#I don’t know yet what language I am actually gonna use for this fic obviously English yes but the vibe? I don’t know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shig-a-shig-ah · 4 years ago

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Gangbang by the lov

Anon I know I have ignored this for a week and I am sorry for that, but let me tell you: I got this request and I was like ‘fuck it, if I’m going to do it I’m going to do it right’ and was all set to do a full fic because how do you even fit something so involved into a few paragraphs?

Except here’s the thing: it’s fucking hard! Who knew? Not me, because I am a fool and I thought I could just pop out 3.5k words of gangbang in a week or something and be content with it, but lemme tell you, it took that way longer than I expected just choreograph some sequence of events. Like, just the set up and making it clear who’s doing what, let alone making it actually read well took so much time. So, hats off to anyone who’s ever accomplished that task, you’re more man than me.

Anyway, in the end I abandoned the set up and I wouldn’t quite consider this a full fic, but it got pretty long anyway.

» pairing: male!LoV Members x afab!reader

» cw: gangbanging, obviously. Also double penetration, eating ass, anal sex, masturbation, a sprinkle of voyeurism and a lil’ bit of dirty talk, and maybe degrading language if you squint. 18+, minors DNI.

» wc: 1.7k

They let Jin start you off—the League doesn't want to wreck you too badly after all, wants to get you nice and ready so they can keep doing this, again and again for as long as you're willing to be their good little slut. You never know when it's coming either, some of them will exchange a look and suddenly Jin is pulling you to him, nestling his broad chest against your back and letting his hands wander, groping at your chest and pinching your nipples, sliding beneath the waistband of your pants to toy with your folds, telling you that you're “such an obedient slut” for him in one breath and “such a useless whore!” the next, his face flushing at the outburst while he grinds his cock against the curve of your ass.

It's Compress who joins next—what kind of gentleman would he be, after all, if he didn't help get you warmed up for them? He and Twice will guide you somewhere comfortable like the couch in the corner, peeling off your clothes along the way, and the next thing you know Jin is tugging you into his lap, making you face him as he sinks you down on his cock, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he whimpers at the feel of your warm, wet pussy enveloping his length. Compress is already kneeling behind you too, hands spreading your cheeks wide so that he can tongue at your ass; it's important after all to get all those holes ready, because god knows they'll be using them.

When Jin gets close to finishing, he'll reach down to stroke your clit, getting you mewling. Those sweet little sounds pouring from your mouth are more than anyone could resist—can't let 'em go to waste, after all. This is when Muscular steps in, stroking that intimidatingly large cock, pressing it's fist-sized tip against your lips until you part them to give kitten licks around his head, all you can manage to start, when it's so thick.

Your hips buck when Compress slips one of those agile fingers into your puckered hole, chuckling softly at how the invasion makes you squirm and then adding another slick digit. The way you writhe has Twice gripping your hips harder too, thumb rubbing more furiously at your sensitive nub, and all those sensations are enough to have you cascading over the edge, crying out and shuddering as you cum. Muscular takes advantage of the way your mouth gapes when you cry out, forcing his way past your lips, stretching your mouth impossibly wide around his length, all while Jin is twitching beneath you, the feel of your cunt clenching around him more than enough to have him painting your walls white as he shouts his appreciation, "Thank you, thank yo—fuck—thank you."

And then Muscular and Compress are lifting you from Twice's lap, arranging you on all fours so that Muscular can fuck your mouth more properly and Compress can start the work of sinking himself into your tight ass. He whispers in your ear the whole time, praises and reassurances to help you take him.

"Deep breath now, that’s it," he'll croon. "Just relax, I assure you I'll take excellent care of you."

There's something about his voice that’s soothing. Hypnotic even, perhaps one more trick the mysterious man has mastered, and it never fails to work, your whole body going limp and accepting those invasions in the best possible way, leaving you tight yet compliant for Compress as he buries himself in your ass. It helps for Muscular too, your throat and your jaw relaxing enough for him to surge past the tight ring of your throat so he can fuck your face properly, growling lustily as you accept him without complaint. They rock you back and forth between them, a seemingly endless and exquisite fullness that has your sex dripping, slick running down your thighs as you clench around nothing, and you swallowing eagerly when Muscular finally releases his load down your throat.

When he withdraws you catch a glimpse of Moonfish, leaning against the wall on the other side of the bar. It's impossible to tell if he's watching with that leather hood covering his face, but you know he's enjoying himself one way or another, the same way he always does—thick threads of spit running down his chin and an obvious bulge at his crotch as he ruts against the air, writhing his way to his own hands-free release.

But that view is blocked when Shigaraki and Dabi settle in to take Muscular's place in front of you, stroking themselves gently and grinning widely. Dabi runs one hot thumb along your spit-slicked lower lip.

"Ain't that cute, you looking all fucked out already?" he murmurs, and then his hand is on the back of your head, guiding you to lick at his cock. You run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tickle at the line of barbells placed there before sucking lightly at his tip, moaning against it as Compress's thrusts grow rougher, more erratic, sending you gasping every time he sinks himself deep into your rear entrance. Dabi draws a hissing breath and then guides your head towards Shigaraki instead.

"That's a good little fucktoy," Shigaraki whispers, dry lips twisting into a fond smile as he pinches your tongue with two fingers, tugging it out and ordering you to keep it that way as he brushes his tip back and forth over that hot, wet muscle, ruts gently against it, using you to tease himself.

You don't notice when Compress cums, not until he's pulling out and his hands at your waist are replaced by the feel of claws tracing gently over your sweaty back. You can hear Spinner panting, and feel the way he's trembling a little. No matter how many times you've done this he always get so nervous about filling you up with those hemipenes, his cheeks flushing pink and his movements uncertain. But you know he loves that there's someone who can finally take him, take both of them, and you love the feeling of them filling you up just as much. So you cant your hips, rub your wet eager holes against him until he's making a strangled, impatient noise and forcing both cocks into you with a single thrust, and then you're moaning against Shigaraki's stiff member.

He jams it down your throat in response, humping against your face a little more eagerly as you meet Spinner's movements the best you can. The curve of his cock in your cunt hits just right against that sensitive spot inside, the feel of being stretched so wide and full sending you hurtling towards your next climax.

And Shigaraki's eager for it, loves to see you writhe and then squirt, making such a mess. He pulls out of your mouth, Dabi quickly taking his place in that drooling cavern, and then two of Shigaraki's fingers are rubbing fast circles against your clit.

"Should I make them cum, Spinner?" he asks, a teasing edge in his voice. "Want to feel them clenching around you?"

"Y-yeah, boss," you hear Spinner pant. "Fuck, please, yes."

Tomura's fingers speed up, add just a little more pressure and that's all it takes to have you bucking, your cunt contracting, gushing all over Spinner's cocks. You hear him whine, swearing under his breath as his thrusts speed up, and you feel even more deliciously full when he's twitching inside you, flooding both your holes.

You're repositioned again almost immediately, cum dripping out of you as you're tugged upright onto your knees, Shigaraki slotting himself against your back and sinking without warning into your ass while Dabi pins you from the front, driving himself abruptly into your cunt.

They like to be last, you know, like you sloppy and overstimulated when they take you, and fuck, you'd be lying if you said you didn't love it too, Shigaraki stretching your ass wide and the ridges of Dabi's pierced shaft massaging your insides in the most delicious way. It's different than the fullness Spinner gives you; his cocks always move in concert, a rhythmic cycling of fullness and emptiness that is a drastic contrast to Dabi and Shigaraki's variegated, asynchronous thrusts. Shigaraki wastes no time pounding into your ass with constant rough strokes, while Dabi likes to tease, likes to go slow until you're a whining mess, whimpering every time he grinds against your overstimulated clit and still begging him for more, pleading with him to make you cum as tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks.

He doesn't of course, not until he and Shigaraki are ready—they want you to cum when they do, want to feel you convulsing and milking every drop of their seed out of them. They only start to match their movements once they’re close, Shigaraki's hands snaking between your and Dabi's bodies to tweak at your nipples, twisting those sensitive buds.

"Is the greedy little toy gonna cum for us?" Dabi murmurs, his breath hot in one ear.

"You've been such a good little cocksleeve, taking everyone," Shigaraki purrs in the other, "so go on and show us how much you like it."

And you do. You cum so hard there's white spots flashing behind your eyes, your toes curling and your moans strangled as they escape your abused throat, throbs of ecstasy radiating through your core until you're left limp, Dabi and Shigaraki's grips the only thing keeping you upright as they ride out their releases, their cum leaking out around their cocks as they fill you to overflowing.

They lay you back gently on the couch when they're finally finished. There's a warm washcloth wiping at your thighs already, a soothing hand brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead, but you don't pay any mind to who's doing what. You simply lay there and let them go about the business of cleaning you up, entirely trusting of their attentions, because you already know there's no reason not to be.

They always take such good care of you.

#shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #twice x reader #muscular x reader #compress x reader #lov x reader #bnha imagine #bnha drabble #bnha smut #shigaraki smut #dabi smut #lov smut #anon.txt #nsft

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justaboutsnapped · 3 years ago

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East Asian! Joly & Ferre headcanons (From an actual East Asian)

As I am frustrated by the lack of authentic representation in les mis fics featuring East Asian amis (they’re either stereotypically Asian™ or really westernized ), I decided to compile some stuff that... idk... les mis writers could draw from maybe There’s Joly because he’s the one most commonly depicted as East Asian, and also Ferre because that’s my personal headcanon lol, if I ever do a part 2 in the future I’ll throw in some other characters

Note: I am a first gen Chinese immigrant living in Canada, so these headcanons are highly influenced by my specific experience. I’m obviously not speaking for every East Asian ever.

Everything is under the cut because it got absurdly long, I was having too much fun with this lol (also things got increasingly random and specific sorry not sorry)...

First gen Joly/Ferre. Dammit, I just want one fic where Joly/Ferre is an immigrant. It would be so interesting, and it definitely brings a new perspective to the amis. I wanna see them struggling to overcome the cultural barrier.

Related to the first gen thing, at least in my experience a lot of schools, when teaching English, will try to teach the students to speak in RP??? Imagine if they’re in the US and they’re just speaking RP lol, idk if my humour is wack but hhhhh this is funny

Another first-gen thing: international schools are totes a thing in Asia, and you don’t necessarily have to be a foreigner to go. This means that immigrants can be actually insanely good at English.

✨academic anxiety✨(lmao I’m projecting so much onto this) If y’all are gonna write them as the Smart Asian™ you might as well sprinkle some school/grades-related anxiety in there, cos they pretty much come hand in hand.

Absolutely NO SHOES are to be worn inside their apartments. I feel like this one is a given.

Emoticons - Emoticons are much more widely used in East Asia than the west. Cue Joly using orz at the end of a text to Bossuet, and have to explain to a confused Bossuet what it means (orz looks like a person on their hands and knees, and is used to convey fatigue, frustration, etc.)

Other texting conventions - Not gonna list them all because it’ll take ages, but in Chinese a popular way to convey laughter is 233333, meanwhile in Korean it’s kkkkk, etc. They probably accidentally text it to the rest of the amis often and eventually they know what they mean too.

Water - You bet your ass that they boil their water. I can see Joly being very into drinking hot water with gouji berries in them (cos it’s supposedly healthy), and carrying a thermos of the stuff with him all the time. I feel like Ferre likes to drink cold water though (it still would be boiled).

This one might seem obvious but they’d celebrate traditional festivals??? Maybe I’m reading the wrong fics but I’ve yet to see one where they actuall do that- It’d be so cute if they make dumplings for the amis on Lunar New year or bring mooncakes for the Amis to try on Mid-Autumn Festival. Maybe they’ll wear their traditional clothing on those special days too. (Head empty no thoughts just long-haired Ferre wearing hanfu)

This is very random but I find it hilarious soooo: Marius mentioning General Tso’s Chicken is his favourite Chinese dish and Joly has to restrain Ferre from murdering him. For context: General Tso’s Chicken is a famous Chinese fast food dish, but it’s not an actual Chinese dish. I, personally, have never eaten it until I moved to Canada. Idk Ferre just seems like he’d be interested in traditional calligraphy, he’d be amazing at it.

Joly studies western medicine but his parents raised him on traditional medicine so some of their teachings still stick. Like Joly would tell the amis to not eat too much fried food because it makes them shanghuo. He once translated shanghuo straight and said “on fire” and it caused panic until he clarified what it actually means.

Joly makes Combeferre watch soppy k-dramas with him. Ferre complains but secretly enjoys them (he’d never admit it though).

If they’re from the same country they’d gossip about the amis in [insert language] for sure. Also would be interesting if they both speak dialect, and find each other’s dialect very difficult to understand. Some amusing misunderstandings could occur

They. Love. Instant. Ramen. Idk I just personally really love it lol and I feel like East Asians love it wayyy more than westerners so they’d probably love it.

Snacks. They’d have all these amazing snacks from Asian supermarkets. Joly may have gotten all the amis hooked on the White Rabbit candy (it’s a chinese staple). They also both have a disdain for Wagon Wheels because Lotte Choco Pie is clearly superior.

#joly #combeferre #les mis #les amis de l'abc #les mis headcanons

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years ago

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Daring - Chapter 3

This is the last chapter for Daring! If you haven't, read part one and two first 💛 This is just a very fluffy chapter with vanilla smut at the end (with love for all of you who got whiplash from my last fic).

CW for alcohol consumption, language, talk of loss/trauma, sex and SPOILER WARNING for Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water. I will spoil the ending for the movie here so if you want to watch it first and haven't yet, now's the time! Honestly, it's an amazing movie and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, so lmk if you have ~thoughts~

Chapter 3 - Home

The days until Thursday went just as excruciatingly slow as the days before your first date had. The only difference was that now you knew what to expect. Or did you? You knew she liked you, too. Wanted you, too. She had told you every night on the phone. Every day after you finished at work you waited patiently for Abby to get off her shift, too. She was on day shifts at the moment, usually from 6 am to 4 pm, but more often than not it took a few hours longer.

Abby was very kind with her patients, often taking people back home from the hospital or helping them get accommodated in their hospital rooms. It cost her a lot of time, but when she told you how grateful they all were you could hear how much she cared.

“I’m telling you Y/N, she actually cried in my arms. This poor old lady, I think she must have been over 80. She could barely raise her arms to put on the gown, the fall had stunned her pretty bad.”

You and Abby were cooking on FaceTime, or rather you were pouring yourself some cereal and Abby was making pasta with fresh tomatoes and herbs. You wished you were there.

“I hope she recovers fast,” you said, pouring in the milk. “It must be awful, being away from home in that state.”

“Yeah,” Abby sighed, “but she luckily didn’t break anything. It’s horrible though, the way elderly people bruise. She is going to have every single step of those stairs visible on her torso for at least a week.”

You took your phone and bowl, using your elbow to open the door to your room. Leah winked at you from the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth and water dripping from her hair. She was going out with Nora and Jordan, seeing some action movie.

“You’re incredible for taking the time to help her. Did she really have no one else?”

Abby sprinkled some basil into her pasta sauce.

“I don’t think so. She was pretty confused, but she said her daughter lives in New York and she didn’t want me to call her. I’m gonna check on her tomorrow when I have a minute between calls.”

“Oh speaking of…” You leaned back against your headboard and propped up your phone against your thigh, staring into your bowl. “Are we still on tomorrow?”

