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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

Text

Merry Ruff-Mas

Mick Schumacher x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angie loves trouble, angie also runs away from home, panicked mick, queen corinna cameo, snow storms, kind strangers but also stranger danger cause wtf lmao, mentions of death, finger sucking, rushed sex, dom!mick for a second there, praise kink, choking, creampie, penetrative sex (p in v), gina's a bit sus of mick at the end.

Word Count: 2,257

Author's Note: it's not a mick fic without miss angie so of course this one had to be based around her.

merry smutmas series

Angie goes missing the day before Christmas and Mick finds her at the neighbouring ranch, wrapped up with ribbon and bows.

Mick had headed to the stables and Angie followed close behind him as he double checked to make sure that everything was in place for the night.

Angie follows Mick make foot to foot, she was his little furry shadow.

So when he didn't hear her little pants and her paws patting on the concrete, he just assumed she ran back to the house. He locks the doors to the stable and finds his way back to the house, do you know who sat on the couch watching TV when Mick came in.

"Where's Angie?" He asks, about to take off his boots. Gina glances over her shoulder at her brother. "What do you mean where's Angie? Didn't she go to the stables with you?"

"Yeah," Mick says, looking around. "I thought she ran back here."

"No," Gina shakes her head, "she's not in here. It's just me, unless she ran up to mom and dad's room."

Mick goes running down the hallway to his parents' room. "Is Angie in here?" He sticks his head in and his mother looks up from her book.

"No sweetheart, she's not."

It finally hit him that she's outside somewhere, in the freezing cold. Before Gina could ask him where he's going, he goes running out the house. He shouts her name, tumbling through the snow. There's a giant flashlight in hand as he makes his way around the property, following a trail left behind by her bouncing in the snow.

Mick finds himself at the edge of the Schumacher ranch, squeezing through the hole in the fence and onto the neighbouring property.

A few more feet and he sees a light in the not so far distance; a house with the lights on.

The least he can do is ask, right? There was no harm in that.

A knock on the door, Mick brushes the snow off his coat as he waits, hands shoved in his pocket. A young woman opens the door, smiling at him. "Hi." She says, a warm smile on her face, a thick blanket tossed wrapped around her shoulders.

"Hi," Mick can't help the smile on his face, momentarily forgetting why he was at her door. "I uh.. I was looking for my dog, Angie. She ran off."

"Oh," you say, "you're in luck, I found a sweet puppy on my porch not too long ago." You pat your leg a few times, the puppy running from around the corner.

The man at your door dropped down onto his knees, raw dog jumping on the man; clearly they knew each other.

"I take it this is Angie?" you asked, the man nods, smiling at you as Angie runs back into the house.

"C'mere Angie!" He calls after her but she ignores him, returning to the spot she had previously occupied.

You laughed, looking out into the snow to see your car in the driveway and nothing else. "Did you.. walk here?"

"Yeah."

"I can give you a ride back if you'd like?"

"Oh you don't need to do that," the man smiles, and you shrug. "It's the least I can do, plus Angie seems to have made herself comfortable." She had curled up by the fireplace and fallen asleep.

You stepped to the side, a gust of cold breeze hitting you. "Why don't you come in for some tea or something? I'll give you two a ride home when the wind dies down."

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"Oh please, I'm inviting you in." You nod towards the hallway and who was Mick to deny such a pretty lady ?

He steps in, leaving his wet boots and coat by the front door before following you to the kitchen. Mick looks around as he trailed behind you, the house decorated like something out of a movie; big tree by the fireplace, garland and lights wrapped in every spot it could be, even the throw pillows on the couch were Christmas themed.

"Tea or coffee?" You asked, breaking his thought. "Oh uh.. tea please." He leans on the counter, watching as you move around the kitchen.

"Thank you for taking her in, I know she's a bit troublesome. I hope she didn't disrupt your evening too much."

You wave him off, flipping the switch to set the kettle on boil. "It's no problem at all, she's an angel. She was on her best behaviour." You took a mug out of the cupboard and dropped a tea bag in it. "I heard the noise outside and I figured I should check what it was. Angie's little coat was stuck in the fence and she was tugging to get loose by the time I got to her. It did rip, unfortunately."

