#Subtly asking for fic recs as well

[plumrose-246]

Any fellow ao3 writers/readers/enjoyers out there?

Drop the title of your favorite rdkk work(s)! I love our little fandom page over there and was wondering if there any users that are part of both communities.

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[puppym3]

um maybe like the opposite of the felix one? where reader is subby? or maybe like changbin and brat!reader,?

｡･ﾟﾟ･ under the table ･ﾟﾟ･｡

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

dom!changbin x brat!reader

synopsis: you and your boyfriend, changbin, are at a restaurant with the other members. freshly back from a workout, changbin looks irresistibly attractive in a tight shirt that accentuates his toned physique. unable to resist, you let your desire get the better of you, subtly exploring his muscles under the table.

wc: 3k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, bratty needy reader, dom changbin, the reader is horny, reader wants to bite changbin's biceps (me too), teasing, semi-public sex, bondage (restriction with hand), edging, body worship, piv, fingering (f rec.), a lot of dirty talk, reader is called slut, unprotected sex, sex in public bathroom (would not rec...), creampie, (lmk if i missed anything)

a/n: i already have 2 felix fics and no changbin yet, so this is a perfect opportunity to finally write for him <3 ive honestly been dying to write ab him.

idk why but so far this might be my favorite out of all the fics I've written, i hope you guys like it too... ⸝⸝(˵´･⌄･`˵)⸝⸝ ♡

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

It wasn't a rare occasion that Changbin would invite you out with him, he had just finished his workout and you missed him, so you sent him a quick text asking when he'd be free; that's when he invited you to dinner with him and the boys.

When you got to the restaurant, it was bustling with energy as you and the others settled into your seats. The chatter and laughter of patrons filled the air, blending with the aroma of delicious food.

When you finally saw your boyfriend, your breath was taken by the tight shirt he was wearing. You couldn't help but admire how his shirt clung to his frame, perfectly accentuating his muscles.

Your eyes traced the defined lines of his well-toned biceps and chiseled chest, feeling a warmth spread through you. He looked effortlessly handsome, and you were drawn to him more than ever. As the conversation flowed around the table, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the man beside you.

Under the table at the restaurant, you reached out tentatively, your fingers brushing against his thigh. Changbin didn't react at first, too engrossed in a discussion with Bang Chan about their plans coming up. Encouraged by his lack of response, you let your hand travel up, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

Changbin's breath hitched, and he turned to you, his eyes widening slightly. You offered him an innocent smile, your fingers still tracing the contours of his biceps. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, but he didn't push your hand away.

"What do you think?" Seungmin's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back into the conversation.

"Hmm?" you replied, trying to mask your distraction.

"About the dessert menu? Do you have any recommendations?" he repeated, holding out the menu for you to see.

"Oh, right," you said, glancing at the options without really reading them. "The chocolate lava cake is always a good choice."

"I like that one too," Felix chimed in, nodding his agreement. "It's always so gooey and delicious."

You nodded absently, your attention drifting back to Changbin. Your hand was still resting on his thigh, your fingers tracing lazy circles on the fabric of his loose pants. You could feel the tension in his body, the slight tremble of his leg as you explored his body.

He had no idea how badly you wanted to admire his arms up close, to appreciate their strength and size, maybe even take a playful bite of his biceps. But alas, you were in a restaurant with your friends, the true cockblockers, and you had to maintain your composure.

Your eyes flicked up to his face, finding him watching you intently, his eyes looking at you like a warning as if you were passing the red line. Changbin leaned in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. "What are you doing?" he whispered, his tone a mix of amusement and caution.

"Just fully appreciating the view," you whispered back, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze.

His eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and delight, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Behave," he murmured, though his tone was far from reprimanding.

"But if my meal is right in front of me, why wouldn't I eat it?" you pouted, keeping your voice low enough for only him to hear.

He laughed at you, before swatting your hand away and putting his hand on the small of your back. "Later, I'll let you feast on me later," he whispered, causing your face to burn up and look at the ground.

You couldn't help but smile as the conversation shifted again, the others oblivious to the exchange between you and Changbin, but you still couldn't keep your eyes off of his body, the remnants of his workout from earlier still on him making your mouth drool.

"You're staring, they're going to notice you." Changbin's voice brought you back to the present, a small smirk on his lips.

"Staring at what?" Your hand slid up to squeeze his arm, "at this?"

He laughed and shook his head, "you're such a brat," he smiled, his voice a soft whisper.

You could only pout at him, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers along the hard planes of his muscles. It wasn't fair that he could look this good after working out.

You couldn't resist imagining the salty taste of his sweat as you trailed your tongue along his glistening arm. Imagining the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin, leaving a trail of beautiful marks across his sculpted body.

"Stop that," Changbin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his hand tightening around yours.

"Stop what?" You gave him an innocent smile, your other hand moving up his arm, squeezing his bicep gently.

"I know that look," his eyes narrowed at you, his gaze intense. "We're in public."

"That's never stopped us before," you replied, letting your fingers trace the lines of his muscles. You couldn't help but lean closer, pressing your lips against his ear. "You don't even have to fuck me, just let me touch you," you whispered, your voice dripping with need.

Changbin's breath hitched and he glanced around the restaurant, making sure the others were still engrossed in their own conversations before turning his attention back to you.

"Do I have to restrain you?" He teased, his voice low.

You couldn't help the excitement that shot through you at the thought, your cheeks flushing. "Would you?"

Changbin laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat, his eyes sparkling. "You're a pervert."

You couldn't help but let your mind run, the thought of him restraining you at your wrists while he had his way with you was enough to make your core pulse.

"Changbin," your voice was soft as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You know how much I love when you dominate me," you whispered, feeling his breath catch.

"If you keep this up, I might have to do just that," he warned, his hand squeezing at your thigh.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, excitement bubbling up inside you. "I want that," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before he could reply, a waiter approached your table, and you reluctantly moved away from Changbin, trying to put on a straight face as the others turned their attention to the waiter.

"Are we ready to order?" the waiter asked, a pleasant smile on his face.

The group started ordering, and you tried to focus on the menu in front of you, but your mind was clouded.

"What can I get for you, miss?" the waiter's voice cut through your thoughts, and you blinked up at him, trying to remember what the others had ordered.

"Uh, the, um, the steak salad," you said, fumbling with the menu.

When the waiter finally left, you breathed a sigh of relief, glad that you hadn't gained any suspicion from the members.

"You're lucky you're cute," Changbin smirked, squeezing your thigh gently. "I can't believe you were trying to start something in the middle of the restaurant."

"Who says I was trying?" You feigned innocence, a smirk playing on your lips.

Changbin just rolled his eyes at you, but the playful smile on his lips told you he wasn't mad.

You couldn't shake the feeling of incompleteness in arousing him, fueling your persistence. You were determined to have your way with him, no matter what.

When the food finally arrived, the group settled into their meals, the conversations flowing easily between the boys.

You didn't want to keep yourself in check, not when the man of your dreams was sitting next to you, his body looking delectable. You had no idea what it was about his post-workout appearance, but you were weak for it.

You grabbed his hand, still resting on your thigh, and brought it under your skirt, laying on the heated skin of your inner thighs.

Changbin choked on his drink, the others glancing at him as he coughed, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.

"You okay, Bin?" You asked sweetly, as you slowly guided his hand to your soaked panties.

Changbin cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure. "I'm fine," he said, his voice strained.

You bit back a smile, enjoying the power you had over him. You watched as his gaze traveled down to where his hand was, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

"Baby?" You whispered, pressing his hand against your dampness, watching as his breath caught in his throat.

"I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat again. He was clearly trying to remain composed, but his fingers were twitching, as if he wanted to touch you.

You smiled, letting your gaze drift over the others, making sure they weren't paying attention before continuing to guide his hand.

"You're so wet," Changbin's voice was a low whisper, and you had to bite back a moan.

"It's all your fault." You murmured, a teasing smile on your lips.

He couldn't help but let his thumb caress your pussy, his fingers lightly massaging you. You let out a soft sigh, biting your lip to hold back a whimper.

You weren't sure how long you could last like this, Changbin's touch was making your entire body hum with pleasure. You needed more, and you needed it now.

"Let's go home," you whispered, leaning into him.

"I won't be able to hold back until then," he replied, his voice strained.

You let out a soft laugh, the thrill of being caught spurring you on. "I'm not asking you to," you murmured, your hand sliding over his growing erection.

Changbin stifled a groan, his eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed his hardness. You couldn't help but smirk, reveling in the power you had over him in that moment.

"Meet me in the bathroom." He said, as he discreetly pulled his hand away from you.

You watched as he stood, excusing himself, his gait a little wobbly. The others didn't seem as he slipped away from the table.

You waited a few moments, your heart pounding as you excused yourself to freshen up, trying to appear nonchalant as you headed to the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you felt hands on you, guiding you into one of the stalls.

"You're such a brat," Changbin murmured, his lips finding yours.

"Mm, I'm your brat." You breathed, tugging at his clothes.

"Ah- ah, no touching," he said as he grabbed your hands, holding them above you and squeezing your wrists together his a singular hand. "You're such a slut, you wanted this, didn't you?"

He used his free hand to squeeze at your face as he turned your head, whispering in your ear, "You wanted me to take you right here in this restaurant, huh? In front of everyone? Wanted me to fuck you and fill you up while everyone watches?"

Your breath hitched, a jolt of excitement coursing through you. You were already wet and dripping, aching for his touch.

"Yes," you moaned, grinding your hips against his.

He chuckled, his hand gripping your ass, guiding your movements. "Tell me how bad you want me," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck.

"So bad, so fucking bad," you breathed, arching into him.

"You want me to fill you up? To stuff you with my cock and fuck you until you're a trembling mess?" He was practically growling now, his grip on your ass tightening.

"Please, please," you whimpered, desperate for him.

He smirked, his hand slipping under your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin.

You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, your hands struggling to break from his hard restraint.

He pulled his hand back, a dark smile on his lips. "No touching. Keep your hands up."

You whined, the heat pooling in your stomach as you watched him unzip his pants, pulling out his thick cock.

"Look at this, just for you, baby. Do you want it?" He murmured, stroking himself.

You could only nod, your mouth watering at the sight of him. He looked delicious, his cock hard and heavy, pre-cum leaking from the tip.

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on your flushed skin and dilated pupils, savoring every detail. "Such a pretty slut," he cooed, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek.

You couldn't help but melt into his touch, the praise going straight to your head. He grinned, his fingers tangling in your hair, giving it a light tug.

"So good," he murmured, his free hand moving to cup your breast, giving it a firm squeeze.

"More," you breathed, arching into his touch.

He smirked, his fingers finding your nipple, giving it a gentle pinch. You whimpered, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"So sensitive," he cooed, his touch becoming more insistent, his thumb rubbing circles around your stiff nipple.

You bit back a moan, your hips bucking against him, desperate for more. He chuckled, his grip on your hair tightening, keeping you in place.

"You like that, hmm? You want me to fuck you? To make you cum all over my cock?" His voice was a low growl, and you couldn't help but shudder, his words turning you on even more.

"Please," you begged, your hands struggling against his restraint.

He smiled, his fingers trailing down your stomach, teasing at the hem of your panties. "How badly do you want me?" He asked, his voice low.

"So bad, I need you," you panted, your body trembling with need.

"Good," he murmured, his fingers pushing past the fabric, finding your slick folds.

You gasped, your body tensing as his fingers explored your wetness, the heat building up inside you.

"God, you're soaked," he groaned, his fingers circling your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

"Yes, yes," you cried out, your hips bucking against his hand, seeking more friction.

He smirked, his thumb pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you see stars.

You moaned, your head falling back, your hands grasping at nothing but air as he kept his other hand restraining your hands.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his fingers moving faster, his touch relentless. "Such a good slut, begging for me to fuck you."

