimidating. At least from a far. But he still had this air around him… something that gave you pause about getting too close. You didn’t want to be dramatic, but he had an essence of danger. You’d decided you’d wait for the storm to pass and head back home. You were sure it’d be better for both of you the sooner you headed out.
“Do you want salad?” you asked, getting ready to make his plate. It was his home, after all. It felt rude to just say, ‘Hey, dinner’s done. Help yourself.’. But maybe that was just the old school, ‘women need to serve the men’ way of thinking your grandparents had instilled in you, not maliciously, but still a mindset you’d been trying to shake since high school, when you first realized how ridiculous that thinking was. Still, serving him just felt more polite.
He considered you another moment, you could still feel his heavy gaze on you as you had your back to him, waiting for his answer.
“Yeah, whatever you made is good,” he told you. He pushed off the counter and made his way to the table, taking his seat at the end before his eyes returned to your figure once more. It was unnerving, him watching your every move, but in all fairness he knew nothing about you and was really just going on your word that you were John’s granddaughter. For all he really knew you were just some stranger who’d broken into his home so you couldn’t really blame him for being weary of you. If that’s what all the staring was about.. Either way, what were you going to do about it?
You set the bowl of salad down in front of him before getting his plate and filling it with pasta and sauce. You grabbed the tongs and set a couple pieces of the still warm bread on his plate.
“Enjoy,” you smiled smally as you set it down for him.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding sincere. “Seriously, I was just going to heat up a can of soup. It’s nice to have an actual meal.”
“Of course,” you responded. “Like I said, it’s the least I can do.”
“Would you mind grabbing me a glass of water, sweetheart,” he asked as you walked back to get your own plate, the request giving you half a second of pause.. And there was that pet name again.. You brushed it off and nodded.
“Sure,” you agreed, filling two glasses, one for each of you. You handed one to him and set the other on the opposite side of the table. You finished making your plate and made your way to your seat.
“This is really good, doll,” he praised after taking a bite. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a while, I forgot how good food could really taste.”
“Glad you like it,” you laughed lightly, looking down at your plate, mixing your food around before you took a bite of your own.
You ate mostly in silence, but as you were finishing your food, decided it would be an okay time to ask him some questions.
“So..if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you do for work?”
He gave you a cross look, brow raised as he examined your face carefully.
“You really don’t know?” he asked skeptically.
“Should I?”
He paused another moment before looking down, lips pulling into a bit of a frown as he thought, giving a small shake of his head.
“I guess not,” he said before returning his gaze to you. “I, uh. I work for the government. Kind of. With the government, really. I told you my name is Bucky, my full name is James Barnes,” he finished slowly, as if waiting for you to connect the dots, eyes never leaving your face, wanting to see the moment you’d put it together.
It took a second, but then it all clicked. You thought he looked familiar, but you didn’t think for even a second where you remembered seeing him before.
“Oh,” you breathed, “you’re…oh.”
You weren’t sure what to say. You were sitting across from the Winter Soldier. You were eating pasta with the Winter Soldier. Fuck, you essentially broke into the home of the Winter Soldier, you were surprised you were still sitting there breathing.
It did explain the danger vibes he was giving off earlier and the imposing presence he seemed to have so effortlessly. Plus he had a metal arm. You don't know how you didn’t realize it sooner. It was clear in front of your face.
“So, you come home after being away for however long and find some stranger in your home and don’t automatically assume the worst?” you said, trying to relieve the tension creeping into the space between you.
“Well I did come in armed,” he smirked lightly. “But I don’t think many suspicious characters are going around decorating, baking cookies, and playing Christmas music in the houses of their targets.”
“Ah, right,” you nodded. A part of you felt relieved that this stranger was actually a well known Avenger and not some sketchy guy you’d be spending the night with. It dwindled some of your trepidations.
“I didn’t say this before, but I'm sorry about your grandfather. I didn’t really know him all that well, but he seemed like a good man,” he offered.
“Thank you. He was,” you smiled.
“Were you two close?”
“Yeah. He and my grandma raised me. After she passed in 2018, it was really just him and me. I had moved out on my own a few years ago, but we still saw each other all the time. It’s been kind of weird, honestly.. The being alone. Not alone like, alone, but like.. no family. Ya know?”
“Yeah,” he nodded almost solemnly.
“Shit, that was really insensitive,” you chided yourself, “I’m sorry.”
“You really gotta stop apologizing all the time, doll. I didn’t take it any kind of way,”
You looked away then, smiling awkwardly at your plate before taking it to the sink to wash it.
“So you’re not scared then?” he asked out of the blue.
“Sorry?” you questioned.
“You know who I am. You’re not scared?”
“I mean, even if I was, I’m kinda stuck here til the storm blows over, so,” you joked to cover your discomfort at his question. You could feel his gaze burning into you all over again. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was staring. “Did you want more? I think I made a little too much,” you tried to change the topic.