Mick shrugs, "that's fine, really." You hum, reaching for the sugar from the cabinet in front of you. "Are you here alone?" He asks, realizing that he's yet to see anyone else.

You'd be lying if you said your danger radar didn't go off at that moment but it was a harmless question, wasn't it? Not like you had some stranger in your house with his dog.

"Uh yeah," you turned to face him, taking in his features; blonde hair tucked under his hat, bright blue eyes, his cheeks were chubby but not overly chunky, proof that he was healthy but ate well you suppose, not to mention the award winning smile he had.

There was something about him that was so charming and so familiar about him but you couldn't place it. Then again, he was a stranger in your home, all alone, in the middle of the night.

"My siblings are in the city with their partners and our parents passed away so it's just me."

"Oh," Mick trails off for a moment, "I'm sorry to hear that."

You shrug him off, "it's okay. That's life, what can you do?"

The silence fills the room, the kettle whistles and you turn it off, filling the mug with the teabag in it. You leave it steep, turning your attention back to the man in your kitchen.

"I think I have a blanket that you can wrap Angie in."

"It's no big deal, I promise. That's not the first coat she's ripped," he chuckles, making you smile. "Come with me," you nodded, walking towards the steps and up you went.

Mick's footsteps are quiet, following a foot behind when you open the guest bedroom, leaning down to haul a box out of the closet.

He sat on the floor with you as you went through the stack of blankets that you've pulled out of the box. "Take whichever you want," you tell him, flipping through the stack yourself. He hums, watching as you flip through them and picks out a pink one with little butterflies on it.

You smiled, giggling. "That's uh.. that's my baby blanket."

Mick opens his mouth, "oh! Sorry!" He says, about to put it back into the stack but you stop him.

"It's fine, I haven't used it in years."

He shakes his head, reaching around you to wrap the blanket over your shoulders, "it's still yours," he whispers, leaned into you.

Your faces were all but an inch apart, Mick's lips ghosting over yours. It was you that closed the gap between the two of you and it was like a switch flipped.

A fight for dominance, the two of you on the floor all over each other.

"I don't usually do this," you mumbled, your lips on his as you felt Mick's hands slip under your top.

He hums, "me either." His eyes fixed on the red lace that covers your tits. Mick leans forward, kissing along your collarbones and down to your tits, you were so distracted by the feeling that you missed him pulling your pants down, leaving you in just your panties.

He smiles, standing up. You shift, now on your knees in front of him, hands resting on your thighs as you look up at him. He leans down and kisses you, his knuckles brushing the underside of your chin when he looks at you, kissing you once more.

Mick grabs your chin, tilting your head back as you look up at him.

His index fingers taps your cheek lightly and you open your mouth, “hm such a good girl.” He squeezes your face slightly before he slips his thumb into your mouth.

He crouches down in front of you, eyes fixed on you and watching your every move; the way your own eyes study him or perhaps the way your lips wrap around his thumb, the feeling of your tongue on his finger.

“Bet you wish that was my cock, hm? Bet you'd look pretty with it in your mouth.”

He smiles at the way your eyes widen at his filthy words.

It was a few moments later that he pulled his finger away, kissing you once more; sloppy and messy before he pushed you to lay down for a moment.

He sits on the floor, his back against the bed frame when he pulls you down onto his lap. He kisses you, tapping your hip softly so you’d lift off him a bit before he lines himself up with you and you sink down onto him. The two of you let out a sigh at the same time; Mick feeling you clench around him and you feeling him stretch you out.

"Relax,” he tells you, a hand rubbing along your thigh. “Take it so well, angel.” He mumbles against your lips before his hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing against the soft flesh causing a little whimper to slip past your lips.

His ocean eyes fixed on you; chest heaving, the thin layer of sweat across your soft skin made it glisten under the white light of the living room, your hand wrapped around his wrist.

His hand finally moving from your neck, letting you take a deep breath; the air burning your lungs.

A hand wanders down your chest, fingers brushing over your nipples before moving down your torso to your clit. He presses down, rubbing slow circles.

