#I've never written a college au before but it's fun

[remlionheart]

Anonymous asked:

PLZZZZ i beg you smoking sesh w megumi

♡‧₊˚ ask and you shall receive ✩࿐࿔ it's been a while since i've done a meg drabble and out of all of the different drugs we've explored on this page, this just made me realize that i've never written about weed lol so thank u for the suggestion this was really fun to write <333 home from college au. heavy we-shouldn't-be-doing-this trope. aged up characters. fem!reader x ((the peoples’ husband)), *⟡toxic!megumi*⟡ 3.2k words. porn with a plot. angst. degradation and praise. stoned sex. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ‎‎♡‧₊˚

❀ MDNI ❀

keep me h i g h ₊⊹

now playing: wet dreams ☾₊˚

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It'd been four months since the last time you'd seen Megumi.

Between college and the city lines that separated you, the two of you had cut almost every tie that once kept you connected. It was strange to think about sometimes - how quickly you'd gone from being the person he spent almost every weekend with to being nothing more than a fly on the wall of his social media, occasionally liking his posts but never getting anything back in return.

You tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't have been a surprise. Your relationship with him had never been easy. All throughout high-school you'd fallen into the same pattern of push and pull with him, his feelings everchanging and impossible to keep up with.

He'd kiss you in private and ignore you in public. Tell you that you were just friends and sneak through your window on the nights he didn't want to be alone. Run his hand along your back until you had fallen asleep and leave without so much as a "goodbye".

As painful as it was, a part of you had almost been relieved when things finally ended. No more pushing, no more pulling - just you and the new town you'd moved to. You and the new friends you'd made. You and your new fresh start. You still wanted the best for him despite everything, but you also wanted the best for yourself too. And deep down, you knew that didn't involve drunken hook-ups and empty words.

You hummed as you stepped out of the shower, the smell of coconut shampoo and lavender body wash dancing around you. It was unexpectedly comforting to be back home, even if it was only for a few days. Your roommates had tried to talk you out of coming back to Tokyo for fall break, but you knew you couldn't do that to your parents. You were certain there would be another time for going out and Halloween house parties.

Your room was still exactly the same as you'd left it - a mess of purple blankets on your bed and off white string-lights decorating the walls. Clothes that you'd left behind still hanging in your closet along with a stack of old journals. Tarot cards and candles and framed pictures of you and your friends sitting atop your dresser. It was nice to know that it still felt like your safe haven despite months of not seeing it.

You continued humming the same song that you'd started in the shower as you slipped on a baby-blue tank top, pairing it with your favorite silk pajama shorts. You lit a couple of candles and cracked the window open, letting crisp October air swirl through your room before turning off the overhead light and crawling into bed.

A cozy sense of nostalgia crept over you as you nestled into your bed and pulled out your phone.

Just like when you lived here, you were the only one still up after a movie had put both of your parents to sleep. You were mid-scroll, debating on what Youtube rabbit hole you wanted to go down for the night when a text popped up that immediately put you in an upright position again.

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You called him as soon as his last text came through, but he sent you straight to voicemail. "fushiguro," you texted frantically, "seriously", "you can't do this".

You were out of bed and on your feet before you even knew what you were doing, rushing to lock your door as you quickly realized that there was no such thing as reasoning with him.

Your life had changed in an assortment of ways since you'd left and judging by the way he texted you, he had to know that too. The last picture you posted before coming back was of you and a boy that you'd been seeing for the last month. It was mostly casual, neither one of you quite ready to put a label on what you were doing, but it still made your stomach flutter thinking about seeing Megumi when you were actively sleeping with someone else.

You dialed his number again, only to immediately hang up. Your heart suddenly lodged in your throat when you noticed that you could hear the call ringing from both inside and outside of your room.

You watched his slender fingers loop under the base of your already cracked window, stealthily pushing it up like he'd done so many times before. A sea of memories flooded over you as he pulled himself up, swiftly swooping both of his legs into your room before projecting the rest of his body forward and landing perfectly in place, hardly make a sound.

The low glow of your string-lights grazed his face, the prettiest shade of blue meeting your stare while the two of you took a moment to study the person in front of you.

"Your parents really need to invest in a better security system."

You hated the laugh that escaped you. The slight smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. The way your blood still danced in your veins at just the sight of him.

So much had changed in the last four months and yet, here you both were.

"Surely you didn't come all the way over here just to critique our home safety." You whispered.

"Seems like someone should." He countered, following behind you as you took a seat on the side of the bed.

He fished a joint and a lighter out of the front pocket of his jacket before tossing it onto the floor, leaving him in a black v-neck that accentuated his arms. He'd always been toned, but it was obvious that he'd been training a lot harder since you left - his shoulders and chest noticeably more defined than the last time you'd seen him. You'd never say it aloud given their relationship, but the older he got the more and more he seemed to resemble his dad.

"Bring your fan over here." He said, breaking your train of thought.

You nodded, staying light on your feet as you brought it over and aimed it at the window before reaching into the back of your dresser to grab an ashtray that you'd had stashed away since sophomore year. It was like no time had passed at all as you took a seat next to him again, setting the ashtray on your nightstand while he twirled the joint between his fingers.

You weren't sure why, but there was something about the way he brought it to his lips and flicked his lighter that created a dull ache at your center. Everything about him was so pretty and so nonchalant, effortlessly detached and infuriatingly nice to look at.

"Does your new boyfriend smoke?"

Your eyes instantly snapped to his, watching a plume of smoke trail felicitously from his mouth as he looked back at you. "Doesn't really look like the type who would." He added with a slight raise of his brow.

You didn't like anything about the question - from that fact that he had the audacity to ask it to his lethargic tone to the emphasis on the word "new", as if he was trying to imply that you'd been dating someone before you left.

You clicked your tongue to your cheek, letting out a huff as you snatched the joint from his lips. "You're insufferable." You repeated, drawing in a deep inhale.

The truth was, the boy you'd been seeing didn't smoke pot and you hadn't either since you'd started college, but there was no way you were admitting that to him. You took another hit, keeping your attention fixated on the window as your fan circulated the smoke out and pushed it into the night sky.

"I'll take that as a no." He whispered, his leg lightly nudging yours as he leaned over and plucked the joint from your fingers this time.

"Why are you here?" You finally asked, a sharp edge growing in your voice. "You were the one that quit talking to me, you know that right? You didn't even bother saying goodbye and then you just show up unannounced like nothing happened and ask me about my life and who I'm seeing and..." The weed was starting to hit you, your body suddenly heavy and your mind dizzy with a confusing mix of intoxication and irritation. "I just... Why? I mean, what's the point of any of this?"

A rare somber expression took over, softening his usual concrete features as he ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I don't know..." His gaze was glossy, his mind equally as hazy as yours. "I didn't know what to say when you left so I didn't say anything. It seemed easier that way, for both of us."

"But it wasn't –"

"I know." His demeanor was unexpectedly gentle despite how firm his tone was. "I'm sorry."

The room felt like it was spinning, his apology making something inside you ache. It was the first time in the three years you'd known him that he'd ever said it. That he'd ever actually admitted or acknowledged to hurting your feelings and even if the bar was in literal hell, it still felt good to hear those words finally leave his mouth.

"What else?" You pressed.

He took a moment to look you over, his eyes tentatively roaming along your face. “I missed you." He said honestly.

You'd never met anyone besides him who was capable of sounding so sincere and so indifferent at the same time.

"Missed your stupid laugh. Missed the way you'd always call me when you were drunk." He leaned in closer, his hand carefully taking the joint from yours as he set it on the ashtray and rested his palm on the back of your neck.

"Missed being in your room like this..." His voice dropped down to a low whisper, fanning lecherously across your skin. “Missed the feeling of you wrapped around me…”

“Megumi… we can’t…”

But you still let him close the already small gap between you anyway, his lips ghosting yours as you breathed him in. The familiar scent of false promises and expensive cologne flooding your senses.

"I know you.” He said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You wouldn’t have texted me back if you didn’t want to.”

"I –" His words were going straight to your center, the dull ache from earlier blossoming into an unignorable throb as his hand gradually trailed up your thigh. "I didn't –"

"Wouldn’t have posted that you were back in town if you didn’t want me to know…" His fingers were toying with the fabric of your shorts, methodically pushing them to the side. "Wouldn’t have left your window open if you wanted to be alone…”

Your ability to hold yourself together was threatening to buckle at any moment between the feeling of his grip tangling into your hair and his lips continuing to tortuously graze yours.

“And you definitely wouldn’t be this fucking wet if you really didn’t want me here…”

Your heart was slamming into your chest so hard you were almost afraid he'd hear it.

He kept his eyes locked with yours, watching the last bit of composure you had vanish entirely as he slipped past the thin barrier of your underwear and gained access to your weakest point.

Your movements betrayed your sentiment, a helpless whimper escaping you while your hips gravitated up towards his hand, practically begging for more.

"Look at you," he breathed, his middle finger drawing soft, heavenly circles between your thighs. "All that time without seeing each other and you still fall apart for me so easily. Why is that?"

Another heady little noise entered into the small space between you as you fought to keep your moans from getting any louder. You hadn't been this high in months. Your insides felt like they were on fire as he dipped down, just barely prodding at your entrance. But the more you tried to get from him, the more he pulled away. Unwilling to comply with your body's demands until you answered his question.

"Tell me." It was venom mixed with honey. Torment mixed with pleasure. He had you right where he wanted you - desperate and pining. Forced to give him what he wanted in exchange for what you needed. "Let me hear you fucking say it."

You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, doing everything you could not to whine when the tip of his finger gently slid into you and then stopped without warning - gracing you with just enough to finally bring you to your breaking point.

"I wanted to see you." you said breathlessly, your pupils widening as you felt him push slightly deeper.

"What else?" He taunted, using your words against you.

"I wanted you – here." You yelped, your voice splitting as he sank in further.

You were delirious, ready to actually plead if that's what it took to get him to cave. "I want – fuck, Megumi, please just –"

He was half-way in, teetering on the verge of letting you have it as long as you could get the next sentence out.

"Say it."

"I want you inside me." It poured out so fast, it was barely even coherent. "I want you inside of m...e – so fu–cking bad, please."

Your chest pressed against his in an urgent daze, pulling him closer while his lips met yours - neither one of you able to withstand the tension for a second longer. His movements matched your fervency as he added another finger, finally letting your walls swallow him.

He deepened the kiss, trying his best to keep you quiet while your hips rocked rhythmically against him.

"So pretty and pitiful" he whispered, lightly nipping at your collarbone. "You're already almost there. You sure you can handle me being inside you?"

You nodded hopelessly back at him.

"I can... take – it." You struggled, feeling him smirk into your neck as his thumb brushed against your clit, drawing out even poutier noises from you. "Promise."

"Prove it."

His tongue swirled lavishly into the softness of your clavicle, leaving little bruises in the shape of his mouth while his fingers continued to plunge innnn and out of you at the same heavenly pace.

"There you go." He breathed, promptly returning his lips back to yours as he felt your thighs begin to shake. "Just like that, don't fucking stop."

You hated how well he knew you. Hated how easily he was able make you clench and spasm around him. You were soaking his hand, burying your face into his shoulder to stop yourself from waking up the entire house.

"Oh, my fucking... god, Megumi –" Your nails dug into his back, your body nearly vibrating with pleasure as you grinded against him.

“It's okay, I've got you." He whispered, letting you cling onto him as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. You'd always been submissive, but he wasn't sure that he'd ever seen you quite this needy before.

He slowly pulled out of you, guiding you down to the bed before standing up to grab the joint out of the ashtray, lighting it one last time.

He leaned down, locking eyes with you while gently cupping your face. His lips just barely touching yours so that you were forced to share the same breath, allowing you to inhale the smoke he exhaled as he helped you out of your shorts.

"Such a good girl."

Your back arched, immediately wanting him back where he was as he got to his feet and set the spliff on your nightstand. You watched him intently, your core throbbing while he began to unbutton his pants. You were blissfully high, your mind swirling with sleepy infatuation and pent-up lust.

He almost seeming amused, noticing how entranced you were as his stripped out of his boxers. Tauntingly stroking himself while he used his free hand to push your both of your thighs onto the mattress so that you were on your back facing him with your legs folded to the side. You couldn’t help but smile as he rubbed his tip between your folds, letting out a low groan as he wetted himself with your slick.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you feel.”

Your hand tangled into the sheets, your body reeling from the way his tip was already stretching you.

"You gotta stay quiet for me." He reminded you, trying to heed his own advice as he slid in slightly further. “Pretty sure your dad will actually kill me if he catches me here again."

"So you want me to scream?" You smirked, but your sarcasm was quickly stolen from you.

He cocked an eyebrow at you before leaning back down, his voice becoming salacious static against your ear. "Don't make threats you can't keep."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your cunt pulsating as he put a hand over your mouth and thrusted into you.

He returned your smirk. Watching your pupils double in size as he nipped at your neck, muffling your moans with his palm.

"It's not easy for me either." He whispered - one hand still on your mouth, the other reaching for your center. "Being this deep in you and not being able to hear you say my name."

Your knuckles were almost white from how hard you were gripping the bed, your mind and body both completely overwhelmed by fucked-out euphoria.

"To have you wrapped this nice and tight around my cock without getting to hear all the cute little noises you make for me." He slammed into you, his rhythm blissfully unforgiving.

"You think that's what I want?"

You shook your head, his hand catching more carnal whimpers that were trying so hard to spill out of you as your hips bucked up against his.

The feeling of him playing with your clit while having you folded like this was almost too much to handle. You were lost - floating somewhere above cloud 9 with his thrusts only ascending you higher.

"What do you think I want to hear, baby? Hm?" His tone was condescendingly sweet. Mocking in a way that made your heart stutter and your walls contract. "Tell me."

He loosened his grasp on you, nearly bottoming out as his name echoed uncontrollably across the room. "Megumi ~” You whined again, completely forgetting your surroundings. "Megumi, fuck, you're gonna make me –"

Your climax laced through his fingers as his hand swiftly flew back over your mouth. His arms keeping you locked in place while your body writhed beneath his.

“There it is”, He praised, his tip kissing your cervix at just the right angle. “There’s my fucking – girl.” His head lolled back, his release following right behind yours.

He buried his head into your shoulder this time, letting out the most gorgeous, guttural sounds you'd ever heard as he filled you - not stopping until he could see his cum dripping out of you.

He pulled out carefully, taking a moment to admire his work while a mixture of fluids leaked onto your comforter.

“Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you. "Do me a favor when you get back."

You were still catching your breath, dizzy from overstimulation as you met his gaze. "What do you need?” You panted.

"Tell your new boyfriend I said 'thanks'."

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching a stupid smirk cut across his face while he slid his pants back on. “If he would've known how to fuck you right, I might not have gotten the chance to see you."

"You're insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

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[imaginesmai]

Your name on my body - modern!Azriel

Beautiful and amazing @thehighladywrites posted this INCREDIBLE idea and I had to try it. I've never written a modern!acotar AU, a college!acotar AU or nerdy-tattooed!Azriel. I haven't written bimbo!reader, and since English is not my first language, I don't know if I have done it right. I enjoyed this sooooo much, let me know if you want more or have some requests!

Extra points for whoever gets the crescent city saga reference!

Plot: nerd-tattooed!Azriel gets a tattoo with your name and it leads to smutty time.

Warnings: porn and porn and Azriel being freaky and porn with just an inch of plot. This is dirty.

The door of the apartment closed behind your back and you were met with an empty living room. You usually didn’t come in unannounced, because Azriel’s shared apartment always had some type of surprise. But your boyfriend had asked you to do so, and to use the spare key he had given you a while ago.

Azriel had been studying for his finals for weeks, and had finally finished them. Instead of going out to celebrate like you had, he had stayed in with his friends. You hadn’t seen each other too much, apart from the long hours in the library where he tried to help you with your exams – and you didn’t count those hours, since you did nothing more than stare at him.

The apartment, as expected, was trashed. There were beer bottles in the ground, suspicious stains in the carpet and a very naked Cassian sleeping in the couch. You had just barely gotten out of your hangover, and Azriel’s roommate was about to start his.

Through all the chaos, you were certain none of it belonged to Azriel. He liked to party, sure, but not hard and long as you. He preferred to stay quiet and observe, with a drink that lasted him the whole night. You were trying to remember if the heel that poked through the back of the couch was from your friend when you heard him coming.

“This way, princess”

His deep, morning voice made you turn around and stumble to his presence. Like a serpent caught in a sweet melody, you were always pulled towards him. Azriel was wearing a grey t-shirt and black shorts, that fit him like a globe. Dark glasses and disheveled hair. And lots of tattoos that you had traced previously with your fingers and tongue.

“Hey, handsome” you greeted him, not hiding your bright smile. “Got your text this morning. What were you doing up so early?”

“Hit the gym before breakfast. Not all of us are hangover”

“Tell that to the other half of the campus or your roommates. Rhysand spent the night with Feyre in the rooftop”

Your roommate hadn’t appeared last night, and you had found a very cryptic text that morning that led you to the rooftop – where both her and Rhysand were fast asleep with the bottle still uncorked.

As soon as you were within reach, Azriel pulled you closer by your waist and smashed his lips against yours. He tasted like coffee and mint, and erased any trace of drunkenness from last night. You tangled your manicured fingers between his locks, shamefully scratching the nape of his neck with your long nails.

They differed from Azriel’s bitten ones. Your short dress from his baggy clothes, and your dyed hair from his untamed ones. While you liked to shine in the public, to dress up and party, Azriel preferred to be quiet, thrift clothes and study. To the campus, you were the bimbo, and he was the nerd.

But you were his bimbo and he was your nerd.

“How was the party?” Azriel asked between kisses, his lips not staying for too long on yours.

“Good. Missed you” you almost whined when he pulled back too soon, and he chuckled.

“Missed you too. Did you have fun?”

You hummed as his hands lowered until they cupped the edge of your ass. The dress was short enough he could pull it up until anyone could see your panties, but neither of you cared. He had to lean down to do so, and you took advantage to deepen the kiss.

On the outside, Azriel might have looked like the shy, nerdy student, but he was freaky. You had been surprised when a hook-up with your assigned tutor turned out in the best night of your life, and there was nothing that could unhook you from him.

His hands were big enough to squeeze most of your ass, kneading it just like you loved it. Roughly, you were pushed into his body. Azriel was always semi-hard when you came to view, and you always took care of choosing the shortest and most provocative dress in his presence.

Few things were better than a good night out and a good morning fucking.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Can I take you to my room?”

“You don’t have to ask”

But he did, breaking away your heated kiss. Azriel pushed the bridge of his glasses up and gave you a crooked smile, offering you his hand. You gladly took it and let him guide you to his room. The farthest, the darkest, but also the neatest. Azriel spent a good part of his time in there, and you loved it. He had incorporated you slowly in it, from the spare clothes in his closet for you to the stupid crafts you did together when you were bored.

“And what did you do last night? Started studying for the next semester?” you teased him, and he gave you a sideway look.

“I could, but I was busy with Mor”

“What were you doing with Mor?”

Your frown was instant, as the jealousy that rose to your chest. Morrighan was his friend, and you respected that, but you knew he had liked her in the past. That the woman was gorgeous, brilliant and smart in ways you didn’t complement Azriel. You liked her enough to be kind and maybe envious, but the notice of her with Azriel left you with a sour taste in the mouth.

Azriel chuckled at the edge of your tone and didn’t answer. If anyone had reasons to be jealous, was him, yet he never was. You had quite the reputation in college, and dressed to impress. More than once, you had been walking with Azriel and received not so subtle glances. You had even gotten the barista’s number when you asked for his order. And through all of that, Azriel had just shrugged and told you he trusted you.

So, for his sake, you tried to do the same.

During the longest seconds in your life, you were quiet. You sat on his bed and crossed your arms across your chest. Azriel closed the door behind him, just as you heard the first groan from his roommate, and turned around so he could face you.

The height difference, the size difference, warmed you in every place of your body. Azriel loved the gym just as he loved his books, and there was not a part of his body that he didn’t work. You liked the difference, liked his big form and how it towered over you even standing. As you sat in silence, you bit the inside of your cheek to control yourself.

“We went to the tattoo parlor, since she knows the owner. I wanted something done” he watched your frown with diversion, and continued when you said nothing. “So, you can be jealous of her, who has a girlfriend now, but I’m supposed to be fine with guys drooling over you last night?”

“I didn’t look at them”

“I didn’t look at her” he answered back, and took off his tee.

The sleeveless piece of cloth didn’t hide much, but you still lost your breath when it hit the ground. His muscled, tattooed chest came to view, and that was enough to make you get up. It wasn’t Mor’s lips that had left marks two nights ago on his left shoulder, or who had bitten his pierced nipple until he had come into his pants in the library’s bathroom.

It was you who had caused the tent in his pant, that caused his eyes to darken when you stepped closer. You placed your hand over his right thigh, the muscles tightening underneath. His boner hit your stomach and you pushed yourself against it, opening your mouth to apologize, or maybe to suck the life out of him.

“Don’t you want to know what I got?” he asked, sounding on edge.

“I don’t understand half of your tattoos. Whatever you got is hot and perfect, just like you”

“Look down, princess” Azriel groaned when your nail touched his dick.

“On my knees?”

You were ready to do so, or let him bend you over the table. He could do with your body as he pleased, but you were caught off guard when you noticed the reddish, new ink wrapped in invisible paper. It looked delicate against the rest of his tattoos, new and beautiful. Right between his hips, where the dark trail of dark hair had just been removed, was a new tattoo.

In his v-line, that you licked and adored and stared at so much. With the nickname he had gifted you since he met you and the stupid, childless heart you drew on every notebook of his.

Princess ♡

Your breath came out shaky as you traced the letters with your finger. If it wasn’t for the make-up, you had so carefully put on that morning with a killing headache, you would have burst into tears. His own hand covered yours and helped you trace the missing letters, and the heart.