“No, I’m alright. Thank you,” he replied as he got up. You were a little surprised when he started putting the leftovers in the glass tupperware you’d set out. He brought the empty dishes to the sink and you washed them as he put the food in the fridge.
“I baked more cookies,” you told him. “Didn’t burn ‘em this time. There’s plenty if you want any,” you finished, nodding to the plate of cookies on the counter behind you.
He grabbed one and waved it at you with a small smile before he walked out to the living room.
You finished washing the last of the dishes and put them to dry before you stored the cookies away in a christmas tin to keep them fresh.
You grabbed more water and turned the light off, leaving the kitchen. As you entered the living room, you felt yourself heat up all over noticing you’d forgotten to take your laundry upstairs earlier. You’d sorted your delicates and regular clothes as you folded them so there was a pile of your socks, bras and underwear on display next to your pile of shirts and sweaters. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and embarrass yourself further so you acted like you didn’t even notice as you threw them all together and swiped them up to take them to the room you were staying in. Bucky was sitting on the chair near the fireplace, a book in his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. He was looking at his phone, doing something else, so you just hoped he hadn’t noticed. And if he did, you just hoped he didn’t mind too much. Not that it was entirely mortifying but he was a man of the 40s and you weren’t sure whether or not he’d gotten accustomed to the times by now or if this was as scandalous as you felt it was.
Bad enough you’d let yourself into his cabin and made yourself at home, but you just seemed to keep adding more to the situation.
“Bucky,” you spoke softly, gaining his attention nearly instantly. “I’m gonna head up, call it a night. It was, uhm, nice meeting you,” you said with a little, nervous laugh. “And again, I’m really sorry for just intruding like this. Thank you for not kicking me out, I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it. Anyone would be lucky to come home to the likes of you. Be crazy to kick you out,” he said with a smile as his eyes ran up your body to meet your own.
Your eyes went slightly wide at his response, but you again reminded yourself that he was used to the ways of the 30s and 40s and you were sure he didn’t mean to come off so..well, like he was.
You forced a smile and turned to head to the stairs.
“Your cookie was delicious, by the way,” he added as you began to ascend the stairs, causing you to turn to him once again.
“Oh, good. Glad you liked it,” you smiled again. “Have a good night,” you bid as you continued up the stairs.
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As you were putting away your laundry, you realized that something was missing... You were sure you had washed your silky black thong. It was your favorite pair and you vividly remembered folding it and putting it on top of the pile of your delicates when you were folding the clothes earlier. You thought maybe you’d dropped it when you were coming upstairs and peeked your head out to check the floor of the hallway, but you were too nervous to check the stairs or go back down and check the couch. You huffed when you couldn’t find it and accepted you must’ve dropped it downstairs. You’d get up early in the morning to look for it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back down there now just to grab your elusive thong.
Instead you headed to the bathroom and got ready for bed.
It was still freezing in your room despite the fire burning downstairs. You plugged in your space heater before crawling under the covers, but that didn’t stop you from tossing and turning for a while before you finally fell asleep.
—---------------------------------
You weren’t sure how much later it was but you were sweltering under the blankets you had on. You kicked them off of you in a haphazard haze, desperate to feel cool again as the heat threatened to consume you. You pulled your sweater off like you were on fire and threw it off the side of the bed. You were facing the wall and kept your eyes as shut as you could, not truly wanting to wake up fully.
You wanted to just fall back asleep, but your throat protested. You needed water so begrudgingly forced yourself to sit up and grab your glass off the bedside table. Bucky must’ve turned the heater on, something you were trying to avoid. As you took a sip, you noticed the door to your room was open. You had been sure to close it when you went to sleep, so you were taken off guard. The only other person in the house was Bucky, but he was nowhere to be seen. You don’t know why he would’ve opened the door, but you convinced yourself it was a safety or security thing and not something creepier. You got out of bed and looked out into the dark hall, finding the door to Bucky’s room ajar. You changed into sleep shorts and crept back to bed after pushing your door more closed, but not shutting it completely either.
Something was pulling at your mind to stay awake now, but you didn’t know why. Despite that small part of you trying to fight the urge to go back to sleep, you were back under in a matter of minutes.
Sometime during the night you recalled feeling a chill run down the side of your hip and along your thigh before you tossed over and pulled one of the blankets further across your body.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If she closed the door back shut, he told himself he would just go back to bed. That would be it. He wasn’t trying to be a creep, but fuck he just couldn’t help himself.
That seemed to be a more and more common thought he was having today. Like when he saw your thong on the couch earlier just out in plain sight, tempting him to feel it, touch it, take it. So he did. What harm could it do?