You whimpered, the coil in your belly tightening as he brought you closer to the edge.

But then, he suddenly stopped his movements, his hand pulling away from you.

"No, no, no," you whined, desperate for release.

"Didn't you want to cum on my cock?" He smirked, his hand reaching up to grasp your chin.

You could only nod, your gaze fixated on his hard length, his pre-cum glistening in the light.

He used his free hand to grip your hip, lifting you and placing your legs around his waist. You couldn't help but whimper as he rubbed his cock against your entrance, teasing you.

"I could take you right here, right now. I could fuck you until you're screaming my name, and everyone would hear. Would you like that? For everyone to know who's making you feel so good?" He murmured, his lips brushing against yours.

"Please, please, I need you," you gasped, the heat burning in your core.

You could barely breathe as he slowly pushed inside you, stretching you and filling you up. You let out a strangled moan, your walls fluttering around him.

"That's it, take all of it," he groaned, his cock sliding deeper inside you, the pressure delicious.

"Changbin," you whined, your body tensing as he started to move, his pace slow and steady.

"So good," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements.

You couldn't help but rock against him, his cock hitting all the right spots.

He smirked, his thrusts picking up, the sound of skin-on skin echoing in the small bathroom. You were close, so close, and he knew it.

"You gonna cum on me?" He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Yes, yes," you panted, your body tensing as he continued to pound into you.

"Do it, cum on my cock, show me how much you love being fucked with my cock," he growled, his hips snapping against yours, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

That's what sent you over the edge, your body shuddering as your orgasm hit, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. You moaned his name, your walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper inside you.

"That's it, so fucking tight, feels so good," he groaned, his cock throbbing as he came deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his seed.

You whimpered, your body tingling with aftershocks as you clung to him, trying to catch your breath.

"You're such a good girl," he cooed, his cock twitching inside you, his cum spilling out and dripping down your thighs, his grip on your wrists finally loosening.

You could only moan in response, your mind still hazy from your intense orgasm. He held you close, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

You couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation as he placed gentle kisses on your cheeks and neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You're such a brat, you know that?" He smirked, his hands squeezing your hips.

You trailed your hands over each of his bulging biceps, relishing the opportunity to fully appreciate their sculpted strength.

"But you love it," you teased, leaning forward and kissing his forehead.

"I do," he replied, his hand reaching up and caressing your face. "Now let's get cleaned up before someone comes looking for us."

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

taglist 4 my lovelies: @loverbangchan, @reignessance

[crappy-writings]

Safe

Maria HillxReader // Angst/Fluff

*Image is not mine, credit to its creator

Summary: When the Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. Facility is destroyed and you’re trapped under the rubble, Maria has to balance her job as Deputy Director and her relationship with you.

Trigger Warnings: FwB relationship (mentioned), Cursing, Guns, Death, Anxiety, Hospitals, Injuries, Amputation (mentioned), I think that’s it.

No pronouns for the reader were used, I think

Word Count: 6,970

A/N: Thanks to this Reddit thread for helping me figure out the timeline of The Avengers, as well as all the Marvel Wiki pages I visited, lol

Anyways, I'll forever be mad at Secret Invasion for doing my girl so dirty, so I'm jumping back to 2012 Avengers. Don't know if this sucks, so constructive criticism is always welcome.

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics Masterlist

May 2nd, 02:47 hrs

“Sir, evacuation may be futile,” Maria says as she steps down the stairs, right on Fury’s heels. “We should tell them to go back to sleep?” Fury turns his head towards her while still descending the stairs. “If we can’t control the Tesseract’s energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance,” she argued.

“I need you to make sure the Phase Two prototypes are shipped out,” Fury orders as he reaches the entrance to where the Tesseract was being kept. “Sir, is that really a priority right now?” she asks incredulously. 

“Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on,” he says, turning towards her, his tone leaving no room to argue, “Clear out the tech below. Every piece of Phase Two on a truck and gone.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says as she passes him by. She had her orders. “With me,” she orders the men who stood at either side of the door as she descends into the lower levels of the facility.

“Dispatch any available teams to the underground levels. Clear out any and all remaining Phase Two prototypes,” she speaks into her communicator. To say that Maria did not agree with focusing on the Phase Two prototypes would be an understatement. If anything, determining a minimum safety distance should be top priority, if there even is one. If not, destroying the Tesseract would be a better option. Regardless of what she thought though, she trusted Fury to know what he was doing. He is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a reason.

“Copied, two additional teams have been dispatched,” the deep voice of an agent rang through her communicator.

The two dispatched teams were already there by the time she arrived at the underground lot, yours being one of them. She takes in a deep breath and subtly braces herself. She was hoping she would not be running into you for at least a few days. 

The two men who came down with her began helping both teams with the prototypes. You load up a few boxes before closing the trunk of the truck, the slam echoing throughout the underground garage. 

“Davidson, you’re driving this one,” you said as you threw a set of keys to one of the agents. Davidson catches the keys easily. “Menendez, Martinez, and Lee, you’re going up with Davidson. Gold leader is already waiting topside.” 

“You,” you point to one of the new arriving agents, “What’s your name?”

“Agent Callahan,” the man you pointed at responded. 

“I’ll have you join Davidson,” you order as you turn to the other agent, “what about you?” 

“Agent Moore,” the agent replied. You nod in acknowledgement, “You’re joining my team in the meantime.” 

The five agents jumped inside the truck and began transporting the prototypes to the surface. 

“Harris, you’re driving that one over there once it’s loaded up. Williams, Parker, Garcia and Moore are going with you. Bennett, you’ll be riding with me,” you continue giving out orders, “Gold leader is waiting for us before moving to the established rendezvous point.”

As you turn to load more boxes, you notice the Deputy Director standing between the cylindrical columns of the large underground parking space. Your gaze lingered on her for a few moments before grabbing one of the small crates and putting it in the truck. Maria noticed this but ignored it. She cannot afford to be distracted by you and this… fling.

She did not know how to describe your relationship as it stood.

“Keep loading boxes, I’ll be back in a minute,” you tell your team, before climbing up the platform and standing beside her.

 “Most of the equipment has already been moved, Gold leader’s team is en route, and my team is taking care of the last few boxes. This should be the last truck from this level and Red and Blue leader reported their levels are cleared. We should be out of here in no more than eight, ten minutes,” you report, crossing your arms over your chest as you oversee your team along with her. 

“Make it five,” she says without looking at you, “I want everyone out of here as quickly as possible.” Her posture remained stiff beside you, and you couldn’t help but be upset by that. 

“Have you thought about what I told you?” you ask quietly. Her posture does not ease. She instead inhales sharply.

 “Yes,” her tone was tense, her answer short. “And?” you prodded after a few beats of silence. “I don’t know,” she answers. 

You sigh in disappointment, but you were not surprised. For as long as you’re known the woman beside you, her main focus has always been her job. You knew this going into this ‘relationship.’ The “friends with benefits” thing had been working out just fine. You met up whenever you wanted to, did whatever you wanted to with no strings attached. But just like one of those cliché movies you sometimes watched, you caught feelings for the woman who had become now more closed off than ever. 

Despite your attempts to keep your changed feelings hidden, she had noticed the subtle shift in your actions, gestures and the way you spoke to her. You yourself did not think you were doing anything different, but apparently, you were wrong. She asked you if anything had changed and you were honest. You told her your feelings about the arrangement had changed and were wanting something more with her, if she agreed. You were foolish for bringing it up at all to her.

She began to shut you out almost immediately, much to your anger and disappointment. Thus, you offered her a sort of ultimatum. She was to decide what she wanted out of the ‘relationship’, out of you, but if she could not, you would call everything off and you would go your separate ways.

The echo of a trunk closing snaps you out of your thoughts. The truck’s engine turns on and you watch as Harris and the other assigned agents drive out of the lot. “Green leader, do you copy?” your comms buzzed with the other team leader’s voice. “Yes, Gold leader, I copy. The remaining prototypes are already en route to topside. Do we have the green light?” you ask. 

“Yes, we do. We are awaiting you and the rest of our teams to arrive up here to head for the rendezvous. See you in a few minutes.”

“Will do Gold Leader, expect us in about 10 minutes, over and out,” you shut off your comms device. You take a deep breath before turning to her, your face serious. 

“I need an answer soon, Hill. I don’t like wasting my time,” you say quietly before straightening up and leaving her side.

“Alright Bennett, hop in, time to go,” you announce loudly as you jump down from the platform, “Let’s go!” 

Maria watches you hop into one of the unattended Jeeps and turn on the ignition. Her tense shoulders loosen up, but her jaw does not unclench. You began to drive as soon as Agent Bennett sat beside you. Her eyes trail after you as the car leaves the parking space.

“So,” Bennett draws out the word casually. “No,” you shut it down quickly.

“You and the Deputy Director?” he pressed on, a smirk creeping up on his lips. “No,” you insisted. 

“That’s a yes.”

“Bennett,” you say warningly. He did not take your tone seriously, knowing that it was all in good fun. Except that it was not very fun for you.

“HR would have a field day with the both of you. Do you think she would get suspended for it? Would you get suspended? Oh, do you think Fury knows?” he pressed on, going off on a tangent now like a gossiping hen. 

“Adrian Bennett, if you don’t shut up now, I will suspend you for spreading rumors,” you say in a serious tone, your grip on the wheel getting tighter.

“Oh, come on boss, it’s all in good fun,” Bennett replies, nudging your shoulder good-naturedly. 

“For you, maybe. Besides, there’s nothing going on between the Commander and me. So, don’t go spreading that around,” you say firmly. Part of you feared that your voice would betray you as you spoke those words, but you managed to keep your tells in check.

“Alright, whatever you say, boss.”

But what he said had struck a chord in you. Had you really been that obvious? You weren’t a spy after all, you were a soldier. Your confusing, undisclosed “relationship” with Hill could get you both in a huge amount of trouble.

You cast your thoughts aside. She could very well choose to end what you have, reject any potential future involvement with you. You sigh softly, opting to focus on the winding tunnel ahead of you.

“Thinking about your girlfriend?”

“Adrian.”

“Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m done.”

You watch as a few cars come into view from your rearview mirrors. It wasn’t until the sound of gunshots echoed within the tunnels that you figured out something was wrong. A blue flash of energy flew towards one of the cars, obliterating it in the process. 

“What the fuck?!” you yell as you watch the remains of the car lose control, going up a ramp and flipping over. The destroyed vehicle swung slightly, stilling in a parallel position, blocking the other cars that had followed behind. 

“Do I shoot?!” Bennett asks as he pulls out his firearm, waiting on your orders. “Stay vigilant but don’t engage yet!” you tell Bennett as you reach for the communicator on your hip.

“Agent Hill, we’re in line of a hostile force, do we engage?!” you yell into your comms as you continue to drive forwards, speeding up as you go. The earth beneath your vehicle began to shake violently. 

“Engage, if possible, but focus on getting out, I won’t have any heroes tonight,” the strained voice of Maria crackles through. The hostile force’s vehicle passes you by, and Bennett trains his gun on it. 

“No heroes, Bennett,” you remind him, but watch the vehicle for any hostility. A man dressed in strange clothes sat in the cargo bed of the truck. He looked ill, but his eyes were fierce. A man on a mission.

 A few moments later, a truck skidded into the tunnel, narrowly avoiding collision with the wall. The car drifts, turning in a half circle to face the hostile force. Both vehicles collided, the backwards facing car attempting to slow down the hostiles. Shots flew from each vehicle, which prompted Bennett to shoot, too.

The strangely dressed man looked at the both of you, his eyes holding a cold determination. He pointed a bright gold staff at you and your eyes widened. Before anything could happen though, the hostile’s vehicle began swerving from side to side, shaking off the truck that was blocking its path. 