It should have been distracting to look at it while his dick demanded your attention inches lower, but you couldn’t look away. Not when you felt a hard clench on your heart that left you lightheaded.

“Do you like it?” it was a whisper in the dark room, a spark of doubt that made you look up.

How could you not like it, not like anything about such a perfect man? You nodded enthusiastically, your other hand searching blindly for his.

“Why did you get that?”

“Because I love you, and I want to carry you with me always” Azriel’s eyes were kind, and soft, and loving – and they were making you dizzy with desire.

“Did it hurt too much?” you asked, looking down again at the tattoo. You, who had smooth and unmarked skin, couldn’t phantom the pain of a nursing needle to draw blood. “It must have”

“Worth every second. Lay in bed, princess. I need to be between your legs”

He didn’t let you take the initiative and threw you on his bed with a quick move. Azriel towered over you for a second before kneeling between your already open, wide legs, and leaving his glasses on the. He smirked with no doubts as he pulled the hem of your dress over your panties. His fingers were rough, pressing hard enough to leave red marks on its way.

You only bit your lower lip when he rose your dress to your waist and sneaked his hand beneath, the edge of his fingers pressing over your breasts.

With the idea of that outcome, you hadn’t bothered with a bra, and his eyes darkened even more at the discovery. You watched his throat work around the new information as he rose his body higher, now covering your breasts with his hands. He squeezed them, keeping them trapped in his palms as he lowered where you needed him.

“I’m gonna erase all those looks from last night” he promised, hands retreating following your curved. “Whose got you this wet, hm?”

“Azzie, don’t be mean”

Azriel was in your hands the moment his nickname fell from your lips, and at your mercy when you used that whiney, flirty tone. He didn’t even bother taking off your panties – he tore them off. Like a sheet of paper, like a piece of cake. You moaned his name, and it came out like a yelp when he dug in without reservations.

His tongue was feral as he licked a long stripe between your entrance to your clit. He pressed it against your clit and actually trapped it between his teeth for a moment. The barrier between pain and pleasure was hard to tell when he snuck his hands under your ass and lifted you a few inches for him to devour.

“Love this so much” you spoke with a content smile, as he massaged your ass in silent appreciation. “Love you”

One of your hands reached to his hair, pushing his face closer to your center. He agreed and pushed one finger inside you. Your mind emptied when he began pumping it in and out, curling it just in the right spot before pulling out and replacing it with his tongue.

Cassian pounded on the wall and yelled at you to be quiet, and Azriel pounded back harder as a fuck you response. You didn’t have it in you to care about him as Azriel pulled you closer by the ass, your legs laying boneless against his wide back.

His nose brushed your clit, up and down, and you weren’t sure he could breathe from how passionate and hard he was eating you out. You called his name wordlessly, your mouth emitting only broken noises.

“So good for me, princess. My beautiful princess” his voice was guttural, so primal it made you lock his head between your legs. “Give me one, come on. Give me the first one so I can wreck you from behind”

“That sounds clinically dangerous!”

Azriel growled against your clit and parted your folds with his chin. He ran his lips through all of them, and by the time he pushed his finger back in, you were cumming on his face and screaming so loud his name you could have woken up the rest of the campus. He caressed your lower regions as you came down from your high, accompanying your orgasm with lazy, long stripes through your folds.

When Azriel came back up, his chin and mouth bright from your juices and his hair sticking in every direction, you were already ready for round two. He didn’t need to be told, and he rose leaving a trail of bites up your body.

He briefly stopped to leave two twin marks between your breasts, so round and perfect and purple you were squirming under him again.

“Azzie” it had been the only word you were capable of saying, and your mind cleared down for a second

“Was that good? Worthy princess treatment after a night out?” Azriel asked, leaving wet kisses on your neck.

“Perfect”

You hugged his back as he pulled himself above you, and your nails left angry, red marks across his lower waist. You pulled the band of his sport shorts and underwear down, and squeezed his hard ass just like he had been doing to yours. His dick sprung free with little effort, and he rubbed himself against your side as you caught your breath.

It wasn’t a one-time thing with Azriel, and you heard Cassian muttering about calling 911 before turning on the music. It took Azriel at least three of your orgasm to be content, and he could cum another three before he let you go. He always stopped, for your sake, when your legs couldn’t hold you up anymore and you had tears ruining your perfect make-up.

Few things turned him more on than being the cause of that ruined make-up.

Before he could empty your mind again, you quickly brought up the only coherent thought that kept pounding your head.

“I want your name too. On me”

“A tattoo?” he raised a brow.

Azriel didn’t stop rubbing himself slowly but tightly against your thigh. His hand was over your sore cunt, in a possessive manor he only showed inside the bedroom. At your petition, he pressed his finger tighter.

“Here. Between my breasts, with your name” you quickly explained. “I want Azzie between my breasts, so each time someone looks at me, he knows these are yours”

“You are mine”

None of your relationships had lasted as long or had been as deep. You were the type of girl who would have his ex-name tattooed, but truth was you were wary of tattoos, and Azriel knew that. He had tried to get you into a simple one, something he could draw for you and hold your hand through it.

His body was a map of ink and drawings, some of them goofy and some of them deep. He liked your innocent, smooth skin, but he found himself breathing harder at the thought of his name on your chest. Thinking of how many kisses, how many marks he would leave there every given moment.

Azriel recalled not a month ago pulling down your cleavage between classes to kiss your nipples sore, the hand he always sneaked to unclasp your bra and touch you beneath the lace. His name, the nickname that brought him to his knees, decorating that skin.

“Are you sure?” he didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he was ready to tattoo you himself right then and there. With Cassian playing loud classical music in the next room.

“And a crown drawn by you on the top” you rose a teasing eyebrow at his lack of movement, given the discussion for finished. “Are you going to wreck me from behind or do I have to ask Cassian for help?”

Azriel broke into a loud laugh before smacking your cunt loudly, then manhandling you around. With his left arm holding you by your waist, he pressed himself against your back. His dick brushed all the right spots between your bodies, but your hands were trapped under you and you couldn’t touch him.

Complaining would only make him take out those beautiful handcuffs you knew he owned so you only bit your lip and whined like the good girl you were for him.

“I’m gonna tattoo my name between your breasts, if that’s what you want” he whispered against your ear, his other hand appearing around your throat. “I love you so much, princess. So fucking much”

Azriel squeezed your throat at the same time he entered you with a rough, only thrust. It avoided the moan that died in your chest, that had you rolling back your eyes in pleasure. It didn’t stop Azriel from moaning your name out loud, loud enough for Cassian to turn up the stupid music.

The headboard banged against the wall and his glasses fell to the ground, as he left you no room to breathe, to recover. Maybe he had managed to shut you down, but he was doing nothing about his own sounds. You were vaguely aware of Cassian slamming the door of the apartment after screaming some profanities, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

Not when Azriel seemed to be trying to tattoo his name deep into your body and soul.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes

[samthehyena]

sam's togachako fic rec masterlist

So the tumblr thread with togachako recs from the other day inspired me to make this post that’s supposed to be a masterlist of my togachako recs. I’m sure I’ve forgotten to add some of the recs I’ve included in my ao3 author’s notes before LMAO. Also, I’m planning to update this list with any new togachako recs I want to add in the future. For now I'm only including completed fics.

1K-5K

"The first one to stay" by iceandfire13 | G | 1.8K | Hurt/Comfort | Greek Mythology Fusion | Grief/Mourning

A lovely fic with lyrical prose in which Himiko is Medusa and Ochako is her blind GF. It explores Himiko's profound grief over Jin and her relief of finally having human connection be attainable again.

"An Easier World" by JajaLala | T | 3.6K | Reincarnation | Childhood Friends | Open Ending

A nice little fic from arguably one of the best femslash writers in that fandom. It checks off all the boxes for everything I could want out of a Togachako fic: a theme of acceptance, exploring what could have been in another life and SO MANY cute moments. Also, the ambiguous ending just feels so right.

"Claret" by NefarioussNess | M | 1.8K | Post-Canon | Redemption | Biting

A heartfelt bite-sized read that features Himiko and Ochako navigating life together and quirk prejudices in the aftermath of the war. It's so soft with references to spicy moments sprinkled in. (Who doesn't love Togachako and THE BITING?) It's just so sweet to see Himiko trying to grow beyond her past and having Ochako to rely on.

"Love Me As You" by Ezray | E | 3K | Quirk Use During Sex | Body Worship | Soft

One of my fav Togachako smut one shots. It's so sweet and cute and I want to craddle it in my arms. I love how the story shows Himiko helping Ochako work through self-esteem issues - also, what's not to love about technically self-cest.

"Thunderstorm Confessions" by GanglyLimbs | E | 1.3K | College AU | Fluff and Smut | Enemies to Lovers Vibes

The university setting suits Togachako's dynamic really well. I love Himiko's pastel goth aesthetic and Ochako's initial animosity toward her strange lab partner before growing enamored.

"all this love (i've gotta keep to myself)" by a_sentimental_man | G | 2.4K | Soulmates AU | Fluff and Angst | Happy Ending

I really enjoyed this soulmates AU one-shot since it tied in so well with how much Togachako loves each other despite the odds seemingly being against them. This story really is a testament to how there is no universe in which Ochako could possibly hate Himiko.

“Just a date” by  LifeofMystery | G | 2.7K | Matchmaking | Humor | Pining

A super cute one-shot with a unique matchmaking setup! I was especially fond of the way Ochako’s gay panic was written and Himiko’s dialogue was incredibly fun to read. The parallels drawn between Himiko and Ochako in the fic are super compelling!

“never not for you”  by dorothycanfly | T | 1.4K | Fluff | Love Confessions | Established Relationship

This is fluffy togachako established relationship oneshot has some gorgeous poetic prose that makes for an evocative read! It also just was such a soft vibe to it that makes this fic feel like a warm hug every time I read it.

“When she loved me” by Lady_AdoreCanyon |T |  1.6K | Childhood Friends | Songfics | Homophobia

I love this songfic so much!!! It utilizes a vignette style to hit some really poignant notes by giving glimpses it Himiko and Ochako’s past as childhood friends which is later contrasted by their reunion in the present day. The fic packs a punch with some excellent hurt/comfort.

“Right Where You Left Me” by touyastreasure | T| 3.7K | Post-Canon | Hurt/Comfort | Grief

This is some absolutely gut-wrenching hurt/comfort with parallels between togachako and dabihawks. I think it's one of the best togachako fics I've read in a while.

“Make-believe” by iceandfire13 | T | 1.7K | Actor AU | Sexuality Crisis | First Kiss

Actor AU togachako? YES PLEASE! The first fic I read in this fandom was an actor AU so I’ve always had a soft spot for this particular niche. Anyways, there’s a lot of cute moments in this and the pining is very strong in the best way possible. Also, the confession scene at the end is totally cute. There’s also some fun nods to krbk and excellent dialogue between Ochako and Katsuki.

“Double Entendre” by Its_Kingston | T | 2.6K | Chatfic | Humor | Miscommunication

I feel like I happen to be the EXACT target audience for this delightful cracky fic. It’s a humorous togachako chatfic (which is my jam) with some cheeky innuendo as well as some excellent and immersive HTML formatting. I also love how this fic provides both Ochako and Himiko’s POV to get the full picture :)

5K-15K

“Pleasing Our Infernal Princess” by intheeveningsunrise | 8.5K | Isekai | Scum Villain Fusion | Useless Lesbians

There is some excellent Ochako introspection and I like how genre-savvy this fic is. Himiko and Ochako’s relationship is also explored in a very fun way as Ochako tries to escape her predestined fate and Himiko manages to see Ochako for who she is at heart. Also, there’s some excellent platonic scenes between Ochako and Bakugo. As someone who hasn’t read scum villain I can vouch that this fic is an excellent read even if you aren’t familiar with SVSSS. In general, I highly recommend giving this a read if you love isekai/transmigration stories and femslash. There is also an incredibly fun twist at the end of this fic :)

"Keep Me Your Secret" by aphrodaisyacs | T | 11.5K | Role Reversal | Traitor Uraraka Ochako | Secret Relationship

An absolutely stellar role reversal fic that stays true to Ochako's and Himiko's characterizations as their lives take a very different trajectory. Ochako's desperation as she tries to fight against the metaphorical shackles tying her down and the pressure the HPSC puts on Himiko makes this story so engaging. This fic was the VERY FIRST togachako fic I ever read and to this day it holds up as one of my all-time favorites!!!!

“On Monsters and Lesbians and the Inevitable Overlap Between the Two” by mor | E | 11.1K |Modern-Day Setting | Keres!Toga | Roommates

While I have not read this fic yet (it’s been on my TBR for ages), my main enabler for all things femslash has been singing this fic’s highest praises. According to her, this is an excellent fic to read to get into the togachako ship since it hits many key tropes for the ships (e.g. Ochako’s sapphic internal panic) and strikes the perfect balance between being a meaty enough fic to thoroughly explore the ship while still remaining a one-shot. Also this fic has Greek mythology elements :3

“these selfish (butterf)lies” by sabertoothhousecat | G | 12K | Future Fic | Hurt/Comfort | Secrets

Lowkey this might be one of the best togachako fics I’ve ever read and it still holds up really well with the current togachako landscape despite being written before the togachako manga chapters were dropped. It has an excellent characterization of Himiko and delves into the anxieties of starting over in a poignant way. Also the identity shenanigans and the way guilt festers as Himiko dances around the truth is very compelling. There are also moments of some super cute banter. And this fic is meaty enough to really get a taste of what makes togachako such a fun ship but is short enough to read in one sitting. An excellent first togachako fic to read if you want to get into the ship.

Greater than 15K

"Kiss Her Knife's Edge" by JajaLala | E | 69.6K | Future Fic | Explicit Sexual Content | Past Relationships

This is THE Togachako fic - if you haven't heard of it already, believe me if you mention this fic in a group of togachako enthusiasts, people will start gushing about it immediately. The villain/hero dynamic is so fun in this with a lot of excellent toxic Yuri tension - and OMG Ochako's characterization is great in this (there is this one flashback scene from her childhood that still lives rent-free in my mind XD). And there are so many good interpretations like Ochako's past relationships with Izuku and Tsu that just HIT. Also, the smut is EVERYTHING - I really want to go into details but I'll hold back because it's so much more fun if it's a surprise.

“Revolutionary Girl Ochako” by JajaLala | 77.2K | T | Crossover | Character Studies | Bittersweet Ending

There are a million things I could say about this fic but I will try to keep it brief. This is a Revolutionary Girl Utena and MHA crossover that expertly explores themes of repression, gender, storytelling and what it means to be a hero. Taking advantage of MHA’s large cast, this fic not only does a fantastic job with togachako’s characterization but also does a great job of getting to the core of the side character’s motives and perception of the world. Also, the fic ticks so many quintessential togachako boxes (everything from Himiko being repressed to Ochako’s resilience and unconditional care for Himiko). AND THE FORMATTING OMG!!!!! This fic takes workskin shenanigans to the next level!!! I’m still thinking about the stroke of coding genius in the final chapter. Like y’all would not believe the amount of brainrot this fic induced. Anyways, as someone who has not watched Utena yet I can vouch that this fic reads well regardless of whether you have watched RGU or not :3

Some of my stuff

Here are some togachako fics I’ve worked on that I like best and their descriptions.

“(Online Love)” by samthehyena | T | 6.2K | Chatfic | Misunderstandings | Bittersweet Ending

Summary: The only reason Ochako signed up for a dating app was because Mina convinced her that making fun of people's profiles would be a fun way to pass the time. But soon enough she finds herself connecting with a girl under the pseudonym "Carmilla". Still, one looming question stops Ochako from labeling Carmilla as more than a friend: Who exactly is she in real life?

“your beauty never ever scared me” by iceandfire13 and samthehyena  | T | 10.6K | Time Loop | Angst With a Happy Ending | Middle School Toga Himiko

Summary: After fighting Himiko and bleeding out, Ochako finds herself reliving the same day of middle school over and over again. And she can’t quite piece together why that one ordinary day is worth repeating at all. Except for Himiko that day is anything but random – after all, it was the day she stabbed her middle school classmate as her mask finally slipped.

Is Himiko’s future really set in stone? Will Ochako be able to break the loop?

Only time will tell.

“Knee Deep In the Passenger Seat” by samthehyena | E | 19.1K | Identity Shenanigans | Future Fic | Angst

Summary: Years after the war, Ochako is desperately trying to move on from her grief for Toga with her new situationship. But it's so hard to keep things casual when Ochako's fling reminds her of Himiko in so many ways.

“Dear Google, is my girlfriend a vampire” by samthehyena | T | 75.K | Incomplete/ Ongoing | Chatfic | Misunderstandings | Crack Treated Seriously

Summary: Ochako's friends are suspicious of her online girlfriend. For all they know Himiko could be a villain, a serial killer or even a vampire.

Author’s Commentary: I guess I would consider this fic something akin to my magnum opus lol. There’s a lot of silliness and subplots with a strong focus on LOV Found Family and Married Dabihawks in addition to the Togachako. A lot happens. Bakugo gets character development, Shouto is convinced Ochako’s girlfriend is a vampire from Twilight, Mineta gets a mini redemption arc and Dabi decides that maybe patricide isn’t for him.  

[anistarrose]

taz balance one-shot recs!

I've been meaning to make this post for a while now, so here we are! The majority of these are from the past three years or so, because I love a fandom classic as much as anyone, but I particularly want to shine a light on some gems from after the peak of traffic in the fandom tags! There are of course also exceptions that are older, though.

Also, April 19th-21st are Just Leave a Comment Fest, so please show these authors some love!! They're all so deserving!

a recipe for home by @journalofimprobablethings: Taako tries to cook for the first time since Glamour Springs. When things go awry, Lucretia is there to lend a hand.

Gen (Taako & Lucretia), 3.5k. Early B.O.B. era hurt/comfort centered around cooking, with a delicious dollop of sentimentality and dramatic irony on top.

Seven Times Magnus Burnsides Gave Someone A Hug + One Time He Received One by @barry-j-blupjeans: Magnus wasn't really any good at— at words. He was more of an action man. Or, y'know, a "I'll take this hit so you don't have to" man. Talking to someone about their feelings was all kinds of weird, so usually he just left the space for someone else to talk. And, well... Magnus wasn't good at words. But there's a few different ways to get his support across.

Mostly gen with some Magnulia, 8.6k. You've all heard of the classic 5 Plus 1, but obviously Magnus deserves a 7 Plus 1! I don't know how to describe it without spoilers other than being full of incredibly sweet, gentle takes on so many fraught or bittersweet moments. Super underrated, do give it a read.

Embrace the Dark by @ceilingfan5: Bookstore coworkers Kravitz and Taako get more than they bargained for when Taako tries to use his powers to fix Kravitz's migraine. But it's okay--it's an excuse for them to spend time together until one of them can nut up and ask the other out.

Taakitz, 8.9k. Modern with Superpowers AU! Super sweet interactions between Kravitz and Taako, paired with lots of fun background worldbuilding. And, of course, a very special grilled cheese sandwich.

Break This Heavy Chain by Punka_Writes: In the immediate aftermath of Story and Song, Barry Bluejeans could really use a hug.

Blupjeans and misc. platonic interactions, 2.3k. The absolute epitome of comfort food in written form, with excellent Barry characterization (and of course, he does get that hug)!

birds of a feather steal sweaters together by @holdmecloser-gandydancer: When you're a big, burly guy it seems that your clothes just become free reign for all your friends. Normally Magnus is a reasonable guy, but everyone has their limits.

Gen (IPRE crew), 1.9k. Starblaster era fluff! Everyone is written absolutely delightfully, and every time I read it I snort out loud at least twice.

Security by @ceilingfan5: Barry has finally made it--his incredible scientific discovery has landed him a huge fortune...and a lot of problems. The only good thing that's come of it, honestly, has been his bodyguard, Lup. (And the science. That's good also.) He's just gotta stay normal about how nice it is to have someone like Lup around, and also not perish by way of press circuit, and everything will be fine.

Blupjeans, 6k. Modern with magic AU from Barry's POV, featuring equal parts anxiety and pining. Also, it's straight-up extremely funny.

Lonesome Dreams by @jerreeeeeee: Taako wakes up one morning from a nightmare, fast fading. There was a guy in glasses, and they were… somewhere high up? Something terrible happened, but he doesn’t remember. He wakes up in a wagon he’s never seen before, but it has his name on it. There’s tons of food inside, more than he’d be able to afford. And he’s alone. Thinking back to the last thing he remembers is difficult. College? No, he’d graduated. Top of his class, obviously, he remembers that. But what- what happened after? Where is Lup?

Gen (Taako & Lup), 10.2k. Everything starts out the same, except Taako remembers Lup, even if not how she went missing, and it's incredibly underrated and full of phenomenal characterization. I won't spoil how things shake out, but it's a great emotional ride and I genuinely reread it all the time.

it's my party and I'll mope if I want to by @holdmecloser-gandydancer: Taako's birthday is just another Thursday. A detective and an old friend have a different idea.

Gen (Taako & Lucretia & Angus), 2.1k. Short and so sweet! Fics about voidfished!Taako's birthday never get old, and this is one of my absolute favorites. Nailing the angst-to-wholesome ratio.

Tedious Familiarity by @barry-j-blupjeans: Déjà vu. Noun. A feeling of having already experienced the present situation. A tedious familiarity. Barry Bluejeans woke up in a cave, fresh out of a pod filled with green goop, and saddled with an unsettling feeling that he had been here before. If you had asked forty-year-old Barry if he would follow instructions left by a talking coin, he probably would have asked you what type of drugs you were on. But, y’know, fifty… two? Fifty-one? How old was he? Fifty-two sounded right. But, y’know, fifty-two years old Barry didn’t really have that many other places to turn, so this couldn't be all that bad.

Gen, 4.1k. Missing scenes based off Barry's decade alone, written in such an effective style, where all the little details truly make it. Mandatory reading for fellow Barry angst enjoyers.