The beating of your heart and the soft sound of your breathing just across the hall from him had been keeping him up. The image of you, thoroughly worn out and curled up under the covers was a sight he was suddenly desperate to see. He had opened your door, just to peek in. That’s all he was planning on doing. But when he saw you, laying there, sleeping so peacefully, innocently, he couldn’t help himself. You looked like an angel. He walked in further, not making a sound. You were completely bundled up, and he suddenly realized you must be freezing to have all those clothes on. He ventured out into the hall and kicked the heat on, the first time he’d done that all year. It should warm up soon enough. And then maybe you’d lose some of those bulky layers that were keeping your figure from his sight. He wanted to see the softness of your skin again, to watch the rise and fall of your full breasts with every breath you took. Maybe he’d get lucky and you’d lose the sweats, too..
So when you didn't shut the door completely after you got up, when you unknowingly blessed him with the sight of you stripping off your sweats, your thick thighs and ass on display for him, albeit briefly, as you changed into those little shorts, he couldn't resist going back in. It was like, even if just subconsciously, you wanted him to. To see you all laid out like that. Thin tank top, no bra, little shorts that rode up your ass, soft flesh just begging to be admired, rubbed and squeezed in his hands. He’d never seen anyone so perfect. You tossed again in your sleep, your back to him now as you laid on your side. He inched closer. And closer still until he was inches away, hovering over your body. His hand moved of its own accord, smoothing up your thigh, reveling in the goosebumps that rose on your skin. Just as soft as he thought you’d be. He ran his hand up and down softly a few more times, tickling you in your sleep. Your breath hitched ever so slightly before you let out the sweetest moan he’d ever heard. Suddenly, his briefs were too tight and he was about to burst out of his sweats. He slipped a hand in his pants and lowered his sweats just enough to let his erect cock spring out. He leaned closer to you, ensuring he didn’t make a sound as he let his cock head touch your bare thigh. He rubbed against you, slowly so as not to disturb your slumber, but up and down your thigh until you rubbed back against him while you readjusted in your sleep. Your ass rubbed his cock and he quickly jerked away before his precum leaked on your unsoiled skin. He was controlling his breathing best he could, but it was still heavy, almost shaky as he forced himself to leave your room. The second he walked into his own, his hand was jerking his cock hard, squeezing and fisting himself tightly, all the thoughts and images running through his mind were solely revolving around you.
#dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader#dark!bucky barnes x plus size!reader#dark!bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky x curvy!reader#dark!bucky x plus size!reader#dark!bucky x reader#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes x reader#dark bucky x reader#soft!dark bucky barnes#soft!dark bucky x reader#dark bucky smut
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oh simon’s so possessive…
cw: fem!reader, possessiveness, creepy men, slut shaming for a bit , possessiveness (again), breeding kink, aftercare
he doesn’t share food. his best mate could be starving and begging on his knees to just let his LT give him his mashed potatoes but simon would not budge. claims he needs the nutrients despite him eating 3,000 calories a day.
doesn’t share his tea either, but you could expect that from a brit. this man has a whole cabinet in the break room dedicated to his tea bags, sugar, herbs, etc. and don’t even think about using his milk when the regular gallon has gone bad or ran out. simon writes his name in bold sharpie across the carton, marking his property.
it’s like he was never taught the word ‘share’ in pre-school. you don’t even think you’ve heard him say ‘share’ before. it was no use telling him “sharing is caring” because that man in fact did not care and he’d scoff in your face if you uttered the phrase.
need an extra sip of water? sorry! simon’s already drinking the last bit while you’re asking him for some.
lost some socks in the drier and need to borrow one his millions of black ones? no can do! he can’t have an uneven number of socks! even if you pinky promise with a cherry on top he’ll tell you that he can’t trust you.
even down to the most minute of things, simon riley would not give up his stuff for anyone. you recall captain price asking him for a pen to sign some documents, but simon sent him packing.
but there was one thing he especially didn’t share: his lovers.
simon had never been broken up with in his life, he simply wouldn’t allow it. the relationship wasn’t over until he told his partner it was. so when you agreed to start seeing simon casually, it was like you were placed on lockdown.
it wasn’t like he didn’t trust you to be faithful, no no. he didn’t trust any man with eyes, hands, or a cock to be around you. you were just that precious to him.
despite you telling him repeatedly that this was only a “casual” thing (your definition of casual meaning occasional hookups and dates), simon treated the ordeal like you were a princess destined to marry your knight in a skull balaclava.
you were given the best treatment: flowers he picked from outside, dinner he cooked just for you, and not to mention the plethora of clothes and jewelry he donned you with. it was like having a sugar daddy- minus the creepy old man.
and the sex, oh it was heavenly. every time simon laid you down in bed you saw the pearly gates. his hands being the most holy thing to exist while he worshiped you at the altar of his bedroom and his cock blessing you with his love and mercy.
but this was most definitely casual, right? you were mostly in denial but would never come to terms with it.