Abby laughed quietly.

“Baby, I’ve been counting the hours. I can’t wait.” You felt a pull in your stomach at the name. She had never called you baby before. Looking at her, you could see she was trying to hide her nervousness. You smiled at her.

“When can I come over?”

“I hope I get off at 5 and they don’t rope me into an emergency in the last minute of my shift. I’ll just call you as soon as I head out and you can come over straight away. I’ll buy all the groceries we need tonight.”

“Hey, I can -” you protested, but Abby cut you off.

“No, you just grace me with your presence, that’s enough. You don’t know the exact ingredients anyway.”

You smiled and finished your cereal. You couldn’t wait.

Abby called you at 6 pm, still sitting in the passenger seat of the ambulance.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call sooner.” Little strands of hair had fallen out of her braid and framed her face, some of them looking damp with sweat. There was a flush on her face and dark circles loomed under her eyes. You felt just a little bit guilty, having stayed up with her on facetime until after midnight the night before.

“Don’t worry, I’m not the one working extra hours. How was your shift?”

“Honestly? Terrible.” You knew Abby was not one to complain, so that really had to mean something. You saw her sway in the seat as the ambulance pulled into the garage and finally came to a halt. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay? I’ll be home in half an hour, so just come over whenever you want. I’ll leave the front door unlocked in case I’m still in the shower.”

A prickle went over your skin at the thought, but you quickly pushed it away. Abby was obviously exhausted, this was not the time to imagine her and you in a shower.

“Are you sure you really want to cook? We could just order takeout and call it a night.”

Abby considered it for a moment. It had to have been the worst day. She quickly spoke to the person next to her in the driver’s seat, then you heard the car door being shut. Abby looked back at you.

“Abby. Let me take care of you.” Your voice was soft. You wished you could brush the loose strands of hair behind her ear. The blonde sighed and unfastened her seatbelt.

“Just come over, okay? We can decide then. I just want you with me.”

You jumped up and grabbed the bag you had already prepared for sleeping over, a bottle of Merlot on top of your clothes.

“I’m on my way. I can’t wait to see you,” you said as you struggled to put on your shoes with one hand.

“See you soon,” Abby smiled and ended the call.

You called out a goodbye to Leah and she yelled back “Go get her!” Smiling to yourself, you closed the door behind you and rushed to the train station.

Sitting in the uncomfortable plastic seat of the train, you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous, just like the last time. But this time was different, you reminded yourself. This time you could make your way straight into Abby’s arms, straight to her lips. You secretly checked your breath in your hand. The train arrived both too quickly and not fast enough.

After knocking at the front door twice without any answer, you made your way inside the house. Abby had told you to just come in, but you felt like an intruder nonetheless. Where could you wait without taking up space that wasn’t hers? You didn’t want to be sitting there like a movie villain when she came down. You called out but there was no answer, only the bass of a rock song playing upstairs and the sound of water rushing through pipes in the wall.

Deciding to make your presence as visible as possible, you dropped your bag on the stairs and took the bottle of the wine to the kitchen. Abby’s heavy paramedic jacket was thrown over a chair and her keys were on the table. An empty glass was standing next to them, water droplets running down on the outside and leaving a wet ring on the wooden surface. You picked it up and placed it in the sink, drying the spot with a tea towel. Then you took out two wine glasses from the cupboard you had put them into after cleaning up the last time and put them on the counter. You leaned against it, wondering what you should do now.

Thankfully, you heard the water shut off upstairs and a few seconds later there was the soft thump of naked heels on tile floor. You decided just to wait until Abby came down. It only took two minutes, then you heard her on the stairs. She slowed when she reached the bottom, probably noticing your bag.

“Y/N?” Her voice was light, but there was excitement in it, carefully restrained.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands and reached for the bottle, then realized you didn’t have an opener and you probably wouldn’t be able to use one either. You let your arms drop to your side and Abby entered the kitchen, stopping a few steps from you.

She looked beautiful. She was wearing a light grey cutoff shirt and dark navy sweatpants. Her hair was still wet and hung loosely over her shoulders, darkening the cotton where it touched the fabric. Her face was still tired and her shoulders slumped slightly, but her eyes had lit up at the sight of you.

“You’re here!” She held out her hands, still not moving from her spot.

You closed the distance and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her neck.

“I’m here,” you mumbled and Abby’s arms closed around you, encasing you completely. She smelled wonderful, moisture still evaporating from her skin and warmth spreading from her body to yours where you touched. Your excitement didn’t falter, but your nervousness did. A wave of calm came over you. You were here.

“I’m sorry your day was so terrible,” you murmured, lips brushing the skin of Abby’s throat just above the neckline of her shirt. “Wanna spend the rest of it on the couch?”

Her upper body fell forward into you and her forehead came to rest on your shoulder. She nodded and you gave her waist a gentle squeeze before drawing back, resting your foreheads together and cradling her cheek with your hand.

“Come on, then. Let’s order you some food. I brought wine as well if you want some.”

Abby sighed.

“I’d love some.”

You wanted to step aside and take the glasses to the living room but Abby’s arms around you tightened and the corner of her mouth lifted.

“You’re an angel,” she whispered. And then she kissed you.

It was sweet, gentle, and tired, her lips soft and warm. You melted into her, both of you clinging to each other for a moment until Abby pulled away smiling. She took the bottle of wine and rummaged through a drawer for the opener. You held the glasses and watched her open the bottle, brows knit together and her tongue peeking out between her lips. It was both adorable and incredibly hot. You sat down on the large sofa together and Abby poured both of you a generous amount, then you clinked glasses and the blonde stole another kiss.

“Alright,” you unlocked your phone, “what are you craving?”

Abby gave you an amused look before she let her head fall back on the sofa cushion and thought for a second.

“Do you like Mexican food? Burritos?”

“Love it,” you said, searching for the closest restaurant and checking their website for delivery service. Abby just hummed in approval when she saw which one you had picked out. You placed the order together, Abby’s right hand never releasing yours as she clumsily used her left to pick her food. When the order was sent, you threw your phone to the foot of the sofa.

“So,” you said, turning to your side in order to get a better look at the blonde. “Wanna tell me about work?”

Abby sighed and opened her arm for you to crawl into. You gladly scooted closer, resting your head on her shoulder and throwing an arm over her stomach. When she spoke, you could feel the thrum of her voice in her chest.

“I went in early to check on the old lady who fell yesterday and found out she’d fallen again last night. She hadn’t told anyone because she was embarrassed, but I could tell something was wrong. Turns out her arm was broken in three places. I had them call her daughter even though she begged me not to bother her. I don’t know what her daughter is like, but I hope she takes care of her.”

You hummed and pushed yourself even closer to Abby’s side.

“After that, we had a call because of a domestic violence case. The police were there already, it was horrible.”

She rubbed a hand over her face and you pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“After that, we had to go straight to another family dispute that ended in someone being stabbed with a steak knife. We got them to the hospital fast enough and it all went well in the end but I just hate cases that revolve around psychological trauma as well. All those family issues… I hate it.”

You could only imagine how horrible this must be for her after what had happened to her dad. Though you still didn’t know the whole story and you could probably find out easily by googling her name, you didn’t want to feel like an intruder in her past. She would tell you when she was ready.

“I’m glad you’re telling me about it,” you said, trying to sound firm and gentle at the same time.

Abby let out a little huff that sounded slightly surprised.

“Yeah, I don’t usually do that. Normally I would have just shoved all that into the back of my mind and tried to make this evening go perfect. Not that I don’t want to put in the effort with you-”

“I know,” you interrupted her, raising your head to smile at her, noses brushing against each other. “I think this is perfect. You are.”

You moved in for a kiss and Abby placed a hand on the back of your head, holding you gently as your lips touched. She deepened the kiss soon, breath going a little faster as her arms pulled you even closer. You threw your leg over her thigh, half on top of her now. Her tongue was smooth and hot against yours and when her teeth scraped over your bottom lip, you let out a whimper that she caught in another kiss. Feeling bold, you finally moved on top of Abby, straddling her thigh and placing your hands left and right of her flushed face. You rolled your hips forward and she made a guttural sound, low and hungry.

Her hands were all over you, pressing between your shoulder blades, wrapping around your waist, grabbing your hips to make you grind forward again, then finally cupping your ass and digging her fingers into the muscle. You stopped trying to keep yourself from panting and leaned forward to kiss Abby’s jaw, then the soft spot beneath her earlobe. She drew up her leg behind you, pressing her thigh between your legs, and you whimpered into her ear.

“Abby,” you whispered, “what are you doing to me?”

“Anything you want,” she murmured against your cheek, “anything, baby.”

You could hear your pulse drumming in your ears as you kissed the blonde fiercely, then moved your lips over that chiseled jaw again before biting the delicate skin of her throat. You dragged your tongue over her pulse point, actually feeling the beat of her heart fluttering against your sensitive nerve endings. She smelled intoxicating, warm, and earthy, and it made you want to take her in completely, to drown in her and never come to the surface again.

Her hands were on your hips again, guiding them against hers as she let out another low moan, lips parted and pupils blown as she looked at you with a mixture of amazement and pure, burning desire. You let your hands wander down her torso, trailing your fingers along the hem of her shirt and slipping them underneath. Abby’s skin was radiating heat, her stomach flexing beneath your touch.

“May I?” You asked, your voice breathless. Abby just nodded, lifting her arms over her head and arching her back so you could push the fabric up, revealing her broad frame, toned abs, and a black sports bra. You threw the shirt to the side and fell back onto her, your chests pressing together as you enveloped her in another heated kiss. You ground down against her thigh, the seam of your jeans pressing against all the right places. Abby’s hands were on your back again, broad and warm and reassuring.

You stayed like that for a while, melting into each other, catching the other’s breath, and trying to move in ways that would get the other to moan even though you were both still shy and careful about making noise. Abby twisted her pelvis ever so slightly so you could keep riding her thigh and hit her hipbone at the front of every movement. You responded by pulling her damp hair and making her hiss before she pulled you in and kissed you fiercely.

“God, Abby…” Heat was pooling at the bottom of your stomach and there was a sudden, almost painful sensitivity to your core. Pleasure had sneaked up on you without you noticing, completely surprising you with its intensity as Abby rolled her hips upward and you had no choice but to cry out. There was a hunger in her eyes, a triumphant glint and she held your face gently with one hand while the other was tight around your hip, guiding your movements against her and pressing into your flesh.

“Fuck, Abby, fuck, I’m so -” She swallowed your whimpers with another searing kiss, her tongue pressing into your mouth and her thumb stroking your cheek.

“Come on, baby, you’re so good, so beautiful, baby,” Abby mumbled against your lips, followed by more sweet compliments and hot kisses, her eyes always on yours. You found the perfect angle at last and dug your fingers into her shoulder, your moans going high and fast as you pressed your forehead to hers. She placed a last gentle kiss on your lips and you came undone on top of her. Her hands caught you easily, stroking you through your high, her lips caressing every inch of your face. Her skin was warm beneath you and slightly sweaty. You licked a small stripe up the side of her throat and kissed her jaw.

Abby pulled back just an inch to get a better look at your face, running her hands through your hair and over your cheeks, then down your shoulders and coming to rest around your waist.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” she said quietly and with a blissful smile. “An angel.”

Her gaze was so piercing, so raw and knowing that you suddenly had the urge to bury your face in your hands, to hide from this infinite feeling inside of you that you could see in Abby’s eyes as well. You forced yourself to hold her gaze and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I’ve never… this has never happened to me before,” you confessed softly. “You are doing things to me I never even dreamed of.”

Abby chuckled at that and caught your hand, kissing every knuckle and then the inside of your palm.

“We fit well, don’t we?” It was cautious, a step forward with no weight on it yet, a hand on a door handle.

“We do.” You grinned at her, and maybe it was the rush of the high that still hadn’t faded or a rare wave of courage, but you decided to rip open that door from the other side. You sat up and placed a hand on her sternum, feeling her heart thrum beneath your palm.

“Abby, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted to for a long time. You don’t have to have an answer right now, but just know that I’m already yours, no matter what.”

For a moment, Abby didn’t seem to fully comprehend. Then she frowned, the smile not fully leaving her lips but turning bittersweet. You felt your stomach drop. Had you spoken too soon?

“Y/N.” Abby’s hand covered yours on her chest. “I’d love nothing more.” A weight fell off your shoulders. Abby wasn’t done talking yet.

“I’m a difficult person to… be with. I’ve really put in all I had with you so far, but there are times when I will be cold and closed off and I won’t be able to let you in, to let anyone in. I don’t know if I could hurt you like that.” She squeezed your hand now, her eyes glossy. “I’m not saying this because I’m scared or unsure, I’m saying this to give you an out. Or at least some more time to really get to know what it’s like with me in your life. I can be exhausting. At least that’s what I’m told.”

You felt something hot flare up in your throat. That was not fair.

“Who told you that?”

“Owen. I mean, he’s the only person who knows what it’s like being with me and he certainly didn’t like it very much.” Even with her broad shoulders, her set jaw, all her muscles, she looked strangely small now. You felt like you were going to burst with rage.

“Abby, do you honestly think an ex’s opinion of you counts? To me? I don’t give a shit what Owen thinks because I’m not him and this is not the same thing. I get to decide what it’s like and so far it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” You placed both your hands on her cheeks and leaned forward. “Babe, stop trying to deny yourself happiness. You deserve to be happy. And if I make you happy, if you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Abby sat up straight, her face now directly in front of yours, and wrapped her arms around you tightly. She blinked the tears away, a smile beginning to tug on her lips.

“You’re mine?”

“Only yours.”

She kissed you and you could feel her grin against your mouth, smooth teeth softly clicking against yours.

“Mine,” she mumbled and began trailing kisses down your throat, hands now wandering down your back and under your t-shirt where they immediately provoked goosebumps to spread over your entire body. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Both of you pulled back with surprised faces.

“The food!” you realized and you had to laugh as you scrambled to get up from the couch. You had almost forgotten how hungry you were. Abby quickly pulled on her shirt, grabbed her wallet, and opened the door, hair wild and her lips still red and swollen. You hovered in the background, probably looking just as disheveled, and tried not to giggle like an idiot.

The delivery guy took one look at you and just gave Abby an amused smirk as he handed her the food. She tipped him generously and thanked him before closing the door and turning to you, both of you frozen in your spots for a second. Then you both burst out in laughter. Abby was next to you in three strides and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before you let yourself flop down on the sofa together. Abby had ordered two large burritos, you had chosen a vegetarian taco bowl and a big bag of tortilla chips with salsa and guacamole. While you unpacked all the food and laid it out on the coffee table, Abby turned on the TV and scrolled through the movie options.

After some looking around, you decided to watch The Shape of Water, which you hadn’t seen yet despite being a big Guillermo del Toro fan. You ate in silence, letting the film pull you into a cold war era story of a mute woman, her gay best friend, and a strange fish-human being in the facility she was a cleaner at. You generally avoided watching more artistic, less Hollywood-typical movies with other people in fear of them constantly ridiculing the story to hide their own discomfort with monsters, but Abby was just as immersed in the story as you were. Sally Hawkins was a fantastic actress and the amphibian man was beautifully designed and a fascinating character. Del Toro’s handwriting was all over the film - beautiful colors and cinematography, fairytale monsters next to very human, real-life ones, the fear of the Other and the idea that maybe if one just dares to look beyond, the Other may have a story to tell and love to give.