Angus McDonald and the Wonderland Escape Rooms by coppersunshine: When Angus gets grounded from detecting, to keep his skills sharp he becomes a patron of the Wonderland Escape rooms, run by Edward and Lydia, who quickly decide he's their new nemesis. To their surprise, Angus and the collection of weird adults he's accompanied by decide otherwise.

Gen (Angus & Edward & Lydia), 7k. Modern with magic AU, putting Edward and Lydia in the absolute funniest possible job, at which a little boy detective torments... and maybe, even gives them a chance to turn over a new leaf. I am of the opinion that Angus and the Wonderland twins have a criminally underexplored dynamic, and this fic gave me everything I wanted.

If the Sun and Moon Should Doubt by Punka_Writes: Merle Highchurch, on the brink of a bad decision.

Gen, 1.6k. Merle character study immediately before running out on his marriage. Truly the incredible characterization that Merle deserves; this was a fic that really ignited my love for him.

Greensleeves by @sgrumby: Kravitz has never seen a lich like this before, and he's seen a lot of liches. Merle is just trying to save the universe, thanks very much.

Gen (Kravitz & Merle), 2.2k. A unique and also absolutely genius Lich!Merle AU where Kravitz inevitably comes after him, and Merle is... well, the Peacemaker, of course!

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

hello and welcome to the niche corner

hello i'm néide and this is my blog, which mostly consists of me being grumpy about niche things. i have multiple degrees in medieval irish literature and while sometimes i use these to be vaguely educational, more often i use them to write incredibly specific fic about characters nobody else cares about, and this fic can be found on ao3 (for logged-in users)

so this is a guide to my incredibly specific fanfiction, which i feel also gives a reasonably good introduction to the kind of thing i'm likely to be yelling about on this blog

i am reliably informed that you don't actually need to know anything about the source material to have fun with these fics (or suffer from the angst), but also they can be more fun if you do. some have bibliographies/refs/explanations so i also know a few people have used them as a way to get started with medieval Irish lit which will never not be extremely funny to me

current WIP: chasing someone else's dream (16k, WIP): a cú chulainn/láeg reincarnation fic. they have been reincarnated, not for the first time. they've also been cursed, and thus, unlike in every life before this one, they've never met. ngl this fic contains some of the best prose i ever wrote, please read it

group chats of the ulster cycle, or, the in loco parentis series

a modern AU of the ulster cycle. sort of a college AU, turned into a ballet AU halfway through. consists of:

in loco parentis (135k, complete): my magnum opus. cú chulainn and láeg are university flatmates; group chats featuring all your favourite ulster cycle characters and also some you probably never gave a shit about; cú chulainn as a tiny trans ballet dancer and ferdia as his pas de deux partner; baking; everybody hating on conchobar; nobody dies; way more feelings about both ballet and shostakovich than anybody was expecting, including me; and much more. comes with explanatory notes / bibliography because i'm just Like That

getting the dee (9k, in progress/abandoned): a prequel to ILP, sort of a longes mac nuislenn fic except nobody dies and there are more sex toys. naoise/deirdre with guest appearances from conall. one day i'll go back to this but also i'm a coward

valentáin's day (4k oneshot, complete): a prequel to ILP, featuring láeg and cormac in the pub on valentine's day making fun of all their friends in relationships. they make out, fortunately their friendship survives the experience.

and when you move, i move (2.5k oneshot, complete): a sequel to ILP. just a horny lil cú chulainn/ferdia oneshot set a few months after ILP wraps up.

miscellaneous ulster cycle oneshots

i will be honest, most of these are sad fics of oidheadh con culainn ("the death of cú chulainn") because i just love writing angst, but there's a couple of others in there

a moment's silence (3k): smutty cú/láeg fic set during táin bó cúailnge, inspired by this picture. the most explicit fic i've written

to walk this world alone (6k): extremely niche fic featuring láeg after cú chulainn's death. some otherworldly happenings. sad but not as sad as it was originally going to be.

counterweight (3k): cú chulainn/láeg during oidheadh con culainn, anticipating cú chulainn's death. this one's pretty sad too.

dindsenchas (3.5k): missing scenes between cú chulainn and láeg during táin bó cúailnge. narrated by the landscape of ulster and addressed in second person to cú chulainn himself because the best sex scenes are the ones narrated by a tree.

in one dwelling place (2k): láeg/cú chulainn/emer. vaguely smutty, vaguely fluffy.

we'll say goodbye, today (2k): cú chulainn and láeg during oidheadh con culainn, anticipating cú chulainn's death. big sad hours.

glorious as the sunrise (3k): this is just angst. cú chulainn/láeg during oidheadh con culainn again. not particularly shippy but they love each other very much.

a marriage of inconvenience (3k): modern AU. cú chulainn wants to marry emer but unfortunately never bothered to get divorced after he married láeg for househunting purposes. a very silly fic.

of grief and glory (1.7k): cú chulainn deals with the aftermath of táin bó cúailnge, especially fer diad's death. more sad times lol.

flight risk (2.3k): teenage cú chulainn and láeg steal a spaceship. they get caught. fun scifi AU.

other medieval lit fics (non ulster cycle)

patron saint of toasties (2.5k): finn cycle fic. oisín took time out of uni to travel and now all his friends have graduated and he's lonely enough to text the christian union's "text a toastie" hotline. which is how he meets patrick. very silly modern AU gen fic mostly taking the piss out of st patrick

two birds of a feather (2.8k): yonec (marie de france) | togail bruidne da derga crossover fic. bird dad support group. conaire and yonec hang out and bond over their dads having maybe been birds. stupidest thing i ever wrote and i adore it.

quiver and shake (1.8k): fourth branch of the mabinogi fic. gwydion and gilfaethwy's special brotherly bonding time. canon typical content warnings apply.

other

absent thee from felicity (11k, WIP): hamlet | romeo & juliet crossover modern AU in which horatio and benvolio attempt to deal with the aftermath of their respective tragedies. sad at first, will gradually get sillier. haven't updated in a couple of years but that doesn't mean it's permanently abandoned, i'm just busy

a guild doctor and an abolitionist walk into a bar (5.5k, complete): mortimer sark/daragh vernant (the butterfly assassin by finn longman). in which they become friends while coparenting their fucked up assassin child and pretending they're not doing that. blatant pro-mortimer propaganda tbh and i'm not sorry

if you've never read any of my fics before and are wondering where to start, i firmly believe the reincarnation fic (current WIP) is a good one because it has a solid mix of angst, shenanigans, and weird fuckery, so you can experience the tonal whiplash of the rest of my fics all in one place! but it is a WIP and i make zero promises about upload schedule, it happens when it happens, so not so good if you're impatient haha. plenty of others to get you started though

[helphelph]

Rating pjo ships because I've seen a good amount of people doing it lately and it seems fun. But there's a twist!! I used the wackiest rating system imaginable because I'm insane. Have fun.

Percabeth: a hundred hearts out of five blue cookies.

Their dynamic is not only incredibly fun but also they complement each other very well. Honestly, when I first read the books, I didn't really want them to get together because I didn't want another "main guy gets main girl" situation, but they're honestly made for each other.

Jiper: five daggers out of ten great canyons

They were incredibly forced, but honestly not that bad of a ship. They were really cute but I dont have much to say about it.

Valgrace: fifty festus heads out of ten college aus

One of my favorite Jason ships ever. I love me some tragic gays.

Pipabeth: Two goddesses out of fifteen owls

I will ALWAYS support a good wlw ship. And Piper defo had a microcrush on Annabeth while they were on the Argo II. Plus the fanart of them is SO good.

Jercy/Person: twelve riptides out of ten horses

I like reading about it and it's quite fun to think about. Nothing much to say honestly.

Perachel: Ten prophecies out of nine pancakes drowned in syrup

They could have been cute. I dont really ship them though.

Annrachel(is that the name?): three prophecies out of five spiders

Korrasami vibes lmao. I think they're better off as friends but I will read a fanfic if I find an interesting one.

Solangelo: twenty-six skulls out of ten doctors notes

They were written for each other. As in Rick made sure that they were written for each other. I havent read tsats yet and im still on the first toa book so I don't have much on their dynamic. Still I like them and they visually look good together.

Valdangelo: ninety-four automatons out of six pomegranate seeds

They would have been unstoppable I tell you! Unstoppable!! Or maybe I'm biased. Either way they would have been an amazing couple together but Rick was too much of a coward to let them be (boy)friends. (Can you tell I'm biased?)

Jeyna: One bad father out of two older sisters.

UPDATE!!1!1!1 It has come to my attention that Reyna is canonically aroace with no romantic or sexual interest whatsoever so this ship is out of the window.

Jasico: 3/10

Personally I've never seen the hype for them. I like their dynamic a lot but not really in a shipping way. Sorry pjotumblr😔

Pernico: One bathe in the river styx out of thirteen hades figurines

The angst of Nico having a crush in Percy is a good concept to explore. Both in relationships with other characters and Nico's character development. But them being in a relationship together just irks me. It's not entirely problematic(at least i dont think it is? Correct me if im wrong), but still, the age gap makes me uncomfortable.

Ruegard: thirty-seven drakons out of one patrochilles parallel

Like I said, I love me some wlw ships. And while I've never really been a diehard fan of them, the fanart is amazing, so of course i ship them.

Frazel: 6/10

Rick try to make a girl and a boy stay friends challenge(impossible). But jokes aside, the 13-16 gap makes me annoyed. Three years isn't much but it matters in this situation. And it annoys me bacuse I want to like them. They have a cute dynamic but the maturity gap between them kinda gets in the way. That said, I would probably have liked them a lot better if they just stayed friends.

Valzhang: Nine eagles out of twenty hidden bunkers

Like I said before, I will consume almost every ship in a fandom. And if I find good fanfics of them, I will read it because I like exploring different characters' dynamics with each other. It's fun and I honestly think the pjo fandom should chill out a little. The amount of people who put others down for shipping something that isn't canon is way too much. Just let people enjoy their ships.

I think that's all? I didn't include Grover and Juniper because I honestly don't really have any opinions on them. They just exist and it's kinda like Rick just made them canon because he didn't want grover to feel left out. Let me know if there's other ships you'd want me to rate!

[foundtherightwords]

This Is the Sound of Your Voice

Pairing: Hellcheer (College AU)

Summary: After breaking up with her high school boyfriend and moving away to the big city, Chrissy is still trying to find herself. When her roommate Nancy sets her up on a blind date, she accepts, even though the guy - someone called Eddie - sounds nothing like her type. But then she meets Eddie and realizes he's not what she thought he'd be like at all.

Warnings: implied eating disorder, stalking

Word count: 7.6k

A/N: Written for Day 1 of Hellcheer Week 2024, with the prompts "instalove", "vampire", and "kiss". To be honest, I had the idea before I saw the prompts, and this is the best I could do to fit the prompts into it. I've never written from word prompts before so I don't know if I succeeded here (and I think I'm incapable of writing instalove anyway), but I had fun trying.

It's a No Upside Down AU (obviously) but I kept the time setting, so it takes place around 1989-1990.

The title is a song by Snow Patrol.

Looking into the mirror, Chrissy fussed with her bangs for the thousandth time. Despite her efforts, they were still infuriatingly flat. With a frustrated huff, she gave up and pulled her hair into a ponytail. It would have to do. After all, this wasn't such a big important date that she had to dress up for it. Well, important, maybe. First dates often are important, aren't they? But definitely not big.

Or at least that was what she kept telling herself, to drown out the nervous feeling rising from the pit of her stomach and spreading through her limbs, making her cold and shaky. So pathetic. One would think she was some little girl going out with a boy for the first time ever. Admittedly, it had been such a long since she'd been on a date, so it might as well be the first time.

Chrissy didn't remember much of her first-ever date, only that it was at the mall with some gawky boy in middle school. She hadn't been serious about boys then, and her mother didn't want her to start dating so early, so Chrissy hadn't even realized it was a date until later.

Her first date with Jason, though... that Chrissy remembered very well. It was nothing special, just going to the movies—they'd wanted to see Fast Times at Ridgemont High, only they weren't allowed in, being high school freshmen, so Jason had suggested they settle for E.T. instead—but she remembered being so giddy about the idea of going on a date with the cutest boy in school, so pleased that he'd asked her out, that she'd hardly taken in the movie at all. Afterward, they had walked home together and he'd given her a goodnight kiss on the cheek, and she'd floated to her room on a cloud. How innocent she'd been then, thinking that this was it, and they would get married and live happily ever after...

Except it had been nothing but a childish dream, and when she'd gotten a chance to make that white-picket-fence dream come true, Chrissy had balked at it. When Jason got down on one knee during their anniversary dinner and pulled the velvet box out of his pocket, what had risen within Chrissy wasn't the giddiness and excitement she'd felt when he'd first asked her out. No, it had been surprise first, and then dread. In the five years they had been dating, she had changed so much, corroded by the pressure to be perfect from her mother, her teachers, her friends, and, yes, from Jason as well, until nothing remained of that bright-eyed fourteen-year-old. Perhaps that girl had never existed at all, and this was who she really was, someone who was afraid of everything, afraid of every cheer routine, of every report card, of every trip to the fitting room, of every bite of food, afraid of messing up and ruining her life.

Some of that dread must have shown on her face, because Jason had been quick to reassure her that this didn't mean they had to get married right away. No, the wedding could wait until they graduated from college, he'd said, as if that made it any better. When Chrissy tried to protest that it was still too soon and that they hadn't done anything with their lives, Jason had laughed and asked, rather dismissively, "What else is there to do?"

It was that laugh, so lighthearted, so condescending, that finally convinced Chrissy. Jason clearly didn't take her seriously. He couldn't fathom that she would want do anything other than get married and pop out babies. It was then that she realized there was no convincing him to wait a little longer, no explaining to him that she didn't want to end up like her mother, being a housewife with no control over her own life, so she tried to control her kids' instead.

Her whole life, Chrissy had been saying "yes". Yes when her mother told her to eat this and not that, to wear this and not that. Yes when her advisor told her to take this class and not that class, to focus on cheer practices rather than her academic performance. Yes when Jason told her they were going here and not there.

But that night, in that crowded restaurant, while people around them ooh-and-aahed at this display of young love, she had found her strength to say "no", for the first time in her life.

Jason hadn't taken that well.

As the people in the restaurant fell quiet and awkwardly turned away from the spectacle, Jason had laughed and insisted that she was joking, or perhaps it had been too sudden and she didn't know what to say. Then, when Chrissy assured him that she was serious, the smile had faded from his handsome face. A cold look of anger had come into his eyes, chilling Chrissy to the bones. It was gone in a second, to be replaced by a look of utter shock and heartbreak that nearly broke her own heart. She'd almost told him that perhaps they could wait a few more years, until they graduated perhaps, to see where they were, but deep down inside, she knew that there was no more waiting. Still, it was hard, seeing how much she'd hurt him.

Jason certainly had no intention of making the breakup easy for her. In the following weeks, he showed up at her classes—the simplest thing, when they went to the same college—and at her house, bearing flowers and gifts and tearful apologies, trying to get her to change her mind. He had almost convinced Chrissy that she was making the worst mistake of her life. But every time she came close to getting back with him, she would see that split-second look of rage again. In the end, it was the memory of her fear that had convinced Chrissy she was doing the right thing.

If it had been difficult facing Jason's heartbreak, then it was a thousand times more difficult facing her mother's wrath. Laura wasn't used to her daughter fighting back and voicing her own opinions. But after the breakup with Jason, something within Chrissy had snapped. It was as if Jason's proposal of their future life had pulled a veil from her eyes and shown her that it was definitely not what she wanted for herself.

And so, amidst her mother's shouts, her father's silences, and Jason's pleas, Chrissy had transferred to the University of Illinois in Chicago—she knew Jason wouldn't be able to follow her there without losing his basketball scholarship, plus it had the appeal of a big city where she didn't have to see the same faces every day. She had barely scraped by with her grades, but she'd managed it. Luckily, her father had put aside money for her tuition, in an account in Chrissy's own name—it was one of the few things he'd done right by her—so she hadn't been fazed by her mother's threats of cutting her off. She'd still had to get a job to pay for everything else, but Chrissy didn't mind. It was the first time she'd earned money for herself, instead of just getting allowances. It was the first time she'd lived with people other than her family—a very nice girl named Nancy, who was studying journalism at UIC. It was the first time she could eat without worrying about the calories. It was the first time she'd taken an active interest in schoolwork. It was the first time she could decide things for herself, instead of letting her mother or Jason decide for her.

She was doing a lot of things for the first time in her life, and she had never felt freer.

Of course, it wasn't always easy. It was never easy to shake off the habit of a lifetime, and Chrissy often woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, thinking she'd thrown her life away. She wanted to apply for nursing school, but although her grades had improved a great deal, she wasn't sure she could make it through the program. What if she flunked out and had to come home with her tail between her legs? Her mother would never let her hear the end of it.

And then there was the matter of her love life.

Chrissy sighed as she put on her make-up. Perhaps she shouldn't have started this train of thought about Jason right before her first date—and a blind date at that!—in nearly two years. It only made her more nervous. Ever since she moved to Chicago, there had been plenty of guys interested in her, but Chrissy had never been confident enough to accept any of them. What if they turned out to be like Jason? About six months after she left, he had shown up on campus and proceeded to make a spectacle of himself in front of everyone as he begged Chrissy to come home. Chrissy had become frozen by shock and fear, and it was only thanks to Nancy, who had had the presence of mind to call security to escort Jason away, that Chrissy had found some peace. She hadn't seen Jason again after that, not even when she'd gone home for summer break.

But even though she was over Jason—which she was, truly and fully—Chrissy was still not ready for that kind of intimacy again. How could she let anyone know her, when she didn't even know herself?

It was why, when Nancy had suggested that Chrissy take the plunge, she had accepted it, albeit in a cautious way—even if the date went nowhere, at least it would make her more comfortable with dating again. Besides, Nancy had said Chrissy needed someone completely different from Jason, and from the sound of it, the guy Nancy set her up with, Eddie, was just that—he majored in English, he played guitar, and he was, by all accounts, something of a nerd. She couldn't get further from Mr. Popular Basketball Star than that.

"How do you even know this guy?" Chrissy had asked, when Nancy first told her about him. "Does he work at the newspaper too?"

"He runs the school's Dungeons and Dragons club," replied Nancy.

"Isn't that the—satanic game?" Chrissy said, her voice hushed.

"Don't let my brother Mike hear you say that," Nancy said, smiling. "He and his friends are really into it, but I know nothing about it, so I went to the club to ask about present ideas for Mike." Sometimes, when comparing herself to Nancy, who was juggling school, a job at the school's newspaper, an internship at the Chicago Tribune, a boyfriend, and still managed to have a good relationship with her family, Chrissy felt like a failure. "Anyway," Nancy continued, "that's how I met Eddie. Trust me, he's really nice."

Chrissy had spoken to Eddie on the phone once after that, to set up their date. He did sound nice—or his voice did, at any rate—but Chrissy hadn't let that fool her. Jason had been really nice too, until she'd done something that didn't fit with his image of a perfect girlfriend.

Chrissy finished her make-up and threw a cardigan over her simple blue dress. She looked into the mirror again, hoping to see a mature young woman of twenty-one, put-together, confident. What she saw was a girl, still looking like she had in high school, eyes wide, anxious, her naïveté showing all too clearly on her face. She thought about asking Nancy for advice, but Nancy was hunched over at her desk, frowning at her typewriter as though it wasn't typing fast enough for her liking, and Chrissy didn't want to bother her. At the last minute, she pulled off her scrunchie, letting her hair fall over her shoulders again. Not much of an improvement, but at least she no longer looked like a schoolgirl.

"Have fun!" Nancy said over her shoulder as Chrissy grabbed her bag. With a quick wave back, Chrissy left their room.

She took the L from the dorm to the South Side. Eddie worked at a music store there, and he didn't get off until six, nor did he drive, so Chrissy had insisted on meeting him at the store. He had offered to pick her up instead, but she'd claimed she didn't mind and wanted to save him the trip. The truth was that she wanted to check him out from afar, before they met face-to-face.

She arrived at the store with twenty minutes to go. The store was on a street corner, its front shaded by a maple tree whose leaves were turning brilliant shades of gold and crimson. Feeling a little ridiculous, Chrissy tried to peer in through the window to catch a glimpse of Eddie. There was no sign of him, or anyone for that matter, only rows and rows of musical instruments—guitars, keyboards, and drum sets further in the back. The place exuded the calm, peaceful air of a library, only with less quiet—despite its apparent emptiness, snatches of music and laughter floated from somewhere in the back of the store through the crisp October air, giving the quiet street outside a rather lively, festive feel. Chrissy was not very musical, but even her fingers itched to strum those gleaming guitars.

"Can I help you?" said a voice next to her, making her jump.

Chrissy turned around. A boy was standing next to her—she had been too busy admiring the guitars to notice him come out of a side door. He looked no more than seventeen or eighteen, with an impish, cheerful face, surrounded by wiry hair poking out from under a baseball cap bearing the store's logo.

"Sorry," Chrissy said automatically. "I'm looking for Eddie."

The boy's eyebrows went up. Probably not a lot of girls came by the store looking for Eddie then. Chrissy wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "Could you tell him that Chrissy's here, please?" she asked the boy.

"Ohhh!" the boy exclaimed as understanding dawned on his face. "You must be his date! Hang on a sec, I'll get him." He hesitated. "He may still be in his lesson though. Do you want to come inside?"

"Thanks, but I'll wait for him out here," said Chrissy, wondering what kind of lesson the boy meant.

The boy gave Chrissy an amicable grin, showing his braces, then he turned on his heel and went back in through the side door. "Eddie!" Chrissy heard him shout through the door left ajar, with all the tact of teenage boys. "Your date's here! You're right, she is pretty!"

Cheeks burning up, Chrissy backed away until she was partially hidden by the maple tree. Another agonizing five minutes passed, before the side door opened again and a young man emerged.