when it came to you, simon was a different kind of possessive. not the “don’t touch my things” or “i’m not sharing” type, but the ravenous “i’ll gauge your eyes out and feed them to you” kind of possessive.
everywhere you go, simon’s not far behind. you will never be untouched unless you ask to be and there will always be a hand holding yours or an arm wrapped around your waist. it was like being with simon in public was like having a giant man surgically attached to you.
and so help him god, if anyone looks at you wrong they will hear about it! simon has no use to be scared of confrontation, given his massive size and downright scary voice. not to mention the whole skull mask was enough to get a grown man pissing his pants.
you two were in the grocery store, looking for ingredients for a new soup you wanted to make. while in the checkout line you could feel yourself needing to pee badly, and excused yourself to the nearby restroom.
on any normal day simon would wait patiently near the bathrooms, but seeing how long the checkout line was he relented on letting you go alone.
you peed, washed your hands, and reapplied some of your lip gloss in the mirror. before you left you adjusted the skirt you were wearing that fell to the middle of your thighs, simon loves it when you wear skirts, especially the ones he bought you.
after drying your hands you left to go find simon, before being startled by a man. he was about 5’10” to 6’0” with a medium build, but it was obvious he was a bit older. maybe mid to late forties.
“oh! i’m sorry i didn’t see you there.” you smiled at him and tried to move out of his way. he didn’t budge. “oh- excuse me sir.” still no movement.
“aren’t you a sight?” he stared down at you, eyes focused on your chest. you thought that he might be just trying to give you a compliment, some older men are like that.
“thank you mister, now if you’ll excuse me-“
“what’s your name baby?” god where was simon when you needed him?! you looked around and asked for help with your eyes, but no one seemed to notice you.
“i asked you a question, now.” you lied and gave him a fake name. ‘maybe he’ll just go away now’ you thought. he gave you a creepy grin and grabbed the hem of your skirt.
“isn’t that a little too inappropriate for a grocery store? or were you just asking for someone to-“
“what the fuck do you think you’re doin?’ you fuckin’ mad?” simon finally intervened the shit show that was unfolding.
“well your lady here needs to learn that if she doesn’t want attention then she shouldn’t dress like it.” he gestured towards your outfit. simon stepped in between you two to stop him from looking.
“she’ll dress however the fuck she wants to, and if you don’t get away from er’ , you’ll be dressing for your own funeral, lad.” simon put his hands on the man’s shoulders and you just can’t bring yourself to stop him. he just looked so much taller and bigger than the man that was just towering over you like a hawk watching its prey.
“you ever heard of keeping your hands to yourself?” simon’s accent gets thicker with each sentence while he begins to redden with anger, even through the skull balaclava.
“sir, that’s enough.” a store manager separates simon and the man. he takes your hand gently and leads you to the car.
“you alright, luv?” he only wanted you to be safe.
later that night, simon’s fucking you rough. his hands and gripping your hips like a vice and his cock his ramming into your sopping wet pussy. you can feel his fingertips begin to leave bruises while his lips work on marking your neck and collarbones.
“gotta make sure everyone knows you’re mine, darlin’”
your back arches and your freshly manicured nails are scratching his back, giving him the marks he oh so desires every time you touch him. simon’s name hangs from your lips like foliage once fell from ancient gardens, your eyes rolling back to your skull.
every sound you make just eggs him on further, his grip switching from your hips to the back of your knees. simon pushes your legs back to press up against your chest, giving him a deeper angle to thrust into.
“you feel unreal, babygirl. gotta keep you all to myself, you’re too good to give up.”
your moans are so pornographic to the point where the neighbors might complain. you or simon don’t seem to care, too caught up in the feeling of euphoria that only the two of you can give each other.
after a few minutes of ruthless fucking, the coil in your tummy begins to tighten and your legs shake in simon’s grip. you don’t even have to tell him that you’re close before he’s encouraging your orgasm.
“come on, luv. need to feel you cum on my cock, angel.” simon’s fingers graze your clit and you’re done for. your legs spasm and your hips buck into the air, releasing your sticky fluids onto simon’s pelvis and his cock. he lets out a visceral moan and pushes your legs farther back to behind your head, impaling you faster and harder then ever before.
“gonna fuckin’ fill you up. give you a baby, yeah? make sure everyone knows who you belong to. all mine. have you swell up with my kid. that’ll show em’ right?”
he fills you up fast while he’s speaking, simon’s cum shoots into your womb and you’re completely overstimulated. you cry out incoherent pleas while you clench around him with a powerful force.
simon shushes you and kisses you softly while you come down from your high. he strokes your face and tells you that he’s right here and it’ll be okay. this is what’s so special about him, his ways of ruining your body and immediately stitching it back together with a golden thread.
he lets himself sit inside your for a few minutes before pulling out and cleaning you up. but not before he gets all of his extra seed inside you, using his fingers to scoop up any excess. “gotta make sure it takes” he says.
simon doesn’t share, not even the things that are supposed to be casual.