When you had finished your food, you snuggled up to Abby, occasionally feeding her chips with guacamole and kissing the salt from her lips. During the final scenes when the shooting happened, Abby tensed up next to you. You hadn’t even thought about movies possibly triggering her or making her uncomfortable. Fuck, you should have looked it up beforehand. Now all you could do was press your temple to her collarbone and wrap your arms around her as tightly as possible.

“Do you want to turn it off?” You mumbled, your thumb drawing circles on her ribcage. You could feel Abby shake her head.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it by now. The movie is almost over anyway.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you close. The ending was beautiful and heart-wrenching and you shed a few tears, staining Abby’s shirt. She just smiled and kissed the tears from your cheeks.

“Did you like it?” You asked tentatively, not sure if the shooting may have ruined it for Abby.

“I loved it.” Her expression was warm. “That scene in which she talks about the way he sees her without any of her flaws, just her, and how her fight for his life is what makes her human was beautiful.”

“And then in the end she wasn’t human after all,” you added, “I’ve never really seen it that way around. Usually, the beast turns into a prince at the end. I always hate that. Why can’t the monster stay a monster after having proven their love and their honor and whatever else is needed to redeem them, you know?”

Abby thought about that for a moment, her eyes going unfocused.

“That’s true. In so many stories, all the things that make the monster monstrous are stripped away as soon as they have proven their worth and found true love. It doesn’t work like that in real life. We all have things inside that could deem us monsters and it’s only when we hope to have found love that we can dare to reveal them and hope the other person loves us anyway.”

Something warm spread inside you, reaching out to every corner of your body, every toe and every fingertip. You leaned in and kissed her gently.

“The silver plate.”

Abby looked confused for a second, then she remembered the things she had said during your last date.

“Yeah, my own monstrous silver plate.” She smiled. “Scared?”

“Not at all,” you grinned and climbed on top of her. “I’ll devour you.”

You pressed your lips to hers her and it quickly turned into another heated makeout session. Your limbs were tangled together and her hands roamed your body as you kissed her neck and when she finally asked: “can I?” you almost knocked your head against her jaw trying to sit up so she could take off your shirt.

Sitting up on her hips, you dragged your nail from her ear to the hem of her shirt, scratching the skin and making her hiss, eyes burning.

“Want to show me your bedroom?” you asked, trying not to lose your focus at the feeling of her hands wandering up your thighs. You yelped as Abby sat and stood up in one swift motion, arms secure around your waist and thighs so you’d stay pressed to her chest. You wrapped your legs around her and laughed into her mouth before she kissed you again.

The tall blonde carried you up the stairs like it was nothing, making soft noises when you bit into the soft skin just below her jaw.

“Y/N…” She kicked open a door and didn’t give you any time to look around, crawling on the bed and trapping you under her large body, attacking you with kisses, all teeth and tongue. It was glorious.

You pulled on Abby’s shirt until she grunted and took it off herself, then her hands were trailing the skin above the waistband of your jeans. More, more, more.

“Can I take those off?” Abby asked, sitting back on her knees between your legs.

“Please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips for better access, but Abby had other plans. She let her hands wander over your upper body, her fingers teasing your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette, then softly tickling your stomach on their way down. Finally, she opened the button of your jeans and slowly opened the zipper, her eyes flickering up to your face and back down to her hands.

“Come ooon,” you begged, “please, Abby.”

There was the hint of a smirk on her lips, but she complied and pulled off your jeans, both of you laughing as they caught around your ankles and Abby had to wrestle them off. Then Abby’s hand was on your foot and she held it in place on her shoulder, slowly kissing her way up your leg. Your breath got faster with every inch she came closer to your heated center, that place that had gotten a taste of what was to come and wanted more. She dragged her lips over your clothed core and your legs trembled, a gasp escaping you.

Abby took her time with you, kissing your stomach and chest before taking off your bralette and teasing your nipples with a gentle tongue and fluttering fingers. You were squirming beneath her, a mess of pleasure and want for more, begging her to touch you. Finally, she sat back up and hooked her fingers under the waistband of your panties, keeping eye contact and pulling them down slowly. Her gaze was burning, pupils wide, lips hanging open and breath going in shallow pants.

Her tongue was heaven, it was heat and silk and everything at once, enveloping you in waves of ecstasy and making you moan and bury your hands in her hair. She was gentle, cleaning up the mess you had made earlier and the one just now, broad tongue and small circles sending your hips up to meet her, her fingers around your thighs too far away.

“Abby, please…” you gasped and she looked up to meet your gaze. You melted inside.

“What do you want, baby?” Her voice was deep and husked, lips shining with your juices.

“Your fingers.” You gave her hand a light push downward and with a smile, she complied.

If you had thought you had already reached the pinnacle of pleasure, the best there was, you had been oh so wrong. Abby’s fingers were magical, teasing you and filling you up, stroking against that tender spot inside you, then slowing down as her tongue made you see stars, complying when you begged her for more, faster, harder. Your legs hadn’t stopped shaking in what felt like forever, your fingers were cramped into Abby’s beautiful blonde mane and you were crying out her name over and over again as she brought you to your peak, guiding you through it and moaning along with you as your juices covered her fingers and her tongue.

When she finally crawled back up to meet you, her arms were shaking slightly and her face was flushed. You still felt like you were somewhere far away, but her smile pulled you back to the present. She kissed you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Slowly, you let your hand wander down and play with the seam of her sweatpants and the hem of her boxers peeking out underneath.

“Wanna take these off?” you mumbled in her ear and you could see she was trying to keep her composure as she tried to get out of her pants as fast as possible before coming back to you. She stopped and looked unsure suddenly.

“Is it okay if I keep these on for now?” She gestured to her sports bra and underwear.

“Of course, baby. Can I touch you?” You whispered, one hand on the back of her neck as the other wandered lower. Abby nodded and kissed you again.

“Yes, please,” she whispered back. You slid your hand into her boxers and were greeted by wet heat, desire practically pooling in your palm. Both of you gasped at the same time, eyes flying open to meet each other’s, bodies grinding together.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” you cooed and watched Abby dissolve in front of you, blood shooting into her cheeks before she buried her face in your neck and began leaving lovebites on your throat. You dragged your fingers between her folds, relishing in the tiny noises she made whenever you touched her clit or came near her entrance.

You put all your strength into throwing Abby to the side and rolling on top of her, hand never leaving her center. She laughed in surprise and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you in, and at that moment you slid a finger inside her. Her eyes went wide and the noise she made would visit your dreams for the rest of your days. You kept your lips wandering over her throat and back to her lips, pulling moan after moan from her with your fingers, gently pushing inside her and curling upward, your thumb drawing circles on her clit. After a while, you could see her abs flexing as her core convulsed rhythmically, her moans getting higher and breathless, her fingers digging into your waist.

“Will you come for me, Abby?” you whispered and kissed her again. Her hips bucked up into your hand and she made a strangled noise, then her legs clamped together around your fingers and she sighed, tongue darting out to brush against yours as you slowly pulled your hand from her sensitive core.

You threw your thigh over her hips and pressed your face into the crook of her neck, giving her time to breathe as you drew patterns on her bare stomach with your fingers.

“Baby…” she mumbled above you, voice vibrating through her chest. “That was… I don’t even have words.”

You grinned up at her and she brushed your hair behind your ear. Her gaze was full of love and adoration, like sunlight warming your skin, soft fingertips caressing your cheeks.

“I’ve never felt so safe,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder so you could look at her. “You’re so careful.”

Abby smiled and followed the path of your fingers with her eyes.

“I’ve had other experiences in the past that made me realize how important it is to always check on your partner.” She looked down at her clothed hips. “Thank you for… not making this weird. I’m just… one step at a time.”

“Of course, baby.” You moved your lips closer to her ear. “I think it’s really fucking hot, you between my legs in those boxers, all muscles and freckles. But then when I touch you, you’re so needy, just a wet mess, coming on my fingers in your underwear.”

Abby let out a shaky breath, chest trembling at your words. She laced her fingers between yours and pressed them to her sternum.

“You leave me speechless every time,” she said, voice quiet and content.

“I love it.” You pulled the blanket up with your foot and covered both of your bodies up to your hips, yawning into her shoulder. Abby chuckled quietly.

“Do you need to set an alarm for tomorrow?” She reached over to the bedside table, then let her arm drop. “Our phones are still downstairs.”

You groaned and rolled onto your back before blinking up at Abby innocently, hoping she would go and get them. She just laughed and got up, stretching her arms and making the muscles on her back dance beautifully.

“You need to go pee,” she said with raised eyebrows. You sighed and lazily rolled out of bed, pulling the blanket up around you.

Abby showed you the bathroom across the hall and made her way down the stairs, a bounce in her step. You could hear her clean up the takeout containers and throw away the trash in the kitchen. Suddenly there was a noise outside, a deep voice and the jingle of keys at the door. You froze with the towel in your hands. The front door opened and Manny tried to stay quiet in that completely ineffective way most men do, dropping his shoes with loud thumps and whispering into his phone so loudly you could hear every word.

“Hi, Manny,” Abby said in the hallway. Keys dropped to the floor with a clunk.

“Dios mio! What the hell are you doing sneaking around here, Abby? You just get back from the gym?” You could hear her laugh quietly as he tried to catch his breath.

“I could ask you the same. Weren’t you supposed to come back tomorrow?”

You snuck back into her bedroom on tiptoes, wrapping the blanket around you tightly and staying near the door to hear the conversation downstairs.

“Had to go early, my dad had a hot date tonight.” You could actually hear his grin.

“Yeah, well, me too.” Abby’s voice was dry, but you could tell she wasn’t actually annoyed.

“Really? Y/N? How'd it go?” A pause, then another loud whisper - “holy shit, she still here?

“Y/N, Manny’s home!” Abby’s raised voice rang through the house. You grinned. She knew you were listening.

“Hi, Manny!” You looked around for any clothes you could throw on quickly but came up empty. Sighing, you checked your blanket placement and went to the top of the stairs, looking down at Manny and Abby in the entrance hall.

Abby was still just in her sports bra and boxer shorts but didn’t seem to mind at all. Manny wore sweatpants and a green sweater, along with a hat that said women want me, fish fear me. Behind him were two large bags, one of them clearly full of fishing equipment. His smile lit the room.

“Hi Y/N, nice seeing you here. You two have a good night?”

You nodded and he made a knowing ah-ha sound. Abby elbowed him and red spots formed on her neck.

“Well, I’m gonna eat something and pass out. Breakfast tomorrow?” He threw a hopeful look in Abby’s direction. “When does your shift start?”

“Noon, I get late shift for the next two weeks. Y/N, what about you?” Both of them looked up at you and you shifted your weight, very aware of the way you looked right now.

“I just need to study, I can sleep in for once.”

Abby nodded and patted Manny’s shoulder.

“Breakfast at 10.”

She came up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and grinning from ear to ear. Manny vanished into the kitchen, continuing to scream-whisper into his phone. You made out the words “finally… girl is here” before Abby simply picked you up and carried you back to bed, kicking the door closed behind her.

You snuggled up together and Abby stroked your hair while she told you about her friendship with Manny and how glad she was to have him. He had been there for her through everything and he had wanted her to make a move and ask you out for weeks. You felt yourself drift away slowly.

“I’m so glad I’m here,” you mumbled, hand stroking Abby’s chest.

“Me too, baby. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine.” The bliss in her voice was the same you felt in your heart.

“Finally.” You craned your neck for a last kiss and melted beneath Abby’s soft lips and warm hands.

She held you wrapped tightly in her arms, almost as if she was scared you could vanish in the night. As if you'd ever leave her now. The last thing you thought before falling asleep was that you were finally home.

Author's note: Have you seen The Shape of Water? Did you like it? Let me know here 💌 If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here 🤎

#abby anderson #abby tlou2 #abby tlou #abby the last of us #the last us 2 #tlou abby #leah #leah tlou #abby anderson fanfiction #smut #fluff

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

#night manager jed #elizabeth debicki #liz debicki #elizabeth debicki avatars #vita & virginia #elizabeth debicki imagine #elizabeth debicki fanfic #elizabeth debicki x reader #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki angst #elizabeth debicki x you #elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston #wlw imagine

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

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hi! i just wanted ask how can you not be so pressured to change hange’s gender to your fics (she to they/them) despite that many twitter users are saying that “au authors must use they/them to hange because they are canonically NB” . because to be honest, as an aspiring writer who is working on her first levihan fic, i feel so pressure or maybe obligied to use they/them pronouns for hange.

Hello Anon,

Thanks for the ask!

To be honest, I actually was pressured to use ‘they’ tbh. In fact, I was so pressured I actually did a lot of research on this and put a lot of thought into my decision to use ‘she’ as my chosen pronoun for Hange.

But tbh, I think I am pretty confident with the amount of research and the amount of thought I put into it that I don’t think I will be using ‘they’ in my fics anytime soon.

Disclaimer: This doesn’t mean at all that I don’t like reading ‘they’ fics nor that I don’t like seeing people use ‘they.’ Tbh I don’t really mind whatever people use? I can enjoy a fic with either pronoun, I can enjoy a good meta with either pronoun. I have my own personal reasons for using they.

Some of the reasons why:

Personal HC

Personal HC but I’m still gonna drop this here.

To make things clear, I headcanon Hange as gender fluid. I headcanon her as sexuality fluid that personally, I’m not too much a fan either of fics that portray Hange as overly feminine either. So I have seen people who request that we do not use overly female or feminine words with Hange. Which yes, I don’t do them. But was a peer pressured into not using them?

No, not really. I just personally think Levi would prefer the word partner if he was with Hange. I personally think that Hange would not have liked to fall into traditional female roles either.

At the same time, I thought about the concept of using ‘they’ as a pronoun with Hange then I couldn’t help but think, it just isn’t in my personal interpretation of Hange to correct people. Hange is too much of a free bird to actually care what people use. Hange would probably respond to he, she, they or whatever and she probably wouldn’t correct anyone calling her mr., mrs. etc.

And in the context of Filo soc med AUs, Hange would probably respond to ate, kuya. (And besides, what is the gender neutral form of ate or kuya??? Mamsir)

And generally the default for most people is to look at someone and think okay, she’s a girl, I think I’ll use ‘she’ first. Or okay, that’s a guy, I think I’ll use ‘he’ first and what usually happens is if anyone is particularly conscious about the pronoun used on them, they will correct the other person.

But there are people out there, who don’t care whether someone uses she, he, they, mr., mrs, ma’am, sir. For example, personally for me, I wouldn’t bother to correct anyone. And I headcanon that Levi and Hange wouldn’t have cared either.

I’m sure people who read my fics would notice, I do put a lot of research when I write because I like to make things as realistic and as in character as possible. So to get into the spirit of my fic and whatever setting I’m writing, I try to capture everything to a T and given the overall landscape and setting I’m writing about and given my own headcanons of Levi and Hange I decided on she.

Because in my headcanon, if someone were to ask Hange what pronoun she preferred? Hange probably would have said any.

Likewise, if anyone asked Hange what her gender was, Hange probably would have said ‘any’ also.

And the setting of the show is practically medieval and gender identity is a relatively new concept. I don’t think many people would have spent too much time pondering ideas like individualism and gender identity when they’re literally facing death everyday. Actually a lot of the great thinking happened after the war, and when there was actually food on the table. Because people weren’t actually hungry everyday anymore so they had time to think about more modern thoughts.