You fall flat against him, your arms wrap over his shoulders, his hand resting on your lower back as he bounced you up and down on his lap.

His hand slips between the two of you once again, rubbing slow circles on your clit until he feels you clench around him again.

“Oh- fuck,” you breathe, your hand gripping his arm as he leans into you.

“I know, I know - I'm right here.” He whispers to you, his hand moving in time with his hips.

Between the two, he pushes you over the edge. The knot in your stomach comes loose and he watches as you cum. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Mick follows behind you.

It takes you two a moment to register all of it, you're still leaning on him when you speak. "I meant it," you say.

"What?" He leans back, looking at you.

"I don't usually do this."

Mick laughs, "I believe you, me either."

The barking from downstairs gets your attention, it seems Angie had woken up and seen everyone had disappeared. The two of you manage to get separated and dressed, heading back down to the puppy waiting on you.

Mick had picked up a green blanket from the stack in the room. "Shall I drive you two home now?" You asked and Mick nodded, "if it's not too much trouble."

You smiled, the three of you piling into your car, Angie in the back seat with her head sticking between the two of you while you drove with Mick's directions. You knew the place, the Schumacher Ranch - that's why his face seemed familiar.

The car came to a stop in front of the house. "If you ever want some company over the holidays, call me. I’ll come by or you can come over." Mick says and you smile, nodding.

"You know, I didn't even catch your name. I don't even think I asked." you giggled and Mick smiled, realizing that he didn't know yours either.

"I'm Mick," he extends his hand out to you. As one does, you take his hand, shaking it. "Nice to meet you, Mick. I'm y/n."

He pulls you by the hand, kissing you once more for the night. Angie pokes herself between the two of you, you laugh and reach over to rub her side. "No more running off hm?"

Mick gets out of the car, helping Angie out before leaning into the car from the opened window. "Thank you again.. for everything. I'll see you around, y/n."

"I'll see you around, Mick." You smiled, waving to him and Angie as they went up the steps to the door.

Gina was sitting on the couch next to the window when they came in. "Gosh, I thought you died out there. I was about to send out the search party." She tells her little brother, rubbing Angie's side as the dog jumps onto the couch with her.

Mick laughs, rolling his eyes.

"Was that y/n I saw outside? From next door? I didn't know you knew her." Gina raises an eyebrow.

Mick waves off his sister, "she found Angie and invited me in for a cup of tea." He tells her, smiling to himself when he remembers the cup of tea left on the counter - what had happened was way better than tea.

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smut #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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pinkslaystation · 10 months ago

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Ghost of A Connection

Ghost and Staff!Reader

In which you work at the nearest store at base, Ghost being your least favourite and unfortunately, most frequent, customer. Is there a connection there, or is it in his head? yALL - all these COD stories on tumblr got me hyped! So here I am tryna catch some clout ;) Be warned, this is possibly a very inaccurate version of military life, but then again, it's just a story. Word Count: 2.5k

Man, post-graduate life is hard.

Graduating top of your cohort of nearly 300 students in your masters degree within Psychology was impressive. Saving enough money from shadowing your senior Psychology professor and moving out to your apartment was impressive. Owing your own car was impressive.

What wasn't impressive though, was nearly hitting the 6 month mark of unemployment.

So here you are, stuck calling all your classmates for any open roles. You're so desperate at this point, you'd go for anything!

"Hey, Mahir! I know we didn't quite end of good terms...um-you know...when you asked for the mid-terms answers last year, and I- um...left you on delivered, and you had to retake the exams...but um, I hear you started working at the University as a Researcher and you're looking for a assistant? Well gee, don't forget how smart I a-"

Disconnected.

"Yooo, Josephine, it's me! From the Psychopathology group project! Yeah, I'm sorry I shouted at you for not doing your part on the project, and filing a complaint against you, haha...although, like, come on, it's your fault - you're 25, not a 5 year old bab-"

Blocked.

Wow. You were not liked.

So one evening, when you were on the phone to your childhood friend, Jordan Biggs, and had managed to slip out how desperately broke you were, he kindly offered a potential role at his workplace.

"Shop keeper? What, like a convenience store?" Remind me where you work again? Aren't you in the navy? What stores are you talking about?" You rambled, I mean a possible job - finally?!