#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mwii#cod mwiii#cod mw3#cod mw2#call of duty
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On Dieter, Goya's Black Paintings, and Pedro on Talk Art
Alright y'all, it's Saturday evening, I have nothing better to do (I actually do but I don't feel like it), so welcome to my mini TED Talk about 'how to pay too much fucking attention to the Pedro cinematic universe'. None of this is new, and maybe everybody already knew about this, but I didn't... so here's a nerdy tangent courtesy of googling/wikipedia-ing.
I was reading a Dieter!fic (this one right here by @chaoticgeminate - go read her writing!) earlier today, which refers to the 'Saturn Devouring His Son' painting - that giant mural Dieter is working on in The Bubble:
(his brush isn't even touching the wall tho, ha)
The original 'Saturn' by Goya
The fic mentioned its part of 'The Black Paintings', so I got curious and started googling. I'm no art major or expert, so please allow me to just paraphraze the Wikipedia page. 'Saturn' is part of a group of 14 Goya paintings that are called Pinturas Negras/The Black Paintings. They "portray intense, haunting themes, reflective of both his fear of insanity and his bleak outlook on humanity" --this was late in Goya's life, and was connected to several illnesses he had experienced (and the fear of relapsing) and political turmoil in Spain at the time (post-Napolean war, changing Spanish government, etc.
Trivia fact 1: Goya actually made these paintings right on the walls of the Quinta del Sordo (so-called Deaf Man's villa) where he was staying -- so I love that Apatow had Dieter also paint right on the walls.
Trivia fact 2: while Goya was living in this villa, he actually became gravely ill (again) - not by a pandemic obviously, but it's hard to not link that loosely to the COVID period. He had never intended for these 'Black Paintings' to become public; "these paintings are as close to being hermetically private as any that have ever been produced in the history of Western art" (the murals were eventually transfered to canvas by other folks once he had moved out of the villa). Switching back to The Bubble -- I love how the tragic influence of Goya's illness(es) and art/things 'made at home away from the world, not intended for an audience' (so obviously, in a bubble) has that connection to the COVID experience and how many folks were suddenly homebound, along with the burden of illness in many ways (lord knows this all did a serious number on our mental health). In the movie, Dieter and the others do not want to go into isolation again, but that solitude is what eventually led him to painting on the walls in his room. This is not a 'grand discovery' of any kind, but I got a kick out of the parellels once I read up on it - and honestly makes me appreciate the movie a bit more, haha.
Not happy about another quarantine period.
Alright, more hyperfocusing after the cut:
Some googling led me to a post from last year by @nicolethered (gifs in this post are hers), and she included screencaps of the walls of Dieter's room (during that drug scene), which I hadn't even noticed while watching the movie. Upon taking a closer look, I noticed they're outtakes from other pieces of Goya's Black Paintings! I thought that was really cool, they sure worked on the details with that set (there's one more that's shown in a different shot but I can't exactly figure out which outtake that is):
First one is a mirror image from Two Old Men Eating Soup and the second one is basically Satan aka 'The Great He-Goat' from the Witches' Sabbath painting. Which IMO makes for fucking hilarious perfection a.k.a. trivia fact 3 -- because we all know about Dieter and his little emotional support goat, LOL. Excellent connection.
*insert sound bit from Hot Ones interview* : "Just let me love you!"
Anywaaay there's more. The Bubble was shot during Feb 22, 2021 to April 16, 2021, right? Pedro has spoken about how his input in shaping Dieter was mostly regarding his outfits (the Crocs, the robe, etc). But then I suddenly remember the Talk Art interview he had done in 2018, and how he namechecks 'The Dog' by Goya - and lo, guess which painting is actually part of the 14 Black Paintings? Yeap - the dog! So I checked the podcast and he was asked, 'if you could be any painting, what painting would you be?' by Russell. Here is the painting, and below it is what he said on Talk Art:
'The Drowning Dog' by Goya
"I think… it's a Goya. Yeah, old school. I think it's called 'Dog Buried in Sand' or something like that. It's so… I remember feeling it was such a visual representation of helplessness, in such a… come on, let's all admit that helplessness is a very recurring feeling for many of us, you know what I mean? When it comes to so many things. I guess… I was in Spain, in Madrid, and I was 20. And I went to the Goya museum.
What's interesting about it is that the head of the dog is really quite small and sort of adorable, it looks like a stray mutt, and the painting - if I can remember it correctly - is very rectangular. There's so much above him, like the world just seems so big. It's quite incredible, isn't it? I know it's really sad, and sort of dark, and maybe I really like enjoy perceiving myself like..." (He gets interrupted by Russell, and then continues;) "Yeah, he's certainly not dying, it's sort of - it's a moment", (then interrupts himself with;) "Maybe he's totally dying, there's no way that dog is getting out of that. That dog is SO fucked. Anyway, that's the painting that represents my life". (All three of them burst out into laughing.)