‘She’ is still an NB pronoun

I answered this in another ask already. But the point behind this, is although ‘they’ is the go to non binary pronoun, there are NB people who go by she too. And creating this idea that all gender fluid characters HAVE to go by ‘they’ is dangerous in itself because the reason we had gender discrimination in the first place is because we had these boxes to fit ourselves into. So if a NB person wants to go by ‘she’ or ‘he’ or ‘they’ who are we to stop them?

And I said it many times myself. We will never know which pronoun Hange would have preferred for herself.

I get confused.

This is a shallow reason but I’m gonna drop this here anyway. I get confused when I see ‘they.’ I read a lot of content which uses ‘they’ for Hange and I get confused a lot of the time that I have to read the sentences like three times because I end up thinking ‘Hange and who?’

I know I should have gotten used to it by now, but I still get confused because english is the only language I use on a regular basis that actually has such strict rules for how to navigate gendered pronouns.

I don’t wanna be peer pressured into doing shit just coz.

Tbh, for me, as long as I did my research, as long as I can argue both sides as to why and as long as I am confident in the fact that I have thought about this enough before deciding on this, I will not change it.

I am pretty convinced that a lot of people who actually go all the way as to attack someone on twitter and to cancel them (over a lot of topics tbh) haven’t done their due research.

Because most of the people I know who have done their due research wouldn’t be fighting (on Twitter OF ALL PLACES) in the first place.

Because doing actual research (which means reading articles which support both sides of the argument) will only make people realize that the world is too grey and too complex to ever make pushing their own agenda, ‘cancelling’ someone and calling them transphobic, homophobic, racist etc ect or as they like to call ‘educating’ someone the right thing to do. Believe me, if people genuinely wanted to educate someone, they would slide into their DMs and calmly tell them their own opinion, ask why the other person believes a certiain way and you know, be ready to learn something too because education is a two way street. And if the conversation isn’t going anywhere, I think any level headed person would probbaly just give up and do something more worth while with their time than cancel some stranger on social media.

Regardless though, I respect either decision and I recognize the fact that a lot of Hange stans are very much more comfortable with the pronoun ‘they’ My general practice when navigating this sensitive topic is to use ‘they’ for Hange when talking to someone who prefers ‘they’ because it’s a conversation and in conversation, the space becomes something shared between me and the other person so I would do my part to make it as comfortable for them as possible.

But here’s the thing, my fic is my space. It’s a house I built for myself and the readers are the visitors that come in and out as they please. No one is forced to read my fic and never have I and never will I tie someone down on a chair and not free them until they read my work.

It’s my fic. It’s my work and I can do whatever I want with it.

People tend to forget that in the end this is a fandom space and people should be free to headcanon things however they want. They should be free to explore whatever themes they want. And I like to do my part to promote this type of environment by sticking to a few iron clad rules.

I write what I want to write.

Don’t like, don’t read.

Content is free. There’s a back button and if you do not appreciate the themes someone is exploring or the headcanons someone is applying to their fic, you may click the back button and look for something that doesn’t offend you.

(I’m gonna end up digressing a bit here so feel free not to read the rant below)

There are an infinite number of headcanons and ideas which ideally should be able to exist. Yet because of this constant need to be politically correct and this constant fear that we might be offending someone and we might end up cancelled, a lot of people have been watching their own creative works more than necessary.

I actually fear that there are a lot of good ideas and there are a lot of themes that could have been explored but weren’t.

And this is why I love ao3 a lot. Ao3 is free from societal pressure, corporate synergy and I appreciate the fact that in that space, I’m free to explore whatever themes I want. I can read something pro-rape, I can read something anti-rape. I can read something pro abuse, I can read something anti-abuse etc etc.

I personally have very liberal views and obviously I am not for rape or abuse in ANY situation.

But I am also the type of person who will read things that celebrate a controversial topic and things that will attack that same topic because I just generally want a more nuanced opinion on a lot of things. Because when I have seen both sides of the spectrum, then it’s just easier for me to proudly say ‘Yes, I believe this’ or ‘No, I don’t believe that.’

And I think these pieces should be available for other people to explore so that they can for themselves form more nuanced opinions on whatever topics come their way and the more sides people are aware of that exist, the less likely we’re going to end up with groupthink or hivemind situations which have fucked people over countless times in history already.

Should questionable content be widely available? Personally no but I don’t think it should be completely unavailable.

Regardless these potentially offensive pieces should exist and I’m saying this for both controversial topics such as rape and abuse and something as relatively harmless as Hange being referred to as ‘she’ on a fic. All stories exploring every facet and every side regardless of how controversial should exist in this space because these promote discourse and they promote thinking. These pieces of work that explore taboo and offensive topics and the discourse these create only serve to make our opinions more nuanced so at least we aren’t blinded or we don’t have these half assed opinions only fueled by having read material created by people who are biased to one particular side. At least we have enough fuel for ourselves to say ‘Yes I have read this and now I can more proudly say I believe this more.’

Whatever opinions I have made for myself about social issues are only how they are because I listen to both sides of the argument. I like to play devil’s advocate. I like to listen to people even if I don’t agree with what they’re saying.

And I like finding compromises so that people can co-exist and I like tweaking my opinions everyday based on new information I learn.

And personally, there are so many views I hate and there are types of topics I personally would prefer not to explore but I still believe in the back of my mind they should exist. And if we do whitewash or try to force everyone to adjust their works to whatever side we deem is more ‘politically correct,’ then we will lose facets of the fandom that could have existed, that could have promoted a more colorful discourse and that could have sprouted new ideas and new ways of thinking which may be even more creative if people weren’t so scared to be cancelled or wrong.

It’s different in a conversation. I will adjust the way I speak, the way I navigate interactions with people in a shared space.

But no one is forced to read my works no one is forced to read fanfiction so cancelling someone over how they go about their creative works will always be worse in my book than someone who is exploring problematic themes. (As long as that person tags their trigger material properly and isn’t forcing anyone to read it or forcing their own personal beliefs on anyone or attacking them)

Anyway, sorry for the long ass rant again but I hope you get the courage to use whatever pronouns you want for Hange.

I hope this makes you realize that there really isn’t a black and white to this. And this is a fandom space. Do whatever you want. Headcanon whatever you want. Just be respectful and kind.

#levihan #meta

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staylavendertea · 3 years ago

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music, ya know

this is a complete impulse of lying in bed middle of the night thoughts that i don’t even know if anyone’s gonna see that have been stemmed off the experiences of the past couple days, topic of 1:41 am mind boggle:

music and it’s aesthetic and importance in literal every sense cause it’s just that important to me

first experience of realizing this, i’ve always loved film scores and listening to music and the orchestral pieces from movies and shows, but it really seemed to hit me recently, like the fact that this week’s new LOKI episode, no spoilers, has the most badass score and a badass scene with such a perfect mix and musical atmosphere. i literally had one of my best friends over, who has a very small interest in comics, cinema, marvel in general, especially a show about a norse comic god that they know nothing about, and whilst they sat there for my own regard, watching the show like a normal human being would, i sat there clinching their hand, watching in awe as our music is louder than actors talking tv speakers spurted out the most spine tightening world building story and just wandered “jesus that was good” and whilst i will always think about the superior acting, cgi, the amount of different people that just went into those few scenes and like what was physical set and what was computer image and what the hell did i just watch that has my brain running olympic marathon circles right now?

the thought that said brain kept going back to was that fucking score. it was literally tearing apart of every corner of my head and why was it doing that?

second experience, another marvel one, but i digress. black widow (no spoilers i promise), thursday night, movie theater for the first time in i can’t even remember how long now and we set through so many previews just for fucking boss baby to start playing and the reaction of the theater to make me burst out laughing.

however whatever works in that little projection box, gets fixed and the movie is pushed to just a little before it starts, a nice small pepsi ad, the regal rollercoaster intro (if you go to regal movie theaters ya know what i’m talking about), and then i hear it - the marvel studios logo - something so musically engraved into my head that my ass that can’t sing for anything, can harmonize with the sound and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up around movie theater surround sound. but i can’t think of that now, i’m here to watch black widow, a movie on hiatus with the rest of the world for so long now, a character i didn’t know much about it or truly, didn’t have the most connection with in the first place. yet through that one movie, i seemed to build one of those.

ofc though scarlett johansson’s beautiful acting and world building, but it isn’t until the end of the movie that i even realize why. it was the fucking score again. when i think about it, the beginning of the movie felt like all of black widows scenes in the avengers movies for me, kinda just, there. not really emotionally tugging, not bad ofc either, but just, there. in the present, watching something cool in motion. but then it hits, what i can only describe as a theme that somehow tells the entire black widow movie in one singular composition. something so badass, story telling, but also just singularly black widow-esk. i can tell you that i walked out the movie theater rambling about the composition and looking up composers.

third experience, the most recent as it was literally like 20 minutes ago and sprung one train rail of a thought process that immediately tugged me into typing this brain vomit into a tumblr post. i have playlists. for everything. and when i say everything, i fucking mean everything. i’m a writer and a reader, i have playlists mostly for the young avengers, my most utter comfort characters, and their stories i’m writing. i also have playlists/genre/specific song for about every book i read.

when i read red white and royal blue when that came out, i noticed i listened to one of the drunks by panic at the disco the entirety of the ending of the book and the words and music fit together like puzzle pieces, not only did it make the reading experience better, but i was so fucking emerged in my over hyper-imagitive brain that when i finally actually finished the book, i still never left. rewind present day to the beginning of this past june, one last stop comes out, ofc i get it the day it comes out with my anticipation building like wildfire. i start reading that night and i put on my recents on my liked songs playlist (true to true spotify user) and i slowly over the next day as i read and finish the book, windle down to the genre, then the band, to the album, to the exact song that feels like the carbon copy of the words i’m reading. that song was only ones who know by the arctic monkeys. now go back to this past week, anyone who reads the carry on series knows, anyway the wind blows came out this past tuesday. i waited till wednesday to buy the ✨pretty special addition barnes and nobles copy✨ so that the dear friend that indulged me by watching loki that same day could buy it at the same time and make a cute book date or whateva. i started reading that night and something just felt ,,, off. i didn’t know what it was, but i was living off the pure joy that simon and co give me so i ignored the feeling. until i realized why it felt off this morning. i wasn’t listening to any fucking music, literally nothing, not even queen. motherfucking. queen.

i looked for the snowbaz playlist i made when i read carry on for the first time back in 2016/2017 when i was still a freshman in high school just to remember i deleted that literally forever ago. so i made a new one. like an hour and a half ago. very inspired on how i made the playlists for the young avengers and all their stories. letting the music talk.

the fact that all these rambling thoughts have led to this conclusion makes my head hurt, but for me at least in my own experiences. music talks. a two way conversation. a radio broadcast, turning the peg until you match the same frequency thats being put out and you can hear it and understand it. it’s like when you see comedians on stages or actors on panels, they talk, you have reactions, you talk back, and so forth the loop continues until the last voice, last note, rings out. music and songs and orchestral pieces and bands and composers and lyric writers are telling you the stories in reverse. they don’t know their doing it, obviously they meant something entirely different in their creations, but it’s like literature and any work of words and storytelling. interpretation. to me, the notes, pianos, violins, guitars, drums, singers, cellos, and anything that can make sound you can think of, is telling you something. whispering in your ear as you watch or read. facial features, emotions the characters dont say out loud, outfits, they way their standing or talking or moving or interacting with anything and everything.

when i just made that carry on playlist, i played it, decided to try read some good almost 2 am fan fic as you do, my hanging on by a thread sleep brain telling me words aren’t recognizable right now, and tighten myself into a blanket to see if i can sleep at all. the playlist still plays and my never shuts up head thinks it’s own daydreams, stresses out about anything it can, that is until the song plays. the one that just speaks the carry on trilogy language. the one that i found whilst i was reading wayward son and then would play whenever i re read carry on. the one that started this whole way too long ass post in the first place. cant be alone tonight by atlas. i heard just the first sound and i saw them, as if i were in the same room, like i never even put the book down in the first damn place because i’m actually terrified of finishing it. i could see simon in his oversized hoodies, baz in an outfit that was way too good just to be sitting inside, agatha looking as pleasantly pretty as ever, penelope poking fun at shepherd, and shepherd poking fun right back; bickering, laughing, saying the dialogues i try to remember so i can write them later, existing.

in a way music doesn’t just talk, but it lives. it lives and breaths. a three way conversation you could say. characters, stories, plot, and settings talk to the music, then the music delivers us listeners the message, so that we can send one back. this literally took me over an hour to write and i should point the important note that i do have synesthesia where colors and sounds and colors and words do the association so this entire thing might be me being entirely biased, but alas, i love sound so much and if there is anyone else that feels the same ways as i do as just a simple good film score and song makes anything ten times better, feel free to talk, i will totally be awkward, but i need some music freaks like myself around so feel free to hit me up, also if you love movies and cinema also feel free to hit me up as i need movie buddies and now it’s 3 am and i will be going to bed - peace out 🛸

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the-golden-ghost · 3 years ago

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fic writer meme

Tagged by the esteemed and lovely @eldritch-elrics

Tagging: @3wisellamas, @seagoing-nerd, @gallifreytreeflower, @bookshop-cryptid, @skeleton-richard, @oceans-foundfamily , @chimicalbomb, and anyone else who wants to do it!

How many works do you have on AO3?

19 I think? It says 18 but one is still under ~anonymity~ until Friday and once it gets released it’ll be on there. It’s readable, it just doesn’t show up under my name yet.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

78,592 babey.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I’ve written for 6, but 2 of them are pretty much the same thing (TKLUTS/The Mysterious Island, and Richard III/Henry VI, Part 3)

The others are Lupin III and Undertale.

My Lupin fics are probably the most consistently popular. The TKLUTS fics are the vast majority (11/19!!) the Shakespeare fics were both written for ficathons based on Shakespeare’s histories, they did well for what they are, but they’re pretty different than most of my other fics. (I also have a ton of non-archived fics on my Shakespeare blog; mostly for Twelfth Night. Maybe someday I’ll polish those bad boys up.) The Undertale fic was purely a study in “can I even write for this fandom?!” the answer was a resounding no lmao

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Terrible Conflict (169 kudos) which was a collaborative fic about Nemo and Ned engaging in a sexual relationship. It’s unfinished but the parts that are up are about their tangled and messy feelings towards each other and it’s a good time

Measuring the Depths (73 kudos) it’s a cute fluffy fic about Pierre Aronnax and Captain Nemo flirting with each other. I think they take a nap together at some point idk I haven’t read it in a while lol. It’s just sort of soft and sweet, not much to it really! I had a couple of good jokes in there if I remember right.

Night’s Passage (60 kudos) this is literally the same thing as Measuring the Depths. Exactly the same, just shorter, and not as good. I’m not a one-trick pony, but people like what they like!

Hold Out Til Morning (54 kudos) This is a weird and angsty fic about Goemon getting shot and Jigen trying to keep him alive until help comes. I was actually surprised this one ended up getting so popular.