Chrissy stared at him.

From Nancy's description, Chrissy had pictured Eddie as someone rather similar to Nancy's boyfriend, Jonathan—a bit weedy, a bit dorky, whom Jason and his fellow jocks would've made fun of in high school, while Chrissy sat by, shame-faced but not having the courage to speak up.

The young man who came out of the store looked nothing like that. He was tall, yes, and lanky, but definitely not weedy, and definitely not a dork. At least not like any dork Chrissy knew. His long, dark hair, which flowed in soft waves down to his shoulders, the steel rings gleaming on his fingers, and his leather jacket, layered with a denim vest stuck full of patches and pins, made him look like a biker or a rocker. To complete the effect, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses. The sunglasses struck Chrissy as rather pretentious, considering that dusk was falling and they would only impede his vision. Her heart sank. This was the guy Nancy believed would be perfect for her? He looked rather... scary.

Chrissy drew further behind the tree. She began to wish she hadn't accepted Nancy's offer. Her only hope that this was not Eddie, but some other employee of the store.

The young man leaned against the door, keeping it open. Kids, all with guitars slung on their backs or hanging from their shoulders, streamed out past him. At least this answered Chrissy's question about the lesson.

"Bye, Eddie!" a little girl said as she ran through the door, dispersing any hope Chrissy might have about the young man's identity.

"Bye, Pippa," replied Eddie. "Don't run."

Chrissy could glimpse fangs behind his lips, and for a confused moment, she wondered if he was a vampire. Then she remembered, with a jolt, that it was almost Halloween. Now that she was paying more attention, she noticed a row of jack-o-lanterns in the shop's windows, and saw that most of the kids were dressed up, as ghosts and ghouls, princesses and superheroes. She amended her initial impression of Eddie's sunglasses, feeling ashamed that she had been so quick to judge. Maybe they were a part of his costume—maybe he was dressed up as Jason Patric from The Lost Boys. He certainly had the right look for it.

As Chrissy watched Eddie say goodbye to the kids, her apprehension gradually fell away. He was clearly well liked by the kids, and in turn, he seemed to like them as well—he called each of them by name and had something to say to each of them, a few words of praise, a gentle admonishment, or a joke. A boy, dressed as a werewolf, went through the door and growled at Eddie. Eddie hissed back. "Don't let the fleas catch you," he said and fist-bumped the boy, who giggled delightedly.

Chrissy couldn't help grinning herself. Now feeling a lot more at ease, she waited until the last kid had left and went up to Eddie. His face was turned away, so he didn't see her.

"Eddie?" she called.

He finally turned to face her, and Chrissy's heart skipped a beat. Despite the sunglasses, his face was open, friendly, and—yes, quite cute too, with a fine-shaped nose, a strong chin and jaw that somehow managed to still look soft, and full lips that broke out in a smile the moment he saw her. "Chrissy?" he said.

"Yes."

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Have you been here long?"

"No, not at all—"

They were interrupted by the boy with the baseball cap, who emerged from the door and pressed something flat and white into Eddie's hand. "Dude, don't forget this," the boy said. Turning to Chrissy, he added with a grin, "I swear, he meets a pretty girl and next thing you know, he's forgetting his own head."

"Thank you, Henderson," Eddie said loudly and pointedly, poking the boy with the white thing and pushing him back inside, before letting the door slam shut. "Sorry about that," he said to Chrissy with an apologetic smile, and started unfolding the white thing, section by section.

"What's that for?" Chrissy asked, pointing at the thing, which she now recognized as a cane.

"What's what for?"

She couldn't tell if he was being obtuse on purpose or not, but she was getting a little annoyed. "The cane," she said.

"Oh, just in case," Eddie said with a shrug. He still hadn't taken his sunglasses off.

"Just in case of what?"

An awkward silence stretched between them as Eddie leaned on the fully unfolded cane. He stared at her—or at least Chrissy thought he was staring at her.

"Chrissy, I'm blind," he said.

Chrissy thought she'd misheard. "What?" she asked blankly.

"You don't know that?"

"No!"

"Didn't Nancy tell you?"

"She didn't tell me anything, only that you run the Dungeons and Dragons club at UIC." Chrissy felt like she was living in some horrible sitcom. It all made sense now, the dark glasses in the evening, the fact that he didn't drive...

"You sure?" Eddie asked, a strain in his voice.

"Yes! I think I would've remembered if she told me you were blind!" And I would kill her for not telling me, she thought.

Eddie's full lips pressed together into a hard line. "Look, we don't have to do this," he said. "Just give me the word and I'll walk away, OK?" He turned to go.

Something made Chrissy reach out and grab his arm. "No! It's not that—I don't want you to go." She looked more closely at Eddie. He had been so nice to the kids. What is it that people say, about children and animals being the best judge of character...? And he was really cute, even when angry. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just—I've never gone out with a blind guy before."

"Most girls don't want to," Eddie said, still looking sullen.

That was when Chrissy made her decision. "Well, I'm not most girls."

Eddie's face softened when he realized what she was saying. "But—a pretty girl like you—you must have guys hanging around you all the time—"

"I can assure you I don't," Chrissy said honestly. "And how do you know if I'm pretty or not?" she asked, a smile teasing the corner of her mouth despite herself.

"You sound pretty," he said simply, without any attempt at being flirtatious. How could she not be charmed by that?

"And to think, I put so much effort into my outfit too," she said.

Eddie grinned then, a quick, sudden smile that lit up his whole face like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, showing two dimples on his cheeks. "I'm sure you look great," he said. "So where are we going then?"

A sudden idea hit Chrissy. "Tell you what," she said. "If you can guess which hand I'm holding up, then you can pick where we go." She raised her right hand.

Eddie tilted his head, as if he was really trying to see. "... Left?" he guessed.

"How did you do that?!" Chrissy said, quickly putting her hand down. She hoped she sounded believably surprised.

"I didn't get it, did I?" said Eddie, laughing. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not! You really did get it!" Chrissy protested, but she laughed as well. She hadn't laughed like that with anyone in so long. Certainly not with Jason.

"OK," Eddie said. "I guess I won then. Have you been to Chinatown?"

"No."

"Perfect! So we're going to Chinatown."

"Um, Eddie?"

"Yes?"

Chrissy touched a finger to her lips. And then, remembering Eddie couldn't see her, she said, "Your fangs?"

"Oops." Those mischievous dimples dipped and rose again, making him look like an impish boy, as he pulled off the plastic fangs and slipped them into a pocket. "Let's go!"

***

Chinatown was only a few blocks from the store, so they walked. Eddie kept his glasses on and used the cane, though Chrissy could see that it was more for the benefits of others than himself—he walked confidently, his strides slow but steady, without hesitation at any turn or crossing. On the way, Eddie told her about his work at the store and the guitar lessons with the kids, about his band, Corroded Coffin—which he invited her to see—and about his studies at UIC and how he hoped to become a teacher one day. "Or become the Stevie Wonders of heavy metal, who knows," he added with a chuckle.

For her part, Chrissy said little. She simply enjoyed listening to Eddie, fascinated by how fun and interesting his life was. And a sense of shame crept over her, as it always did whenever she compared herself with someone else. Even Eddie could manage to lead such a full life with his disability, yet here she was, trembling at the simple thought of going out to eat, or meeting someone new...

Then they arrived, and the sights and sounds and smells of Chinatown drove the worries from her mind. They walked through the big, colorful gate, down the main street strung with red lanterns, past buildings with curved roofs and stone lions flanking their doors, past murals of Chinese warriors and dragons coiling in clouds or waves, before turning left and heading toward the big square. Chrissy could see why Eddie loved the place. Even if you can't see, there are plenty here to engage your other senses—from the lively music flowing out from every store front, to the cries of the street vendors hawking their wares, from the mouth-watering smell rising from the snack stalls to the presence of hundreds of other people surrounding them, all enjoying themselves.

"Do you want to eat in a restaurant, or do you want street food?" asked Eddie.

Chrissy had no idea what Chinese street food would be like, but she liked the atmosphere of the square too much to want to sit down in a restaurant away from it. "Street food, please," she said boldly.

So that was what they did, getting a to-go box of dim-sum—both steamed and fried, sweet and savory—and sharing it while ambling around. Chrissy found the idea of eating on the street strangely liberating. In a restaurant, she was always conscious of other people watching what she ate—or didn't eat—but here, almost everybody was eating while walking and shopping and talking, children clutching skewers of grilled meat, teenagers giggling over pork buns and egg tarts, elderly ladies slurping from bowls of noodle as they people-watched. It relaxed her so much that she even fed Eddie a few pieces of dim-sum, and let him feed her a few in return.

They continued to talk. Chrissy discovered that she and Eddie had more in common than she realized—he came from Indiana as well, though his hometown was even smaller than hers. She also learned that he went blind due to a rare genetic disorder, and that he got a scholarship to UIC.

"But I've been talking too much," Eddie said suddenly. "Tell me something about yourself."

"You don't want to hear about me," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "I'm boring."

"I'm sure you're not. Nancy told me you're a cheerleader."

"I was a cheerleader. In high school."

"That's really cool."

Chrissy was silent. How could she tell him that she didn't like that part of her and that she wished to leave it behind?

"And you're in health studies now?" Eddie prompted.

"Yes. I want to apply for nursing school, but—" Chrissy stopped herself.

"But what?"

Chrissy hesitated. She hadn't planned on telling Eddie about her fears, yet something about him calmed her and made her want to open up to him.

"I don't know. What if I'm not cut out for it?" she said. "I know the cliché, how would I know if I don't try and so on, but still." She sighed. "I must sound so lame, right?"

"Why would you say that?" Eddie asked, all serious.

"Well, here I am, worrying about a program I don't even have the courage to apply for, while you've done so much with your life..." Eddie was quiet, and she trailed off, wondering if she might have offended him.

After a while, he said, "I was terrified too, when I first moved here." He shrugged. "Heck, I'm still terrified now, sometimes. But I remember what my uncle told me, after I went blind."

"How old were you?" Chrissy asked, looking at him.

"I was six."

She went quiet, her heart aching in sympathy at the thought of Eddie losing his sight so young. How afraid and lost he must have felt! She also wondered why he mentioned his uncle instead of his mom or dad, but decided it was a question she could save for later.

"And what did your uncle say?"

"He told me to just put one foot in front of another and forget everything else." As if he could sense her gaze, Eddie turned and gave her a smile, making her stomach flip.

Chrissy was still running those simple words through her head when a drumroll at the end of the street drew her attention. Following the crowd, they came to a storefront festooned with red ribbons and blazing with lanterns. Three people wearing a half-lion, half-dragon costume were dancing to the drums, trying to reach a ball hanging over the store's front door, under a banner that proclaimed "Three Happiness Restaurant - GRAND OPENING" in English and Chinese.

"It's a grand opening of a restaurant," Chrissy explained to Eddie, over the deafening sound of drums and cymbals. "They're performing some sort of dance."

"I bet it's a lion dance."

"How do you know?"

"I've heard of them. Is there a bunch of guys dressed in a lion costume?"

"Yes, but it doesn't look much like a lion. Looks more like a dragon." She tried to describe to him how the lion's eyelids could actually move, and how the sequins and spangles on its head and body flashed and sparkled in time with the music, giving the impression that it was a real, living thing. She thought she was doing a terrible job of it, but Eddie seemed fascinated. He tilted his head toward the dancers and tapped his foot along with the drums.

"I've never seen a lion dance," he said. "I've always assumed that they looked like, you know, actual lions. Your description sounds much better."

Now the dancers were standing on each other's shoulder to catch the ball in the lion's mouth. The crowd surged forward. Chrissy found herself holding Eddie's elbow automatically, drawing him close to her, supporting him, so he wouldn't be jostled. A cheer went up as the lion caught the ball, and fireworks exploded over their heads.

Eddie lifted his face toward the sky, the colorful sparks reflected in his glasses.

"Can you—see it?" Chrissy asked. She almost bit her tongue off, realizing how idiotic she'd sounded. Of course he couldn't see.

Eddie didn't seem to notice her blunder. "I can feel it," he said.

Chrissy looked up as well, but she didn't watch the fireworks. She looked at Eddie, at the shape of his jawline, at his lips slightly opened, and wondered what it would feel like to kiss those lips. She thought about how afraid she'd been the past year, away from home, away from her family and friends, away from everything she'd ever known, how terrifying it all was. Now, standing here with this guy whom she'd only just met yet felt like she'd known for a long time, she started to realize how freeing it had all been, and would continue to be. And for the first time, she no longer felt ashamed when she compared herself to another. Instead, she felt—encouraged. If Eddie could do all he'd done and more, then what was holding her back?

***

Eddie insisted on walking her back to the dorm, since he lived only a few blocks away. Chrissy didn't protest. She didn't want the night to end, but if it had to end, then she wanted to spend as much of the remaining time with him as possible.

She had never felt like this about anyone, not even Jason. Her excitement after their first date had all been because of herself, her vanity, her naïve dream of the future. But this, with Eddie, was nothing like the headiness of that fourteen-year-old girl. There was a calm certainty in her feelings for him—she'd heard people say that when you meet the right person, you'd just know. Well, she knew now. She wouldn't call it love just yet, but he made her feel warm and safe, and she never wanted those feelings to go away.

Chrissy was almost sorry when they approached the dorm entrance. She was trying to come up with an excuse to invite Eddie inside—not to her room, where Nancy was no doubt still frowning over her article, but to the lounge, perhaps—when a figure stepped out of the shadow and blocked their way.

Chrissy's heart dropped like a lead weight.

It was Jason.

He still looked as she remembered him—clean-cut, handsome in a varsity jacket bearing his school's colors and his name on the chest, utterly charming. That was the terrible thing. After all this time, she'd expected him to look threatening or sinister, but even here, on this darkened street, he still looked like the boy she'd once thought she loved, and she knew, he only had to say the right thing, pushed the right button, and she'd come running back to him...

"Hi, Chris," Jason said, like they just happened to run into each other on the quad.

Chrissy stood stock still, frozen by fear and panic, her mouth clamped shut. She was afraid that if she responded to him, he would be able to draw her back, like in some twisted fairy tale.

"Listen, I just want to talk, OK?" Jason continued in a placating tone. "I may have been a little—hasty, but you're overreacting to a ridiculous degree! Leaving your family, leaving everything you know behind, and for what? This has gone on long enough. Come home, Chris."

His tone and the diminutive, dismissive "Chris" irritated Chrissy, and the irritation wiped away some of her fear. He'd always talked to her like that whenever she tried to tell him something made her uncomfortable or argue against his opinion, like he knew best and she knew nothing at all. He sounded just like her mother.

"Chrissy, you OK?" Eddie's voice broke through the haze, and his hand found hers, giving her strength. "Who is it?"

Jason hadn't even deigned to look at Eddie, as if he considered Eddie not worth his attention. Now he turned to Eddie and took in the cane, the glasses, their hands clasping each other tightly, and his lips curled up in an ugly sneer.

"Seriously, Chris?" he said to Chrissy. "You dumped me for a blind—freak?"

Eddie might not have recognized Jason's condescending tone toward Chrissy, but this he noticed. "Hey man," he said, stepping forward to shield Chrissy from Jason, "I don't know who you think you are, but I don't appreciate your tone—"

"Shut up," snapped Jason. "I'm here to talk to my girlfriend."

Finally, Chrissy found her voice. Walking out from behind Eddie, she looked straight at Jason and said, "No, Jason. You shut up. I'm not your girlfriend anymore. It's been a year. We have nothing to talk about. And if you don't leave me alone, leave us alone, if I ever see you around campus again, I'm going to call the police and file a restraining order against you. I don't think a stalking charge would look good on your record, do you? Now get the fuck out of my sight!"

Under the yellow streetlamp, Jason's face turned a peculiar shade of green. Chrissy's voice had drawn some attention. It was late, but this being Friday night, there were still plenty of students mingling around, and some were turning toward the three of them with curiosity and interest. Jason glanced at the onlookers and back to Chrissy again. He opened his mouth then closed it again several times, looking like a hooked fish. Finally, he backed away from them and took off running toward the train station. He soon disappeared into the dark.

Chrissy's heart, frozen in fear before, now started to beat wildly from relief and elation. Eddie gave her fingers a squeeze. His hand moved up her arm and her shoulder, and when he noticed how much she was trembling, he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her. With his other hand, he took off his denim vest and draped it over her quivering shoulders.

"You're OK," he said quietly. "It's OK now."

Chrissy clung to him, breathing in his scent of leather and smoke and a woody fragrance that he must have picked up from the store—it was what she imagined a new acoustic guitar would smell like—and felt her trembles subside. But even when she had quieted down, Eddie kept his arms around her.

"So that was your ex?" he asked.

Chrissy nodded. Then, remembering that Eddie couldn't see her, she said, "Yes," her voice muffled from under his leather jacket.

"A piece of work, isn't he?"

"I wasted five years of my life with him."

"At least you're free of him now."

She let out a shaky laugh. "I can't believe I swore at him like that."

"Maybe you're stronger than you think."

She lifted her head to look at Eddie. He was smiling, showing those dimples that she had come to love—yes, love—and she could feel calmness radiating from him like a warm fire, burning away the cold fear in her.

"Let me walk you home," she said. "I think I've scared Jason away for now, but who knows what he may do..."

Eddie's face turned serious. "You think he may be lying in wait for me?"

Chrissy didn't think Jason was capable of that. She wanted to believe that he loved his reputation and his image much more than he loved her, and he would not risk those for anything. But she would rather not find out.

"I want to make sure you're safe," she said.

A little smile hovered over Eddie's lips, shy and incredulous, quite different from the mischievous grin he'd just had. "I'll stick to the main streets, I'll be fine," he said. "But what about you? What if he's lying in wait for you?"

She was touched by his concern, but that didn't alleviate her concern. "Let me call you a cab at least," she insisted.

"Cabbie would say it's faster to walk. It's literally only ten minutes away."

Chrissy sighed. If she had the dorm room to herself, she would ask him to stay the night in a heartbeat. Besides, it was too late to sign him in now. And then she thought about the possibility of spending the night with Eddie and was almost glad he couldn't see the crimson blush creeping over her cheeks.

"Nancy has a car," she said finally. "I'll ask her to drive you home."

Eddie still looked hesitant. "Are you sure? I don't want to bother—"

"It's no bother. Come in for a minute while I get her."

Nancy was furious when Chrissy told her about Jason's latest antics. "What a creep!" she exploded. "I wish I'd called the police on him when he showed up last time. Good for you for kicking his ass though," she added to Chrissy with something like a maternal pride, which Chrissy had never gotten from her own mother.

Nancy readily agreed to drive them to Eddie's apartment—Chrissy suspected she wanted a distraction from her work. Chrissy sat in the back with Eddie, and several times, she caught Nancy watching them in the rearview mirror and smiling to herself from time to time. Chrissy glared at her. To her credit, Nancy never said a word except to ask Eddie for his address, and "Here we are!" when they arrived at Eddie's apartment building—an old brownstone just behind the South Campus—not more than five minutes later.

"Thanks for the ride, Wheeler," Eddie said, getting out and giving Nancy's shoulder a friendly pat, by way of saying goodbye.

Chrissy hesitated. Should she say goodbye here, or should she walk him to his door? The guy is usually the one walking the girl to her door, isn't he? What would the etiquette be in this case?

Thankfully, Nancy saw her wavering. "Go ahead," she said, nodding at Chrissy with that same knowing smile. "I'll wait in the car."

Chrissy ran after Eddie, who was halfway up the front steps.

"Eddie," she said. "Don't forget your jacket." She pressed the jean vest into his hand.

"You keep it," he said. "So I have an excuse to see you again." The grin was back, shy and playful at the same time, and Chrissy melted in its warmth.

"I'm so sorry our date was ruined," she said.

"It's not your fault. And nothing was ruined. I had a great time."

"Me too. Thank you." Chrissy was well aware that Nancy was waiting, but she didn't want to say goodbye, not yet. She went up a few steps until she could see her reflection in his glasses. "Eddie?"

"Yes?"

"Can I—do you mind taking off your glasses? I want to see your eyes." She wondered if she was being intrusive, but Eddie only said, "Oh, of course!" He lifted his glasses into his curls, and Chrissy fell quiet as she took in his eyes.

Eddie's eyes were dark brown, the largest, softest brown eyes she'd ever seen, fringed by enviably long lashes. They looked blank, as expected, and even though the expressiveness of the rest of his face more than made up for it, her heart still twisted when she imagined how wonderful he would've looked, how alive his face would've been, if those eyes could see.

"They're beautiful," she said.

"I'd rather that they were functional rather than beautiful, but hey, you have to take what you can get, right?"

Chrissy realized she'd misspoken again. "I'm so sorry," she said, feeling wretched. "I didn't mean—"

"No, no," Eddie quickly said, taking her hand to assure her that he wasn't offended. "I was just joking."

Chrissy took another step up. They were now so close that she could count the freckles across the bridge of his nose, even in the dim light over his front door. "Can I kiss you?" she asked, a little breathless.

Eddie's own breath caught. "No one's ever asked me that before," he said.

"I've never asked that of anyone before either."

Eddie smiled. "I guess that made this the first for both of us." Then he sobered, realizing the weight of this moment. "I'd love a kiss from you." He leaned closer and turned his head slightly, putting his cheek toward her.

It was then that Chrissy realized he was expecting a goodnight kiss on the cheek, a chaste kiss between friends. And she also realized she had no interest in being friendly or chaste.

Pressing a finger to his jaw, she turned him to face her and put a kiss on his lips.

A moment's hesitation as Eddie was caught by surprise, then his mouth parted, welcoming, responsive, and he was kissing her back, slowly but surely. His lips were just as soft as she'd imagined them, and when he lifted a hand to her face, caressing her jaw and cheek, as if trying to feel the kiss with all of his senses, she forgot everything else but him and those lips under hers.