If you're still reading this - I am impressed with your dedication to my silly little post, haha. Anyway, I just thought it was so striking that there basically is a straight line from the painting he mentioned in Talk Art to what Dieter is painting in the Bubble. Makes me wonder if perhaps he - or even Russell/Robert - had any input in that part of Dieter's backstory.
Thank you for attending my TED Talk on artistic analysis of Dieter Bravo during COVID, we now resume your regularly scheduled program for Saturday night. 🤪
(Have I been smoking because a local dispensary actually had 'Mando' bud? I sure as fuck have and I blame that for this post.)
#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x oc#dieter bravo fanfic#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal#fic rec#ted talks#saturday night ramblings#ADHD#hyperfocus#the bubble#judd apatow#talk art#russell tovey#robert diament#goya#art#painting#oil painting#art history#my writing
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first snowstorm of the winter here in Montréal, Canada so…
Foxes vs. the great white shitstorm
Kevin: PTSD from the-skiing-accident-that-never-was bc that’s how far his trauma goes BUT will brave the snow if accompanied bc Exy is an interior sport thank u mom for that one. chances are he also probably bunkered down at the Foxhole court beforehand so he wouldn’t have to witness a single snowflake nor be separated from his one true love. bunker supplies include a shit ton of OJ bc the man is fighting away the flus and the colds like it’s The Plague Part II: 1347.
Matt: has to be stopped by Dan, once again, from buying a snow plow to fix in front of his truck. like every place where winter = snow, the PSU campus is severely unprepared for the onslaught, it’s like they’ve never seen this shit before and if I could just help out the community that way it would be a win-win for everybody Dan don’t you get it? it’s still a no, so Matt proceeds with unleashing his energy outside, alone, grumbling and building snowmen (and snowphalluses once Nicky joins in)
Nicky: DECKS THE HALLS EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE, FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA. it’s tradition for him to wait until the first snowfall before decorating for Christmas, as a compromise (if it truly were up to him, 1st of November would be Christmas Tree Day, but he made a deal with the twins who, despite despising their birthday, would absolutely not have Jingle Bells and and holly on November 4th). the thing with Nicky is, he exhausts himself very, very fast and loses focus/productivity in the blink of an eye, so all you see is a path of garlands and pine needles leading to a zoned out Nicky munching on frootloops in a beanbag. the Foxes will have to finish what he started.
Allison: during daytime? fab as ever, hyped to get out her winter outfits and order another 3k of winter gear, boots, scarves, gloves etc. for herself. then she shops some more for the Foxes, some genuine bougie shit, some wtf shit to make fun of this season's chosen victims (see: Kevin always, a little bit Neil to chase away the nightmare of the past year, and this year's winners: Dan and Aaron). but once nighttime hits? it's war time. it's UGLY time. thermo one-piece suit, the old 3XL PSU Foxes men's sweatshirt Seth bought himself in his first year, tight braid shoved under a tight camo sports balaclava, spy goggles slapped on her naked-bar-fake-lashes face, heavy duty boots, and snowballs. yes, snowballs. starting this year, she's initiating the Yearly Foxes Snowball War. she's got her Santa bag ready and full of compact snowballs as she goes down the hall, breaking and entering every Fox dorm and obliterating them unprovoked. queen behavior. conquering among the squeals of Matt Aaron Kevin the vanquished!
Renee: hater mode activated. it's only for the first snow, it's only for one day, but it's brutal. her smile is tight, her socks are fucking wet by noon and she's had it. the little gremlin dives under a pile yay-high of blankets, destroying one or two of her advent calendars and eating 25-50 pieces of chocolate to sate her ire. she's the only one safe from Allison's assault, she's only asked if she'd like to join in the snowball fight instead, which is a hard no from Renee. next year, though, Allison's provided her with the same tech-gear and she's ready to unleash her anger on her unsuspecting teammates. but only after the chocolates.
Dan: nope. nope nope nope. she's so cold. so cold. she's craving warmth wherever she can, making the Foxes jump when she shoves her iced hands or feet into them. she's bundled up in layers upon layers of clothes. she's drinking coffee and tea by the gallon. she's scrambling for every lip balm she can get her hands on. she's making soup, and soup, and more soup. spicy ramen, three beans, lipton, chicken cream, veggie mix. she's got 2 thermos at all times, one hot drink, one hot soup. soup mama.
Aaron: first victim of cold season. if there's a snowflake, Aaron's got snot. no amount of ginger shots, garlic nostrils, citrus slices or soup can prevent the inevitable. man down by sunset, congested af, broody and pitiful. everybody makes fun of him, most of all Neil. look at the hot shot doctor bested by a lil cough-cough. the one year he didn't get sick so early, he had to get the new flu shot bc he's premed. needless to say, man down again.