Off the Record (43 kudos) the Jigen/Zenigata fic I said I was going to write as a joke and boy did it end up delivering lol

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes, I try to respond to all of them! I just feel like it’s polite. The only times I won’t are when I can’t think of anything to say or if I feel like the conversation has reached a natural end (or occasionally I just forget ^^; )

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Gonna have to say Discordance for this one, which used to be a favorite of mine but has fallen out of favor with me (pretty much for this exact reason). I mean I love to write angst but I feel like an angsty plot needs a lighter ending, and this one doesn’t have one so it’s just Emo For Emo’s Sake. Not good.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Unless you count the TKLUTS/Mysterious Island fic which isn’t really a crossover since the two were pseudo-sequels anyway, no.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, at least not full-on hate, but I’ve gotten a couple backhanded compliments.

One was “I hate this character but the fic is good! :) “ Which... I know they probably meant that my writing was SO good it made them be able to stand the character, but... I dunno, the concept of them just hate-reading my fic kinda put me off. You do you, man, but don’t tell me about it.

The other was kinda like “that’s an interesting narrative choice considering [x that happened in canon]” which seemed like they were asserting that I didn’t know the source material or made a mistake. They may not have meant it that way but it came off kinda rude.

Do you write smut? if so what kind?

If smut means like a full-on porn fic then I’ve written one and I don’t think I did very well so I don’t intend to write any more.

If it just means a fic with sexual content then yes, I do write that. I don’t know what “kinds” there are lol. Just... your standard... lovemaking... scene?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so. I’m not sure anyone would steal my fics anyway, they garner ~100 hits on average so if you’re stealing for the sake of popularity or fame mine aren’t the ones to swipe lol

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I did have someone ask if they could translate a fic into Chinese and I said yes but I don’t think they ever actually did it. ^^;

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yep! A Terrible Conflict, referenced above. I really need to do more collabs, they’re good fun.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t know if I have an “all time favorite” as my tastes tend to change and grow. I’m pretty big on Nemo x Pierre from TKLUTS and have been for a while, and also am Vibing hardcore with the OT4(5?)/Polygang from Lupin III.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

There’s the ever-popular TKLUTS Sequel Thing which is a whole 3 years into construction and going completely nowhere...

The JiGoe Thing (unremarked on) which I may just hack to bits so it’s short and palatable and I can actually finish it...

And the Other ZeniJi Thing (which has rapidly devolved into a hellscape of the most bizarre circumstances and nonsense. I HOPE I can finish this. It’s funny as shit until the ending. But dear lord.)

There’s like 3 others but they’re just ideas and not WIPs. Yet.

What are your writing strengths?

Apparently I can Set A Scene with the best of them

What are your writing weaknesses?

Voice. I absolutely cannot get characters to sound like themselves. They always sound the same, which is the same voice as the narration, which is to say - my own voice.

I’m also not that great at plot, use too much Purple Prose where it’s unwarranted, tend to go ham on the weird metaphors in a corny way, don’t do enough research... You Name It, I’ve Committed It

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I can’t really do this due to being monolingual. When other people do it? It’s fine, although if the whole fic is in two languages I won’t be able to read it of course. But they can do what they want; I’m obviously not the audience for it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

It was Adventure Time but I learned early on that I am NOT the writer to be working in Adventure Time, dear god. I just couldn’t get it right.

The first I ever successfully wrote for was Twelfth Night.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

After the Nautilus. NO contest, I LOVE that bad boy. I think if someone asked for a single fic that’s indicative of me and how I write, that’s the one I’d show them.

#about the me #ayyyy #thanks for the tag!

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naralanis · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Review!

Thanks @mssirey for the tag! I totally didn't have a crisis with the very last question, not at all bwhahaha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

41, soon to be 42. ASJKLDBLAHSDSD how. And also why. But mostly, how.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

565,934 EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I was going to check my unpublished works but ya know what. Maybe I've written enough akdjsa

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Technically speaking, I've written and published fics for five fandoms. However, I only have one story for OUAT (and I have @shadowdianne to thank for that... or do I?) and one for Captain Marvel. Mirandy was my first love, Cissamione the second, and Supercorp has burrowed in my brain and just won't let go.

I've also technically written for Xena, Legend of Korra, and Criminal Minds, but since I never published those, we're going to pretend they don't exist!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Only two are WIPs! YEAH! They're the top two, but WHO CARES, here they are:

1) Perhaps, aka my baby, my child, my darling, the apple of my eye. If I ever had to choose to finish only ONE of my WIPs, this would be the one. This story has grown with me, and I think you can tell when you read. Or maybe not!

2) For the Better. If the former is my baby, this one is like... my moody teenager. I love it dearly, but... it takes a lot out of me. An ode to one of the first fandoms I actively wrote for, it sits unfinished, but nearly, oh so nearly done. I will finish it, damn ittt.

3) The Date. Honestly, this one really surprised me -- it's one of my oldest one-shots, and something I definitely dashed off between lectures back in Scotland, maybe alternating with FtB chapters. It's one of my first attempts at humour, I think.

4) Bits and Pieces. AYY, I wasn't sure Supercorp would make the cut, WOOOT! This one was the second Supercorp fic I ever wrote, and I did it because Lena Is Baby and the idea just wouldn't leave my brain.

And lastly, the fabulous number 5... Perfect. AKA Nara's First (published) Explicit Fic, featuring Praise Kink and an Enchanted Dildo (for... reasons). I'm not gonna lie, I am so HAPPY this one made it, because it has a special place in my heart. It's where Soft Butch Hermione comes to life, and if you don't love Soft Butch Hermione, I'm sorry, we can't be friends. I love her.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Eeermmm... some? I do want to respond, but I'm terrible with keeping up with comments, I really am. For whatever reason, even when I do my best, I don't really love responding directly on AO3. I also turned off all email notifications for AO3 because turns out my brain WILL be distracted by even a single one.

I'm much more responsive on Tumblr, I promise!

6. A fic you've written with the angstiest ending:

Any of my Narlily works, I guess? Like... All Flowers Wither or Carry On.

Unshackled would be another one, though it's Cissamione... but I caved and made a happy(ish) second part for that one.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Nope! Crossovers just don't do it for me, generally speaking (reading or writing).

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

EvEr rEcEIvEd hAtE-- yes. Oh, yes. I've been told my writing is terrible, I've been told my stories were a 'waste of time,' or 'overhyped,' I've had people tell me there was only One Way to write a certain pairing and my way was definitely Not The Way.

The list goes on.

It used to really, really bother me--still does, but in a much smaller way. Delete/Block buttons are my friends.

9. Do you write smut?

I write an absurd amount of smut. I just don't publish any of it because. Fear.

My pretty, pretty pens have created some filthy, filthy things.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A couple of times -- only once or twice like, straight up attributed to someone else who acted like they were the one writing it. The other times were reposts or translations (without my permission, so still. stolen).

11. Ever had a fic translated?

I've authorized a couple of translations of a few of my DWP works. I'm usually cool with people translating my stuff IF THEY ASK ME FIRST and GIVE ME PROPER CREDIT.

9/10 it's some Brazilian who translates it to Portuguese without my permission and then gets upset when I, another Brazilian, do not endorse it and politely ask them to take the thing down. Thankfully it's been a while. ASK ME, DAMN IT.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nothing published bwhaha!

13. All-time favourite ship?

Right now SuperCorp is definitely barking a little louder, so to speak, but I don't really have one favourite overall. It depends on the fandom, sometimes! Cissamione is very dear to my heart, because it's just so fucking out there and literally every one in this ship has some of the most fascinating headcanons for this pairing and it's just. So wonderful.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

Eeeeuuughhh.... Right now? Probably The Appraisal. I forget what I wanted to do with it, I'm not sure if I'm still feeling the premise... IDK.

I think the same could be said of For the Better, but I PROMISED to finish it, and GOD DAMN IT, I am so close I can't throw in the towel just yet.

15. Writing strengths?

You want ME to say good things about MYSELF? I'm still learning how to do that asldkjbasdn it's a work in progress. But I think I'd say... maybe world-building, at least on my longer works?

I would also like to think I do pretty OK in... IDK, some of the punchy stuff? The 'oh wait a minute' moment? IDK if that makes sense!

16. Writing weaknesses?

Organizing. Plot (HAHA IKR). Consistency. Editing (which is rich from someone who literally edits shit for a living... but go figure). Pacing. Weirdly long sentences? Commas for DAYS.

I could go on.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I am a-OK attempting it in French/Spanish/Portuguese. It may not sound natural, but it will be correct. If I'm trying another language, I'll definitely get help! But I've got no problem with it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Harry Potter, Dramione specifically, and you'll never find a shred of it. I was like 12, and almost a decade later I figured out Hermione was much better off with Draco's mother.

19. What's your fav fic you've written so far?

DON'T MAKE ME CHOOOSE asdkljasdl I CAAANNN'TTTT

I mean, obviously Perhaps is one of them -- it is my baby, that has been established. I think Little Bumps in the Road is also up there, because it was just a random writing exercise that got out of hand, and honestly? I'm here for it. Andddd.... I GUESS I'll put A Valentine's Evening up there as well, because it was the first time I didn't second guess every word I wrote when posting smut. I just... felt it, went for it, wrote it, and it felt really, really good to release some of that into the world lol

WHEW, this was a long one! I'll be tagging @intheinkpot, @shadowdianne, @delirious-comfort, and @16-pennies because I am a curious bastard. But, as always, feel free to treat this as an open tag. Go nuts!

#tag game #this was illuminating in several ways #aka i need to finish my wips #(though that ain't exactly news)#but more importantly #i've written way more than I think I have #and ya know what #it's OK to be proud of that #i am proud of all my children #and i love them all equally #*side eyes Decisions Decisions Decisions*#even you #nara rambles

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alarriefantasy · 4 years ago

Text

Hi, all! So it seems that the wonderful AO3 user - objectlesson - aka on tumblr as - horsegirlharry - has sadly deleted their fics. I have only a few saved in my files, but there are some I would really love to possess, if anyone has them? I would really appreciate it if you would message me and let me know! :)

Also, I am posting the whole list of amazing stories they shared for our fandom, and I am marking (with an asterisk*) the ones that I have myself, in case anyone else would like them too! <3

Silver White Winters

by objectlesson

In which Louis catches a cloud and pins it down.

Words: 5106, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

I Must Confess (I Still Believe)

by objectlesson

Louis shrugs, eyes on the road. “You look cute in the blazer, too,” she says nonchalantly, and what the fucking fuck, what is Harry supposed to think?

“You probably do, too, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t even think you own one? Do you ever actually wear the entire uniform?” she asks, deflecting.

“Not since freshman year!” Louis boasts proudly. “They stopped giving me demerits because it’s, like, a lost cause. I literally haven’t seen my blazer in three years, I just borrow Veronica’s when I walk into Mass.” Her grin is very cheeky and bright, and she’s squinting in the sun, aviators pushed up into the overgrown auburn shag of her hair. The horizon is hazy and pink-orange as dark sneaks up on them, the air smelling of sprinkler water and BBQ smoke from people leaching the last warmth of October before summer’s gone for good. Harry feels alive with possibility, eyes watering as she smiles at Louis, unable to stop. She wrinkles her nose like it’ll somehow hide the way it looks on her face to be in love.

Or, Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever.

Words: 44304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious)

by objectlesson

“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.

Words: 4090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

The Pink Ghost of Princess Park

by objectlesson

The thought of the vibrator does not go away. It’s sitting there collecting dust all through January, and every time Harry and Louis have to leave town for a press event or a show or to record or what have you, they come back home, and it’s still there, the Pink Ghost of Princess Park, the fucking glittery haunting that Harry cannot stop thinking of Louis stuffing up his arse.

Words: 7556, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Life Saver

by objectlesson

Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or, Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Words: 14809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Even Your Honey Dew

by objectlesson

It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.

Words: 9512, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

What a Heavenly Way To Die

by objectlesson

She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers.

Or, Louis is afraid to do stuff to Harry, who has done a lot of stuff to her.

Words: 8052, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Firm Believer and a Warm Receiver

by objectlesson

a few months ago, Louis had his first heat. It was no big deal, aside from it being awkward and weird and all the other things it was supposed to be. He figured he would present as an omega, so he wasn’t exactly surprised or anything.

But then, last week, Harry had his first heat, too.

Or, the omega/omega sleepover fic no one asked for but y'all really, really need.

Words: 10895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You’ll Know What Makes The World Turn

by objectlesson

Sometimes, when things are messy and they have more than a few weeks apart, they need the reminder. It’s comforting to have stars to map your course by.

or, Harry’s blue bandana is a day collar.

Words: 4624, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Sing You Butterflies

by objectlesson

Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.

or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.

Words: 22701, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Holy

by objectlesson

She deserves not to be so goddamned put together all the time. Being in the world’s biggest and highest exposure girlband means she’s never seen without a flat stomach, a spray tan, contouring, eyelash extensions, the whole of her body inescapably toned and plucked and waxed so frequently she genuinely forgot what fucking color her own pubes are. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe.

Or, Louis is dressed like a fucking queen, Harry’s begging please.

Words: 6608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only One I Dream Of: A Drabble Collection

by objectlesson

A collection of all the m/m One Direction drabbles and timestamps I’ve written on tumblr, so my readers on here aren’t missing out!

Words: 5164, Chapters: 5/13, Language: English

Diamonds in the Moonlight

by objectlesson

The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.

Words: 16136, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

In the Heat of the Night

by objectlesson

“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.”

Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much.

Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.

Words: 7726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Once Upon a Dream

by objectlesson

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Words: 16643, Chapters: ½, Language: English

From Now Until Forever

by objectlesson

The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.

Niall takes the pint glass back from Harry and takes a swig, regarding her over the rim knowingly. “You’re nervous,” she observes with a grin. “Because you’re gonna get drunk at a gay bar with Louis, and you haven’t told her yet that you wanna marry her.”

“Oh, my god, stop,” Harry scolds, hiding her face in her hands, everything suddenly hot and shivery. “It’s not that,” she adds, even though it most definitely is.

“Then…you’re excited to see Louis in a schoolgirl skirt and bra? Covered in that body glitter that smells like cotton candy?” Niall presses, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush at the mere thought of Louis’s golden skin shimmering and sticky under club lights.

Words: 9223, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Hello, Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights

by objectlesson

“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. “A new phone charger? Mine’s still broken, the electrical tape didn’t work.”

Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. “Oh a phone charger? Is that what you need?” he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that’s so, so high and gentle that it’s scary. He’s putting on a show for Harry, and Harry’s thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they’re talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry’s living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.

Or, Louis buys Harry things sometimes.

Words: 2988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Dream About That Casual Touch

by objectlesson

And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. She wore what she wanted to wear whether or not it was in fashion or technically even flattering; her hair was always messy, she only wore makeup half the time, and she seemed to like heeled boots even if she was already fairly tall and they made her tower over the boys. Louis always thought it was so fucking sexy how unconcerned Harry seemed with what people thought of her, how comfortable she was in her own skin. That by itself seemed like a sort-of gay thing, so Louis kept a remote, careful eye on her, hoping to one day see something else that blipped her radar.

Or, Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.

Words: 7678, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Smoke Dreams from Smoke Rings

by objectlesson

“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”

Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he’s grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”

“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”

or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.

Words: 18116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Black Stars and Endless Seas

by objectlesson

Or, A Star Trek Original Series AU where Lt. Styles is a young science officer on his first away mission, and Louis is the headstrong ensign assigned to his security detail, and maybe they would be able to function together professionally in a normal setting, but not when their shuttlecraft crash-lands and they end up marooned together on an improbably and unfairly beautiful planet.