On the line, Jordan chuckles, "Slow your roll, man. I've been been with the army for around 3 years now, I'm currently on a mission but we'll be home soon. Our base has a shop, that sells, you know, tactical gear-"

"GUNS?!" You interrupted.

Jordan laughs, then in shushed by, what you assume to be his teammate, "No, not any weapons. Just, tactical gear, MREs, bits and pieces of uniform. Sometimes you might be asked to clean the base, set up rooms for meetings. And ooh my favourite - work at the canteen. We serve the country, you serve us food." Jordan explains.

So you complied.

I mean, yeah, your degree isn't being utilised, but we're in a cost of living crisis, for Christ's sake.

And here you are, clad in a plain dark grey fleece, and straight black trousers, trying to look as professional as possible.

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

Your first day was silent. You found that you lived only 30 minutes away from the base, so you didn't struggle with the early shifts, working almost full days at the base, with a surprising decent salary.

You learnt you had replaced the previous worker, Katherine, a grumpy senior who quit, being fed up with the stench of these sweaty unkempt soldiers, and their rowdy behaviour after missions.

You also met your staff at the base, being the youngest one there gave you no surprise, with most your colleagues being double your age. You liked it. It was quiet, having met a few of the soldiers.

Your role was relatively simple. Consisting of various tasks such as ordering enough food to satisfy the recruits, more training equipment, when a recruit seemed to damage one. All in all, you were satisfied, especially when the first pay day rolled in.

You also noted that your colleagues, without fail, always seem to talk about a specific group of soldiers, such as Friday evening, when you all found yourself eating an early dinner.

"Soap is so sweet! He's always so generous when we talks to me, although I can't lie, I don't know what the fuck he says half the time." Your colleague rambles, shoving a spoon full of Friday's roast dinner into his mouth.

Another agreed, "Nothing beats the dilf of a man - Captain John Price. I may be chewing steak but that ain't the meat I want in my mouth, if you get what I mean-"

You choked, "Margaret, you're married with grand-kids, lord."

After a quiet but much needed conversation, you learnt about the most well-known team within the base, Task Force One-Four-One, lead by Captain John Price, forming of Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, and the one you were most curious about - Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

"But like, why Ghost? If he's close to this Soap dude, why not call yourself Shampoo or something?"

Your colleagues laughed at your naivety glancing at each other.

"My dear, I don't dare to call him anything other than Lieutenant. He's entered a 10 metre radius of mine, and I've already pissed myself." One stated.

"I've heard he threatened to attack Katherine, just because she overcharged him, long story short, she quit." Another replied.

It seemed you didn't understand how feared Ghost really was...

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

By the time you all had finished dinner, the staff split up, some going back to the canteen to prepare dinners for the soldiers finishing training, some going to clean up the barracks, and you found yourself going back to your designated shop.

Aah, this is peaceful. You mumbled, drinking your hot chocolate, whilst sorting out all the army boots on display.

As the clock strikes 10 p.m. though, the silence is broken and you hear a stampede of soldiers, once you assume had come back from a month long mission. The majority of them, from what you'd heard, sprinted to the canteen to rid themselves of their strictly MRE diet, and finally eat some home cooked food, whilst others ran off to their freshly cleaned barracks to get some well-deserved sleep.

Your little shop also seemed to be quite busy, a long queue waiting to buy water bottles, bandages, blankets, you name it. From nearby chatter from the tired soldiers, it seems most of the teams had arrived back from Afghanistan, a successful mission with no death and a few minor injuries.

An hour goes by and the queue dies down to around 6 people, with one at the till: Jordan.

"So a water bottle, that would be £1.50, payin- my God, Jordan?" You smiled, getting in front of the counter and pulling into a hug. He smelt like dusty and you joked that 1 bottle of water wouldn't suffice to rinse him of the smell.

"I haven't seen you in forever, it's been like 6 months? How's the job been treating you?" He enquiries, placing a kiss against your forehead. By now, the nearly empty shop turns to face the both of you, many assuming the situation to be a couple reuniting.