"Are you smiling?" he said as they pulled apart to draw breath. His fingers still continued their gentle quest across her face, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

"I am." Her smile widened, and she saw it reflected on Eddie's face.

"That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"Very good." His fingertips grazed her lips. She kissed them, and because that wasn't enough, never enough, she leaned in for another lingering kiss on his mouth.

Even when they pulled apart, Eddie kept his arms around her. "Chrissy?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Can I see you—" Realizing what he was saying, Eddie chuckled sheepishly, and Chrissy grinned as well. "I mean," he corrected himself, "can we go on another—"

Chrissy didn't let him finish. "I'd love to," she said, and kissed him again for good measure.

She didn't know how long they stood there, arms and bodies and lips intertwined, until she remembered that Nancy was still waiting for her.

"I have to go," she said and reluctantly let go of Eddie.

"Sunday, then?" Eddie asked, as he walked slowly through the door, still holding on to her fingers.

"Sunday." She squeezed his hand to reassure him and watched until he was safely inside, before running down to the car.

"Thanks for waiting, Nancy," Chrissy said.

"No worries," said Nancy with the proud look of someone who knew they had done a good job. "I know what it's like."

"What was your first date with Jonathan like?" asked Chrissy. Nancy was so competent, so serious that Chrissy had always been slightly intimidated by her. Now she was glad to be able to have some girl talk with Nancy, as shallow as that made her.

"We didn't really have one," said Nancy, a wry smile twisting her mouth as she remembered. "We were on an assignment together, and it just—sort of happened. So when are you seeing Eddie again?"

"Sunday."

Nancy's eyebrows went up. "That soon?"

Usually, this would set Chrissy down another path of self-doubt, making her worry that she was moving too fast or being too easy. But now, still feeling Eddie's touches on her hands and her lips, still wrapped in his warmth from the denim vest draped around herself, and with his words still lingering in her mind, she no longer worried.

Put one foot in front of the other and forget everything else.

"Not soon enough for me," she said, and smiled at Nancy's astonished face.

So I got the inspiration for this from a viral video of a guy going on a blind date only to find out that his date was actually blind (I lifted some of the dialogue from the video.) Even though the video was apparently staged, it's quite cute and feels very Hellcheer. However, I decided to flip it around and make Eddie the blind one instead of Chrissy, because I like the idea of Eddie still being so full of life despite his disability that he manages to inspire Chrissy as well.

It's a one-shot for now, but I love writing Blind Eddie so there may be more stories for him in the future!

[tennessoui]

kit's ko-fi fics: July Wine Party AU!

she's here, she's arrived - it's july ko-fi time and the au i wrote a longer fic for this time is the wine party au! a quick rundown of the wine party au: obi-wan is a bit of a wine snob/retired chef and sommelier. anakin is a bit of a broke college student/retired frat bro. they fuck a lot and enter a quasi-relationship where they find each other fascinating and attractive but hate everything about the other except for all the parts they like. padmé and her psychologist friends find them fascinating. here is the tumblr tag for the au, and here are the links to the two ficlets I've written for the wine party au in the past: Tumblr Tag / Past Ficlets For Wine Party AU

and here is a little teaser for the fic that i've just posted up on my gallery on ko-fi for monthly supporters only:

“I don’t know, Padmé,” Anakin says, squinting at her tiny face on his phone. “I wasn’t asked to bring anything.” On screen, Padmé rolls her eyes. “You’ve been to enough of these things by now, Anakin. You should know you always bring something.” “I’ve been to a lot of these things at Kenobi’s house,” Anakin corrects, setting the phone down against the toaster so he can survey the kitchen around him. “I’ve never been to a fancy rich party on a big boat before.” “A yacht,” Padmé corrects. “And don’t try to pretend you’re not on first name terms with Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker. I’m a renowned psychologist, not an idiot, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the hickies on your neck after every wine party you attend with me.” “He’s a dick,” Anakin tells her. “And those could have been from anyone. Your other friend there, Organa maybe.” “My happily married and very straight friend, Bail Organa?” she asks, with such a tone of disbelief that Anakin entertains the idea of hanging up on her. It’d certainly make him feel better for a few moments at least. “Yeah,” he says staunchly anyway.  “Better him than Kenobi.” Kenobi, who is a dick. Kenobi, who always looks at him with a slightly incredulous sneer, as if he’s unsure who allowed him into his social circle, or like he’s just caught him wearing muddy shoes on his precious white fur rugs. 

as a general reminder, my ko-fi fics are standalone fics set in an au of my choosing that i've talked about on tumblr in the past. no ko-fi fic will include key information you need to understand for any fic published on ao3, but rather they're just extra stuff and longer fics than i usually post on tumblr. to see these fics, you need to be a monthly supporter on ko-fi - and if you are, you can see this most recent wine party one as well as 12 others!!! cancel anytime - you'll still have access until your sub runs out, a month after your last supporting payment. and of course i will continue to post things on ao3 and also on tumblr that anyone can see - this is just. extra stuff that i have fun writing!

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

Do you have any shuggy fanfic recommendations? I already read and rearead (and reread) yours one piece ff…

i can certainly give you some recs!

everything's hosted on ao3 and set in the one piece universe; i do read modern/mundane AUs but i'm always really picky about how an author adapts a ship's canon history into an AU, so i've yet to find one that really grabs me except that one college AU i forgot to save a link to… i hope i'll find you again someday…

for all my life i’ve watched from afar, i’m too afraid to try by Badopportunities - complete, 18k

this is probably my favorite shuggy fic i've read so far. a canon divergence in which shanks hunts down ace instead of whitebeard to warn him off the blackbeard hunt directly, and just so happens to find ace while he's hanging out with buggy's crew. love the outside POVs on shanks & buggy before their history was common knowledge, love their dynamic while trying to keep that history secret, love the optimistic way the story ends.

uncharted waters by vestigialmoods - complete, 41k

a long, multi-POV sorta kinda get-together—this one written after we knew the warlord system was being dissolved but before we learned about cross guild. buggy tries to figure out what to do now that he's lost government protection; shanks is encouraged to go for what he wants for once, instead of passively letting fate decide his path. features very fun characterization for both crews, and a really well-crafted scene that deals with phantom limb pain and sexual tension simultaneously.

in the deepest depths i lost myself, i see myself through someone else by Badopportunities - WIP, 36k

it may be gauche to rec multiple fics by the same author but Badopportunities has yet to steer me wrong! this is set during the timeskip, while buggy is searching for an island to claim as his warlord base of operations and shanks is trying to look after former whitebeard territories. they clash. uses one of my favorite lines for a childhood friends-to-lovers ship: one of them says he's single because he's having trouble finding a partner with “similar life experiences.” iykyk

currently incomplete at 4/5 chapters, last updated in 2022… but they just posted a new chapter of their other shuggy wip (which i also recommend, buggy time travels and saves ace & uta) this week, so it feels like anything's possible!

I'll See You in My Dreams by doublejoint - complete, 4k

shanks keeps dreaming of being older, on a ship with only buggy for company, wearing matching rings and sailing for who knows where. i love how efficiently and effectively this fic explores his thoughts on these dreams over the years—are they visions of the future, his secret desires, bad gas? the ending is very sweet.

We Are Never Ever Ever Getting Back Together (and other lies Buggy tells himself) by Transformatron - complete, 11k, explicit

i am not much for smut (being ♠️🏳️‍🌈 and all), but occasionally one gets in the mood, and this fic has some intense emotions to go along with the intense, kinda kinky smut. shanks has found out about cross guild and comes to see buggy, not convinced that this is a safe, sane, and consensual situation buggy's found himself in. they fight about it, and then… 😳

there is background established buggy/crocodile/mihawk, but crocodile and mihawk aren't present for the explicit portion of the fic.

i like lipstick on my neck by kiriya - complete, 20k, explicit

if i'm recommending smut-with-feelings, i have to rec this fic. genderbent butch/femme shanks and buggy run into each other in east blue, post-roguetown and pre-canon, and spend three chapters bickering, drinking, and… you know. absolutely fantastic characterization, buggy is an awful little gremlin and shanks likes her very much despite herself.

i don't know if the fic was inspired by this art or if the art was inspired by this fic, but either way… if you read the fic you should look at the art. that butch shanks is just. absolutely inspired.

[cyberpxnk]

until the moon and stars fall | jeong yunho

♡ pairing: yunho x chubby!reader ♡ chapters: 1 out of 1 ♡ word count: 2.3k ♡ genre: nonidol! au, comfort/hurt, fluff, established relationship

♡ synopsis: your bad day at work takes a turn for the worse but despite it all, jeong yunho never fails to be there for you.

♡ warnings/tags: chubby!reader, no gendered terms for reader, a lil self indulgent, cussing, body/fat shaming, mentions of body image, bullying, minor kissing, maybe a lil cliche but bear w/ me

♡ author’s note:  this one is for all my chubby babes and customer service workers !! i've never rly written comfort before..,,.. so i hope it's like... ok for y'all :sweating_emoji: maybe i was a lil self indulgent on this one, but i hope u all enjoy it !!

The big fat zero in your face taunted you, reminding you of the awful day you have to endure for another hour. It wasn't often that you received no tip for your services, but the gods really rained down on you today, offering little sympathy.

Being a restaurant worker was tough shit, just as every other food industry and customer service job was. You hate it, really, but it was good money for a broke college student like yourself. 

Between classes, there were days you managed to muster up your feigned smile of politeness to customers, serving them while dealing with their all too present bullshit attitude. Of course, not all your patrons were so unlovely but today... Man.

Two hours in and you're ready to rip off your apron and book it home. You're not sure what's going on with you, but clearly nothing good. Already having spilled several drinks and messing up an order, you know it's not your day.

Even the zero tip didn't surprise you at this point. What did matter is that you had to make it through the rest of your ungodly shift and just get the hell out of there. Maybe you would look for a new job or something, anything to sate your present worries. 

What seemed worst of all was the ceaseless teasing that came from your coworker. She's the new girl, having barely worked with you, yet she was pompous and held herself with an air of arrogance as if you were someone of lowly status and she, royalty. 

Unlike yourself, she radiated haughtiness and garnered attention from all types of people. You're not sure why she even worked as a server, but you suppose her pretty looks helped her out quite a bit. If not for her atrocious attitude hidden beneath her sickening saccharine smile, perhaps you would be swayed too. 

"Didn't get tipped, porky? Serves you right for messing up so much today." 

Yeah, there it was. Cliche beautiful and slender girl poking fun at her less than fortunate chubby coworker. Let's get one thing straight though, you don't hate yourself or your body. But her? That's a different story. Well, she certainly made it a little harder not to be self conscious, even if you tried your best on most days. 

"Mhm," is all you manage back to her, lips pulled tight in a grimace as you continue to go about your work. Dealing with her was just another thing upon the pile of shit you didn’t have the energy for. 

And you don’t particularly enjoy being reminded of how your uniform stretched uncomfortably over your larger frame or how your thick thighs often chafed together, holes forming in the fabric between your legs, which resulted in you buying way too many new pairs of work pants. Ugh. 

Your coworker did enough complaining for the both of you, oftentimes taking a tone of mockery. On more than one occasion, you could recall her poking at your stomach in disgust before asking something along the lines of, "how do you even fit in the uniform? Did you have to order those rags off a plus size website?" 

Yeah, in fact you did but that's irrelevant! You wonder when a grown woman like herself would get tired of teasing you, but it's been months and she's still going strong. 

You can deal with it. You hope. Just one more hour, just one more hour — one more hellish hour and maybe you'll quit. 

Another fifty minutes of waiting tables and withholding your anger, you know you're at the homestretch. As you balance a tray of dirty dishes, you mosey your way over to the back when you suddenly find yourself stumbling, barely catching how your coworker stuck her foot out before you. 

No, no, no! What the hell kind of movie-esque moment was this? Surely enough, you trip over her leg and crumple to the ground, food and plates scattering messily along the floor. 

The sound of her obnoxious laughter fills the air, growing louder in volume as she cackles, throwing her head back in a fit of malevolent glee. 

"Oh my god! Can you do anything right, fatso?" 

A rush of emotions and you're on your feet, wiping away some of the food remnants from your uniform. Hot anger is flooding through you and you're visibly seething. 

"What is your issue, bitch?" You've held your tongue for too long and your eyes are welling up with tears, though you're unsure if it's from the unbridled rage or the overwhelming flood of negative feelings you're experiencing. 

"Your fat ass is my issue! I hate seeing you at work. Nobody wants you here. Even the customers don't tip you because they lose their appetite after they see they're being waited on by a whale!" 

The silence that falls over the restaurant is unsettling, tension palpable as nobody utters a word, hers still ringing in your ears. Even your manager who peers from behind the kitchen keeps quiet, unsure of how to handle the escalating situation. 

Not that they were very helpful anyway, always allowing your coworker to have her way — insisting that she was just "joking" and that she didn't mean any harm. Ha, pretty privilege. 

It was fine though. You had enough. This was the last straw and you would be sure to show them that you wouldn't take her shit any longer. You didn't deserve it. 

In your flurry of emotions, what you fail to see is your boyfriend hovering near the front door. Clutched in his hands, he holds a paper cup filled with a latte and the other is a crumpled paper baggie with your favorite pastry. 

Jeong Yunho was truly the epitome of sweet. Even after his long shifts as a barista, he never failed to make time for you. It was different today though. Something in the winds whispered to him that day, the energy unnerving as his stomach churned nervously during the last few hours on the clock. 

Not wanting to ignore the feeling, he was determined to see you. If whatever gods or deities were compelling him to check up on his partner today, then that's just what he would do. 

What he didn't expect to find was his said lover covered in slop, hair astray and tears threatening to fall from your eyes. If not for the last semblance of his senses steadying him, he would have stomped over in a fit of fury. 

Yunho nearly did though, hands just barely unclenching the items he held. The scene unfolding before him... he should have stopped it, yet he couldn't will himself. The determined look in your eyes advised him otherwise.

It was clear that you had snapped. Despite your current state of disarray, you held up your head high and pressed your pointer finger to your coworker's chest, practically spitting out your next words, venom dripping with each syllable. 

"You must get some sick sense of pleasure tearing other people down," you stepped forward and she stumbled back, eyes wide with bewilderment, "you're projecting pretty hard."

"Excuse m-" you interrupted her, moving another stride forward until she was cornered to the wall. 

"You must hate yourself so much that you need to resort to shitty high school bullying tactics to feel better about yourself. I feel sorry for you." 

Watching as you defend yourself, Yunho feels his chest swell with pride yet it pained him knowing you had been handling this problem all alone and he didn't know for how long. Several times in passing, you had mentioned your troublesome colleague to him but he never realized how awful to an extent it was.

"I'm done here, honestly. I'm sick of your attitude and I'm sick of management's negligence." You untie your apron and toss it at her face, watching as she fumbles slightly whilst trying to catch the fabric.

She sputters in response, her face twisting with rage as she points an accusing finger to you. 

"Even if you leave here, you'll never be liked and loved. Not with that disgusting body of yours. Do us all a favor and hit the gym after you're gone."

It is Yunho's turn to intervene as he steps closer to you all, protectively hooking one arm around your side. The gifts he previously held were long forgotten, abandoned at some table in favor of defending you. 

His entrance seems to startle everyone, including yourself as you jump slightly before you reach over, curling into the familiarity of his hold. The man squeezes you once, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You don't know how long he's been standing there, but you can see his gaze narrowed in a sharp glare. There's a fire alight in his eyes, wisps of anger that you rarely find on your gentle boyfriend's features. The heart shaped lips you're so used to seeing upturned are pulled taut in a line, displeasure clear upon his face. 

"You're wrong. It's you who will never feel true love. Not with that nasty, ugly heart of yours." There's a sharp edge to his voice, steely and void of any remorse. You know he wants to say more with how his jaw clenches yet he turns you both around with haste and leads you toward the exit without another sound.

As you both walk out in silence, his hold drops from your waist and his hand is reaching for yours, fingers intertwining with a gentle weave. It's only seconds later before he's helping you into his car, buckling you in before he gets in the opposite side and begins driving home.

No words are exchanged, a quiet stillness in the air. Though he has one hand on the wheel, the other still grips yours as you idly play with his fingers. You try to distract yourself from the earlier events, tracing gentle shapes along his knuckles. 

It's only until you're back within the safety of your shared home do the tears you've withheld finally drip down your cheeks. You sniffle once and then twice before you're sobbing. 

Yunho's arms around you are immediate, holding you against his frame as he gently rocks you within the security of his protective embrace.

His soft whispers of reassurance and comfort fill your ears as you soak through his shirt with your tears. He clutches you tighter, never letting go even as your cries begin to wane.  Minutes pass, and you're unsure of how long you're standing there before you sniffle quietly and reluctantly pull yourself from his chest.

When you finally look to meet his eyes, your breath catches in your throat. Yunho looks at you painstakingly, his gaze so tender that you practically melt in his arms. Your lip quivers at the sight.

"I love you," he whispers so faintly that you barely hear him. The warmth of his affections flood you, shaking your very heart to the core. Though he need not say more than those three things, he relents. 

"You're everything to me..." He speaks breathlessly, his lips repeatedly finding yours between sweet and inaudible murmurs. You're sinking into his touch, blinking back the wetness in your eyes as his loving touches ghost along the soft curves of your body.  

"Your size doesn't matter and it will never dictate how you should be loved. It doesn't make you any less attractive, any less desirable, any less lovable, any less you." 

The tears begin to form in your eyes again, and you're unable to stop the steady stream of waterworks as your heart trembles from his admission. Your hands grasp his shirt and you open your mouth, though no sound follows.

"Jagiya..." Your eyes flutter as his breath fans over your face, his lips brushing away each tear as they fall.

You know there aren't enough words to express how he looks to you in adoration, how delicately he reaches to cup your tear stained cheeks, how he kisses you as if you're so fragile you may break from his dainty touches. 

"The love I have for you seeps from my soul. I never want to waste a minute without loving you to the fullest." 

There is a brief pause as he rests his forehead to yours, his palms still clutching your face with the utmost care. 

"To me, you are ethereal. To me, you are divine. To me, you are perfect. If I am without you, then I would travel the stars just to see you." 

His proclamation strikes your soul so deeply that you can't help the way your heart beats readily, nearly bursting from your rib cage. He describes you as if you were of the heavens and you almost feel unworthy of his affections, yet you can't help but to believe the sincerity of his words.

The feeling of his unyielding passion is all it takes for another wave of tears and he's no sooner repeating his actions, kissing away each drop that slips from your eyes. 

"I love you so much," you say, unable to elicit anything more than just that between your soft cries. Your voice trembles with such emotion that Yunho understands you needn't say more. 

With your hand grasping his, you lay it over your chest and allow him to feel your heartbeat, showing him just how much his radiance and purity of love stirs you so.  

Yunho mirrors your action, and you feel his pulse steady to your palm. The lull of his essence roots you and grounds you to the very earth. 

Until the stars and moon fell from the sky, just as he cherished you, you would cherish him tenfold. Just as he loved you, you would love him eternally.

[rosiesdisneydrama]

Witch Way Next? CH2: Our Inciting Incident

Fiddleford was worried about Stanford. Well, actually, he was worried about a lot of things. It just happened that the majority of those things connected back to his best friend and college roommate. He was really starting to wonder what it was they were even trying to do anymore

And a single phone call adds more things for Fiddleford to worry about. (And, maybe, a sibling relationship that he could help mend.)

AN: I've never written Fiddleford before, so I hope I did him justice in this chapter. I also spent a lot of time grounding things/talking about background info in this. Like how grants work (which, to me, also explains why Ford was so hellbent on the portal).

I'd like to keep a (roughly) once-a-month update schedule for this story, to give myself more time to write and to give readers more time to ask questions or give their thoughts on what I have. (Mostly writing time tho.)

Please leave a comment and tell me what you think/like about this story and AU. I welcome all comments and questions!

Ao3 Link

Fiddleford was worried about Stanford.

Well, actually, he was worried about a lot of things. It just happened that the majority of them connected back to his college roommate and dearest friend.

Ford was a genius. He was an amazing researcher whose zest for the unknown and impossible had drawn him in years ago and never fully let him go. It had made college a delight, learning and exploring and challenging what people thought was impossible. He remembered the secondhand pride he’d felt when he’d heard that his friend had been given a government research grant after they’d graduated.

Fiddleford had been delighted when Stanford called him to help with his research in Gravity Falls.

Yes, some of their adventures were more terrifying than exciting, but it all felt worthwhile initially. Uncovering the impossible, seeing things that had only ever been in his dreams with his own eyes.

But lately… Lately, something was just- Not right. He couldn’t eloquently explain what was bothering him. But something had shifted from when he’d first signed up to work as an assistant for Stanford and now.

Stanford was very adamant about his self-sufficiency. Getting him to ask for help, or even acknowledge when it needed to be more than just the two of them, was like pulling teeth from a hog. It was like he was allergic to the word “help” for anything more than the phrase “write this down”. And that wasn’t even getting into the man’s tunnel vision when he was working.

Honestly, some days Fiddleford was sure the man would have starved to death if it weren’t for him making sure to put food in front of him.

And that he bathed. Bathing was important, too. Not just for appearances, but to keep things clean enough to avoid contaminating experiments.

(That had always been one of his best weapons to get his fellow science-types to do important self-maintenance.)

And he was so secretive now. More so than he'd been back in college and they were still learning about each other. Getting personal details out of his roomie had been shockingly hard in those days, but now the exact nature of their inventing was just as much a secret at times.

Working with his best friend used to be fun and exciting. A new adventure each day! It had changed from those days. And he didn’t like how it had changed either. Something just wasn’t right anymore.

Not right with the area. Not right with their labs. Not right with Stanford.

But Fiddleford had no idea how to broach the topic. Or even what, specifically, was the root issue.

Well, actually, he could think of one thing. The very thing Stanford had called him to Gravity Falls for in the first place. That damn portal.