Words: 32246, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Rose Garden Dreams

by objectlesson

Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams.

or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.

Words: 9464, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Palms Reflecting in Your Eyes

by objectlesson

Harry visits Louis at his campus and finds a crop on the wall.

Words: 6496, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Wrap You Up in Daisy Chains

by objectlesson

Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies.

Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.

Words: 10613, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

To Keep the Night From Ending

by objectlesson

It doesn’t always feel real to kiss in the dark, Harry guesses. He wants it to feel real. He wants it to be the realest thing, burnt indelibly into his skin.

Or, Harry and Louis take a night swim.

Words: 5036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Good Enough to Eat

by objectlesson

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, shuffling. “You won’t give me shit for it? It’s sorta weird.”

“No,” Louis breathes. “Promise.”

“Okay. I just…fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.

It takes Louis a few seconds to process, to mentally rifle through his Pornhub search history and remember what rimming even is; Harry has him so stupid he can’t keep stuff straight. His ears ring, and then it hits him, and, oh, fuck. His stomach turns and tightens so quickly he’s gasping, an audible and shameful scrape of air in the dark. “You…really?” he chokes out.

Or, Harry is convinced he’s never gonna be able to try his favorite porn fantasy on a real boy, and Louis offers to remedy this.

Words: 6722, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Grenadine Sunshine

by objectlesson

Harry’s only sixteen, it shows right now, and Louis wants…he wants so many things. He wants to taste the faint, sugary ghost of lip gloss, he wants to cup Harry’s face between his palms and swipe the shimmery wet shadows from beneath his eyes. He wants to show him everything he knows, even though he doesn’t know anything about this, about kissing boys or flirting with them or doing their makeup or even showing them it’s okay to want to wear makeup in the first place. Still, Louis just wants, wants and wants and wants. It’s what Harry does to him.

Words: 18067, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only Angel

by objectlesson

Louis pops his hip out, looking down at Harry from beneath the cut of his fringe sassily. “How do I look?”

Harry…Harry doesn’t have words, not really. He sits there on the floor with a half-hard cock, gazing up at this taller, scarier version of Louis with wide eyes. “Like I want you to spin-kick me in the face,” he admits after a moment, shakily inhaling. “You look…really good.”

Or, Louis finds a pair of heels that fit, and Harry wants to be ruined, as per usual.

Words: 6599, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Someone Who Knows How To Ride

by objectlesson

Harry gives Louis a lap dance. Or, at least, he tries to.

Words: 5114, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Copper Kiss

by objectlesson

Harry’s not allowed to fly back to the UK without marks to remember Louis by.

Words: 4604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You Drive Me Crazy ( I Just Can’t Sleep)

by objectlesson

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

Words: 18520, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Christmas Without You

by objectlesson

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry misses Louis so badly he might be going little crazy.

Words: 5639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Vinyl and Lace

by objectlesson

Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Words: 7541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Touch of My Hand

by objectlesson

Words: 3104, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Tour Bus Sex, Bus Sex, PWP, Up All Night Tour, Uan era, Canon Compliant, baby boyfriends in love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Established Relationship

Born to Make You Happy

by objectlesson

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

Words: 25662, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Taste of a Poison Paradise

by objectlesson

Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away.

Words: 9894, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Little Love (is better than none)

by objectlesson

It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.

Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do (with a few more times thrown in because I’m a mess and know how to write short fics).

Words: 15074, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Take Me Under the Blue

by objectlesson

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction.

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

Words: 19011, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

#deleted fics #objectlesson #horsegirlharry #larry fics #larry stylinson #larry fic rec

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chainofclovers · 3 years ago

Text

It’s been awhile since my brain insisted on a Life In a Bulleted List post! (Please forgive any odd emotional leaps bullet to bullet.)

During the middle part of this week, my wife is going to travel for a work thing for the first time since February 2020. We’re both fully vaccinated, in a spot with low COVID numbers, and she’s going to a spot with low COVID numbers, and honestly, it feels weird to be the amount of worried I am, which is not very worried! Obviously COVID is still a massive problem worldwide, and of course we live in a country whose greed and foreign policies actively make things worse for other places, and of course it’s still very important to take every precaution here (we’re still wearing masks in stores/public places, for instance). But I’ve spent the last fifteen months with pretty painful anxiety, worry, and anger as my near-constant companions, and it is wild to think about my wife going off to a different area and to feel...pretty much OK with that.

This will, however, be my first (and second and third) night spent without her since, yes, February 2020. And honestly, while it might be kind of a novelty this week to, like, eat something I like that my wife doesn’t, or to stay up writing until a not-very-sensible hour...all this time together has been great. Didn’t get tired of her once. (At least not anything a solo walk around the neighborhood or a solo trip to pick up groceries couldn’t fix.) We are very lucky. Understatement.

I am becoming a person who doesn’t kill every plant. And our yard is closer to “done” which is very exciting. And I’m finally getting to the point with container gardening where our food is semi-regularly seasoned with things I’ve grown. I’ve got a lot to learn but for awhile I was worried I would never be even partially successful.

Last week we found two young opossums dead in the backyard, quite far apart from each other. We couldn’t figure out what happened, but it’s possible they got into some poison elsewhere and ventured into our yard? I said some words over them (it’s not like we knew them but I suppose everything deserves to hear “you are loved and will be remembered” even if the people promising to remember you are just two random women) and we buried them and it was really sad. I love opossums, and I wish I knew what happened so I could try to prevent it in the future.

My writing brain continues to be entirely focused on fiction (well, fiction and my professional genre). I’m almost certain I’m currently setting a record for Longest Time Without Poetry since my childhood, maybe. It’s weird. But fiction! I’m having so much fun and feel so connected to everything I’m writing and thinking about, both in terms of orignal stuff and fic. I love the feeling of being out in the world doing mundane little things but in a good mood because of fiction. :) :) :)

I haven’t watched all of this past Friday’s Fire Drill Friday yet, but I think Jane Fonda’s hair is getting more Grace Hanson-shaped as the G&F season 7 filming gets closer to resuming. I feel very convinced this is true, whether intentional or subconscious, and I hope it means they’re gonna let Grace’s hair go grey this season. I know there’s at least one interview in which she said that’s what she wanted to happen, plus the Grace wig visible in S7 BTS pics (since they started filming after she’d already changed her real hair) seems to have grey roots?!

Speaking of FDF, the guest was Demi Lovato and it is pretty wild how many people on the Instagram event announcement, people who claim to be a Jane Fonda fan or a fan of the environment or social justice or whatever could absolutely Not Handle It to see someone respectfully yet nonchalantly use the correct pronouns for a non-binary person? The sanctity of grammar argument is EMBARRASSING. The phrase “attention addict” is EMBARRASSING. Especially since judging someone for seeming like an attention addict seems like a slippery slope on Judgment Mountain to judging someone for their actual addictions, past or present. And since we as a society love to punish people for their addictions and weaknesses instead of celebrating the way that self-discovery and honesty and self-actualization give people the tools to be stronger and cope with their “weaknesses” more effectively. And I’m sorry, Gail, but if you aren’t thinking maybe it’s a little weird that an 83-year-old can use they/them pronouns in a sentence while you’re on her page performatively misgendering someone, then you aren’t embarrassed enough but I will feel embarrassed on your behalf.

On a much, much, much happier note, baking with weed for older relatives is a love language. <3

And finally, on a very related note, I leave you with One Weird Trick your doctor won’t tell you for how to make sure you don’t forget which brownies are the special ones:

(Image ID: a white saucer containing two brownies. One is plain on top and the other is covered with a variety of rainbow sprinkles and colorful sugar.)

#do not reblog there are so many things in here not to reblog #more emotions than livejournal dot com #jane fonda appreciation society #cw opossum death #food things #personal #about me #grace and frankie #gender things #cw misgendering

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fansplaining · 5 years ago

Note

Any advice for writing summaries for Fics?

Hmmm! Well first to tag recent Fansplaining guest @bettsfic, who has written many more fic summaries than me (this is Elizabeth) and probably has great advice on the subject (or perhaps has already written tips and can link to them).

But I do have some thoughts as a two-decade-plus reader of fic, and many years as a professional writer and editor who’s written a lot of, as we say, display copy (things like deks, subtitles, summaries, etc).

[Please take all of this advice with a grain of salt, because it’s fic, so people can do whatever they want!]

1) Fake it til you make it

If you’re having trouble writing a summary, the number one thing I suggest is DO NOT TELL US ABOUT IT. I may be a slightly choosier reader than some, but “lol I suck at summaries” in the summary (or the tags) is a huge turn-off for me as a reader. I know why people do it! It’s a bit of ironic cover, ~I’m worried this is bad so I’m just gonna beat you to the punch and say this is bad nothing matters ha ha ha.~ Many (all?) of us are guilty of this kind of thing somewhere in our lives, but you don’t need to do it! Just pretend you think you’re great at them, and plow ahead—and the reader will be more likely to go with you.

2) Quote yourself

The tried-and-true, most straightforward summary method is obviously a quote from the fic—an exchange of dialogue or maybe a short paragraph that really captures the essence of what happens in the story. Choosing a good exchange or passage is obviously easier said than done! A few things I’d recommend:

a) Don’t pull, like, huge blocks of text. I’d suggest this no matter what summary route you’re going, but I find people tend to do this with quotes *a lot*. Especially in the past few years, as phone-reading has become so prevalent, being hit with a paragraph the length of your phone screen makes most readers slide past, just because of the way our brains process information.

b) Don’t be afraid to mix and match, or to play around with your own words. You can pull out a bit directly from your story, or you can modify it, you can pair it with a fresh sentence that isn’t a quote at all. It’s fic, there are no rules.

c) Get another human to read it! Ideally a beta! Someone who’s read the story! A second opinion—someone who can say if they think the passage you quoted is misleading, or isn’t doing your story justice, or feels just right—is invaluable.

3) Distill your story into a tweet

This is a tip from my journalist self, originally suggested by a wonderful editor that I worked with for years. If I found myself spinning my wheels 2/3rds of the way through a piece, she’d say, “What will we eventually tweet to promo the piece?” I actually recommend this for all kinds of writing if you’re stuck. What am I arguing or showing or exploring? How am I going to convince other humans that the thing I’ve written is something they’d want to read?

Fic is obviously different from reported features or whatever, but I can’t think of a single fic I’ve read that I couldn’t promo in a tweet. I’m not saying you need to summarize the entire plot in 280 characters. But in a sentence or two, can you tell me what it’s about? That might be wholly emotional description—lots of fic has very little plot, of course. But it’s still about something.

Once you have this distillation, you can expand on it. Is this the information you want to give your readers in advance? Do you want to hold some of it back and tease? Do you want to give them more? You’ll be surprised how much clarity you have on your own work—what you’re trying to put out in the world—when you can describe it succinctly.

4) Situate the reader

So fic is different from other fiction because we already know who the characters are. But, importantly, we don’t know where you’ve placed them—where are they, in relation to the source material we probably already know? If they’re in an AU world, where will we find them at the start of the story? If it’s canon-divergent, tell us about that divergence—that’s the “what if” intrigue that will bring us in as readers.

Think about who has the POV, and if it’s only one person, decide whether you want to limit the summary to the way the world looks from their perspective. I recently finished writing a fic, and in my haste to get ~all the fun details~ into the summary, I included information that the protagonist would not have access to until the very end of the story. I want the reader to be deep inside her head, only seeing her limited perspective—and I want the summary to reflect that.

Even though you’ll get plenty of readers who don’t know the source (all our surveys show plenty of fic readers do this!), you can also send out signals to the people who do know the source/ship/etc. The protagonist doesn’t know the other half of the ship yet—can you use teasing language so *we* know who this stranger who comes into their life is before they do? Fic is full of this kind of pleasurable dramatic irony, and summaries are a great place to lean into it.

I could go on and on, but I should probably cut myself off at some point lol. If anyone has any other resource/tip posts—summaries *are* hard, for all kinds of writing—please leave them in the replies!

#fic #asks #fanfiction #writing #summaries

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

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01 | upside down, steve harrington ; stranger things

Notes:

Guess who fell head first into binging Stranger Things? Again? Yep. This bitch. And I kind of came up with this at some point during. I’ve been dancing around writing a Stranger Things fic for a while, but here I go I guess?

A few big cautions up front... There will be things that change/differ from the fic and the show. I’m gonna sort of loosely follow the timeline set forth. But I will be changing a few things here and there. I mean, if enough people enjoy this that I feel like writing more to it, idk yet... We shall see.

I swear to God, I’m going to update my CSI fics and my Riverdale one asap. This just kind of caught me by the nose and demanded to be written...

Summary:

She moves back to Hawkins and manages to turn his life completely upside down. In the best of ways.

But how will everything play out between them? Also, can they handle all the weirdness ahead? We shall see.

Warnings:

loose canon compliance at best, total deviation at worst - this is just an up front catch all because sometimes, things happen that I don’t particularly care for (the senseless death of Barb, anybody?) and if you’re one of those canon only people, this is here to warn you that this is not the fic for you. language, occasional gore, monsters / fantasy elements, teenage drama and shenanigans - Obviously, teenagers are going to do stuff. They’re at that point in their life where not every decision they make is the best one. So if you’d rather skip over this kind of thing (teen drinking, fighting, etc) then yeah.. you’ve been warned. Slow burn / angst / mutual pining / eventual filthy good ness - because lets be real.. we’re all wondering when we’re gonna drop the plot and get to the good stuff. When this chapter occurs, I will flair it with an M. In the meantime, if you’re not into slow burn or mutual pining, then you’re probably not going to care about this.

Other Parts

[ soundtrack ]

Other Stuff

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

There’s nobody on my list yet but... If you wanna be tagged for this, tell me pls. It will make me overjoyed.

Throwing out a no pressure tag to @rampagewriting and @twistnet as well as @chasingeverybreakingwave just because. No pressure though bbies!

ONE

“Table six wants a burger and fries. Smothered for those fries, Jennie.” my nana’s voice shattered through my wandering thoughts. I closed the issue of Glamour I’d been reading and made my way out from behind the counter out in front, heading towards the dining area in the back.

“Marlena quit again, Nana?” I inquired, shaking my head. Marlena quits at least once a year. Turns up a few weeks later, tanned and broke, begging for her old job back and it’s been that way since my mom and I lived here still, when I was around 6.

“Girl, what have I told you about callin me Nana?” my grandmother asked, laughing softly as she nodded. “Yeah. Said she’s headin out to California this time. Thinks she’s gonna be the next Brooke Shields.”

“Broke Shields is more like it.” I mumbled, taking an apron from the hanger on the wall. My grandmother spoke up again, giving me a nudge and smirking at me while nodding across the diner. “He’s baaack.”

“Nana!” I muttered, raising a hand to my mouth, giggling a little despite my best efforts not to.

“I’m just sayin is all. That boy is not comin in here for my good cookin, Jennie Bird.” my grandma shook her head and I eyed the booth where a lone Steve Harrington sat.

It’s only the thousandth time since I moved back to Hawkins in May.

And my nana is right. He’s probably not coming here for the food.

I’d just grabbed two of the orders and sent Steve’s order back to our short order cook Brett, -or the order I’m assuming was his, he always gets the same thing down to a T when he stops in, when a hand reaches out, grabbing my wrist.