The driver recovered control quickly though and continued in hot pursuit. What sounds like a crackle of thunder follows closely behind you, much to your confusion. You stare through the rearview mirrors and watch as the tunnels begin to collapse, and it's gaining on you, fast. 

You press all the way down on the gas pedal, the vehicle lurching forwards with renewed ferocity. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the string of swears leaves your mouth as the tunnel collapse seemed to be faster than your car ever could. 

“Fuck!” you scream as a large piece of the underground structure falls right in front of you. You turn the wheel hard in the attempt to dodge it to no avail. The rest of the structure continues to crumble, and you lose control of your vehicle. There was little you could do as the jeep was headed for what used to be a stone ceiling. You press down hard on the breaks and turn the wheel to the side. You crash against it, but not as hard as you expected. The last thing you see is what remains of the ceiling crashing on top of you as you raise your arms over your head.

Maria eventually abandoned her focus on trying to stop Barton and the hostile force. It would be all for naught if she was dead. She pressed down as hard as she could on the gas pedal, the vehicle going as fast as it could. It was not fast enough as the collapsing tunnel caught up to her.  

Maria’s head throbbed as she shifted from her position inside the trapped vehicle. She could feel blood dripping from her nose and fresh bruises forming in her arms and legs. The adrenaline from the chase was beginning to give out, exhaustion settling deep in her bones. She looked over the shifting rubble and debris of the now collapsed tunnels.

Did you manage to escape? She doesn’t remember seeing you or your jeep get out before she had. 

“Green leader, do you copy?” Hill spoke evenly into her communicator. She was met with the silent crackle of her device. “Green leader, do you copy?” she repeats herself, quietly begging for your response. Silence. Your name leaves her lips, dropping all formalities, her voice strained, “are you there?” 

There was still no answer from you. She began switching between radio frequencies, catching different snippets of reports as she did.

“--underground tunnels have colla–”

“--er coming in, several men are dow–”

“--act has been stolen from—”

She continued switching between frequencies until Coulson’s voice rang through her communicator, “Director? Director Fury, do you copy?”

“The Tesseract is with a hostile force. I have men down. Hill?” Fury’s voice quickly followed.

“A lot of men still under. I don’t know how many survivors.” She says, breathing heavily as she climbed out of her mangled vehicle. The image of you being trapped under all this debris and rubble flashed before her eyes. Her heart momentarily stops, worry pulsing in waves throughout her body.

“Sound a general call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that briefcase,” Fury instructed.

“Roger that.”

“Coulson, get back to base. This is a Level Seven. As of right now, we are at war.”

Maria clenched her jaw as she processed the last few words. She knew what this meant, what was to come. Despite this, her thoughts wandered to you.

She finishes climbing out of the truck on shaky legs and moves past giant blocks of stone and rubble. Hill switched back to the channel you had last spoken through. She uses your call sign once more; it had dawned on her that, after the collapse, a signal might be non-existent, but she was still hoping to hear an answer. Once more, she was met with dreadful silence.

She calls out your name again, soft and anxious, “please be okay.”

May 2nd, 16:00 hrs, 14 hours later…

The Helicarrier was teeming with life, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents running around in preparation for the arrival of Fury’s new team. The Director had stepped out to recruit Steve Rogers himself, while the Black Widow had been pulled off mission to retrieve Dr. Banner and Agent Coulson had been sent to grab Tony Stark. 

Maria walked around the bridge, looking over the monitors of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents below her. Various agent profiles appeared on a few of the screens, other monitors occupied by mission reports, schematics, maps and graphics. 

Your picture on one of the monitors made her pause, a wave of anxiety courses through her body. She would not let it show though, presenting herself as the poster child of levelheadedness. She swallows hard as she walks closer to the monitor, crouching down beside the agent overlooking the incoming report. 

Her chest tightened when she saw you were still M.I.A. “What’s the status of the search and rescue?” Maria asks, subtly clenching her jaw as she stares at your picture. 

“It’s been slow, only about 31% of missing agents have been recovered, both dead and alive,” the agent, a short blonde, reported somberly, “There’s a lot of ground to cover and there are not enough teams available to work the mission.”

“Keep me updated,” Maria told the agent as she rose from her crouched position, “I want any and all new developments sent to my datapad.” 

“Yes, Commander.”

Maria returned to her position overseeing the main deck. She stared back down at the Main Deck Data Panels, overlooking the Helicarrier’s systems, routing ground teams for the search of Barton and setting up preparations for the Director’s team. Despite her attempts to focus on the influx of reports on Barton, Loki, and the status of Fury’s team, her mind would wonder and think of you. You, trapped under the rubble in the Jeep. You, potentially hurt. Potentially dead. A cold dread settled over chest as those thoughts consumed her mind.    

She stared down at the datapad, switching over to read the names of agents recovered from the facility.

Rodriguez, Vivian, M.I.A.

Porter, William, M.I.A.

Fitzgerald, Liliam, K.I.A.

Harris, Augustus, M.I.A.

Greene, Emiliano, Recovered.

She did not know what was worse, the fact that she had still not found your name on the list, or finding it and potentially reading K.I.A. The longer you went without being found, the less likely it would be a rescue and more of a recovery mission. She pushes the thought away. You will be fine. You are alive. You have to be.

“Commander,” Fury’s booming voice startles her out of her thoughts. 

“Yes, sir?” she asks, her voice firm, hiding having been caught off focus. She had not been informed that the Director had already returned to the Helicarrier. 

“Any progress on the Tesseract or Loki?” he asked, his voice stern. 

“Nothing yet, nothing has been reported on the ground and the techs are still in process of tapping all wireless cameras,” Hill reports as she looks up from her datapad.

“What about the rescue at the facility?”

“33% of agents have been rescued. About 12% of those have been found dead, but that statistic is slowly rising.”

The Director gave no reaction other than taking a deep breath. He raised his head slightly and his face remained neutral.

“Sir, due to those statistics, I want to reassign a few teams to aid in the search and rescue mission,” she states firmly. She held her head high and her posture straight. For a second, your face flashed in her mind and her heart sank a little deeper in her chest.

She was not doing it just for you. It was also for all the agents still trapped under the rubble and them being able to continue living their lives. That is what she was telling herself at least, feeling slightly guilty of the selfish part of her that was focused on you, and only you. Yet, for all she knew, you might already be dead. 

The thought made her stomach churn uncomfortably. She did not want to picture you trapped in those tunnels, crushed under the weight of an entire building. A heavy feeling made her heart sink to her stomach. Was there something she could have done to avoid this?

“Pull the remaining S.P.E.C.T.R.U.M. team and reassign them to the search and rescue, but that is all I can afford to compromise.” 

“Yes, sir,” A wave of relief momentarily soothed the drowning feeling in her heart. She began to walk away, to give the new orders before Fury called out for her once more.

“And Hill? I need you here,” Fury gives her a pointed, knowing look. The look made her somewhat nervous, but she nonetheless acknowledged him with a sharp nod, before returning to her position and reassigning the rest of your team for the search and rescue.

May 3rd, 20:37 hrs, 42 hours later…

Maria’s feet dragged her to her quarters, having been relieved of duty about ten minutes earlier. The last twelve hours had been rough, but the search for Loki had finally paid off. He was located at a gala in Stuttgart, Germany and Fury’s assembled team for the Avengers Initiative had just been dispatched to retrieve the Trickster god.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep and despite having just gotten off duty, her job was not quite done. She sat on top of her cot, her datapad in hand as she watched the stream of recent mission reports and updates on Barton and Loki. After reading those, she began looking through the recovery list, dread settling in her stomach once more. She scrolled through hundreds of agents' names, the status pinned right beside them.

Smith, Jonathan, K.I.A.

Badillo, Sarah, K.I.A.

Sullivan, Nina, K.I.A.

Pruny, Charlie, Recovered

Barrett, Daniel, K.I.A.

Maria swallowed hard as she continued to read the names of both fallen and recovered agents. She knows this is what happens in this line of work. She knows that as much as S.H.I.E.L.D. invests in making sure their agents come back safe, it is not a guarantee and that casualties are not something that can be avoided. There was still a lingering feeling of guilt and profound sorrow, knowing that not everyone gets to come back.

She rubs her eyes, trying to stave off the tiredness that settled into her bones. Your name has still not popped up on any of the reports, you are still missing. The sick feeling she had become well acquainted with returned. 

You cannot be dead. She refuses to believe that. Your last meeting replayed in her head. The disappointment and frustration in your eyes were burned into her mind. Your ultimatum rang inside her head.

Your face would appear every time she closed her eyes. She longed to see your smile again. For your eyes to sparkle with mischief, to feel your warm hand in hers. She wants to hear you laugh at a stupid joke. She missed the sound of your voice, the curve of your nose, the quirk of your lips. She missed you. She cannot lose you, not now, not yet. She loved you, you didn’t know that she lo–

Oh. Oh.

She was in love with you. 

The realization hit her like a bullet to the chest. She was in love with you. She had been so caught up in her job, so caught up in her own responsibilities, she never once realized how her own feelings had changed towards you. Part of her felt like a hypocrite. She had called you out on the near imperceivable changes in your behavior, but she had not realized how her own feelings had changed. How did she not realize it before?

She tries to think back to the last time she felt this way about someone. Has she ever felt that way before? She remembered her past relationships, having crushes and a bit of infatuation, but those had never developed into love.

She had always been married to her job. When she first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., she worked tirelessly to prove her worth as an agent. She rose through the ranks through hard and consistent work, becoming quite a formidable agent. She knew not everyone was on board with the Director’s pick of Second in Command. She did not mind it though, she had nothing to prove to those who disapproved. She knew she was always damn good at her job.

Perhaps that is why she did not realize her feelings before. Maybe that is why she had unfairly pushed you away. She leaned her head against the wall behind her, the horrid, guilty feeling coming back with an unyielding vengeance.

Why did she realize her feelings now? Why not before? Why did you have to be trapped under the damn tunnels, potentially dead? Why has no one found you yet? Why can’t she be there, searching for you herself?

She takes deep, even breaths as she works herself up again. No, she cannot afford that right now. You can’t be dead. She’s holding onto the hope that you are not dead.

She looks down at her datapad once more, a new set of agent names scrolling upwards.

Maguire, Christian, Recovered

Duque, Cristina, Recovered

Taylor, Rosa, K.I.A.

Buchi, Mamelu, Recovered

Bennett, Adrian, K.I.A.

Her heart stops as she spots your name. Her hands shook as she stared down at your status.

Recovered

A relieved laugh escapes her involuntarily. You are alive. You are still alive. The report said that you were in critical condition and were en route to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Centrum based in Nevada. She needed to see you.

The relief that had soothed her anxiety is short lived as she realizes she cannot leave yet. Her duties, responsibilities and the current state of the emergency the world finds itself in would not allow her to be with you at the moment. ���I need you here,’ Fury’s voice reverberated in her head. She sighs deeply in frustration, guilt and relief playing tug-of-war with her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers quietly as she stares down at your profile. 

May 4th, 15:24 hrs, 61 hours later…

“Oh, and uh, as for the matter that’s not in question? Where you morons tried to nuke New York? Well, that’s on the record. As in we recorded it. We do that. We’re S.H.I.E.L.D.,” silence hung between all the council members as Maria continued. The council members would not look at her, the shame of their decision hanging over them.

“So, if you’re thinking about coming after Nick Fury, ever,” she emphasizes the last word as her fingers work the control panel to open the privacy door of the Helicarrier’s main deck, “Think really, really hard.” 

With a pointed look and a victorious smirk, she turns off the screen before rejoining the main deck.

“How did that go?” Fury approached beside her shortly after. 

“Sold you down the river, sir. You should have your job within the month,” she replied as she began overlooking the Main Deck Data Panels. 

“Good work,” he says before continuing, “you should maybe ask for a chair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says with an amused smile. She falters briefly though, as the Avengers make their way into her mind. 