Neil: ultimate x-games galore, here he comes! for the first time in his life, he's allowed to indulge, and try out every winter sport under the sun. Exy's still his wife, but man is snowboard up there with snowshoes-running and ice-skating and sledding. he's monstrously good at hockey, to Kevin's great disappointment. he thinks he'd have quite liked being a hockey player hadn't it been for Exy. and the mafia. anyways, he's unstoppable, he's exhausting, he's everything. he's Barbie.
Andrew: tiny emo beef man is fucking-A-ready. winter tires ON, tire chains ON, windshield cover ON, broom and shovels ACQUIRED, hot chocolate cupboard FULL, cleated boots SHARPENED, hotshots warmers STACKED. and then he just- doesn't move. not one iota. absolute pillow princess without any fucking involved. that man is not getting out there, despite the Foxes' wailings of needing a ride, needing groceries, needing a hand. he is ready, doesn't mean he's involved. c'mon, the dude's got multiple plans for a zombie apocalypse, you think a little snow's gonna stop him? yes, actually.
and that's all folks... for now. fuck /yeah/ snow!
#*plucking a flowers petals* i love snow i hate snow i love snow i hate snow#aftg#all for the game#the foxhole court#neil josten#andrew minyard#kevin day#aaron minyard#nicky hemmick#matt boyd#dan wilds#renee walker#allison reynolds
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Francisco Goya 'Two Old Men Eating Soup' 1819-1823
Spongebob 'Chocolate with Nuts' 2002
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Your Lips and Me — Oneshot… ish thingy
The kid is crying on the swingset, and also the highest in class. The parakeet hasn’t moved its wings yet, all good things come to pass. I think of sunshine, and roses in bloom, but you’re off sitting with another someone in another room.
Trina hummed while she cooked dinner for her small family. Marvin was with a friend in the living room, and Jason was up in his room doing whatever 10 year old boys do in their room. She couldn’t help but notice how handsy the pair in the living room was; They held hands and sat shoulder-to-shoulder. As far as Trina knew, Marvin despised any type of physical contact unless it came from Jason, who also despised touch.
Marvin mentioned that he became friends with the other man in the living room, Whizzer, because he felt pretty lonely without having friends. Trina really enjoyed Whizzer’s presence, but she always had a weird feeling about him. She was glad that Marvin was being social, though.
That’s alright, dear, keep digging your grave, dear. I didn’t know that you were lonely, I thought you’d agree.
Trina placed the lid over the pot for a moment to check up on the men in the living room. The two were laughing over something, but immediately stopped when the lady walked in. The weird gut feeling was back for her.
“I was just checking on you both. Dinner’s almost ready,” Trina said while pointing her thumb to the kitchen. Marvin slumped back on the couch, and Whizzer nodded to acknowledge her. “If you’re both still hungry, I’ll make desert. Jason probably won’t eat it, knowing how he has a really low metabolism.”
“That would be great, thank you, Trin,” Marvin added. Trina hummed in response, walking over and placing a gentle peck on Marvin’s lips. Their kisses have never been long, as for Marvin’s wishes. His lips only started to feel forbidden more recently. “You should go, I don’t want you to accidentally overcook anything.”
“Oh, yeah, I should go check up on the food.” Trina headed back to the kitchen, and the men started talking again. She sighed, something feeling heavy in her heart. There was something off, that was for sure. She was too scared to try to call out her feelings.
But when I saw your lips, I knew it didn’t belong to me.
Trina continued to cook some food when Jason came downstairs. It was clear that he had just awoken from a nap, since his hair was all over the place and his clothes were horribly wrinkled. He was rubbing his eyes when he made eye contact with Trina.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Trina mumbled, stirring the soup and turning off the stove. Jason waved, then looked over at the two men. Jason was also visibly aware of who Whizzer was, and he didn’t like the older man very much. He also had a weird feeling, expressed to his mother.
“Does he have to always be here?” Jason messed with his hair and sat at the dining table, pulling the chess board close to him. Trina shrugged, pouring the soup into bowls and placing them aside. Jason looked over before heading back to set up his chess game. Trina called the men to the dining room, and they ate.
It was pretty tense. Jason was eating slowly while focused on his game, Whizzer and Marvin giving each other stares from across the table, and Trina observed every move made. The way that the two men stared at each other…it reminded her of wanting. The gut feeling got horrible.
“Marv,” Trina cleared her throat. Marvin looked away from Whizzer and looked at the lady. He also cleared her throat to give her the knowledge that he was listening. “You keep looking at Whizzer, is something wrong?”
“I’m fine.” Marvin said no other word, then looked down at his soup and continued to eat. Trina looked at Whizzer, who wasn’t visibly paying attention to her as well. He looked up eventually, and looked at her. He knew he was about to get asked the same question.