I nearly jumped right outta my skin until I realized that it was Nancy grabbing my wrist and Barb laughing about it. They were sitting at our usual little booth near the window, nursing milkshakes as they waited on my upcoming 30 minute break. Just like we’ve been doing two or three times a week since May.

Come to think of it, it’s around that time that Steve started coming in too. I shoved the thought out of my head right around the time that Nancy and Barb noticed him. And naturally, the question arose...

“What’s Steve Harrington doing in here?” Nancy asked, glancing up at me. I eyed his table and shrugged, suck popping a cotton candy flavored bubble as I told her, “Cher, your guess is as good as mine. He’s been comin in here since I moved back.”

Nancy wiggled her brows and laughed. Barb spoke up. “My mom wanted to know if you wanted to go to the lake with us this weekend? She knows your grandmother is going out of town.”

I smiled and nodded yes, zero hesitation. After Nancy confirmed that she was going too, we made plans to go into the department store in town tomorrow afternoon to pick up some swimsuits.

Nancy’s eyes settled on my boots and she let out a low and appreciative whistle. “Are those the same boots that were in the mall last time we went? I wanted those.”

I smiled, lifting my foot so Nancy could see my boots better. Then I whirled around so she could see the fact that I’d made my favorite pair of Levis into cutoffs and sewn white cherry print fabric over the back of one of the pockets.

“I love those. I wish my mom would let me cut off my jeans.” Nancy pouted. I shrugged. “Ginger said it was cheaper than buying shorts, so I went for it. I did two other pairs too.”

“I’m bringing my old jeans over tonight.” Barb spoke up. I smiled, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll do you right up, hon.”

“I wish I tanned like you. Do you just live outside, Jennie?” Barb asked, pouting a little. I shrugged it off, laughing. Taking a deep breath as I nodded towards Steve’s booth as I gazed at my friends after finally managing to tear my eyes off of Steve. “I best get over to table six. Then I have to go pick up the bohunk’s order, I reckon.”

“What’s a bohunk?” Nancy giggled.

“Same as a himbo, I reckon.” I answered, wrinkling my brows because I didn’t actually know myself. I just knew my nana Ginger often called her long-time live-in boyfriend, Hank, the same thing and I could tell by her tone that it was a loving thing.

I made my way over to Ethel and Earl’s table, setting them up with their food. “Y’all need anything else? Just let me know. Marlena quit on us again, so I’m the server tonight.”

“We’re all set, dear!” they assured me and I made my way over to the second of the tables whose orders I’d picked up.

The next table was Jim Hopper. My mom’s ex boyfriend. He chuckled and shook his head as I approached. “I see Ginger put you right to work.”

“I put me to work, sir. I’m saving money for a Trans Am I found for sale in Rollins.” I smirked as I said it, twisting a strand of hair around my fingertip.

“Oh really now.. Let me know when you get it. So I can warn the rest of the guys and the rest of town to keep a wide berth when you’re behind the wheel.”Hopper teased, chuckling. I pretended to pout, but got him set up with the food he’d ordered before finally making my way towards the back again.

I had to walk right past Steve’s booth in the process, naturally.

I did my best to keep my eyes trained towards the front of the dining area, but Steve cleared his throat just as I walked past.

“Is tonight the night you finally say yes?” Steve flashed a grin as he asked me the question. I wanted to melt, lucky for me, common sense prevailed once again.

“Steve..” I complained, shaking my head. Pretending to pout at him.

“Aw, c’mon.” Steve chided, giving me that charmer smirk as he gazed up at me. I bit my lip, eyes locked on his, lost in the depths of his eyes for a few seconds. My nana’s calling my name had me coming back to the moment and I sighed. “I gotta go get your food, cher.”

I hurried up to the front, ignoring my nana’s pointed stare and nod as she mouthed, “Well? What’d he say, huh?”

I gave a mysterious shrug and picked up the tray containing his food. Started my journey back towards his booth. On my way over, Nancy gave me a thumbs up and Barb mouthed at me in teasing, “ Aww, you’re totally blushing right now.” to which I stuck out my tongue and shook my head no.

I was all business as I sat his food in front of him. Consulting my notepad that had his order scrawled on it in my Nana’s loopy scrawl. “That’s a loaded burger and smothered fries with a chocolate shake.” suck popping another gum bubble as I spoke.

“Yeah.” Steve answered, locking eyes with me. My hand raised, trailing over the loopy cursive of my silver necklace. I toyed with the cursive that formed my name and he chuckled, dragging his fingers through his hair, nodding to it. “You still have it, I see. The necklace, I mean...”

“Why wouldn’t I? My best friend gave it to me, cher.” I gave him a soft smile. I couldn’t resist it because believe me, I tried. I’ve been trying to resist the guy since May, actually.

“Oh. So you did think about me when you left Hawkins...Interesting. I mean… you’re still wearing the necklace I got you for your birthday...” Steve mused quietly. His eyes were absolutely fixed on me. Studying me. And I felt this warmth spreading through my entire being. Like that first sliver of sunlight on a cloudy and cool day.

Then the calm. Be still my beating heart, the calm that took over when I dared to lock eyes with him as my own personal act of defiance. Popping another cotton candy flavored bubble as I did so. I bit my lip as I thought of the best way, read, least revealing way, to answer his question. This was venturing into very,very dangerous territory at present. Because if I said no I’d be lying and if I said yes, it would give him too much power. He’d know that maybe he was my first real crush back then. He’d know that maybe seeing him again after all this time had been like a burst of fresh air and somehow, felt as if maybe he’d taken all the air from me at the same time.

It was a huge risk. Huge.

“Maybe.” - it was the only word that would come presently. Blondie crooning Call Me from the old jukebox sitting at the back of the dining area shattered through the heavy lingering silence that followed immediately behind my answer. In a rush, I told him quietly, “I have other tables.”

“You’ve been on your feet all afternoon, little red. C’mon. Sit?” Steve nodded to the empty bench across from him.

I scoffed at him over my shoulder. Giving him a sweet but firm shake of the head no and smile. “As much as I’d love to sit, romeo. Sitting’s not what’s gonna put that sweet fire engine red Trans Am in my nana’s driveway by August.”

He pouted and called out as I walked away, “ I’m not giving up.”

This earned him giggles from the booth I usually filled with Nancy and Barb when I took my 30 minute break.

As I walked by them, Nancy teased out loud, “ Awww, look Barb! She’s blushing.”

“I am not.” I pretended to be offended by the suggestion. Mouthing to both of them as I fanned myself with some napkins in teasing and nodded in Steve’s direction, “Whew...He has gotten… Intense.”

“That’s Hawkin High’s big man on campus.” Barb informed me. I went to clock out for my break and came back with a Diet Pepsi, flopping across the booth across from then. Someone put 867-5309 on to play on the jukebox and I grumbled through closed lids, “I hate that fuckin song.”

Naturally, Barb and Nancy started to sing along. Loudly.

I pouted at them both as I rose to a sitting position.

Steve wandered over, flopping himself down in the empty spot next to me. “Ladies.”

“You’re not at Hagan’s party?” Barb asked, a brow raised.

“Yeah, why aren’t you at Tommy’s party?” Nancy asked, shooting me a covert teasing smile.

Steve shrugged. Took a long sip of his chocolate milkshake, slurping it through the straw noisily. I eyed it.

“I’d kill for a strawberry one right now.” I mused, gazing at the cup in his hand. He muttered quietly, “It’s not strawberry, but…” as he held it out.I eyed the styrofoam cup and him. Biting my lip.

Nancy and Barb were gazing at me intently. Teasing gleam in their eyes.

I sighed and reached out for it, taking a few sips. Holding it back out to him.

“I was there. Got bored. I like the scenery better here anyway.” Steve answered finally, shrugging.

“So you enjoy spending your Friday night in a diner packed with old people..” I muttered, locking eyes with him. Swallowing hard when I found him staring at me already.

He chuckled, shaking his head no. “I said I liked the scenery here, little red. Not the dining company. If you’d say yes and let me buy you a burger sometime…” he smiled at me as he went quiet.

I felt Nancy and Barb both fix their eyes on me.

“We’ll see.” I answered, shrugging mysteriously and smiling at him as I did so. I wanted to say yes so bad it was killing me, but given that I know the history of my grandmother and my mother, I was… Definitely erring on the side of caution.

Besides.. It makes things interesting when you play hard to get. I guess I figure that if Steve gets bored and moves on, then it’s better than agreeing, falling head over feet, making any number of bad life choices that seem to plague the women in my family and ultimately, winding up heart broken.

Call me a hopeless romantic. Overly cautious. I just want to wait until I know something is a sure thing before I dive in over my head. I want something that’s going to last a while. Not be this intense and scary whirlwind that starts off strong and ends just as fast as it began.

“Hey, were we all going to go for a swim later? Figured it was hot enough. Besides, Ginger and Hank are going to Rollins later. They won’t be back until 2. Or two days from now.” I mused, glancing from Nancy to Barb.

“Sleepover in the treehouse?” Barb suggested. Nancy nodded, giving me begging eyes. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. It’ll be like when we were little.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea!” I smiled, laughing.

After we all made our plans for the night, they left to go back into town and this left me with ten minutes in my break. Alone in a booth with Steve Harrington.

Hot Blooded came on the jukebox in back of the dining area and I grinned. Humming along with the song as I eyed the last of Steve’s fries. He chuckled, shoving them in front of me.

“You won’t let me buy you your own food… Yet you’ll eat mine.”

“Mhm.” I answered, dragging a french fry through gravy. Taking a bite thoughtfully. Groaning at the taste of the food because I realized just how hungry I actually was.

Steve chuckled, gazing at me. “Do I need to leave you two alone?”

I felt his arm go around the back of the booth. Brushing right against my shoulder. Normally, I’d politely move a little. But if I’m being totally honest here, I’m tired. So tired of fighting the way I feel. I managed to stop myself from resisting the urge to lean against his side though.

“That’s not so bad, is it?”

I sighed and gazed over at him. Smiling. “It’s not.”

From the kitchen, my nana called my name. Steve stood and I slipped out of the booth, making my way back. Clocking back in so I could finish waiting tables. By the time I’d done four more tables and was counting my tips for the night, Steve wasn’t sitting in the dining area anymore.

“You be careful getting home tonight, Jennie Bird.”

“Yes Nana.”

I didn’t have to look at her to know she was giving me a playful dirty look at what I’d called her. She sighed, the sound giving way to soft laughter. “Maybe get that handsome little beau of yours to give you a lift.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“You are the most stubborn..” my grandmother teased gently, laughing as she shook her head.

I clocked out for the night, stepping out into the parking lot after counting down the drawer in the gas station area out front. Steve was standing outside, leaned against the cinderblock wall, his thumb hooked through his belt loop. Smoking a cigarette.

I glanced around to make sure my grandmother and her boyfriend weren’t looking or anything and I stopped beside him. Speaking up quietly. “Do you think you have another one of those?”

He chuckled, digging around in his pocket, producing a slightly crushed pack of Marlboro Reds. I took one and as I pressed it between my lips, he dug out a silver lighter and cupped his hands around the end, lighting my cigarette for me.

“You’re not afraid your grandmother’s gonna see?” Steve teased, grinning at me.

I laughed, shrugging as I exhaled, a plume of smoke creeping upwards into the sunset. “It’s more tame than her special brownies. I know for a fact it’s a thousand times tamer than anything my mom did at my age. I just don’t openly do it all the time around her because it’s a respect thing.”

“Ah. I get it, I think.” he nodded.

We stood there quietly. Staring up at the sky as the sun dipped lower. I really didn’t want to walk away, but one of us had to. I smiled, nodding towards the road. “I should probably get going.”

“I can drive you.” Steve offered.

“I’m fine. It’s only like a mile up the road.” I answered, swallowing hard. Dangerously close to caving, yet again. It’s getting so hard not to cave lately where he’s concerned and that kind of makes me panic just a little, truth be told.

“Yeah, but it’s getting late. And your feet have to be killing you by now.” he nodded to my boots. I shrugged, flashing him a smirk. “You’re a charmer, Steve.” I muttered as I rose up on my toes, fluffing his hair before stepping away, then turning to walk across the gravel parking lot and towards the road.

His BMW slowed to a stop beside me and he rolled down the window just as I started to walk towards my grandmother’s house. “C’mon.”

I eyed the car.

Then glanced at the road stretched out ahead. My feet were throbbing in these stupid boots because they weren’t broken in completely. I dragged my fingers through my hair, mulling it over.

“Take me straight home?”

“Anything you want, Jennie.” Steve promised, smiling at me. “Scouts honor.”

“You are a lot of things… Somehow I doubt boy scout was one of them, you charmer. Okay, fine.” I gave in, going around to the passenger side of the car and getting in.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teased gently. I stuck out my tongue at him and reached for the dial on his radio until I found something other than his preferred usual pop station. He chuckled to himself, reaching out to lower the volume. “I missed you.”

“Aw, be still my beating heart.” I pretended to swoon. But something about the look in his eyes had me feeling like all the air escaped my lungs. Giddy. Lightheaded. And yet, underneath it all, that sense of calm.

The rest of the drive to my grandmother’s house was quiet. The air between us filled with this heavy and almost electric tension. Like I was waiting on something to happen, I just didn’t know what.

He pulled to a stop behind Hank’s beat down old Chevrolet truck and I went to open the door on the passenger side. I was about to get out, when he stopped me. “Same time Thursday?”

I smiled, nodding at him as I shut the door to his BMW and started towards my front door on very shaky legs. Once I was inside, I pulled off my boots and flopped down on the sofa, letting out several long and shaky breaths.

“Heaven help me. That guy is… Something.” I drawled. Resting until I heard Barb and Nancy knocking at my grandmother’s door. I got up to let them in and we went upstairs to find towels to take down to the river with us.

Then we set off, walking through the woods. Laughter and conversation echoing in the night around us. Diving into the cold water with ear splitting shrieks. Splashing at each other noisily.

We flopped onto our towels on the bank, gazing up at the stars as they started to come out.

“I can’t believe summer’s almost over.” Barb lamented, shaking her head. “It seriously feels like school just ended.”

“I don’t want to go back to school yet. Yuck.” Nancy agreed, shaking her head. “I mean there’s another month and a half but it’s flying by too fast.”

“At least we got a few classes with each other. I’m dreading starting at a new school. I mean it’s not new, but still..” I sat up, facing the two of them.

“It won’t be that bad. You’ve got us.” Barb pointed out and I smiled, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. It won’t be that bad.” I echoed her statement.

“Hey, Jennie?”

“Yeah, Nan?”

“Why won’t you just give in to Steve. It’s not exactly a secret you like him.” Nancy eyed me expectantly.

I mulled it over, shrugging. “Guess it’s just the fear I have that I’ll give in and then everything will go wrong and I’ll wind up losing my friend too.”

The truth was… so much more complex than that. And I couldn’t even begin to explain it to myself, let alone my two best friends.

“I will say this much though.” I started, going quiet for a second or two and taking a deep breath, speaking up again after, “It’s getting harder to fight it off. I mean when I moved back here and we ran into each other again, that old crush came back and it came back ten-fold. Enough about my weird hangups.. Is there some reason you’re not finally going for it with Jonathan?” I eyed Nancy expectantly.

“Every time I try it’s like my brain freezes? I don’t know, okay?” she laughed, shaking her head about it. Barb smirked. “Both of you are cowards.”