It felt… Beyond the reality he knew.

Sure, he made it his bread and butter to bring science fiction into the real world, but the idea of being able to hop between dimensions… It was a lot to wrap his head around, even if he could see it all in theory.

And Ford was adamant that his portal could do it once they finished building it.

He was an engineer, but there were days where he couldn’t fathom the calculations and construction ideas that Ford seemed to pull from thin air for that thing.  And, somehow, managed to make it work, despite it. He went at it with a fervor that Fiddleford wasn’t fully sure he liked. There were times when Ford just wasn’t himself and it made his hair stand on end.

Something was up with that thing, and Fiddleford really wished Stanford would just tell him what it was so he could help.

He wanted to go back to those days. When everything was new and exciting. When they were unraveling the mysteries of the area when they weren’t locked up in the basement. (When he didn't need the memory gun to find peace at night…) Sure, some of the adventures were more scary than he normally would have liked, but… They were finding things that could change the world. Challenging what people believed was and wasn’t real and finding proof to back themselves up. And he’d made so many leaps and bounds in mechanical engineering because of it all.

Now though? Now he was starting to wonder why they were even doing the things they were.

Between them, they had enough things they could publish and patent to set themselves up to live comfortably for decades. All they had to do was write it all down and send it out to the offices and publishers. He’d already sorted out the final and best versions of his general inventions and got them ready for final print.

But the only notes Ford had put to paper this year were either in his journals or scattered randomly on sticky notes and printed papers throughout the house. None of it was properly consolidated into a single thesis or volume that he could send out. Hell, parts of his research weren’t even kept in a single room. He really needed to start gathering things together and sorting them out, the folks giving him the grants were bound to start asking for his results soon.

(His grants were biennial, so he only needed to publish or submit something big every two years. He had to submit something before the end of his sixth year in the area.)

Sure, Ford had the receipts for stuff he’d been buying with his grant money so he could mostly prove he hadn’t wasted it all on frivolous things. (No fancy sports cars or hot tubs or anything like that.) The scientific community needed proof that research was being done. They wanted written papers, completed blueprints, or even finished inventions. No taking the money and running while vaguely assuring people that there was research being done.

The brunt of Ford’s grant money was going into the portal after he’d finished building the house. And his sub-basements. And the bunker, too. The last one was still in progress, technically though. They were still finalizing the security for it but it was just about finished.

And yet, for some reason, Ford had yet to sum everything up all neat and clean for the folks who couldn’t (or wouldn’t) come to Gravity Falls and see it all themselves. At least, not for his upcoming survey in the spring.

Fiddleford would have to start nipping at his heels to get him to start drafting things to show. Waiting until the last minute would just make things harder for him. He certainly had enough projects to choose from for it, it was high time Ford narrowed his options to figure out which one he planned to show off.

(Maybe he could build the whole thing around that odd egg he’d found while they were first building the bunker? It was still in lockdown until the specimen room was finished but it wouldn’t be hard to pull it out of storage and start working with it. If it ended up hatching, then they at least would have a subject for the cryogenic tubes.)

He sighed over his cup of coffee, looking out at the color-changing leaves outside the window. Fall was slowly working its way into the town, painting the forest around the house in beautiful shades of orange, red, and gold. The colors were a warm contrast to the chill in the air.

It was a right pretty sight. He could see the appeal of “leaf-peeping” as folks called it. Taking time to admire the changing seasons.

Maybe he ought to invite Emma-may and Tate up sometime to see it. He oughta’ take a few pictures himself to send back home. He was sure there was a cheap camera squirreled away in his apartment somewhere that he could use.

(He needed to do more for his dear wife. Things were getting rocky between them and… He wanted to fix it. He loved her and he wanted to take care of her and Tate as best he could. And lately, he hadn’t been feeling like a very good husband. He needed to do something special for her.)

He was fairly sure there was enough room in his little apartment for them both to stay without it being too crowded. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Tate would love to see the area during Halloween. The folks around Gravity Falls seemed like the sort who’d go all out for it. Summerween had been a gas and Fiddleford was actually pretty excited to see what they would do for Halloween proper.

But those were future plans.

Plans he’d hoped to run by Ford before they set to work that day. He should have known better than to think it would be that simple.

He’d showed up early that morning with the week's groceries packed into his truck since Ford had a dreadful habit of forgetting to do them. It was just chilly enough outside that the box in the bed of the truck where the groceries were didn't need to be refrigerated to keep them cool. He fully planned to make something for the two of them for breakfast once he got to the lab. Maybe discuss a plan for the day before they went off and started working.

But, of course, Ford wanted to hurry outside and check on something that was supposed to only show up in the early morning and had hurried outside before Fiddleford had finished walking into the house.

Which left Fiddleford at the table, by himself, having long since finished eating and waiting for his friend to finish whatever it was he was doing. By now, the food he’d made for Stanford’s breakfast was cold. Ford would have to reheat it when he finally came inside since cold eggs and sausage didn’t taste very good.

He propped his cheek in his hand, staring into his coffee like it could give him the answers to the universe. (If only things could come that easy from a cup of joe.)

And nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone started ringing.

Stanford (to his knowledge) never got phone calls. So if someone was calling his home, then it must be important. Or an emergency.

He scrambled up, yanking the phone off its place on the kitchen counter.

“H-hello? Uh, the residence of Dr. Pines?” Shoot, was that the kind of answer Stanford would want him to use? They never talked about how to pick up if Fiddleford answered the phone before Stanford did… Or how Fiddleford should introduce himself if he did. “Th-this is his assistant, McGucket, speaking.”

"Hello Mr. McGucket. I'm Marsha Jakes, an ER nurse at St. Bartholomew's General Hospital in New Mexico. May I speak with Dr. Pines?” Came the calm, professional voice of a woman he didn’t know. He faltered for a moment when his head finished processing what she’d said.

A nurse? From New Mexico? Why would she be calling Ford?

Fiddleford's eyes flicked to the window. Stanford was still outside and the phone cord was too short for him to take it to the door…

“Um… I'm sorry, he's out at the moment. Can I… I can take a message for him?”

“Well… It would be better if I could speak to him. But if he's out I suppose a message will have to do for now. He needs to come down here as quickly as possible. Are you aware if Dr. Pines has a brother?”

A brother? Yes, Fiddleford was pretty sure he had two brothers. There was Shermie and… an estranged one that he hadn’t talked to in a long time (as far as he knew, at least).

He was pretty sure the fella’s name also started with “Stan”, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Stanford didn't talk about him too much, but he’d mentioned a few things when they shared a room about the guy.

(And maybe a drunken ramble once? They had both been very drunk so he couldn't remember how much had been said.)

Fiddleford could remember a few of those details. Ford’s brother had stopped living at home around the time Ford left for college. The two of them had, at their father’s insistence, taken boxing lessons as kids. They used to play at a beach near home a lot, having the usual treasure hunts little kids would play at that age. And said brother used to have a pet possum when they were kids.

(Fiddleford wasn’t as sure about that last one… Maybe it had been a neighbor kid who’d had the possum?)

So, yes. He knew that Ford had two brothers, at the very least.

“Ah, yes. I believe he has two brothers.” Fiddleford felt his heart sinking as he spoke. If a hospital was calling about one of Stanford’s brothers then… Oh no…

“A man we believe is one of his brothers,  a mister Stanley Pines, was brought into our ER this morning and has been in surgery for several hours now.”

Fiddleford sucked in a sharp breath. Oh god…

"His condition is serious. Dr. Pines is the closest family we could find contact information for on Mr. Pine’s person, in a pocket address book he was carrying. And we’d like him to come in if they’re related.” The woman’s voice remained calm and professional as she spoke.

“I- Of course! I’ll tell him right away, what’s the hospital’s phone number? In case he thinks it’s his brother and decides he needs to head down?” Fiddleford frantically scrambled for a small notebook, hurriedly scribbling down the number the nurse rattled off.

"If it turns out that we’ve made a mistake and they’re not related, please call us back and let us know.”

“We will. Thank you for calling. I’ll try to get him to call back as soon as he can.” He set the phone down on the receiver and then sprinted for the door, clutching the little notebook in hand.

Fiddleford burst through the door, stumbling slightly over the front mat. His head whipped over the yard, trying to spy the sweater-clad form of his friend against the fiery leaves of the trees. He spotted him at the edge of the woodline, hunched over something and scribbling away in one of his journals.

“Ford!” He yelled out, voice cracking slightly from the volume. He could see Ford jump and turn to him. “Y-You got a call! It’s important!”

Ford was quick to cross the distance, lightly jogging across the grounds and up to the porch. If it was because he wanted to know what the call was about or because he didn’t want either of them to strain their voices yelling, Fiddleford wasn’t entirely sure. But he appreciated not having to yell the news into the forest, either way.

“Had- had to take a message since you were outside. You- you have another brother, right? Other than Shermie?” Ford frowned at the question and there was a note of… Something that Fiddleford couldn’t quite put his finger on.

(He wanted to say it was annoyance. And maybe just a little bit of… Bitterness? And something else that was too small for him to puzzle out right then. He could untangle his friend’s expression later.)

“Yes?” was the short, slightly hesitant answer.

“Would his name happen to be Stanley?” Fiddleford asked. The sick feeling in his stomach grew worse when Ford nodded. “Ho boy, that’s- Okay, we might wanna go inside then. The- The call was about him.”

To his immense surprise, Ford groaned in a mix of anger and annoyance.

“Stanley’s gotten himself in some kind of trouble, hasn’t he?” He didn’t wait for Fiddleford to answer before continuing, anger and frustration seeping from his tone as he did. “Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, he has. It’s Stanley, he used to always get himself in trouble. It’s a wonder he hasn’t called sooner to ask for help. Probably to ask for money, or because he needs to be bailed-”

Fiddleford’s jaw worked uselessly, caught flat-footed by the reaction. This was… Not what he was expecting. He could see Ford working himself up (for the completely wrong reason) over what he thought the call was about.

“No! That ain’t it at all!” The words came out at a near-shout, cutting into Ford’s rant and forcing the other scientist to look at him in surprise. (Fiddleford didn’t like raising his voice unless he had to.) “Ford, the call was from a hospital. In New Mexico! Yer brother’s in the hospital!”

He watched Ford’s face freeze.

“A-A hospital?”

“Yes, he’s in their ER. Got brought in this morning, they found yer address in something he was carrying and called to ask ya to come in. It’s- The nurse said it’s serious.” Fiddleford could see the anger on Ford’s face being replaced with concern. Fiddleford continued, “They said you were the closest family member they could find a contact for. An’ if they’re looking for family then…”

He didn’t need to finish that sentence, he was sure. Stanford was a logical fella, he could fill in the blanks himself.

Ford was arguing with himself, Fiddleford could see it in his face and the way he was holding himself. Since he started out being angry, it wasn’t a surprise that he needed a moment to wrestle it aside. He was probably logic-ing his way through the information he’d just gotten. Finishing the sentence and coming to terms with it all in that rapid metal-fire way he always did.

“I- I think we may need to pause our work for a bit,” Ford said, his words hitching ever-so-slightly. “I need to make a phone call. And pack for a trip.”

“O’ course. Don’t forget to grab their address when you call.” Fiddleford passed him the notebook with the hospital’s number.

It took an hour, roughly, for Ford to make the call and confirm that he’d be coming down. And for Fiddleford to haggle his way into convincing Ford to not only use his truck for the drive but to let him come as well.

Because, sure, Ford could make the trip on his own with the local bus service but it was just more convenient to have your own mode of transport. And, with the two of them, they could take turns driving down, which would make the trip less exhausting and boring in the long run. (Going from Oregon to New Mexico was a mighty long drive, after all!)

Plus, he really didn’t want to leave Ford on his own when he knew his friend’s brother was in the hospital.

Ford had caved under the logic, and finally agreed to his friend’s terms and set to packing up a bag for himself. And Fiddleford headed back into town to pack a bag from his apartment.

It took roughly fifteen to twenty minutes for him to get from Ford’s house to his apartment. It was a decent building, not too big and not too small.

His place was on the ground floor, in one of the bigger apartments they had in the building. It was actually, technically, a two-person apartment but he’d gotten his lease at a steal. However, that may have been due to the fact that Gravity Falls was a pretty small town and most of the young folks were leaving town once they got old enough. It was pretty common for young folks to go where there was work and Gravity Falls didn’t have much work.

It wasn’t quite a retirement town but it wasn’t a hopping hub of activity either. There wasn’t much reason for most young people to stick around. Which left a lot of places with extra room and no one to fill them.

But that left plenty of room for folks like Fiddleford to find a place to stay without getting gouged for it.

He jogged inside, quickly grabbing one of his larger suitcases from where he’d left it in his living room, knocking a large number of notes onto the floor as he did, and dragging it to the bedroom. Tossing it onto his bed, he unzipped it and started rifling through his wardrobe to figure out what he wanted to pack for the trip. And the necessities always came first.

Firstly, he needed to pack clothes that were lighter than the ones he was already wearing since New Mexico was undoubtedly warmer than Oregon was. At least one extra change of clothes in case something spilled on him. Then he needed to pack up some of his toiletries from the bathroom, with some extra medications for headaches or if he (or Ford) hurt themselves by accident. A spare change of shoes, since he planned to wear his boots down. He probably wouldn’t need them, but it would be good if he wanted a set of shoes he could change to in a hurry.

He only needed to pack one case since this would, hopefully, be for a week or so at most. At least, he hoped they would only need to be there for that long.

(It would be terrible, for everyone involved, if Stanley had to stay there longer than that. He could feel it in his bones.)

Though he couldn’t help grabbing a small box of tinkering projects to bring with him. Nothing that would require a huge amount of tools to work on, but enough to keep his hands busy. He had a feeling he would need things to keep him occupied during all the times he wouldn't be allowed in because he wasn’t part of the family.

Maybe he could use some of them to help distract Ford, too. He would probably need it since it was his brother who was laid up. (Even if he would probably deny that he was worried.)

Fiddleford knew he would want distractions if it was one of his siblings was in a hospital.

He also snagged a couple of books, to give them both something to keep their minds busy as well. Mostly technical manuals, but he had a couple fiction books too.

Then he packed it all into the back of his pickup, making use of the larger tool crates anchored in the back to keep the cases from sliding around. (He was glad he’d snagged one that was much larger than he’d needed while coming down to Gravity Falls.)

Then he’d hopped back into his truck and made the long drive back to Ford’s place.

Ford was sitting on his porch when Fiddleford pulled up, one ragged-looking suitcase (which was a bit smaller than his own case) sitting beside him and a large leather satchel hung over his shoulder.

“Everything ready to go? Got the address handy?” He asked, looking over the few items Ford had packed for himself. It… Wasn’t a lot. He hoped that meant they were both hoping things would be okay and that they wouldn’t be staying for very long down there.

“Yes, I have everything. I wrote the address down on a notepad that I’ve put in my coat pocket. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Ford said with a sigh, standing up and gathering his case to put in the back of the truck. Fiddleford helped him lock it down in the back, and then they both climbed into the cab.

And then they were off and on the road, all the way to New Mexico.

-----------------------------

Fiddleford didn’t think of himself as a busybody. He wasn’t prone to sticking his nose into other people’s private business. If people didn’t want to tell him things, he didn’t try to force them to. Even if he couldn’t help calling out when he knew someone was hiding something. Though that was less about wanting to know than not wanting people to lie to him.

(He didn’t like it when people lied to him. If they didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine. He just preferred when people said that instead of being dishonest.)

He was a scientist, curiosity was in his nature but he tried to keep it to machines and theorems over people.

Except he hardly knew anything about Ford’s other brother, even after rooming with Ford for four years in college. So it really wasn’t strange that he would ask his friend about the guy. (Especially considering how he’d initially responded when Fiddleford said someone had called about him.) Really, it was only a matter of time until his patience ran dry and his curiosity became too much. 

And it did, roughly an hour into driving them both down the interstate. 

“Soo… Stanley,”  he hesitantly started, glancing at Ford from the corner of his eye. “You’ve mentioned him before. Back in college.”

“Yes. I probably have.” Ford’s response was terse and short. Not angry, but not terribly cheery either.

“You’ve never said a whole lot about the guy. Can ya… Tell me about him?” Fiddleford asked. There was a moment of silence in the truck. “If ya want to, o’ course. It’s fine if you don’t. I just- I’d like to know a bit about the guy before I meet him. Assuming the doctors are right and it is yer brother, obviously-”

Ford cut him off with a gusty sigh.

“No, it’s… I should tell you. Since there is a very real possibility you’ll be meeting him soon.” He let his head fall back, thumping lightly against the back of the seat. “I just- need to think of what I should start with.”

Ford took off his glasses and wiped at the lenses, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he started talking.

“Stanley is my twin brother. Our parents were expecting only one child but ended up with two. I was born first, then came Stanley roughly fifteen minutes after,” Ford said tiredly, setting his glasses back on his face. “It was a surprise that our mother had been delighted about. She believed having twins was good luck.”

“Really now?” He uttered, keeping his eyes on the road despite his mind running wild. It took a tremendous amount of Fiddleford’s self-control to keep himself from reacting to that. The last thing either of them needed was for him to send them off the interstate or get into an accident before they’d even left state lines.

A twin? His best friend had a twin brother? And Ford had never told him about the guy before! He’d have thought that a twin would have been far more likely to talk about their sibling than just a few in-passing anecdotes and vague mentions. And yet, Fiddleford was only just learning about Ford’s twin brother while on the way to a hospital for the guy.

It was a head-scratcher for him, he loved his siblings and was only too happy to tell folks about them all. But, he had to remind himself, not everyone's family was like his own. And the Pines’ family didn't seem the sort to talk much about themselves unless it was about their livelihoods.

(He supposed this was marginally better than it could have been. At least Fiddleford had been aware that Ford had more than one brother before this conversation.)

“Yes. We’re technically identical twins if one were to ignore… Well.” Ford lifted a hand, spreading out his fingers. He didn’t need to finish the sentence for Fiddleford to understand what he meant.

“Identical twins… Well, I’ll be.” Fiddleford flashed a small grin. “Guess I’m gonna be seeing double for a bit.”

The little joke made Ford let out an amused snort.

“We have the same face, but it’s been a very long time since we looked properly identical. Stanley was more athletic while I was more academic. When we were teenagers, he had continued to take boxing lessons even after I left and ended up far more muscular than I was. I’ve caught up a bit since then, but I rather doubt Stanley has let his skills fall into decay.” Ford said, fingers idly tapping a random pattern on the car door. “He always preferred more… Casual clothing than I did. Simple T-shirts and jeans and such. He had a varsity jacket he’d gotten from a thrift shop that used to wear every fall. It’s probably been thrown out, he’s likely outgrown it by now.”

Fiddleford nodded, smiling as he tried to picture Ford’s brother in his head. He sounded… Sporty. And all he could imagine was a jock version of Ford and that just left him biting back snickers.

(No offense to his friend, but he just wasn’t the type. He was so far from that type that it was hilarious to try and picture it.)

Ford’s smile faltered.

“I… I haven’t seen him in a little over a decade now.”

Wait, what?

“A decade?!” Fiddleford was in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine not seeing or hearing from any of his siblings in a year, never mind a decade.

“He… There was an argument. Around the time our school was being visited by scouts for various colleges, looking for prospective students. I made a special project to present in hopes of getting a scholarship from one of them.” Ford’s voice was growing tense as he spoke. In that way it usually did before he clammed up entirely to avoid losing his temper.

Fiddleford vaguely remembered this story. Or, at least, a version of it that Ford had told him before.

Back when they were in their first year at Backupsmore, his roommate had told him that the school was his emergency plan and not the school he’d wanted to attend. Ford had wanted to go to West Coast Tech but he hadn’t made the cut. He’d never elaborated on it, only muttering about someone being jealous.

 He’d thought it was an angry classmate but had it been…?

“He… He broke my project on the day of the presentations. And refused to take responsibility for it when we found out. Our father was furious with him. I was furious with him as well. The whole thing was… Messy.”

Fiddleford bit down on his reaction. It was a terrible thought, that Ford’s brother had sabotaged him. Except… Except something didn’t feel right.

Maybe it was a sign of Fiddleford’s own hopeful, sunny disposition but he couldn’t quite believe that could have been what happened.

He had shared a room with Ford for years and felt like he’d come to know him fairly well. He had learned some things about his friend, from both actions and context clues he’d picked up over that time. Ford had a habit of jumping to conclusions when it came to people and their possible motives which he didn’t do with his research. He would either be completely oblivious to what other folks thought or felt about something, or he would assume the worst about them without getting all the facts.

(He could remember one, particularly vicious fight that Ford had gotten into with a classmate when he’d thought the guy had stolen his blueprints for a project. It was the nastiest Fiddleford had seen his roommate get and had taken at least three teachers to calm the two down.)

If Ford’s father was the same way, then it was possible that Stanley hadn’t been given the chance to explain himself before the “argument” broke out between them all. And sometimes the reason someone wouldn’t take “responsibility” for something was because they didn’t do it. 

“Stanley, he… He left home that night. I saw it through the window of our room but couldn’t hear what he and Pa were saying very well. But he left with a duffel bag, his car, and the furious promise that he would be richer than any of us when we saw him again. I was- I left for Backupsamore not long after that. It was the only school I could afford without a scholarship to help me.” Ford shook his head, that bitter frown returning as he did. “He calls our Ma, on occasion. I’m not sure if he talks to Pa. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he deliberately avoided talking to him. He’s never tried to contact me during that time.”

Fiddleford still had that itch in the back of his mind. The one whispering that there was probably more to the story. He was only hearing one side of it, after all. And from one person who felt like the other had wronged them intentionally. (Whether or not it was true.)

“Have you tried?” Fiddleford couldn’t help asking. “Reaching out to him instead?”

It’s what he would have done, but Ford wasn’t him.

“No. I… I don’t have a number for him. Ma told me he… He travels the majority of the time. I don’t think he’s ever given her a number to call. He was always the one calling her.”