“I’m alright too, thanks for the concern, though.” Whizzer picked up his spoon and stopped staring at Marvin. She sighed, scarfing her food down before standing up and heading for the kitchen without another word. Trina was pretty confident that she heard Marvin starting to talk once more, perhaps about her. She really loved him, but she felt as if he didn’t love her back. She held her love away.
Your mother reports your father’s blue, dear, and your father reports he’s fine. Your mother withheld her love from you, dear, I try withholding mine.
Trina had leftover soup and didn’t want leftovers tomorrow, so she packed some soup in some containers and placed it in a plastic grocery bag. She walked past the men that were still at the dinner table and walked out to talk to the neighbors. The Applebaums were lovely, and they liked her. They felt like family to her, to say the least. The lady knocked on the door and left the soup on the doorstep with a little note. She smiled gently before walking back home.
When she headed back, Whizzer and Marvin were back on the couch, watching a show together. They were giggling like school children, but stopped when Trina opened the door. Trina didn’t say a word to them, just placed her house keys down and walked back to the kitchen to start making her desert for them.
The neighbors love me, they tell me I’m great, but you’re off with another floozie in another state. That’s alright, dear, you go on digging your grave, dear.
Trina sat at the dinner table, where Jason still sat. He looked up from his game, then went back to focusing. “You seem distraught.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jace,” Trina covered up. He stopped for a moment, pinching his queen between his fingers before throwing the king off the board. He smiled out of satisfaction, then looked over at his mother. She didn’t talk to him like she normally would, and that was out of the sorts for the younger boy.
“I feel like this is about dad and Whizzer. I don’t like that,” Jason jeered. Trina nodded in response, looking over at the men. They obviously couldn’t hear the mother and son, and they were in their own bubble. Whizzer was joking a ton about how “attractive” Marvin was.
Trina’s gaze moved over to Marvin’s lips and how they moved. He grabbed Whizzer’s hand and pressed his lips against the skin on his hand. Trina rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “I don’t think you should be involved in this, Jace.”
“I’m not totally inept with feelings, mom,” He attested. When his mom didn’t respond, he nodded and got up. He looked at Whizzer and Marvin, then scoffed. “I’ll leave you alone for now.”
With that, Jason grabbed the chess board and packed it up, then walked out of the room. Trina was left alone with her thoughts, and she just sat there for a small moment.
I didn’t know you’re so…attractive. I thought you’d agree. But when I saw your lips, I knew they didn’t belong to me. Nice day, nice life, precious few people squawk. Nice. Good friends, high life, isn’t it fun to talk? Nice.
The oldest just snides, he’s loudly wailing, and the parakeet still can’t fly. Your mother reports your father’s failing; true, he has failed to die.
Whizzer walked into the kitchen and waved to Trina who was still at the table. She gently waved back, standing up and walking over to the kitchen.
“I was just getting some water. Mind if I stay the night? My roommate isn’t very pleased with me right now. Marvin said to ask you.” Trina could’ve taken to opportunity to tell Whizzer to go away, to stay with the roommate that was upset with him, but she couldn’t help but say yes. “Thank you, Trina. You’re an amazing friend.”
He grabbed a glass of water and left. Trina sighed and stepped outside for a moment. The Applebaums were finally home and they had taken the soup she packed. They spotted Trina outside, and walked over.
“Hey, Trin, why the frown?” Mrs. Applebaum一who’s name is Chana一started a conversation. Trina shrugged, then rested her back against the house wall. “Is it about that man that Marvin is seeing?”
“He isn’t seeing him, they’re just friends.” Mr. Applebaum一who’s name is Saul一raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t look at me like that, Marvin’s a nice man.”
“But is he faithful, Trina?” Chana gently rested a hand against her shoulder. Trina thought about that for a moment, then shrugged gently. “You deserve so much, dear, the thing that you don’t deserve is an unloving man.”
“I don’t think he’s unfaithful,” Trina replied. Chana looked over at Saul, then shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I love him. Marvin wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Alright, Trin, we’ll trust your word on it. Please tell us if he does anything wrong to you, though.” Saul patted her shoulder, and walked off with Chana. Trina watched them walk off, then stepped back in.
The neighbors love me, they saw I’m a clown. It’s awful dressing in my blue carnation when you’re out of town. Pay no mind, dear, just go on digging your grave, dear, I didn’t ask to be your own mother; your lips were the key.
Trina decided to walk over to Marvin. She gently tapped his shoulder to place a peck on his lips before heading over to the kitchen. His lips felt forbidden after that talk. It felt right, but it also felt forbidden.
But when I saw your lips, I knew they didn’t belong, no, they didn’t belong, I’m sure they didn’t belong to me.
(Should I post this on ao3??)
#falsettos#falsettos musical#jason falsettos#marvin falsettos#whizzer falsettos#trina falsettos#whizzer brown#falsettos oneshot#i should post my oneshots here more
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