“Sir, how does it work now? They’ve gone their separate ways. Some, pretty extremely far,” she walked alongside Fury as they made their way towards the large windows that oversaw the outside of the Helicarrier. She had had no faith in the Avengers Initiative. How did such a disjointed group with such different backgrounds ever function as a team? Who was to say they could do it again? “If we get into a situation like this again, what happens then?”

“They’ll come back,” he replies as if it were the simplest truth in the world.

“Are you really sure about that?” She did not quite know how his faith in this group could be so unwavering, especially after witnessing all their arguments before and during the recent battle. 

“I am,” he answers once again as if it were the easiest question on Earth.

“Why?” she asked earnestly. 

“Because we’ll need them to.”

A silent understanding passed between them as they overlooked the outside of the Helicarrier, agents running along the aviation runway. It was there that she understood that it was a play of faith. What had consistently carried the Avengers team was Fury’s belief in them, individually in each of them as well as in a group. It is that very same belief that would bring them together if any other event were to occur. 

            She takes a deep breath, her thoughts wondering to you once more. She has not been able to follow up on your status with everything that had happened since early that morning. A naive part of her wondered if maybe her belief that you would be okay had anything to do with your survival. 

Silence hung between both Director and Commander for a few moments. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Agent Hill?” Fury asks suddenly, turning his head towards her and eyed her knowingly. 

“Sir?” Maria asks, startled. Did he know? How did he find out? Perhaps she had not hidden her emotions as masterfully as she thought. Perhaps they would both be in trouble for the duration of the month.

“Go, we’ll talk about this later,” his voice was stern, but it did not match his soft expression.

“Thank you, sir,” she replies in a similar tone, but a ghost of a smile makes its way onto her lips. She leaves his side and hurriedly leaves the main deck.

Fury watched his Second in Command walk away. With a small smile, he approved the take-off of a Quinjet heading for Nevada. 

May 4th, 20:12 hrs, 66 hours later…

Maria had not been allowed to see you for the first 2 hours since arriving at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Centrum in Nevada. She had to argue her way into seeing you, having been told that only spouses and family would be allowed to enter. She was successful in the end, though, having pulled her rank into the conversation. She was not entirely proud of it, but it got her in and that is all she cared about.

Eventually, she was able to meet with one of your doctors. She informed Maria that your next of kin had been notified of your current state. The doctor also explained your injuries and the status of your treatment. Several of your ribs had been broken, you had a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder, and had suffered a concussion. One of your arms was shattered and it had been a miracle they did not have to amputate. Maria was both surprised and relieved your injuries were not more extensive. You have still not woken up since arriving at the Centrum.

She was allowed into your room shortly after the meeting with the doctor. Your non-dominant arm was covered in a white cast. The side of your face was heavily bruised and slightly swollen. Other bruises, stitched cuts and patched-up scrapes littered your face, arms and chest. You were paler than usual, and your eyes were slightly sunken. 

Maria swallowed hard as she took in the sight of you. It was hard to see you in such a state. She approached your bed slowly, as if moving too quickly would make you disappear. A soft beeping was the only sound in the room, aside from the gentle buzz of the air vents. 

She sat at your bedside, watching as your chest rose and fell, slow, steady breaths leaving you. It was the most beautiful sound she had heard in the last few days. She took your uninjured hand in hers, the coldness of your fingertips sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. She did not let go though, as she began to gently stroke the top of your hand with her thumb. You were here. You would be okay. She shifted around in the hospital chair in attempts to get comfortable, exhaustion of the past few days finally reaching her. She continued to hold your hand as she began to feel the lull of sleep calling her. 

She woke up when she felt you squeeze her hand ever so gently. Her eyes fluttered open, her body demanding sleep but her heart demanding to see you. Maria first saw her hand in yours and she raised her head to see you. Your eyes met hers, a lazy smile spreading over your lips. She smiled back as she took you in. Your eyes were droopy and slightly red. It was clear you were desperately fighting off sleep.

“Hey,” Maria whispered, running her thumb over the top of your hand soothingly.

“Hey,” you whispered back. Your voice was hoarse and thick with sleep, your eyes fluttering open and close.

“How are you feeling?” Maria asked worriedly.

“I’m tired,” you reply breathlessly, giving her a small, playful smile. Maria smiles back, raising her hand to rest beside your head, and begins to gently stroke your cheek. You lean into her touch, your eyes beginning to droop shut.

“Rest,” she commands softly. You continue to fight off sleep, struggling to open your eyes to stare back into hers. “No,” you whine softly, “I don’t want you to go away.”

“I won’t go away,” Maria replied, a pang of sympathy and guilt spreading in her chest. “Promise?” your eyes begin to close against your will once more. 

“I promise.” 

You continued to struggle against sleep for about a minute before slipping back into unconsciousness. Maria continued to stroke your cheek soothingly, watching your chest rise and fall in a rhythmic pattern. You were here, you were alive. Her hand found yours once more as she laid her head on the bed.

 “I won’t go away,” she repeated quietly as she watched you for a while longer, eventually falling asleep once more.

You were still asleep by the time she woke up again a few hours later. She sat up in her seat, her back popping and cracking as she did, a dull ache having settled throughout her body. She rolled her shoulders in attempts to loosen up her muscles as she walked towards the bathroom, hoping to quickly freshen up.

She notices you shifting in your bed as she quietly steps back into the room, your head lifting up when you notice her. You adjusted yourself to sit up on the bed, a pained wince decorating your features as you did. “Hey, hey, be careful,” Maria scolded, her tone soft and gentle, as she approached your bedside, “You’ve been out for a few days. How are you feeling?”

“I’m better. Less tired,” you reply, your voice cracking as you speak, before giving her a lazy smile. 

Maria cannot help but smile back at you, “That’s good to hear. Do you need anything?” You shake your head gently before resting your head against your pillow, your eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds.  

“You’re hurt,” you ask as you notice the stitches at the side of her brow.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m okay,” Maria replies as she sits beside you once more. She placed her hand on the bed, inches away from yours. 

You take her in. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she no longer wore her S.H.I.E.L.D. suit, instead wore a spare physical training uniform. Her eyes were tired, darkened bags hanging under her eyes. Bruises and small cuts littered her arms as well. Despite this, she held a small, unwavering smile.

Silence settled over the both of you for a few minutes. There was a far-off look to you, your eyes holding a mixture of guilt, worry and fear. Maria sighed quietly, guessing what you might be thinking about. 

“Did… did my team…?” your voice was quiet and pleading. Your eyes did not meet hers, fearing her expression would give away the answer before her lips could.

“Agent Bennett… he didn’t make it, sweetheart,” she says sympathetically, the soft, gentle tone never leaving her voice, “I’m sorry.”

A pained sigh escaped your lips as your eyes began to water. He had a son, one who had been living at the facility with him before everything went to hell. The boy had been evacuated at the beginning of the emergency. But now his father…

“And the rest?” you ask shakily.             “Harris, William and Parker made it out unscathed. Garcia was treated for minor injuries and is approved to return to her usual duties,” she answered in the same soft tone, offering you a sad smile. 

A few tears escaped your eyes, a mixture of sadness for your fallen friend and the relief of knowing the rest of your team had made it out. Maria had inched her hand closer, her fingers ghosting over yours. She gently held your hand when you didn’t pull away, giving it a soft squeeze and returning to stroke the top of your hand with her thumb.

            “So, um,” you begin to speak after a while, your voice still shaky and unsteady, “what-what did I miss?”

Maria knew you wanted to distract yourself from the news of the passing of your friend. She offered you a sad smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand before beginning to tell you about the last two days. From gathering the Avengers, to the loss of Agent Coulson, to the Hulk rampaging in the Helicarrier, to the battle of New York. You listened as intently as you could, the thought of your dead friend still hung in the forefront of your mind. 

Silence hung between the both of you for several minutes after Maria told you what you had missed. Her presence here confused you. She kept her promise, she stayed, but that surprised you. Why was she here? S.H.I.E.L.D. was dealing with the aftermath of an alien attack, yet she was sitting beside you, comforting you. The state in which your relationship currently stood does not warrant this, so why was she choosing to be here?

“Maria?” you ask tentatively. She looked into your eyes at the mention of her name. You swallowed down the bubble of fear that formed at the pit of your stomach, “What are we?”

The words said were just barely louder than the medical equipment in the room. Your gaze fell to your hands, watching as you twiddled with your thumbs. 

You suddenly feel her warm hand cup your cheek, gently guiding you to look at her. Her eyes held an earnest, vulnerable look, one that captured your heart and attention. “I thought I lost you, when you were trapped in the tunnels,” the sincerity in her voice almost caught you off guard, “and that scared me more than anything else.”

She squeezed your hand gently, as if to emphasize her point. The vulnerability in her eyes and her voice were something you had never been privy to before, and part of you almost doesn’t know how to react to it. 

“Even an alien invasion?” you give her a weak smile, while also mentally kicking yourself. This was not the moment for you to be making dumb jokes. Maria takes it in stride though, as she gives you an amused smile, “Yes, even an alien invasion.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you into making a decision you weren’t ready to make. I know how important your job is to you, and…” you apologize, your eyes falling to your hands once more.

“No, I’m sorry for pushing you away,” Maria does not want to hear your apologies. You have nothing to apologize for. All she wanted was you, she knew that now. “I… guess I hadn’t realized I had fallen in love with you, and those feelings scared me.”

Your eyes open wide at her confession as you raise your head to look at her, “You-you what?”

Maria’s eyes widened as well, not having realized what she admitted. For a brief moment of panic, she wanted to take it back. Maybe you were not in that place yet. But she reigns herself in and pushes that feeling away, before taking a deep breath and looking at you straight in the eye. She whispers your name oh so gently and lovingly, “I love you.”

A mixture of emotions, good and bad, swirled in her ocean-colored eyes like a storm. She was laying out the most vulnerable parts of herself to you, allowing herself to drop the emotional walls she had built around herself, letting you see how much she cared for you, letting you know she had fallen for you the way you fell for her.

“I love you, too,” you say softly, almost breathlessly. A quiet laugh escapes you as you say those words. You see as relief and pure joy fills her expression. She joins your laugh as she gently holds your face in her hands.

She leaned over you, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. A warm feeling erupted in your chest, a childlike glee overtaking you. Your lips moved in tandem with each other, following a familiar rhythm. Even so, this kiss felt different, it felt renewed and exciting and right. 

You deepened the kiss, placing your hand behind her neck, your fingers getting lost in her hair. That was until you pulled away to gasp for air, your lung capacity not quite what it used to be. She leaned her head against yours, a soft chuckle escaping her.

“Cheeky,” she whispered, her hot breath hitting against your face.

“Can you blame me?” you replied with a mischievous smile.

The door opened suddenly, revealing two nurses. Maria pulled away from you to look at the door, all parties in the room momentarily freezing as the intimate moment was interrupted. Neither you nor Maria had realized until now that your heart monitor had begun beeping rapidly, despite how loud it typically is. Your cheeks felt warm as you looked between Maria and the nurses.

“We heard the monitor– we’ll-we’ll come back later,” one of the nurses said sheepishly. “Sorry for interrupting, go on,” the other one said as they both stepped out.

Soft giggles escaped your lips once the door closed. Maria looked down at you, as she began to laugh, too. She begins to gently brush the hair on the top of your head. You rested your head against your pillow as you looked up at Maria lovingly. 

Maria sends you a big smile, the ones that showed pure love and happiness. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of joy and relief and pure adoration. After days of the awful sinking feeling in her chest and the uncomfortable churning in her stomach, there was finally a lightness in her heart.

She leaned over you, placing a soft kiss on your lips once more.