Well… He supposed that made some sense. If Stanley traveled for his work and Ford never had a number to call, it would make sense that they would have fallen out of contact with each other. And it would have been harder and harder to get back in contact as the years went on.

And Ford could hold a grudge like no one else Fiddleford had ever met, so the same was probably true for his brother. If the two of them got in a fight, then the chances of them just getting over it and making up on their own were near non-existent. So one or the other reaching out to try and make up probably wouldn’t happen for anything but the most extreme of circumstances. Or if someone on the outside was helping.

As much as Fiddleford wanted to keep asking, to lay some potential groundwork to help Ford move past this grudge, he knew his best friend fairly well by this point. Ford’s patience for talking about someone he was furious over was running out.

It would be better to let things lie for a while and come back to Stanley later. He wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley was the same way if he was asked about Ford.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t start fighting when they were finally put into the same room.

(But Ford obviously cared. He wouldn’t have been willing to make the drive so soon, so readily, if he really, genuinely hated his brother. So there was still hope, in some form, that whatever was between them could be fixed.)

Maybe Fiddleford could help them, then? Acting as a third perspective to help ground them. He couldn’t imagine holding a grudge against one of his siblings for so long… He couldn’t help wanting to help them out.

He could ask for Stanley’s perspective on the matter, and his side of the story, and see if there was a way to help them both. Figure out what had actually happened so they could finally make up with each other, At least enough for the two to be able to talk to and about each other again without things devolving into a fight. Or shutting down and going no-contact.

It would take time, effort, and patience. And Fiddleford had plenty of all three.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @marimbles! ♥️ No pressure tags: @litfeathers @lollytea @ashanimus @greyhavenisback @princecharmingwinks @tails89 @nutellarghh @ash-mcj @childlikegoblinqueen @daydreams-and-honeybees @avatarmerida @asarcasticwitch @sailahina @secretly-of-course @sapphic--kiwi @haystarlight @zyrafowe-sny @peachytea04 @slightecho

1. How many works do you have on AO3? just hit 100 last month!

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 479,814

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've dabbled in quite a few over the years, but the ones I've written the most fics for are doctor who (eleven/amy) teen wolf (sterek) and the owl house (huntlow)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Error 404: Brain Cell Not Found (teen wolf | sterek) You Always Want What You're Running From (sleepy hollow | ichabbie) What To Do When Your Emotionally Constipated Werewolf Boyfriend Gets Cursed By A Witch: A Guide (teen wolf | sterek) Gold Rush (the owl house | huntlow) Lovesick (the owl house | huntlow) 5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do! Every kind comment means so much to me, so I always take the time to respond to all of them (though I'm not always great at getting to them on time.)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm probably The Courtesan and the Writer (doctor who | eleven/amy) I used to dabble in angst a bit more when I first started writing fic, but these days all my fics are pretty much guaranteed to have a happy ending, because real life is hard enough lol

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Pretty much all my fics have happy endings, but one of the happiest I wrote would probably be my huntlow college AU Until You Meet Someone Who Makes The Fall Feel Like Flying

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I wouldn't call it outright hate, but I have gotten a handful of rude comments over the years (complaining that I don't post often enough, telling me my headcanons are wrong, telling me how they think my story should have ended — one time someone yelled at me in all caps because I said that a character chilled red wine lol that one was wild)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! Smut is fun. Mine is typically more focused on the emotional aspect than the physical, is usually the result of a long tension-fueled slow burn buildup, and is usually tooth-rottingly fluffy, soft, and sweet.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have! Back in the days where superwholock plagued tumblr, I wrote one of the silliest cross-overs imaginable, combining doctor who, torchwood, bbc sherlock, supernatural, the avengers, and sleepy hollow: Lords, Gods, and Madmen

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup 🙃

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! But most of them never saw the light of day 😂 one that did is called An Eggcellent Morning For Cooking Lessons co-written with @ash-mcj @tails89 and @nutellarghh

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I think my top three ships are reflected in who I've written the most fic for: huntlow, sterek, and the eleventh doctor/amy pond

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Luckily, everything that's posted to AO3 is finished, but at this point I'm thinking I'll probably never get around to writing the little nightmares, reylo, and captain swan WIPs I've had sitting in my drafts since 2019

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told I capture the characters really well, which means a lot to me. I've also been told that my writing is cozy and comforting and fills people with warm fuzzy feelings, which is always nice to hear 🥰

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I will sit there and agonize over the same paragraph trying to make it sound perfect instead of just letting the writing flow, so sometimes a fic will be in the works for a very long time until it's finally ready to be posted (by which time I'm probably sick of it and never want to look at it again 😂)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've dabbled in this a little bit, but it's usually been plot-relevant, like a character learning to speak the language (i.e. when Hunter tried to learn Spanish in Being Human.) When I do write in another language, I always do my best to research and try to get the translations as accurate as possible, and I always include the English translation either in the fic itself or as an author's note so readers don't have to break away from my fic to google anything. (And also so that they know what my intention was, on the off-chance I translated something wrong and accidentally wrote something offensive.) 19. First fandom you wrote for?

Does anyone remember that vampire show that came out back in like 2009? Moonlight? Yeah, that one lol

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? God, that's like asking me to pick my favorite child. Okay fine, it's Until You Meet Someone Who Makes The Fall Feel Like Flying

[scarfacemarston]

Hiii ☺️

I’ve never sent you anything before because I’m not great at trying to meet new people but one of the reasons I followed you was because of your love for RDR! It’s one of my favourite games of all time, I’m a sucker for Abigail thou 🤭

Do you have any headcannons with Abigail x Fem! Reader? (Totally okay if not!) & if not, is there anything you would like to share about her?

Hey! So good to hear from you! I've followed your blog for awhile! :) I'm a sucker for Abigail, too. It's a problem. I have actually lots written for Abigail! If you look at my Abigail Roberts x reader tab, you'll find a lot of things. There are some prompts that you'll have to scroll through to get to the writing, but it's there! So, I decided to do something I've never done before and go with Modern AU! Abigail. I've never done that before and I thought it would be fun to try out. If you would prefer I write new hc's with canon, Abigail, that's fine, too! (Note: Lauren Cohan is my fc for Abigail in rp, so that's why she's here.)

Background: She grew up in the foster system after her parents passed away. She was an overachiever in high school and wanted to claw her way past the girl she was in the foster system. However, her dreams for college were put on hold when she became pregnant with Jack, and even more so once she became a single mother. She did underwear modeling and worked in a dive bar for extra money. (It seemed more likely FOR HER than her becoming an escort or a cam girl, but those are valid hc's.)

Four years later, she is amicably co-parenting with John and has an associate's degree in agriculture and business. Now, she has a small farm with fresh organic produce, animal goods like milk and eggs, flowers, and the occasional candle. She is happily in a relationship with the F!reader.

* You insist on helping her at the farmers' markets on the weekends, which is her busiest time selling products. She always attempts to talk you out of it, but you find it rewarding. You watch in awe as the businesswoman in her truly blossoms and the passion she has for her work. 

* You surprise her with wanting to visit other farmer's markets. Sometimes, it's "secret shopper" missions, but a lot of time, it's just holding hands, picking out products, and eating samples. 

* Lots of baths together! She loves to cuddle and the intimacy it can bring.

* You help her cook and bake a lot. She has a huge passion for it, but she just can't get the hang of it. I think she is better with cooking and baking in the modern AU than in canon, but she could still use some help. However, she can make a great chili! It's canonically her favorite food besides chocolate. 

* She can make a mean cocktail. She doesn't drink a lot anymore, but she loves wine, rum, and whisky. However, she worked at a bar while caring for Jack to help put her through school and learned a lot while waiting tables. 

* She is always so thankful for any time you spend with Jack. Liking Jack is a requirement. He comes first in any relationship. However, she does NOT expect you to babysit him, but she is incredibly thankful and falls in love with you a bit more each time you do something with him. 

* With you, she is used to being the big spoon, but she loves to be surprised with being the little spoon sometimes. 

* Blankets everywhere! Big chunky ones are her favorite. Example here: Her goal is to make her own! She is not really into the pillow craze. 

*She canonically loves chocolate. Bonus if the chocolate has a bit of liquor in it. It's her guilty pleasure, but she has to keep it far from Jack.  * Don't play a card game against her; you WILL lose. Especially poker. She's also great at board games. It was the only type of games the foster homes had. However, she doesn't play as many video games. You've been slowly introducing her to games. Right now, she likes to relax with Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing. She'll also play with Jack or watch you play games. 

[fitzrove]

Shamelessly stolen from seeing it on someone else's blog... Create a fanfic tropes tier list

Here's mine:

Some thoughts under the cut xD

All of these come with the caveat that it has to be well-written, basically. The older I get the less patience I have for stuff that's low-effort or just not to my taste hshhd. However, I see the tiers as something where I can pretty easily be convinced to read fic with tier S tropes, whereas getting me to enjoy a tier D fic would be difficult... Anyway, comments on individual tropes:

pwp - The best kind is where it's unapologetic kinky sex but a somewhat plausible scenario that's deeply in-character (or at least tries to be) >:))

a/b/o - This is a very very mixed bag for me... Contrary to what many people say, I don't actually enjoy plotty longfics (or the idea of reading longfics) talking about the societal aspects/worldbuilding implications of it. Also, the more focus there is on um... animal traits.... the less into it I am HFDHFHHJ. BUT I've sometimes liked the work of mandarin language todolf oneshot fanfic writers on ao3... I have no idea what the fuck is going on half of the time because google translate is imperfect, but those sure are some Fics with Stuff Happening in them xDD my favourite ones are rudolf x stephanie ones though because they're pretty much the only rudolf x stephanie femdom fics out there.........

soulmate au - I know this is super controversial for how it portrays relationships, but I actually find it okay :D When I read them I always interpret it as taking place in a much more deterministic world than our own... and I actually think that pure angst fics about the premise are rather interesting too. But I do think it has to be done quite well to work!

Royalty au - I'm such a whore about historical research so this has the potential to really irritate me xDD And for my current main fandom activities it's redundant... But idk, it's fine I think.

Fluff - This is one I've changed my mind on quite a bit over the years, namely in terms of actually kind of disliking pure fluff nowadays. I really prefer hurt/comfort and other fics where there are some stakes at play, or fics where the "fluff" is actually straight up emotional abuse HSDHDSHDHFSH (it's ok you can say todolf<33). It's just a lot more exciting to have setup + payoff vs pure fluff. I don't really experience the urge to read fluff fic as a response to the original media being emotionally charged/sad, I want fix-it fics to start from the standpoint of that negative emotion and have ups and downs before getting to the happy ending!

Crossover - hate crossovers where characters from multiple unrelated media interact, do sometimes enjoy crossovers where characters from y are in the universe of x (or experience a phenomenon from x). I mean, I've written a tdv au ahshshsh so I can't complain too much xD

Pregnancy fic, baby fic - no. This is a very hard if not impossible sell for me. I've written a longfic where the main characters have kids during it, but I never focused on the pregnancy and baby parts per se. I just don't like it haha

High school au, fairytale au, college au, coffee shop au, amnesia fic - I do NOT understand the appeal of any of these lmao

Humor, crack fic - Has to be done really well to work and most of the time it just doesn't for me ajdjjsjd. Humor is so personal and individual, and a conscious attempt to be funny as the main point of a fic falls flat so easily...... I like witty writing, but crack fic per se doesn't work for me unless it's crack treaten extremely seriously (implausible tropes and scenarios can be fun!! Buuut I do have pretty high standards for suspension of disbelief hshsdjdj. So it needs a lot of work put into it basically)

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

WIP game

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

ayyyy @hijinks-n-lowjinks thanks for the tag!!! kekksndn i have like.. no wips but hey! let's go!!

closing the distance (jjk/modern college au): has lots of mutual pining; romantic angst, miscommunication trope, external relationships, long-term slow burn.

is it gay if our pinkies are intertwined? (jjk/canon-adjacent/crack fic): totally unserious and fun, written alongside my lovely @sunnyyflowerrs!! forced contact/proximity trope, attempts at humor, fluffy, silly, fun.

itadori yuji's totally foolproof plan to get fushiguro megumi to fall in love with him (jjk/ canon divergence au) (series): the first work is done, but it's an ongoing series with various standalone one-shots. i have many planned. established relationship, fluff, normal canon-like activities. the shibuya incident never happens. sukuna only shows up when i deem it's convenient.

post-canon work (jjk/spoilers/post-canon): this is something i've been thinking on since 268, but decided to wait until the last chapter to drop before i did so. this will have hurt/ comfort, angst, confessions, the works. very early stages of things... i fear i don't have much info.

i don’t have much else to say, other than time for a tag! … sunny and jinx… you stole my people!!!! but it’s fine, bc i found three more hehe

@gracewritesthings @yearnwormwrites @rosemaryreality @shookuna

[artficlly]

the shadow (miniseries - part one)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part one

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!yelena x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, low self-esteem reader, mentions of past non-con, lots of angst. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've had in my brain for awhile now. i don't know if many people will vibe with this, so might just be written for my weird interests lol. i think this will be two, maybe three parts? I just wanted something a bit more intense to work on alongside face the music (which is a more wholesome college au multi chapter fic). I'm very interested in exploring the 'what if' side of what happens to all the widows once they escape. I am also a sucker for feminist readings/feminine rage so this is a fun outlet. I have some plans for more ex-widow content (maybe longer series) but i wanted to get this mini-series up as a sort of taster! there isn't a heap of bucky barnes content in this part, but oh boy, there is some coming in the next part!! not proof read - pls forgive any typos.

main masterlist

Many unexpected things had happened during your life, even before you were old enough to understand how unexpected they were. 

Firstly, you had been torn from your birth family at a young age. You never knew if your family had willingly given you up. You had heard tales of starving mothers, selling their children in order to survive. Other tales said that the mothers refused to sell their children. Though, a mothers love was not enough to sustain through the Russian winters. Those mothers died for the love of their children, but regardless their children were still taken by the Red Room. 

Others whispered that the women of the Red Room were specifically chosen for their genetics, hunted down and stolen. There was no regard for a mothers love, only the possibility of another weapon to create. 

Deep down you could hope that your mother had loved you. 

You would never know. 

The second unexpected thing to happen in your life was when you escaped. Much like the other Widows, you had spent most of your life under the control of men. You had been a weapon, faceless, deadly. You had survived the training that many didn’t and that was the only thing that made you of value. The discovery of a life beyond the Red Room? A life beyond what you had been crafted for? Freedom was more frightening than any mission or task you had undertaken. 

With the Red Room gone, thanks to Yelena Belova and Natalia Alianovna? You were purposeless. You were a small ship, lost at sea. You were a small ball of rock, hurtling through space, burning up and dying out. There was no reason for you to exist, there was no life for you. You were a killer, a monster. Why did you deserve peace? How could you ever find peace with all the blood on your hands? You were raised to be a killer, and a killer you were. 

In the Red Room you were The Shadow. A faceless sniper, one of the best in the world. You did your job, and you did it well. Even after you were freed, you continued to work as a sniper to find some meaning. You were good at disconnecting from your emotions. Taking the shot wasn’t one to sweat, you floated above your body and pulled that fucking trigger. 

The people who hired you didn't know your name. They didn’t see your face. You were a weapon and you would kill without question. A father, a mother, a child? It didn’t make a difference to you. It was just another target. Even if you were free from Dreykov, you were still the weapon he had built you to be. As much as you tried, as much as you fought, screamed and cried. You were a Widow, a faceless killer, a nobody, a Shadow. 

The third unexpected thing to happen in your life was Yelena Belova. She was a force, hurtling into your life. You had never expected it. You thought once she freed all the Widow's it would be over. She wouldn’t need to associate with her fellow Widows anymore. She was a hero, she made it big. She would become an Avenger like Natalia. Start over, fresh face, new name. Natalia, Natasha. She had been a hero, she had freed all of the Widows. You? You were a gun for hire, bottom of the barrel scum. 

Yet, there Yelena had stood, reaching out to pull you from the snake pit. 

You had been hired for an inside job, some drug deal with the potential to go very wrong. You were to keep watch, blow out the brains of their competitor if necessary. You didn’t think into the ethics, you just shot who you were told to shoot. You should’ve known Yelena would keep tabs on you, you should’ve known that day would come. Even if you were nameless and faceless, you were still a weapon. The world doesn’t just lose weapons, no, they either used them or prayed for their untimely death. 

The deal went messy, as anticipated. You went to shoot but a foot was on your rifle making you pause. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Shadow.” The blonde had tutted at you. “I have been standing here, for what? Two minutes? You didn’t even see me.” 

You didn’t know why her speaking Russian shocked you so much. You had spent so many years dealing with Americans and Europeans that you had slipped into the comfort of English too easily. You had just assumed that the world of superheroes had Americanised Yelena, like they had Natasha. But there she was, Yelena fucking Belova in the flesh. Your third unexpected thing. 

“Come to tell me off for being a bad girl, Belova?” You teased, hand subtly finding the knife at your thigh out of instinct. You doubted Yelena had come here to kill you, you had heard through the grapevine about her little mission. She had spent two years freeing Widows across the globe. Though, you couldn’t help but notice that Yelena was armed to the teeth. Knives and guns tucked into hidden pockets through her black suit. You had heard she had become an Avenger - well atleast what was left of the team. Stepping into Natasha's role, she wanted to do good so bad. You could never be that, a hero. You weren’t meant to be anything other than another man’s blade or bullet. 

After Steve Rogers death, the Avengers had spiraled for a time. Eventually, Sam Wilson had taken up the mantle. A few had followed, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, his protégé Kate Bishop as well as Yelena. You didn’t even know if they called themselves ‘The Avengers’ anymore, only that they acted like them. Seemed they were running off the left-overs of Stark’s money as well as government funding. You had heard rumors about Scott Lang or even Steven Strange still floating around. After Wanda Maximoff had gone near-insane, the world had turned a cruel eye on their heroes. Even if they had been the only ones to save them from The Blip. People - your people - they didn’t want to be classed as heroes anymore, but somehow they were still committed to ‘doing good’. 

“I could tell you off,” Yelena drawled, eyes following your every move. You were on your knees now, slowly rising from the lying position you had held. If Yelena was a predator, you were certainly her prey. Unfortunately for her, you were also a predator when cornered. Outside, you could hear gunshots overlapping each other, shouting and grunting. It hurt that it annoyed you, that Yelena would be inadvertently ruining your reputation. You always made the shot, always. Except this time. You supposed being held up by Yelena fucking Belova was a better excuse than missing your shot. No, now that would be embarrassing and reputation destroying. The Shadow missing a shot? Unheard of. 

“I want to offer you a job. Could be a one time thing, could be more. Pays better than whatever this is, and is certainly more legal than whatever this is.” Yelena continues her spiel. She had palmed a knife, waving it as she spoke for extra effect. It was a hunting knife, sharpened to perfection. You didn’t like to imagine how the serrated edge would feel cutting into your flesh. 

“Your jobs barely qualify as legal,” You snip back, carefully eyeing her movements. Was she signaling someone through the window? The glare of the sun against the blade would surely be visible outside. There could be an entire team outside waiting to take you down. Yelena could just be the distraction. Your hand tightens around the handle of your own knife, ready to pull it from its holster at the slightest indication of an ambush. 

“Everything is legal if you work for the right people,” Yelena cuts back, tilting her head as she observes you. Time was ticking, you knew this could go one of two ways. You really hoped it wouldn’t end with one of you bleeding out on the floor. You had respect for Yelena, for what she and Natasha had done. 

“What if I say no?” You ask, russian muffled through your mask. You always wore them on jobs, always. You were a faceless weapon, mixing your identity in would not help you shoot better. Yelena smirks at you, finger running down the blade of her knife. She looked so casual, leaning against the window sill without a care in the world. She was definitely better armed than you. Your ears strain, trying to hear if someone is climbing the stairs of the building. All you can hear is the scuffle of the deal downstairs in the alley. 

“The government is interested in you. They don’t have a name yet, just… a shadow of a person to look for. Ex-Widow, a hired gun. I can make it go away. I know powerful people.” You could see her teeth through her smirk as she spoke. It was a thinly veiled threat. Pull your shit together, you’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. No, this was the difference between you and Yelena. She had cared, she had become the hero she had needed. You had stayed the same monster, spiraled further into your own hatred and disgust. You had become the person people needed saving from. Yelena cared so much about every Widow that the idea of one slipping through the cracks? It would haunt her. She was warning you, giving you a way out. She wanted to help you. 

The shouting and gunshots outside had died down, now only the sound of several sirens approaching. Time was still ticking and you were running out.

“Make your choice quickly, Shadow. Make it wisely though, I really don’t want to kill you.” Yelena purred. You eyed her for a long moment, carefully getting to your feet. Despite her cold exterior, the way she tried to be intimidating… You could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted you to come with her, she wanted to help you. But you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved saving? 

So many years, so many dead bodies. The only thing that kept you going was your strength, your reluctance to die. But after so many years of running, so many years of being alone… was there a reason to keep fighting? That sickness, it clawed away in your brain. You didn’t deserve saving. 

The sirens drew nearer. Reluctantly, you spoke. Even if that sickness was strong, your stubbornness and desire to breathe was stronger. You would live out of spite. You would live just to spit in the faces of those who wanted you dead. If you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. 

“Who am I shooting?” You ask, reaching out your gloved hand for Yelena to shake. Yelena must feel some kind of relief, you see her shoulders droop every-so-slightly as she shakes your hand.

“That list seems to be endless these days.” She replies with a grin. 

—

The small rural town was desolate. A ghost town, Yelena had said. A ghost town that had become infested with vermin.

Remnants of society still remained. You could imagine the ghosts of people passing by as you navigated through the landscape. A cracked concrete road, overgrown with weeds. The apartment buildings with their windows smashed out, graffiti scrawled across crumbling stone. Billboards years out of date, forgotten band-posters peeling off walls and lampposts. You couldn’t say who once lived here - but whoever they were, they were most certainly gone or dead. 