“Excuse… Says the girl who almost threw up because Logan, the guy she likes, winked at her on the bus back from an away game?” Nancy teased and Barb scowled at her, sticking out her tongue. “I’ll have you know, ha freaking ha, Logan is actually taking me to a movie on Friday.”

“Oh?” Nancy eyed her, wiggling her brows.

“Oh my god, details.” I spoke up, tapping my foot as I gave her an expectant look. Barb launched into the whole thing and I smiled softly, content to listen. Catching up on what I’d missed in being gone so long.

“Y’all. We need to get back down to my nana’s. It’s getting dark thirty.” I stood, reaching down to grab hold of Barb’s hand, pulling her off the bank of the river. Barb pulled Nancy up and the three of us went running through the wood and back towards my grandmother’s house.

Once we got there, we ordered pizza and went out to the old treehouse we used to play in out back to set up for the night.

And at one point, we wound up playing Truth or Dare.

And naturally, the first dare I was given was to say yes if Steve Harrington asked me out again…

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fic #my writing ; steve harrington #my fanfiction ; steve harrington #my fics ; steve harrington #// y'all. I have.. huge plans for this #i made a whole ass character sheet for Jennie here.

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currywaifu · 4 years ago

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𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: save file 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: chigasaki itaru/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.0k words

𝐚𝐧: itaru event? itaru fic! me loving fake dating + direct af titles? nothing changed~ sequencing of events might be weird, oops~

■■■■■■■■■■■□□□ NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 2 LOADED

Itaru’s not the least bit surprised at the sight of your wrinkled nose; neither is he shocked at the crease that formed between your brows nor the narrowing of your eyes. It must be a lot to take in, truly, but it had to be done.

“Chigasaki-kun,” you said, immediately trailing off as though you couldn’t convey the rest of your thoughts. That was fine, he thought, he can wait for his SP to fill up for 100 minutes so surely he can wait a couple more minutes for your response.

It’s a bit embarrassing, but maybe he needs to explain a bit more? He doesn’t mind too much, he was putting you on the spot, after all.

“I know it’s sudden,” Itaru said apologetically, “but I need you. You’re the only one who can—“

“Chigasaki-kun,” you repeated, sounding firmer this time around. At this point, Itaru noticed that your eyes never left the cafe table that separated the two of you, or rather what laid right smack in the centre of it. As soon as he slid it towards you, your eyes had gone from wide and surprised to squinting, almost as though it had offended you.

He was so focused on your line of sight that he failed to notice the sudden rush of red that raced across your cheeks. After a moment of silence, you let out a deep breath.

“Why the fuck did you just give me a replica of Byleth’s ring from Fire Emblem?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he dug through his pocket to bring out another ring, the exact same design, “I have another one.”

■■■■■■■■□□□□□□ NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 4 LOADED

“Hey, you made it! Thanks for coming, Chigasaki-sa—“ as he took in the sight of your locked hands, his co-worker let out a comically loud gasp, before trying and failing to cover it up with an awkward cough.

Itaru’s not stupid, at the very least he’s definitely not blind or deaf. Besides the gracious host, he can tell everyone is shocked and staring. They’re not even trying to be discrete about it anymore.

The people from his department had been gossiping for all of last week, creating speculations on his love life. The theories had a lot of exaggeration, a lot of denial.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, him reciprocating to reassure you.

Envy. Judgement.

Still, as he glanced at your face to check for any sign of discomfort only to find a poised smile, he was once again reminded by your strength and fortitude. He always admired that from you, and it was always so enthralling to see that side of you in action.

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“You’ll come, won’t you?” Itaru let out a quiet hum, yet refusing to answer immediately. Though he’d prefer to sit out of most gatherings, he particularly disliked going to non-essential get-togethers where the only real purpose was for his co-workers to eat and drink less restrained as they would with the higher-ups around.

Normally he would have some excuse conjured up, maybe even pretend to check his phone calendar and reject the invite apologetically. However, he had already skipped out three times, consecutively.

He already breached the three strikes and you’re out rule, and he’s not so sure risking going for four would be the smartest play for his reputation… but it probably wouldn’t hurt to save game and set aside his decision making for later.

“I’ll have to check my schedule. I just need to check with someone first,” he said, thinking back to the director and the rest of spring troupe. Would any of them give him an excuse he has yet to use?

“Ahh, feel free to bring your sister then!” the man paused, a small smirk appearing as his eyebrows waggled. “Unless you wanna bring, you know, a friend.”

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“You just don’t want to suffer alone,” you said, using your fork to prod at the meal he treated you to. Surely a one time gathering wasn’t all there is to it? Chigasaki Itaru, who always kept his life outside work private, suddenly wanting people to know he had a significant other?

Even though he didn’t?

“I’ve been to those— I know they suck,” you continued, your eyes darting away from the silver band to look at him properly, “will this even benefit you?”

“It’ll probably be annoying at first,” he replied, keeping eye contact to let you know how serious he was, “dealing with everyone’s questions, but they’ll eventually just accept it and stop bothering me.”

“What about me?”

“You work somewhere else— they won’t get the chance to bother you,” he pointed out, propping his elbow on the table as he rest his cheek on his knuckles. He continued seeing as you stayed silent, “plus, don’t you have anyone bothering you about your lack of a love life?”

In any other instance, you probably would have made a remark about him being too dedicated to his waifus to date as well, but you could only grimace as you recalled the upcoming family reunion. If your aunts teased you again for not being in a relationship… if your mom kept insisting that you were just hiding a secret boyfriend to delude herself…

“Fine, but in exchange—“

Itaru let out a chuckle, “so the matching rings aren’t enough? I’ll have you know, they’re Class A replicas.”

You snorted, “stop, stop! I’m being serious here!” you said, lightly kicking his feet from beneath the table. When he moved to retaliate, you hastily pushed your feet beneath your chair.

“Oi—“

“Just kidding, just kidding!“ he said, raising his hands up in surrender, “so, how can I help you?”

“… you up for a family reunion lunch on Sunday?”

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“So, like, do we need to prepare any— dude, dude, dude what the…? This part of your island is—” Even without heading over to where you were, he immediately knew which area you were cackling about.

“That’s the nature dump! Obviously not gonna terraform it yet?” Itaru replied, “I need a place to place all the normie flowers?”

He heard you scoff, your animal crossing character running up to his and hitting him with a net.

“Not that dump, dummy! Why are there toilets? The fences— toilets—“ you trailed off, unable to help yourself from bursting back into laughter. He instinctively laughed alongside you, knowing the monstrosity you were talking about.

“What kind of idiot makes a pathway out of toilets?”

“Hey! They create a cool effect when you walk past it!” he said, defending himself as your character hit his on the head again, “kind of like a clam opening up—“

“It’s a toilet! Not a clam!”

“Ya? Well I, Taruchi, am a resident of Urinetown, subtitle: actually an island and not a town,” Itaru said, almost as if he was proud of himself. “Before you come from me, Urinetown is a musical about capitalism. What’s your excuse, Pen Island?”

You gasped, obviously fake but dramatic enough to continue your banter “I’ll have you know, the actual name is Pen Isles? Also, you named our Stardew Valley farm—“ you paused, as though realising something, “wait, wasn’t I going to ask you something?”

“… pfft, GJ.”

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Itaru watched you introduce yourself to the rest of the room, your words polite but brimming with a confidence that was rare to see from his friend turned pretend s/o… or at least, that was what he initially thought.

Maybe this side of you just so happened to be particularly evident tonight, ringing throughout your voice and exhibited by your body language; that didn’t mean it was hidden before this instance.

There was a certain charm to you. Always been, but he never really acknowledged it. It was the little things, like how you were never hesitant about adding to his commentary when you two played Co-Op, or the playfulness you showed from time to time, or your genuineness around him— kind, but not taking bullshit from him or anyone.

If he was reading the room right, he can’t blame them for being even a little bit enthralled with you.

Even if it didn’t exactly sit right with him.

“I didn’t know Chigasaki-kun was dating someone!” a brave soul piped up from the sidelines, probably vocalising what everyone else was holding back from saying. Huh, wasn’t she one of the people who fiercely denied the rumour that he was in a relationship?

He doesn’t miss the way the corners of your lips quirked downwards for a split second, before lifting back upwards as though it never happened.

“Well, Itaru can be a bit private,” you replied, a muffled but silvery giggle escaping escaping your lips, “though I suppose I’m a bit of the same? Might be why we’re compatible.”

The woman who asked flushed slightly, and he was sure it wasn’t from any alcohol consumed. Even still, he found himself mirroring the pink hue.

Itaru?

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“Itaru,” he repeated to you for the third time tonight.

“Shoot, sorry,” you apologised, making your animal crossing character portray your shock at your slip-up again. Lmao, that was cute. “Damn… it’s weird going from Chigasaki-kun to just Itaru.”

It was his turn to hit your character with a net.

“Taruchi isn’t that far from Itaru, and you call me that all the time,” he stated, snorting at the little huff that was somehow still audible on call.

“Calling you your IGN is way different though?” you protested, “I can’t just call you that in public?”

“Shame it might expose me irl,” he sighed in disappointment, “it would have been cute to have my gamer s/o go ‘uwu Taruchi, fighto!’”

“Hahhh? Was it ever cute any time I called you Taruchi?” you asked, incredulousness present in your tone as you proceeded to mock him, “uwu, Taruchi, fighto!… there, was that cute at all?”

Itaru’s hand slid up to cover his face, his growing smile lifting his cheeks upward. You were clearly just joking around, but, well, “who knows? Maybe if you said ‘Taruchi-sama, ganbatte! I’d be able to—“

“Itaru!” you interrupted, immediately making the human equivalent noise of a keyboard smash, your little avatar running around in circles as he imagined what expression your face had right now.

Amidst his unrestrained laughter, he managed to squeeze in his next sentence in parts. “You— you finally said it! Otsu~”

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You had only called him ‘Itaru’ that one time, every other time being ‘Taruchi’ in private or ‘Itaru-kun’ in public. Still, hearing you say his name in person instead of on the phone made it feel like the first time again.

Luckily for him, he didn’t get that much time to dwell on it. Someone had lead you two to sit somewhere, surrounded by more of his polite and friendlier coworkers. Exchanging pleasantries with them was easy enough, as was answering questions about your relationship.

They’ve had multiple test runs after all. There was no way they were messing up any details, there was no room or possibility of either of them even fumbling.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“We’ve been friends since university,” you replied, something that was actually true, “it took years for me to even confess! I’m just glad Itaru accepted,” you gave him a purposeful glance, your bashful expression nearly enough to lead him to believe that you really did have a crush on him all this time.

“So you two have been together since—?”

“After my graduation,” Itaru supplied helpfully, “so it’s been a few years.”

“That’s so sweet! You know,” the woman in front of you lowered her voice, and you leaned in a little closer to listen in, “a lot of us were wondering if Chigasaki was dating anyone after we saw his ring. I thought it was just a fashion statement, but now I know it’s the real deal!”

She eyed the silver band on your ring finger, one that completely matched his.

“The rings are beautiful! The design is completely unique,” another person commented. Itaru felt your ring finger loop around his own, and the two of you turned to look at each other, sharing an amused grin.

If only they knew it was actually really well-done game merch.

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“What’s the point of the rings, though?” you asked, curious of just how far Itaru was taking this plan anyway.

“Do you not like it?” Itaru asked. Undeniably, he would be a bit upset if you ended up not liking the ring. After all, he bought it because—

“It’s lovely,” you said sincerely, carefully picking up the ring, “just surprised you already had rings on hand?”

He chuckled apprehensively, “I was going to save it as a friendship anniversary gift,” he explained, “I still feel a little guilty I didn’t get you anything last year.”

“You don’t have to get me anything anyway,” you said reassuringly, “but I appreciate it.”

He watched you slip the ring on your left ring finger, mouth opening up to apologise as he saw how loose the ring was on you, about to offer to have it resized immediately before you interrupted with quiet laughter.

“It’s a bit awkward right now, but I love it.”

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The get-together was going really well, surprisingly. He still would have preferred to be in the comfort of his room, but your presence just made everything so much easier. Even the questions people threw at the two of you weren’t so bothersome, dodging the more nosy people and sticking with anything general.

It had somehow become a game between the two of you. It was like an act off, almost, of who could give the more impressive or heart fluttering statement. Whether it was for the sake of your audience or to just affect each other remains unsaid.

“What do you like about Itaru?”

You looked away from him, closing your eyes as though you were thinking. To be fair, anything real personality or gaming related was out of bounds. Would you cater your response to his work persona, or—

“Everything!”

He nearly choked on air, trying to ignore the urge to clutch at his heart.

“That’s no fair, give something more specific!”

“I do like everything about Itaru, though?” you said with a cute pout, “but I guess I like his kindness the most. He’s always so thoughtful and considerate. He’s a busy man, but he always finds the time to help me out when I need it.”

Everyone cooed at the two of them, but he found it difficult to concentrate on that when he could only cling onto the words that started to sound more and more real as the night went by.

Out of context, everything you said could be interpreted as you just being friendly, but there was something in the way you pronounced his name and the expression on your face as you talked about him that was… different.

“What about you, Chigasaki?”

Escaping from his thoughts, his mind was filled to the brim with thoughts, but the words refused to spill from his lips.

Was there a way to describe how captivated he was at your little quirks, from the random filler noises you’d make on call or text when words failed you, to the literal quirk of the corner of your lips as you shifted expressions.

Was there a way express his appreciation for sticking by him for years, regardless of his hidden side? Was there a way to express his gratefulness for the laughter rendered and the tears wiped off by you; the smile blooming on his face as he imitated your own subconsciously?

This was the one thing he couldn’t have a manual or guide to study, so he could only hope that he went with the right dialogue choice.

“Everything too, actually.”

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The drive back home was quiet. He was exhausted, and he could tell you were too, but as he neared your street his driving got slower and slower, almost unmoving. From the corner of his eye, he saw you fiddle with your ring, twisting it around your fourth finger before pulling it off completely.

“Oh, we’re here,” you said out loud, yet you didn’t make a move to reattach your seatbelt.

“Itaru.”

Oh, wow. If hearing it a while ago trumped hearing it over call, then hearing you murmur his name in private, with just the two of you present, was…

“You look like you have something on your mind,” you continued, “all throughout the whole get-together, actually. Are you okay?”

When everything about this, about you simultaneously felt so new yet so familiar to him, how could he possibly convey his feelings? His admiration, no, his love for you?

He took the ring from your grasp, and before you could question what was up, he had grabbed your hand as well. With a serendipitous conscientiousness, he slid the ring back onto your ring finger, admiring your rosy glow that managed to be visible even with how dark out it was outside.

“The things you said a while ago,” he began, some hesitance still remaining as his thumb glided over your ring, “sounded really convincing.”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes. For a few seconds the both of you kept silent, until you finally broke it off, “maybe I wasn’t lying in the first place.”

He stiffened, pausing his previous ministrations as you continued, “… were you?”

Looking back at the past week, he almost laughed. Other than already being in a relationship, was anything between the two of you ever a lie to begin with?

“I wasn’t, either,” he replied. Taking in a deep breath, your gaze finally locked with his, he took the next step.

“If… if I promise to always be there for you, to hold your hand, help you fight your battles, and shield you from attacks… would you have me?”

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