[entropyvoid]

HKVH Fic Recs List

I had such a stupid amount of tabs full of HKVH fics open that I was reluctant to close, that I decided to just bite the bullet and compile a list of fic recs. And I figured if I was going to do that, I may as well share them. Unorganized and in no particular order.

every good intention (is interpolation)

A month after Alhaitham has gone missing, Kaveh finds a journal when rumaging through his things. The journal is encrypted in an ancient script that few know, and the only reason Kaveh does,
is because Alhaitham had him learn it during their shared project in the Akademiya.

Below are the transcripts.

Alhaitham character study, angsty with a happy ending, might come for your kneecaps if you’ve got autism feels™

Flower Language, Sickly Sweet

It would not happen. Not ever. Not with the way they always fight, nor the way Haitham subtly knocks his ego down a peg, nor the way Haitham ignores his presence altogether when he doesn't feel like entertaining Kaveh’s whims. It’s not the actions of a man in love. Kaveh would know. He’s been in love for years.

He’d only just recently accepted it, but it is true, undeniably so, and a sick sort of dread had crept up his stomach ever since he figured it out. Not the fluttering butterflies of an innocent crush, but the weight of knowledge that can never be shared.

Boundaries. He reminds himself. Essential for a healthy bond.

Kaveh starts coughing up Padisarah petals just as his life starts turning around—of course this would happen, with his luck.

Hanahaki fic with a happy ending.

Spend A Little Too Much Time Together

Kaveh finds a young Rtawahist scholar breaking down in the corner of Lambad's, and makes the best mistake of his life: adopting her with Alhaitham.

Found family fluff with some funny moments.

truck, barter, and trade

People keep coming up to Kaveh to congratulate him. Kaveh doesn’t really know why, and he’s a little too scared to ask at this point, so he heads back home, content if not a little bemused.

He is, unfortunately, reminded of it the very next day, when the door slams open and Al-Haitham stalks in. “Mind telling me why everyone was congratulating me today?” he demands. “About your pregnancy?"

Or: Al-Haitham is, without a doubt, the most annoying person Kaveh knows. Maybe the world’s second-most annoying person can help Kaveh figure him out.

Another comedic and fluffy found family fic with Kaveh and Alhaitham accidentally adopting someone, but this time the child is Wanderer.

hemlock lovers

He pulls out his cards, and then Kaveh watches as Alhaitham pauses for a second, blinking quickly. Like trying to focus his eyesight. He had only had two glasses, hadn’t he? Surely Alhaitham wasn’t already feeling the alcohol. He was not a lightweight like Kaveh was.

A night in the Tavern goes awry, fast.

Sickfic, Alhaitham gets poisoned.

…and they were roommates

Kaveh is looking for his keys. Al Haitham is a brat. And Nahida? Well, Nahida knows her things. In words of General Mahamatra: being roommates always meant somehing more interesting.

Short and comedic.

Like This

Alhaitham wakes and recognizes not the maroon of his wine nor the crimson cover of tonight’s text, but the garnet of irises near enough to his own that he can clearly see the flicks of obsidian within them. This is the common room, he realizes. He has fallen asleep here while reading often enough for that thought to come easily. All others, unfortunately, ping uselessly against his consciousness like water droplets sliding over oiled skin. How can he think, in this situation? He has lifted a gaze blurred with sleep only to find Kaveh leaning over him — a hand braced somewhere on the back of the divan and a knee pressed into the cushion between Alhaitham’s thighs.

Or, in which Kaveh crosses the line between them and Alhaitham does not let him take it back.

fast as you can

“I returned to the tavern after I brought you home, found the man whose name you told me and punched him square in the face. Are you happy now?” Alhaitham leaned closer towards Kaveh. “Do you believe me?” There was a strange intensity to his eyes.
The unexpected honesty had Kaveh utterly confused. For a moment, he was quiet as he ran his fingers over his temples.
“I don't understand why you would do this for me. Is it to put me in even more debt? Don't I owe you enough already? Tighnari is convinced you did it for my sake.” He let out a dry laugh. “Unless you're like, secretly in love with me, there'd be no-” Kaveh's words, uttered without much thought, got stuck in his throat when for the shortest of moments, a conflicted expression ghosted over Alhaitham's face. Kaveh felt like the air was being pushed out of his lungs.
“W- what was that?!”

A Quiet Thing

Alhaitham cursed, clawing at the creature whose jaws were still firmly affixed around the delicate bones of his wing. He felt warm liquid rush down his hand as he pushed at the creature’s face, heart rate spiking as he realized it must be blood.

Then, a noise that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

Alhaitham obtains a grievous injury during an investigation, and learns to deal with the aftermath. Kaveh is there to help, but the road to recovery is not a smooth one.

Wingfic, injury/recovery and getting together, a bit on the longer side.

Scarlet Sands and Crimson Eyes

Inspired by the movies Hush (2016) and Revenge (2017)

During a mission out into the desert to round-up an extremist group being led by one of the former Sages, Alhaitham's headphones are destroyed. He decides to stay behind through the night to fix them, but gets ambushed by leftovers of the Eremites and dragged across the desert. He gets nearly assaulted, thrown off a cliff, impaled on a tree, stabbed, and shot, and all the while can't stop thinking about Kaveh. It must be because he didn't want to die while Kaveh was still living under his roof, right?

Deaf!Alhaitham fic, dude goes through it but it a badass. Pretty long but will have you on the edge of your seat the whole time.

Appeal to Stone, Ascend to the Skies

“So much for solidarity,” Alhaitham said.

“You’re not even on your own side, you harpy,” Kaveh grumbled in reply.

Alhaitham unexpectedly wakes up with wings, and must learn to come to terms with absurdity.

12 chapter wingfic, a bit of a character study for both of them (but mostly focusing on Alhaitham.)

Wine Red

A scene has been on replay in Al-Haitham's head for the past two weeks, so vivid that it only seemed like yesterday that it happened.

It began like this: Kaveh was absolutely hammered at the bar, and although Al-Haitham had reservations about bringing him home with him, the tavern owner begged him to take his roommate home. And so, Al-Haitham had an arm slung over his shoulder, supporting Kaveh as he stumbled like a newborn foal, quiet and dazed.

“Pretty.”

And with that one tiny, drunkenly made compliment from Kaveh, his daily routine was thrown into disarray.

OR: Al-Haitham has feelings, disregards them, but is forced to confront them anyways. How lovely it is to be in love with your roommate. Hurrah.

testing, testing

When Kaveh discovers that Alhaitham has been reading a book about human sexuality and kinks, he generously offers to assist Alhaitham with some sexual exploration. It’s a risky proposal, and one that could end very badly—thanks to their falling-out years ago, the two of them have trust issues galore.

But it turns out that Kaveh and Alhaitham are surprisingly good at trust and communication when it comes to sex…which raises some questions about the nature of their relationship, and where exactly this whole experiment is leading them.

“Look,” Kaveh says, “if you’re going to approach sexual pleasure like an experiment, most potential partners won’t take too kindly to the idea of you having sex with them for science. Therefore, to spare all the poor people you’d inevitably insult in your quest for data, I am willing to be that person.”

“How charitable of you,” Alhaitham says.

“And I assume that you’re somewhat comfortable with the idea of having sex with me,” Kaveh adds, “or else you wouldn’t have been so willing to have my fingers in your mouth just now.”

but what would you do if I went to touch you now?

Al Haitham directs half-lidded eyes at Kaveh, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, his sweater stretching over the planes of his torso as he raises his arms to lay his head on his hands. Kaveh finds the charcoal and resists the urgent need to tell Al Haitham to stay still so he can capture him like this, made up of shadows and comfort. “I suppose having a rope doing the work for me would be best for the mental and physical effort of it. I commend you for thinking of that.”

“Don’t flatter me now,” Kaveh half-heartedly protests, wincing slightly. It’s so odd when Al Haitham does that; as much as Kaveh complains about him being rude, there’s nothing more off-putting than Al Haitham’s backhanded idea of compliments. Finally pulling out the cotton rope, Kaveh sighs and makes eye contact with him, shaking the item in his hand. “You might hate this.”

“I might like it,” Al Haitham refutes, raising an eyebrow. Kaveh struggles to justify the little jolt from his heart at the idea.

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

In which Al Haitham (rather charitably) allows Kaveh to use him as a model for his art projects, Kaveh has an idea, and it all spirals from there.

The Dragon Rises in Wartime

The anonymous complaints confessions of a long-suffering Sumeru resident regarding his horrible roommate and his one-man war against said horrible roommate's purchase of the ugliest bed in all of Teyvat.

Although really, the most important question here probably is:

Why are you sleeping in your roommate's bed?

A really funny reddit-post style fic, with a little bit of explicit recordings on the side.

[coopigeoncoo]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for the tag, @andypantsx3! I am both delighted and horrified to have my work regarded in a positive fashion because apparently my emotions are just like reaching blindly into a bag of trail mix; you get what you get.

But as my homeboy Socrates said, 'The unexamined life is not worth living', so it's probably beneficial for me to slow down and do some reflection on my work as a writer and appreciate the journey of growth I've been on.

So, in no particular order, here are 5 stories I've written and why I'm proud of them.

The Cardinal Rule (Hawks x Gender Neutral Reader)

A story where Hawks learns that while humans might be awed by his flying skills, the bird population is decidedly less impressed. --- "The birds are refusing to work until their demands are met," you explained, trying to subtly slide your body between Hawks and the birds who were quite literally calling for bloodshed. "Which are?" Hawks asked as he lifted the bottle of water to his mouth and took a long sip. "They, ah, want you held accountable for your numerous bird crimes." Hawks abruptly choked, water spurting from the corner of his lips as he attempted to swallow the remaining liquid as he sputtered helplessly. "My what?" He coughed, thumping solidly on his chest with a closed fist.

This one started with a late night passing thought: 'What if birds hated Hawks?' and it spiraled out of control for there. I entered into some sort of fugue state and wrote and edited the entire thing in like, three days (which is very likely a person record for me). But everything just clicked together so easily on this one- my scenes flowed well, my jokes seemed to set themselves up, and I honestly had an absolute blast writing this. This is likely the story I reread the most because I have so much fun coming back to it.

2) An Itch to Scratch (Creature!Kirishima x AFAB Reader)

Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town.  He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.   And that might actually be a bit of a problem. --- "Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin.  You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.   "Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest.  "I- can't breathe!"

I knew going in that if I was going to write a Mermay story I would want to write one that subverted expectations and common tropes. I removed the story from the typical tropical setting and plopped the Reader down into an dilapidated New England-ish fishing town, and threw in an additional surprise plot twist that I'm incredibly proud of.

I focused a lot on the world building here; on making the town and the people in it feel real and fleshed out. I really wanted to make the Reader feel connected to the situation they were dropped into and feel like I managed to do that successfully and even fell in love with the aging fishing town a bit myself.

3) Hot Dish (Shigaraki x AFAB Reader)

Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal. Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date. --- "You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Tomura glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing. "Whatever." "Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk." --- A slow, domestic romance between a volunteer at a soup kitchen and the newly destitute leader of a notorious villain organization.

Hot Dish is most popular story by far, which was honestly very surprising for me! I didn't realize how big Shigaraki's fan base was heading in because I wrote this for a server gift exchange and hadn't really read too many LOV centric stories. But I really enjoyed the challenge of trying to craft a soft romance for such a difficult character and think I managed to write a believable scenario where Shigaraki would be receptive to romance.

4) A Persistent Lack of Follow Through (Shouto x AFAB Reader)

Shouto had learned a lot from his Father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge. But one thing Endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner. Shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way. --- He had spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left. Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached: "I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table. --- A story where Shouto loves, loses, and learns.

I'm very much a happy ending sort of person, so it was a real challenge crafting a story around the prompt of 'heartbreak'. Hearts, obviously, needed to get broken; but then I wanted to try and write a believable healing journey would look like for two people in a shattered relationship. It was equal parts satisfying and frustrating building the same relationship up twice, but ultimately I feel like the relationship I depicted is stronger because of that struggle.