You were positioned on the second-floor of a disintegrating school house. The building itself was several stories higher but you had taken one look at the unstable staircase and thought better of it. Ripped, stained curtains blew lightly in the wind, at the front of the room a cracked blackboard still had the date July 17th, 1994 scrawled across it. 

You were in your usual working gear. Your suit was tight and flexible for ease of movement, adorned with pads on the knees, elbows and shoulders. Your hands were clothed with fingerless gloves and most importantly you wore your mask. A belt holds a handgun, lower down some straps across your thighs hold knives and pockets for convenience. They were for if things got messy, your real weapon was tossed over your back - a duffle bag with your sniper rifle inside.  

Broken glass crunched under your combat boots as you cautiously approached the window. The building you had chosen was strategic. Across from you was an old office building, just as run down as the one you stood in. Unlike the school house, the old office housed a group of criminals. 

Sam Wilson had insisted that he didn’t want to kill them, that he just wanted to talk to them. He wanted to talk them down and tell them to surrender peacefully. If things turned messy, he would give you the signal and you would shoot. The two groups would be standing in the concrete courtyard between the two buildings. At the slightest chance of danger, the slightest chance they weren’t ready to surrender? You would pull the trigger and pop their leader's skull open. 

Sam Wilson and his crew hadn’t been happy to see you when Yelena had brought you to the aircraft for transport. He had taken one look at you, masked, all in black and imploded. 

“Yelena, who the hell is this?” Sam had snapped. Yelena had just laughed at him, motioning for you to sit and buckle in next to her on the aircraft. 

“You told me to get a sniper!” 

It seemed when Sam Wilson had asked for a sniper, he hadn’t asked for you. Ex-widow, criminal, The Shadow. When Yelena had introduced you with your alias, Kate Bishop had gaped at you. Bucky Barnes was tense, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t recognised your name. Clint Barton seemed neutral, you supposed he was used to dealing with deadly women. 

You found it ironic how upset Sam Wilson was. He had helped Steve Rogers save Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You supposed the difference was that Barnes had tried to change when he was freed. Despite the mind control, the torture… he wanted to do good. You were just damaged beyond repair. Sitting there, with those heroes? It made you feel sick. Playing dress up, that’s all it was. 

You had over 700 confirmed kills with your rifle, even more kills if you counted other weapons at your disposal. You were an assassin, a hitwoman, a fucking menace. Bucky Barnes would have more total kills than you, but he had stopped killing. He had felt remorse. You had kept killing, kept digging that hole because it was all you knew how to do. He had been a normal boy before the war. You were a killing machine, a girl robbed of a childhood. If you hadn’t been freed, would have even known about the childhood you had missed? You didn’t remember your mother, nor if you had any siblings. All you had known was cruelty. 

Brushing some of the broken glass away with your foot, you began setting up your rifle. Through the ear-piece you could hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed to their spot. You had gone ahead to set up, they were about 20 minutes away from the school house. Gun at the ready, you lay down on your stomach, eye to the scope. 

“In position, over.” You mutter into the ear piece. 

“Copy that, over.” Sam Wilson replied quickly.

You settled into your spot, watching the building ahead. You were a good sniper not only because of your ability to disconnect, but also because of your levels of patience. You had spent days in this exact position, waiting, sweating for your chance at a target. 

By the time the others were in position, you had counted every window in the building across from you. 25 per story, making it 125 all together for all 5 stories. There was movement on the bottom floor and the second. You assumed they didn’t go any higher due to the same reason as you - a crumbling staircase. Each window had blue curtains - different to the beige ones in your room. Nearly all the windows were smashed, except for on the top story that seemed to remain relatively untouched. 

Through the ear-piece you could hear what Sam was saying. Both groups stood in the center of the courtyard, hands on their undrawn weapons. The new generation of Avengers were outnumbered 5 to 1. The tenison was clear, even as Sam tried joking around with the opposing leader. Everything was going smoothly, exactly as planned. That was, until you saw a glint in one of the third story windows. 

You thought you imagined it at first - a trick of the eye. But then you saw it again, and then a third time. There was another sniper, trained directly on Sam Wilson. You didn’t feel stressed by this, it was just another complication in a high-tension mission. It made sense, you had anticipated that maybe your targets would be smart enough to bring a sniper to this ‘talk’. The other sniper was up slightly higher than you - you wouldn’t be able to get a good hit on him unless you went up another couple stories. 

“There’s a sniper, third story. Sixth window to the left.” You breathed into the comms, fully knowing the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to verbally respond. If the opposing side got any indication that you were up there? Game over. They would signal their sniper to take the shot on Sam. It would take hours to pick bits of his skull out of their clothes and hair. 

“I need to change positions to get a better look, keep him talking.” You continue. Slowly, you roll away from the window and drag your gun with you. You needed to keep to the shadows, become a shadow literally. If the sniper spotted you it would be over. 

With a quiet grunt, you pull the gun from the room. Pressing your back against the hallway wall, you quickly rise to your feet and head towards the staircase with a huff. Sam was still rambling on about peaceful surrender over the comms ear-piece, stalling until you could get a better look at the sniper. 

The stairs wobbled and shook as you moved up them quickly and quietly as possible. You could hear chunks of wood and stone crumbling from beneath and falling with each step you took. Opting for the 4th story, you quickly set up in position by a new window. Same torn, beige curtains and shattered glass across the floor.

From this position you had a better look into the third story windows. Looking down, you could see the outline of a body laid flat with the rifle, much like your own position. Due to the broken windows and ripped curtains, you had a fairly clear shot at the figures head as they trained all their focus on what was happening below. 

“I’m going to shoot the sniper first, he has a shot on you Wilson. I’ll still have a clear shot on the target, just might take a moment.” You explain. They don’t reply, as expected. The situation below seems to be growing tense, you can hear the tone of the target's voice growing more aggressive by the second. Lining up your shot on the sniper, you hold your breath. Sam says the signal word. 

You pull the trigger. 

As the shot rings out, the men below scatter. You can hear the rest of the team screaming at you through your ear-piece. It all gets jumbled up, just white noise in your brain as you line up your next shot. This was why you usually worked alone. You didn’t crack under pressure in a situation like this, but having screaming ringing in your ear was bringing you damn near to it. You can’t be bothered listening to what they are yelling about. You didn’t need them telling you that your target was seconds away from escaping your bullet. Didn’t they know you never missed? 

The target was a few feet away from the safety of the building. Chunks of flesh, skull and brains explode across the cracked concrete as you pull the trigger once more. Through the scope, you watch the body slump to the ground, a pool of blood quickly spreading around the corpse. 

“Holy shit!” You hear Kate yell through the ear-piece. You don’t know if she’s complementing your shot or reacting to the spray of blood up the side of the opposite building. The last of the men who scattered stepped over the body, disappearing into the office building. 

“There's another headed for the sniper rifle, Shadow!” Yelena shouts at you through comms. Her and Clint have breached the office, you can see the shape of them fighting through the broken windows. 

“Got it,” You mutter back. You cast a glance at where Sam and Bucky were fighting out in the open. Bucky seems swarmed, trying to shake a man who has wrapped his arms around his throat. You make a silent note of it, casting your scope back to the third story window. The figure that rushes to replace the dead man is quickly taken out by your rifle. He doesn't even get a chance to touch the rifle before his blood paints the wall behind him. 

No one else makes a dash for the sniper rifle. You turn your gaze back to the courtyard, noticing that Bucky is still swarmed by several men. Sam has been pulled too far away from him to help. You can’t see Kate anymore, but from the yelling coming through the comms she is inside the office with Clint and Yelena. 

One of the opposers has picked up a hand-gun and is pointing it squarely at Bucky’s chest as he struggles to get out of the grip of the other men holding him down. Sam barrels towards them, but you know he won’t make it in time. You huff out a sigh, lining up the dangerous shot. You knew if this bullet was at the slight wrong angle it could ricochet directly into Bucky’s chest. 

Is this why Yelena hired you? Because you would make dangerous shots without permission, without regard for human life? Bucky was a super soldier, he could probably survive several gunshot wounds (provided they weren’t directly to the head). Maybe if you cared you would’ve been nervous. Maybe you would’ve hesitated, let your hands shake and sweat. But you don’t care. You disconnect from everything, the shouting through the comms, the sounds of gunshots, the feeling of metal against your skin. You’re not in your body, you are floating above yourself watching the auto-pilot take over. 

You squeeze the trigger. The hand-gun clatters to the ground alongside the attacker. Blood is slick against the paved stones. Through your scope, you swear it has splattered across Bucky’s gruff face. The men attacking Bucky stutter for a moment, giving him the opportunity to shake them off and pummel them with his metal fist. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge what you did.

He doesn’t even say thank you. 

—

One job turned into two. Then two turned into a few more. 

Six months you had been working with Yelena and her crew of disgraced Avengers. You weren't their friends. You didn’t celebrate after missions with them. You kept to yourself, cold and distant. They didn’t know your real name, they hadn’t even seen your face. Yelena would give you a call, pick you up, you would complete the mission, then you would return home. 

You were The Shadow. 

You weren’t a hero. 

Kate and Yelena tried to crack your shell. It usually involved joking and parading around you. All it would earn them was a roll of the eyes and a quiet sigh. Over the comms though, sometimes you would make quiet digs and quips. Clint would roar with laughter, Sam just muttering that he was surprised you had a personality under that mask. 

The mask. Oh, they hated it. 

They were all determined to see beneath it. They made up jokes, stories as to why you wore it. That you were hideously ugly, or scarred beyond human recognition. Bucky seemed to be the only one who understood. He was the only one who was equally as cold to you as you were to him. Your exchanges were brief, usually a series of single words and grunts. It was a relief having someone not trying for your affection at all times. 

Once again, you and your deadly skills were needed for a mission. Another one of Sam’s ‘discussions’ which usually ended with brains splattered across the floor. This time you were in a lightly forested clearing, somewhere in the Estonian wilderness. You were set up in the tree line, laying in a mixture of mud and dead leaves. 

The countryside was peaceful, but gray. Winter was setting in, leaves falling from the birch trees. Their pale trunks were pale against the gray sky that threatened to spill. The breeze was cool, not as cold as Russia had been. No, a Russian winter could be deadly especially the further north you got. You remembered the snow, the discomfort of the cold leaking into your bones. You hadn’t been allowed to complain then, only soldier on. 

“You in position, Shadow?” Yelena asked through the comms. You could see her lips moving through the scope as the group headed towards the designated meeting point. 

“Affirmative. Over.” You state, pushing the ear-piece in a bit further as you settle closer to the cold earth. Relaxing your shoulders with a sharp breath, you surveyed the area through your scope. 

A small group of men had come to meet the team. There were less men than you had anticipated, if a fight ensued it would be one on one. You didn’t like the opponents odds, they looked scruffy, only armed with low-caliber weapons. Definitely not the type to take on a group of superheroes and super soldiers. 

You felt dread sink into your stomach. Something… felt wrong here. Your target reportedly had tons of men at his disposal. It was deep into the Italian mafia, and if they had anything, it was an abundance of men. Where were they all? Was this an ambush? Were they hidden in the brush like you? You could take down a few targets, but you would be more successful with your knives and fists against a small army. Your mind races, along with your gaze as you try to piece it all together. 

“There is something wrong.” You speak into the comms, eyes flickering between Sam and the target as they stood in front of each other. You had done plenty of jobs with the group, all had gone smoothly. But something… something was terribly off here. You could feel it in your gut. The targets men looked antsy, shifting in place. They knew something. They were anticipating something. 

“There’s not enough men. I can’t spot them anywhere in the treelines. Either he’s stupid or this is a set-up.” You ramble into the ear-piece. They can’t respond to you, but you can tell they’re paying attention to your warning. Yelena’s eyes sweep the area, trying to spot more men hidden away somewhere. 

Then, from behind you, you hear the snap of a twig. You spin around, hand flying to your knife. Across from you stand a group of men, armed with shotguns. They’re close, closer than you had realized. You had been too busy trying to figure out where all the men were, trying to anticipate the ambush. You hadn’t realized their ambush was against you. 

This was why you didn’t make friends. Connections. You were too busy worrying about them to realize the immediate danger you were in. The butt of a shotgun cracks against the side of your head. 

Everything goes black. 

—

The mud was cold underneath you, biting into your skin. Your hands were tied, and throughout the intermittent black-outs you recalled being dragged through the dead leaves. You must have been stripped of your weapons, you couldn’t feel the metal of your knives and gun digging in anymore. 

You were bleeding from a head wound, and you were definitely suffering from some kind of concussion. You had touched that throbbing spot with your fingers, rubbing the slick feeling of blood between them. Even through the fabric of your mask, you could feel the sticky blood had spread down the side of your face and neck. A gun was pressed to the back of your skull.

How many men had there been? Had you had a chance to count before you were struck? Had you managed to warn the others before the ear-piece was shattered by the strike? You could still feel bits of plastic and metal digging into your ear along with a high-pitched ringing. You weren’t sure if the ringing was from the ear-piece or from the hit you had received. 

“You really thought I would stand in the open like this? Like a fool?” Your target joked, his Italian accent thick as he laughed heartily. You were kneeling next to him, eyes warily looking between him and the rest of your group who stood across from you. Sam and Bucky looked less than pleased, lips pressed together in tight lines. 

“Rumors have been all through the underground, The Avengers somehow managed to recruit The Shadow?” He continues, still laughing. “Only an idiot would put himself in the open. Taking a chance with The Shadow is asking to have your skull blown open. I am no fool, but maybe you are? Thinking that I would fall for your trick?” 

You can see Yelena trying to keep her cold face on, the one she had given you when she recruited you. It may have fooled the opposition, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She surveyed the mountain of men behind you like she was looking at her next meal. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the back of your skull.

“We didn’t come here to kill you, we came here to negotiate your peaceful surrender.” Sam spoke up, voice gruff and cold. Behind him, you watched Clint’s fingers ghost over the string of his bow.

“Surrender? Why do you bring a sniper to a peaceful negotiation?” The Italian purred, motioning at you with one hand. His fingers were lined with gold rings, they caught the sunlight through the clouds. He had a gun tucked into his belt, a knife holstered on his hip. 

“You know why. Things get messy. Now, we can still negotiate. You let her go and you hand over your weapons. You will be arrested unharmed, along with all of your men. You’ll face a fair trial for your crimes, a chance at a fresh start.” Sam explained. You could practically hear the target losing interest during Sam’s spiel. You watched him fidget impatiently with those golden rings, the way his men shifted uncomfortably behind you. 

“No no.” Your target chuckled, running his fingers over his bushy black mustache. With the swish of his hand, he dismissed the man holding the gun to your head. His hands then found the back of your neck, tugging you to your feet. Fingers under your chin, he forces you to look into his eyes. “Why would I let her go? I didn’t come here to play games with you, Wilson. I came here because I wanted her. Because I knew she would be here.” 

You resisted a flinch as his fingers dug into the skin of your neck, slipping it under the fabric of your mask. With one tug, he pulled the fabric from your face. This had not been the way you had expected this to happen, the way you would reveal your face to the team. You didn’t want them to feel some kind of connection to you, or any kind of guilt if this ended with a bullet in your skull. 

If you had been able to look, you would’ve seen their shocked faces. How they quickly turned to rage on your behalf. You would’ve seen how Bucky’s eyes darted between looking at you and the ground, like he was witnessing something forbidden. 

You imagined you were a sight, blood smeared across your skin from the head wound. Your hair had been perfectly woven into a crown braid, just like how they taught you in the Red Room. It would be lopsided now, chunks pulled out of place and flyaways from being roughly tugged across the ground. That and the layers of mud caked into your clothing. 

“You know, Dreykov would sometimes leant out Widows to important men like me. You were all so beautiful and you all did exactly what you were told. Made to deliver pleasure. So many men, they would ask for you. To get a glimpse at the mysterious Shadow of the Red Room. Dreykov would never let us have you… 

We would wonder if it was because you were hideously ugly? If you had been scarred like his dear Antonia? But looking at you now, you are as beautiful as I imagined. I can’t help but wonder if Dreykov wanted to keep you for himself? He always said you had too much bite for your worth.”

Gaze still cast at the Italian, you don’t see the team's reaction to this. You wouldn't have seen  Yelena's composure slip, how Sam clenched his fist in rage. Instead you stared, silent fury boiling beneath your skin. 

“I wonder how it will feel to break you?” The target hissed. He watched as your blank expression slowly turned into a sneer. Without much thought, you spit a mixture of saliva and blood into his face with a ragged laugh. 

His face contorted in rage, reaching for the gun in his belt. You don’t dodge, willingly letting him strike you across the face with the metal. You stumble backwards, falling to your knees in the mud. Your lip is definitely split, blood dripping to the ground below you. You’re still laughing though, much to the collective horror of everyone. Sam opens his mouth to speak, to demand your release but you cut him off. 

“You men, you are so emotional. You’re so busy pulling out your cock to piss all over everything that you don’t see the small details.” You seeth at the target. He stares at you in shock, completely oblivious to what you have done. What you are about to do. His men, even your group don’t anticipate what is to come next. 

“What are the smaller details?” The target asks, you can sense misguided amusement in his tone.

You don’t reply. He doesn’t have a chance against you. You had already slipped out of your binds. He was so caught up trying to strike you, trying to prove himself a big and scary man, he hadn’t felt it. Your nimble fingers had wrapped around the knife on his hip, he hadn’t noticed how you had ripped it from its holster as you fell backwards. 

The Italian doesn’t get a chance to take another breath before you snap forwards, striking like a snake. You dig the blade into his thigh, purposefully nicking his artery. Blood gushes from the wound the moment you pull the blade back out.  

Things seem to move in slow motion - you see him react - eyes opening in horror and shock as he stumbles back. You are still on your knees, a feral smirk across your face. His gun lifts, intending to shoot but he is too late. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull the gun to the side just as he pulls the trigger. 

The bang deafens you for a moment, ears ringing. The bullet grazes your ear, then lands directly into the stomach of one of his men behind you. The man wails, falling backwards, knocking a few more of the men off their feet in the process. You move quickly, using your body weight to twist the target's arms, flipping him onto his side into the mud. 

The gun falls to the earth with a thud. Your target doesn’t even get a glance at it before you’ve kicked it away in Sam’s direction. The Italian man groans on his back as he bleeds out. You get to your feet, ignoring the panicked shouts from his men beside you as you observe him. 

“You’re bleeding out from your femoral artery.” You explain to him roughly, tilting your head. His hair is thick, black and greasy. A sheen of sweat has come over his pale skin, eyes glazed over. 

“On average it takes two to five minutes to bleed to death from that artery. That’s if you don’t fall unconscious first. Let’s count, shall we? You spent…around thirty seconds swinging that gun around…another thirty listening to me talk…” You drawl. 

Stepping closer, you crouch next to his shivering body. He is trying to stop the bleeding, pressing shaking hands to the open wound. Blood has already begun to pool around him, ruby red and slick. You tut, pushing his hands away with the knife to watch the blood spurt out faster. 

“You have, what? A couple minutes left? Now tell me, before you slip away… When you see God, what will you tell him?” You ask, a feral expression still across your face as you watch his skin grow gray. 

“You fucking bitch!” Your target manages to choke out. You laugh, standing and swinging the knife around. 

“Oho, I don’t think he’ll like that.” You say. An almost animalistic growl leaves your throat as you raise your foot, kicking him squarely in the nose with your boot. He cries out, bone crunching. For a moment you stand there, watching the sniveling man. 

With a sniff, you run your hand roughly over your cheek, wiping some of the blood from your skin. Then, your gaze falls on the group of men left. They are watching you in silent horror. You can’t imagine what you look like, covered in blood and mud, armed with only a hunting knife. You assess them with a predator's gaze, menacing and bloodthirsty and the men cower back despite being armed with guns. 

“We don’t want any trouble.” One stutters out. 

For a moment, you forget the rest of your team are feet away. You consider letting the wrath consume you. You could tear these men apart with your hands, teeth and nails. You imagine plucking out their eyes, teaching them what happens to men who see your face. 

“Shadow.” Yelena calls you. Your eyes snap to hers. 

Pulled from your trance, you run a tongue over your split lip. The act is near animalistic, a cat tending its wounds. Then, with a shrug sent in Sam’s direction you stalk over to Yelena. Sam, to his credit, quickly composes himself and instructs the group of men to drop their weapons and line up. 

“Are you alright?” Yelena asks as you pause in front of her. You don’t feel like answering that question right now. 

If it weren’t for the cold wrath that had taken over your body, you would imagine you would be shaking. Men like that made your skin crawl, made you revert back to how you had felt in the Red Room. It made you sick to your stomach, knowing that despite everything men like that still existed. You would kill one man and another would grow in his place. You had been lucky to escape. That no matter what, there would always be more places like the Red Room. Even if they weren’t to breed killers and spies, they would still use the bodies of women. Powerful men would use their authority to control innocent girls for the rest of time. Those girls couldn't all be saved. They wouldn’t be saved. 

“I need to retrieve my gun.” You reply thickly, nodding your head in the direction of the treeline. Your knives and other gear would have also been abandoned nearby, that’s if the men hadn’t pocketed it for themselves. 

“Go ahead.” Yelena says, thankfully not pressing you on your emotional state. She seems to sense your unease and your unwillingness to hang around. You pass by her and a gaping Kate. You needed to clear your head before you faced the rest of them. With the mask, you could hide your emotions. Now, without it, you felt exposed. You wouldn’t let them see you crack. They would have been trained to sense the slightest change in your facial expressions, to be able to interpret exactly how you were feeling. 

“Shadow?” Yelena calls, you glance over your shoulder reluctantly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Nice to finally see you. The real you.” She says, a subtle grin tugging at her lips. 

All you can do is hum in response. Though, as you trudge towards the tree line, a small smile forms over your bloodied face. 

PART TWO