It was also my first time writing Todoroki Family shenanigans, which is honestly now one of my all time favorite things to do.

5) The 3-Cs of 3-A (eventual Bakugou x AFAB Reader)

This one links to Ao3 because I'm still in the process of crossposting it to Tumblr.

Mineta Minoru is a perverted misogynist whose antics should have had him expelled from UA long ago. But he wasn’t. And now it’s your job to fix him. May God have mercy on your soul. --- “Well then, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands,” Mineta purred before popping open the top two buttons on his shirt, sending you a coy look from under his lashes. “Mold me into the perfect hero, Pygmalion!  Make me your Galatea!” he screamed as he ripped open his shirt, buttons flying haphazardly through the air and pinging off the walls and floor.  You throw your arms up to cover your eyes, as though blinded by the pale skin of his belly.   “Why do you always have to make this weird?” you moan forlornly, already bending down to search along the floor for the missing buttons.  

Aaaah, my passion project. This was my first foray into writing MHA fiction and my only continual WIP. I'm constantly editing and working to improve this one because it's so important to me.

I noticed very early on that Mineta is a character that authors tend to ignore or replace entirely, so his character really appealed to me because I hadn't really ever seen it explored very thoroughly before. 3-Cs is, at it's core, a Mineta redemption story where I try to mold him into the character he could have been; but it's also a place where I get to explore a lot of my ideas about what it's like for an average person to live in a Hero-centric society.

My absolute favorite moments as a writer are when people comment on chapter 1 with messages like 'I really hate Mineta, let's see how this goes' and then 10 chapters later are posting comments like 'What have you done? I actually like this grape-flavored weirdo now.' I actually had someone mention last chapter that they now were interested in a Mineta x Reader story, so I'm putting some weird vibes out into the universe and proud of it!

I think a lot of the people that I would tag have likely already been tagged, but just in case here are some no pressure tags! @confused-red-head @grxywxrrxnn @auraxins @pikatsum @lou-struck @stellamancer @namodawrites @sipsteainanxiety

[jwirecs]

Recommended NCT Fics of December 2022💖

hello, hello! here are my nct recs of december! hopefully these beautiful stories will have more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Close Your Eyes, And I’ll Kiss You || @taelme​​💕✅

in which johnny just wants to kiss you

Like or Like Like || @taelme​​💕💔✅💯

local fratboy with unstereotypically nice personality that sits behind you in lectures and doesn’t seem to take an interest in anything other than your stationery decides life is too short to keep subtly shooting his shot by asking what’s in your pencil case (i think this could be considered as friends to lovers....maybe....)

My Christmas Come True || @sehunniepotwrites​​💕✅💯💯

Mark Lee has been a staple in your life for the past six years and you haven’t even met him in person yet. You say yet because you’re steps away from the arrival gate of the airport and he’s there waiting for you on the other side. Nerves out of control, you wonder if coming to him for the holidays is a mistake but it’s way too late to turn back now. The only thing you can do is move forward and hope for the best. (this is the fluffiest of the fluff that i have read so far. like I CAN LITERALLY IMAGINE EXCITED MARK MEETING HIS NEW BFFL AND LIKE BOUNCING ON SPOT NEXT TO JOHNNY LIKE WHAT)

Silent Treatment || @ofjunemoment​💕💔✅💯

you and Jeno aren't attached by the hip all the time. you just sync up in many ways which makes it easy for you to communicate with one another. Right?OR: In which you and Jeno make a bet to see who can go the longest without talking to the other.

Caught in Your Web || @inlovergirlsworld​​💕💔🔄💯

Mark found himself in the makeup section, having not a clue about covering up bruises. And just when he thought he couldn't get any more annoyed, you showed up.

Definition of Hate || @ncteez​​🔞💕💔✅💯💯💯

Johnny Suh is insufferable. He’s rich, arrogant, and anything but funny. You refuse to believe he is worth anything more than walking away from– over and over again– because you keep showing up for his friends, and his friend’s keep forcing you to talk to him.

The Roommate Contract || @jaeyunverse​​🔞💕💔✅

(quick summary from me: literally reader and jeno are idiots and are cute together.)

After Hours || @taeilteller​​💕✅

taeil works from home and everyday, he longs for his girlfriend to come back from work. tonight he feels a little needier than usual.

Candle Light || @2jaeh​​​💕✅

the power goes out so you and mark decide to "enjoy" your dinner under candle light.

Codename: Viper || @yutaholic​​🔞💕💔✅💯💯💯

ten years ago, Yuta walked away from a life of villainy to be a husband and father, but when an enemy comes lurking, he is ready to protect his family by any vicious means necessary… (asdlkdljksdaj the og author didnt establish if this was an established relationship au but mans married in this fic so i say its under established relationship au because LORD HAVE MERCY ON ME)

Seven Days To Say I Love You || @purinpeach​​💕✅

you and jeno can't get enough of spending time together even when you are practically glued to each other's side at any given opportunity. but spending seven days a week for eternity with your favourite person doesn't sound like a bad idea, right?

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events || @gimmehyuck​​💕💔✅💯

Mark found himself in the makeup section, having not a clue about covering up bruises. And just when he thought he couldn't get any more annoyed, you showed up.

Human Girls Are So Soft || @osakisho​​🔞✅

You’re Renjun’s pet girl and Haechan, Jaemin and Jeno are left to take care of you… yeah.

Neo Hybridverse || @flowerboykun​​🔞💕💔✅💯

(a compilation of multiple series all in one masterlist!)

Boo || @nikinonikki​​💔🔄💯

upon finding that you've died and are now a ghost, you do what any sane person would do- say 'screw it' and sneak into an nct concert for free. you're really living the death out here.

I Got You || @peanutpinet​​💕💔✅💯

you had always thought that you were working for the right people for the right purpose but it was all just a big act, making you realise that the right person was the one that you had to leave after an incident (do you hear mark saying “yo i got you, i got you” in your head rn? because i can and i love that)

Losing 127 In Ikea || @phoxphenex​​​​💕✅💯

(i also enjoy their little text drabbles)

Love Song || @neos-gone-wild​​​​💕✅

you ask your best friend to listen to a love song you wrote about him

Request from Anon. || @doyozen​​​💕✅

Asking the Dreamies “Ass or Tits” (i fully enjoy their little texts)

Skinship || @honeym4rk​​​💕🔄

the many ways mark partakes in affection

Soft Launching You On Instagram || @yellowgatorade​​💕✅

after a few months of dating, your boyfriend gets the okay to post you on instagram. your only request is that he covers your face, and he obliges. the response is overwhelmingly positive! (when will it be my turn to have a boo. like when, god out here playing favorites and i aint one of them)

Cynics || @rosewould​​🔞💕💔✅💯💯

Johnny has been your best friend since middle school. He was the only person who understood you in sad times. As time ticked on, he grew distant. He changed. He walked all over you to suck up to his other friends. It’s too late to fix things.

Dunk Shot || @jaemwrlds​​🔞💕💔✅

you had no intent on getting into a relationship but then you bump into a familiar face, na jaemin, who has an offer your sex craved self simply can’t resist.

Little Taste of Heaven || @taelme​🔞💕💔✅

a little taste of heaven, what you found in the eyes of Taeyong and his daughter.

My Focus On You || @jaemwrlds​​🔞💕💔🔄💯

lee jeno has only been betrayed two times in his life.

Sour Universe || @neowinestainedress​​​🔞💕💔🔄💯

(i suck at summaries but there are currently three fics in this masterlist and i am not too sure if its completed or not but i will put “ongoing” for the time being!)

Do check out all of the other NCT Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[quietlyimplode]

I blew Nat is autistic (based on basically everything she does in the winter soldier and black widow)

Could be cool to see the team learning not to disrupt her pre/post mission routines and then subtly doing things in the future to support her.

Hey Anon, thanks for your ask. I am not an autistic adult and am not so comfortable in writing as one.

There is this wonderful fic Of Spectrum and Spoons, which may be up your alley and interest you if you are looking for a portrayal of Natasha with autism.

I have however written some headcannons - up to you whether or not you take them on as autistic traits, trauma or some other neurodiversity. <3

Natasha has safe foods - everyone knows what they are and Tony makes sure the tower is well stocked with them

There’s one suit that Natasha likes over the other four she has. Clint thinks they look identical but when he asks her, she can tell him the differences.

Natasha’s does well with scripted social communication - it’s mandatory in her line of work so if she can pretend to be someone else and play a role it’s easier. When she’s not, and it’s just her, the demands go down and she prefers to communicate on her own terms.

Often she will walk out of the kitchen when there’s too many people in there

She likes hiding in the vents with Clint. It’s quiet and enclosed and dark

Natasha likes dim lighting

Certain smells will send her into hiding - Steve knows this when he made fish soup. She avoided the kitchen for days, even though everyone else couldn’t smell it, she could. until Clint burnt something and it cleared the smell out.

Natasha finds ways of regulating herself. Most Clint knows, but when she first started at shield he didn’t know that Fury recognised her need for water and the sea; and after hard missions he’d send her on a low ball missions to the beach. It was unspoken and she never thanked him for it.

Steve enjoys slow music, he learnt about tempos reducing heart rates after panic attacks from Natasha

The idea for a lullaby or a grounding rhyme for Bruce came from Natasha. Clint has a similar set of phrasing to help her when she’s dissociating. Only Clint knows these, but Tony has some words that help too.

Natasha loves soft things. She never had any in childhood and enjoys a secret stash of soft items

Clint knows that Natasha will do ballet to regulate herself, but it doesn’t stop him worrying

Clint and Natasha will do puzzles together, Natasha isn’t so good at them but is patient at finding a piece and sticks with it long after Clint has fallen asleep on the couch

Natasha hates wearing shoes

<3 thanks for trusting me with your prompt Anon.

This week is something else - send in headcannons, fic ideas, wip questions, recs etc - I’ll take a couple more and choose which <3

[run2seob]

5 things you like about 5 of your moots?

turned from subtly fangirling to "i'm (not)subtly in love with u and your blog" but thank u for the ask bcs i have an excuse to >:)

@gyuletters

her ability to write a variety of genres without using cliches

her kindness ^^ she's always complimenting accounts and writng the best reblogs

her theme (it's soo pretty) and how well it represents her. star's personality is so sweet and i feel like her theme reflects that

she comes up with the best prompts too! like i'm envious of her brain

how comforting her fics are (and binge worthy~)

@junoswrlld

even before me and juno became close, they were so so kind to me T0T

her ability to pace herself and balance her fics and personal life (i genuinely could not do this like.. admirable, seriously)

her crack ficshehsh they're so good >< she makes chapters leave you with suspense every time

how many memes she finds. it's one of my fav things because how do i wake up to 40 cat and scrimbo memes 😭

how reliable she is!! i can trust her with my fics and spoilers and it's so nice :> she gives motivation and gained my trust so easily :')

@mazeinthemoon

i can't believe i only have to do five?? i need more space to write about how moon writes. the way emotion is captured into her writing is filled with suspense but also comfort? like, in between dialogue, there's those quotes that you replay in your mind over and over again because how could someone think of that?

^^ adding onto this, the way she incorporates figurative language into her text perfectly captures the moment. it's not blatant and keeps the sentence flow which is impressive. as a writer i respect moon even more because even i struggle with that T0T

i've said this for everyone but can you blame me? they're all kind, moon included! she's always answering asks in the kindest way

^^ additionally, the way she types is so cute. and by this i mean kaomojis and emoticons. i love emoji faces so much hehe

best for last ofc~ her fics in general! glitter and the goalie both had me hooked. like essay long notes and annotations. i might reread glitter because of how on the edge it had me and bcs of her recent post.. detective reader activated >:)

@hueningsloverr

RHIA'S ANGST. that's shakespeare's child now, seriously. the way she writes angst is beautiful.. but like beautiful in a way where it feels like a pretty statue of a little girl crying but it's beautiful. beautiful in the way where it hurts but is pretty... makes you cry tears bcs of how well it was written yk?

the way she views things is soo beautiful. like in her reblogs and how she views songs. (could write an essay) when she wrote txt x time in a bottle it fit with the boys perfect and was just so pretty. there's so many quotes i remmeber and trust i'm not forgetting

i'm gonna make these shorter but how many ideas she comes up with. i could never T0T

her themeee

i wished i talk to her more!! i'm always scared to talk to my moots but i love her pseonality i would be so happy to talk to her more but i'm too scared

@huenation

themethemetheme it's so cute

idk if this counts but i was reading their bf beomgyu texts and was listening to hea and read the "oh my god" as the same time as the song said it and can't forget about that 😭

ugh my top 5 comfort fic being soobin meeting yns parents like.. i love this fic so much and ik this isn't recs but they write so well 😭 the moment is always described in the best ways and i can visualize them so well

i don't talk to amor much but i love their posts/txt reblogs ><

and that i wish them happiness. i know a lot of people's posts and writings reflect their emotions, and i just hope they're doing well. everyone has bad times, but it really depends what mindset you approach them with, you know? i just hope they get to smile :)

[ineffabildaddy]

For the fic ask game — A, J, L, S, V please :)

hey, good to see u!! how's it going??

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

this changes but i think ultimately, the one i'm most attached to is predictably I'm Beginning to See the Light because it was so healing for me to write, and because it's touched so many people - not that other people's opinion of my work is more important than my own, but it's been imperative to me ever since i realised i was trans to try and improve the lives of other trans people around me in whatever way i can, and if this can make other trans people feel more loved/happy/sexy in their bodies then that's very fulfilling for me💙

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

i answered this here!!!

L:  Which of your fanfics was the most emotionally challenging to write?

oh god, i don't know! i basically write all sex scenes with a lump in my throat because apparently i can't not make them really emotional😭 maybe ibtstl was the most challenging because it's the closest to my own life (not that anyone has treated me remotely as well in the bedroom as crowley has treated aziraphale in that fic lol, but aziraphale is very similar to me in that fic)?

S: How do you feel about fan art inspired by your writing?

unequivocally positive! it's always absolutely magical and it makes me feel so humbled💙

V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you?

absolutely! to name a few, @bowtiepastabitch saying ibtstl is trans literature; @portraitofalonelydyke's comment and rec post regarding in your own time; absolutely all of @omens-for-ophelia and @foolishlovers' comments on everything i write bc they manage to subtly roast me whilst also encouraging me and affirming my work!!

also naromoreau commented on one of my fics once, the email came in completely out of the blue and i had a (happy) heart attack lol

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Hello Hello and the Happiest of Fridays!

I'm thrilled to have @shealwaysreads in the library today! I've followed her for a long time and am always delighted by her posts on my dash. She has excellent taste, and has picked an incredible fic to share with us. Without further ado, I'll let Bella take over!

I did a slightly ridiculous gasp and wiggle when the lovely @thedrarrylibrarian reached out to ask me to share a fic rec for their brilliant Happy Hour, and was beyond delighted to be chosen to open the new year with a story I loved. 

I haven’t actually been able to read much fic over the last year, except for short pieces, which has really crystallised for me how much I really do love short fic. The skill, choices, focus, and subtle characterisation that’s so necessary for a fantastic short read is intense, and I find myself endlessly full of admiration for writers who can take on that challenge and create something beautiful.

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose is one of those brilliant stories—written for @hd-erised it was the last fic I read in 2022 and it was everything I hoped for, so I thought it would be the perfect story to share with everyone to kick off 2023!

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose (8,488 words, rated T)

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

In less than 10k Rosie manages to create such a full feeling world, with brilliant cameos from Ron and Hermione, brief but sharp and defined OCs, and a Pansy I adore beyond measure (a running theme in her work, do check out her back-catalogue and ready yourself for falling in love), along with a delicious Harry—dimpled, earnest, and transparent (or so Draco thinks), and a Draco pov that is positively sparkling (if slightly misguided).

Just the opening two lines shows you so much about Rosie’s deft world building, and fantastic sense of humour. By the third paragraph (full of brilliant characterisation) you are completely in-world, immersed in the tale she’s woven, and ready to be delighted.

I sat and highlighted a ream of quotes from the fic, and then realised I was essentially sharing every single bit of it. So I’ve given myself a stern talking to and settled on just one, which made me laugh out loud and captures perfectly Draco and Harry’s dynamic at the beginning of the fic:

“Draco imagined wrapping his fingers around Potter’s throat. Sometimes he even imagined strangling him. Sometimes.”

Draco’s perspective, and Harry’s characterisation, make the misunderstanding and miscommunication work so perfectly, so believably, that along with the urge to give them both a gentle slap I also found myself grinning away while they fumbled. 

Rosie’s fics always leave me bone-deep satisfied. She has that innate talent and well-honed skill to spin a world full of characters that feel so real you could reach out and hug them, and to guide you gently along emotional journeys to a resolution that leaves your heart warm and light every time. Short, or long, her stories are rich and generous, full of subtly crafted details that build a world (Contretemps is full of these—Hermione’s recent laws, Draco’s pirating choices, the queue outside Harry’s office) and even moments of sadness are leavened and balanced by the absolute gift she has for humour in her writing. 

Every fic of hers has made my day better, has lifted me up and set me on my way with a smile.

A special note: Rosie always undoes me with her food descriptions, and by undo I mean ‘wake up my appetite but ONLY AND SPECIFICALLY for what she has just laid down in words before me. I have once and will likely again actually gone and bought what she’s written about simply to sate my fic-induced hunger. If you’re anything like me you will find yourself reaching for a snack about halfway through this fic, and find yourself desperately wanting meringues and apricots.

I’ll stop myself there, before I spend the next thousand words singing the praises of this fic and @moonflower-rose’s writing, and hope that you all click the link and read Contretemps. I guarantee it will make your day if you do!

Thank you so much to @thedrarrylibrarian for inviting me to be a part of Happy Hour, and for all of your brilliant recs. As a Library Person™ it just brings me so much joy to be part of this project and the gift it is to the Drarry fandom. 

Happy 2023 everyone, I hope it’s a beautiful one, filled with fic and art! ❤️

Thank you once more, to @shealwaysreads for joining us today! Be sure to check out her own writing on her AO3!

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Reading!

[ebonysficcollection]

BNHA Fic Recs: Family/Friendship Feels

make this feel like home by carolinaa

The Todoroki siblings all come together for Christmas for the first time in years when they hear that Endeavor will be out of town during the break. Very painful, but also the most realistic depiction of estranged siblings that clearly love each other, but don't know how to act around each other. Fantastically written, and it's told from Natsuo's perspective, which is a refreshing take on this genre of Todoroki family recovery fics.

Tickets to the Todoroki Trauma Drama Are Buy 1 Get 1 Free by miniongrin

Touya and Fuyumi are twins and get body-swapped and learn about the lives they've developed since being separated and grow closer as a result. Fucking hysterical, great characterization of Fuyumi specifically, and surprisingly sweet and sad when it wants to be.

journey to the past by aloneintherain

When Izuku's classmates are pro heroes, they time travel back to when Izuku was little and save him from villain attacks repeatedly over the course of his life. This is heartbreakingly sweet. It shows all of Izuku's baggage and loneliness while simultaneously giving us the best friend bonding that is Pro Hero Class A playing with baby Deku. It's like getting an ice cream after getting decked in the nose.

Confusion by bortzy

Todoroki and Kirishima bonding over being gay. That's kind of it, but it's cute. I like Kirishima and Todoroki being friends. It's just uncomplicated friend stuff.

Movin' Out by momojirounation

Todoroki and Yaoyorozu not knowing how to function so they ask their partners for help. Very cute and funny, I love platonic Todomomo, and also they're both autistic, which is just--yes.

i. shaky hands by rexcorvidae

Izuku has chronic pain on account of being the human embodiment of poor impulse control, so Dadzawa steps in and helps him deal with it. It's just nice. It's just nice seeing people treating Izuku well. It's vicarious catharsis.

If We're Being Honest by thequeenofwhump

Class 1A is hit with a truth quirk that causes them to spout "fucking word vomit" for almost a month, and because no one can lie, all the couples get together in, like, the first chapter, and it's great. It's hilarious, especially the internal narration of the characters, and there's a lot of really good friendship moments between everyone involved, and I do mean everyone. It's not just the usual angst-ridden characters like Todoroki and Bakugou. I have a whole review typed up for this bad boy, but I'd say it's worth a read.

Imperceptible by lunarecrypt

A Hagakure-centric fic was something I did not know I needed, but now I'm glad I have it. Hagakure needs stealth advice from Todoroki, and she finds out the barest bones of his backstory and why he is the way he is. I always love fics about less popular characters, and I especially love them when they're told from the perspective of an underappreciated character. I really like Hagakure, and I wish there was more available content about her.

Terrible Twos by PotterheadAvengerDemigod

Midoriya is hit with a Quirk that de-ages him back to when he's four years old, and since Bakugou is the only person he knows and remembers, Bakugou has to babysit him. Tooth-rottingly adorable and features Bakugou struggling not to swear in the presence of innocent baby Deku, lest his friends hit him over the head with a rolled up newspaper. It's great, fucking love it.

all according to keikaku................. by carolinaa

Kirishima gets sick of Midoriya and Todoroki's pining, so he decides to flirt with Todoroki in an attempt to not-so-subtly force Midoriya to confess by taking advantage of Midoriya's competitive streak. The characterization is really solid and features teenagers being teenagers, with all the hell that is high school put on full display. I just love it when class 1A is depicted as just the most Gen Z kids to ever exist. This fic is almost literally every conversation I've overheard or been apart of in homework group study sessions. It's great.

(Honestly, just go read everything by this author).

bff (brother friend forever) by carolinaa

A collection of snapshots showing Iida and Uraraka's friendship, where they're really just bratty siblings that love each other just so much. As always with this author, great writing style, fantastic characterization, and hit me in the fucking feels.

(Seriously. Read everything by this author. Especially if you want good Erasermic and Todo-family fics).

[torawro]

its been a while sosa. but i still love you boo

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love >:))

(No pressure to do this! <3 )

i love u too paradis <3

but to address this ask i admit....it was...difficult in a way. i know i don't write as often as i want to like other authors and fellow mutuals so i really don't think i have a lot to offer when it comes to these kinds of things. now if it were wip's, i have plenty of those to choose from but this....well. we'll see. so um yeah, this is in no particular order of which one is my "favorite" but i personally think they are some of my more...presentable works.

stay, dio brando. my first dio and my first jjba fic since changing my url + theme. i actually like this one because of how i portrayed dio and the subtly of...well everything lol. writing this was one of the few times i felt like a real author, more than just me writing a fic. characterization means a lot to me so it was enjoyable dissecting him like this and putting him in this situation.

consume, franken stein. a piece that was completely unplanned and i was physically unable to stop writing it until i felt like i had finished. so this is also a fic that took me the shortest amount of time to write. i esp like this one because it's my most poetic and 'figurative piece', and signified (at least to me) an evolution of my style of writing. writing like this for a character people don't normally write for is very, very fulfilling. even more so when ppl give u praise for it.

your presence is a gift, byakuya kuchiki. a self indulgent, passionate piece that explores byakuya's seldom shown soft and romantic side, a part of him he seldom shows anymore. he's one of my favorite characters from bleach so writing about him was bound to happen. i just like how i portrayed him as a suave, quiet romantic for his wife and....yeah. more byakuya soon.

2am, dabi. another impulsive idea i started fleshing out in the dead of night and couldn't focus on anything until i published this. i was in a soft squishy mood for this one as well and just thought it was a cute idea and an alternative to the common trope where the reader provides dabi with comfort and reassurance and this time it's the other way around.

home is where the heart is, aki hayakawa. based on an ask i received a long while ago from a mutual and i just expanded on that. aki is very 'long term boyfriend' coded and i just like him being such a sweetheart for his baby, and i thought this characterization of him, where he likes to keep this stuff private and cherish you and be as selfish as he wants, makes a lot of sense to me. just reread the first half and it made me soft all over.

[shads-shipposts]

Cards and Comfort: Anachronism Snapshot

Admittedly, my fic Anachronism is a big ol' mess. Truly, it is in shambles (just like my mental state). However, some scenes are relatively put together. Such as this one that I wrote back in late 2020 during a depressive episode. Other than some very minor tweaking, this hasn't really been touched. But I want to post something with the KaraCrew, and thus y'all get this lovely little thing. It isn't much, only 1.3k words, but there is a truly abysmal lack of KaraCrew content that isn't tied to Tintin, so this is my remedy. A self indulgent comfort fic staring my oc Shadow and sailors Neil, Hobbs, Geitch, and Eckhart (pilot in brown clothes). As Anachronism takes place before my Clone Wars series, Shadow is 19 here. For obvious reasons, they don't sleep near the rest of the crew and usually crash in Tom or Allan's cabin since those two have their own rooms.

Enjoy~

CW: Language, depressive episode, worries of being a burden.

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

Halting just shy of the open doorway, I swallowed hard. What if they got mad? What if they sent me away? What if they let me in but were passive aggressive about it? Hell, that last one would be even worse. 

But it would be even worse to sit in Tom’s cabin alone, thoughts spiraling out of control. 

I’d just have to take the risk.

Stepping into the doorway to the rec room, I blinked against the light and scanned the room to see who was there. Eckhart, Geitch, Neil, and Hobbs. At least it was two of my favorite sailors aside from Tom. 

It took them a while to notice me, but Eckhart’s eyes finally raised and the man did a small double take. “Kid? Thought you were asleep?” 

At his comment, Neil and Hobbs twisted in their chairs to face me.

“Hey, Shortie. Whatcha doin’ wanderin’ ‘round this late?” Neil asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said with a shrug, arms wrapped around myself as I braced against the rolling of the ship. 

“Kevin botherin’ ya? I’ll send ‘im off if ya need me to,” Neil offered. 

I shook my head. “Ain’t that. Just restless. Y’all mind if I sit in and watch?” I asked tiredly. 

They glanced at each other and I worried they would refuse. Well… guess if they did the top of the wheelhouse was an option. 

“Nah, c’mon ov’r ‘ere,” Hobbs said, jerking his head at the seat between him and Neil. 

My shoulders sagged in relief. “Thanks, you won’t even know I’m here,” I assured them, walking over and sliding into the seat between the two men. Taking care not to brush any of them, I slowly exhaled. Best not to draw any more attention to myself than I already had. 

The card game continued on, but I could tell they were occasionally glancing at me. Well, good thing I couldn’t really feel worse than I currently did. 

Neil bumped my elbow and I moved it to give him more space. Surely I wasn’t taking up that much room. Compared to the AB I was pretty damn small. He called me “Shortie” for a reason. 

He did it again, but moved slower and didn’t so much bump my elbow as nudge it. Beneath the numbness and crushing exhaustion, curiosity sparked. What was this man up to? 

When his elbow brushed mine again, I left it there. He pressed his against mine but continued on with the game. His skin was quite warm, and despite the small area of contact, the touch sent a feeling of ease through me and slowly forced the tension out of my shoulders. A strong leg pressed against mine, further driving away the agonizing emptiness. Releasing a long breath once more, I shifted closer to the man. I waited, tense, for him to move away but he stayed where he was. Giving a mental ‘fuck it’, I leaned against him. 

The men must have been subtly watching, because they immediately commented on my unusual behavior. 

“Hey kid, what’s eatin’ ya?” Geitch asked from across the table. 

It took some effort, but I managed to raise my eyes to his. “Eh, I’ll be fine in a few.”

“Wasn’t the question,” Eckhart remarked, raising an eyebrow.  

“Aye, somethin’s buggin’ ya,” Hobbs added, twisting in his chair to look at me while still hiding his cards from Eckhart. 

I dropped my eyes. “Nothin’s wrong.” 

“Bullshit.” Neil nudged me with his leg. “You don’t mope like this.”

I shook my head. “Y’all don’t get it. Literally nothing is wrong. My brain just… malfunctions at times.”

“Malfunctions?” 

“We got a happy chemical our brain is supposed to produce. Sometimes my brain says ‘Fuck you, chemical machine broke’ and quits on me for an hour or two. It’s jacked enough already, but it can get really bad,” I managed.

“Sounds like hell,” Geitch commented. 

I huffed. “No shit, man. Fuckin’ sucks ass and swallows.”

The men chuckled. “Least you keep your foul mouth,” Hobbs teased, punching my arm. 

“Oh, that gets worse durin’ this.”

“Good outlet,” Eckhart laughed. 

“Guess it can be,” I shrugged, before sighing and dropping my eyes to the table again. 

The weak reply seemed to sober the men a little. 

“Should we get Tom?” Geitch asked, shifting to get out of his seat. 

“No!” I yelped, panic spreading across my face. “Last thing I need is to burden more people with this.”

My fearful response only got them more worried.

“You clearly aren’t doin’ good, kid,” Neil pointed out. “Wouldn’t Tom help?”

“He’s on duty right now. I’m not botherin’ him,” I stressed, shaking my head. “Just… can you get back to the card game? I’d have stayed away if I knew I’d bother y’all this much.”

They exchanged glances with each other. 

Shit, I knew I was bothering them! I shifted and went to slide out of the seat to leave them alone, but Neil’s heavy arm across my back and shoulders pushed me back down into the seat. 

“Ya aren’t botherin’ no one,” he growled. “Said ya can stay, so sit.”

I held his gaze for a moment before settling back into the chair. “If you’re sure.”

“Wouldn’t say it if we weren’t,” Hobbs remarked, shifting back to face the others at the table. 

“Y’all ain’t the type to hold your tongues on anythin’ that’s for sure,” I huffed, salt forming a crack in the prison wall. 

Neil squeezed my shoulder. “Right.” 

I expected him to remove his arm to continue the game, but the heavy limb stayed where it was, fingers tapping absentmindedly to the faint music playing over the radio.  

Slowly exhaling once more, I hesitated before shifting so my side rested against his. The faint rhythm of the radio coupled with the creaking and rolling of the ship coaxed me further and further towards sleep again.

But would I be safe sleeping around them? They were sailors after all. Even if I was fairly close now with Neil and Hobbs, and none of these men in particular had done anything sketchy, I just couldn’t be 100% sure. Could pretend to be asleep and see how they react.

Closing my eyes, I waited a few moments before letting my head roll to the side against Neil. 

“They fall asleep?” Neil asked. 

“Not so loud, idiot, you’ll wake ‘em up,” Hobbs hissed. 

“What do we do?” Geitch asked. “Carry ‘em back to Tom’s cabin?”

“That would also wake them up,” Eckhart pointed out. 

“I’m comfortable, just leave ‘em and let ‘em sleep,” Neil said, pulling me closer to him. 

“Softie,” Hobbs teased. 

“Am not.” 

“Look atcha, lettin’ the kid sleep on ya.”

Neil snorted. “You’d do the same.”

“They’re kinda cute when they’re asleep and not threatenin’ us with violence,” Geitch commented with a short laugh. 

“Hey, they’re nineteen,” Neil growled. “You’re thirty two. Back off.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, cockhead,” Geitch shot back. “You know I see ‘em as a sibling, same as you! Didn’t mean anything weird by it!”

“Hope not,” Eckhart said. “They’re not asleep. Saw them twitch at your comment.”

The men were quiet before Hobbs ventured, “Kid? You sleepin’ or not?” 

“I’m tryin’ if that’s any consolation,” I muttered. 

“Figured ya passed out since you’re pressed against me like this and ya aren’t cuddly awake,” Neil said, adjusting his arm.

“Just go back to the game and let me doze. Warmth and pressure helps keep the sad at bay,” I mumbled. “And I do like hugs, thank you very little. I just don’t know the vibe for them within this hotbed of masculinity.” 

As Eckhart snorted in amusement, Hobbs asked, “Can ya even sleep with us talkin’?”

“Right now no. So start gamin’,” I huffed.

“Sir yes sir,” he chuckled. 

I rolled my eyes. “Smartass,” I muttered, situating myself again. Exhaling slowly, I closed my eyes and let the low music, swaying of the ship, muted voices, and warmth and weight of Neil’s arm lull me back to sleep. 

I just hoped Tom wouldn’t freak when he got back to the cabin and I wasn’t there. 

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[aziraphales-library]

hi! could you rec some fics where you consider they're written very very on character? thank youu

Hello! This is pretty subjective, with different people interpreting the characters is different ways, but here are a mixed bag of fics I’ve enjoyed in which I think the characters are at least not wildly out of character...

One Man's Trash by RiaTheDreamer (T)

”I-” Aziraphale seems aware of his words, stuttering before choosing them carefully. “I’m terribly sorry, I was – I was going to ask, you see, but not now. Must have spoken my thoughts out loud, terrible habit of mine.”

A nervous habit, Crowley almost adds.

“I was trying to plan for it,” Aziraphale explains, wringing his hands. “The question. I know it must be uncomfortable –“

“You are talking about the sulfur pit,” Crowley concludes, narrowing his eyes. After Armageddon failed, it’s become a new habit of his. To leave the glasses off once in the bookshop with Aziraphale. The angel had said he liked his eyes, and Crowley had caved in. He points a finger at Aziraphale’s chest, shaking it. “You are talking about Hell – No. You are talking about Falling.”

tread lightly on my ground by IneffableDoll (G)

Crowley wants to live with Aziraphale and doesn’t know how to ask if that’s okay. So, instead, he does the logical thing and decides to just…move into the bookshop. Subtly.

Take My Heart (But Not My Hand) by Ghostinthehouse (T)

"You know he needs touch?"

"Yeah," Crowley says, following Adam's gaze to Aziraphale. "I know. We'll figure it out, he and I. We always do. Eventually."

Infernal Escapes by journeytogallifrey (T)

With room themes such as Escape Eden, The Roman Ruse, Bastille Breakout, and Soho Heist, Infernal Escapes is one of the most popular escape rooms in all of London.

Jaded and adversarial, Crowley has worked at Infernal Escapes too long for his own good. But when kind and eccentric Aziraphale Fell comes in alone as a player, Crowley finds himself fascinated, falling hard for this clever man and his vast talent.

Aziraphale has always wanted to try an escape room, and the experience is better than his wildest dreams. And if he can’t stop thinking about his handsome gamemaster… well. He must just really love escape rooms, mustn’t he?

Though Heaven Bar the Way by everybody_lives (T)

Nearly five decades after the Holy Water argument, Aziraphale is sent to a world-famous sanatorium in the Swiss Alps on an assignment that Heaven appears to care about rather more than usual—only to find out that Crowley, of all creatures, has already established himself there.

Clearly, this cannot be good for anyone's constitution.

I Only Have Eyes For You by Twilightcitysky (M)

After narrowly escaping execution, Aziraphale and Crowley want to fly under the radar for a while. Worried that performing miracles will reveal their location to their former bosses, they relocate to the country and stop using their powers. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is ready to start moving faster... and Crowley has a secret. Can he keep Aziraphale from realizing what's changed while juggling moving trucks, furniture assembly, inquisitive mediums, attacks of Feng Shui, and the mortifying ordeal of grocery shopping?

A fic about moving in together, finding yourself, and finding one another.

- Mod D