You and Jordan continue to catch up on everything - his mission, your job...Margaret's obsession with which positions she can take Captain Price in...

"Bro, she was going so in depth into the many ways she can contort her waist for, what she calls, the Price penis?!" You pull your most fake-disgusted face, as Jordan cackles loudly.

But his laugh falls short as a deep scruffy voice interrupts him-

"The only thing being wasted right now, is my time. Hurry the fuck up and pay for your shit. You act like we have all the time in the fucking world."

You jump slightly at the harsh words, although this is a military base, you should be used to this foul language.

"My guy, she said waist, not waste-" Jordan begins, before straightening his back and realising who he was talking to.

He turns around to face the man's voice, his back now turned to you, obstructing your view of the unknown soldier.

"Lie-Lieutenant. My apologies! Lemme grab this water and get out of your way," Jordan nervously chuckles, you can't see who he's talking to, but you can tell this was a man of higher authority, given how Jordan stutters. "Ooh, I see what you wanted to buy! Gloves, nice, socks, cool, Coc-Coco pops?!"

"My fucking God Biggs, the only thing big about you is your stupidity and your pussy attitude, grab your shit and go. Stop holding the fucking line, mate." The male's British accent is so prominent with every word enunciated, and you wish to never run into this stranger again.

"Sir!" Jordan turns to you, handing you a fiver and awkwardly side hugging you, "Have fun with this jerk wad." He whispers into your hair, before running out the shop, his water bottle still on the counter.

"Jordan your bottle-"

Holy shit.

After Jordan moves, your eyes feast before you, revealing a godly 225 lb man, standing at an impressive 1.89 metres, dressed in his dark and intimidating casual attire, his face hidden behind a skeleton mask, his piercing eyes squinted and penetrating into your shorter frame, his biceps bulging out of his sweatshirt, his shoulders broad, his trousers failing to hold his impressive bulg-

"Are you going to continue gawking at me like a fuckin' donkey or should I not pay for this shit?" He huffs out in disappointment.

Rude. Plain rude. Sexy...but rude.

Now you know why Jordan couldn't move a muscle when faced with this guy. Putting 2 to 2 together, you clocked. The way other soldiers left the shop as he entered. The way one look from him gets them to shut up so quickly. The skeleton mask-

This is Ghost.

"We- I- Um-" What the hell? Why can't you form a damn sentence?

"I- I- I don't give a damn. My shit, here." He mocks you, slamming his items on the counter. By now, the other customers have scurried off in fear. It's now you and Ghost in the shop.

You nod, humming a yes, eyebrows furrowing at his unkind words.

The next few moments are followed by near silence, the only sounds being the scanning of the items and your quickening breath. His foot begins tapping rapidly, as sign that you're taking to long.

It's uncomfortabl-

"The old hag before you's gone then."

Yes, Ghost, she is. And if you keep acting like this, I will be too. You grunt a response, unable to find the right words.

"£28.50" You say curtly, after a while. He hums in response, pulling his wallet to pay.

You watch him nervously, you did not expect to see one of the most respected soldiers in front of you so soon. Someone so handsome, someone so fucking sexy, but someone so fucking bitchy...

Oh. You said that last bit out loud.

Ghost pauses his actions, his head slowly craning upwards, his gaze drinking you in.

Your eyes meet his, quickly looking back at the counter, unable to meet his furrowed but amused glare.

"'m so bitchy, but you seem to love it, sweetheart. So red, like you're fucking in love with me or something." He scowls, slapping a £20 note on the counter.

"Maybe next time stopping droolin' over other men when you have your own cunt of a boyfriend." He mutters, before taking his shit and leaving. You don't fail to catch the smirk in his voice, as he exits your shop, loud footsteps booming behind him.

Oh my god.

You were at a loss of words. You were also at a loss of £8.50.

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

"Jordy, you don't fuckin' get it! Dickhead left the place, without paying the full fucking price, mind you." Frustration was evident in your voice.

"Bitchy and broke," Jordan snickers.

"And the audacity to call you my boyfriend? Bye." You huff in annoyance, whilst Jordan chokes on his spit. If anything, he was a like a brother to you!

A week has gone by since that first encounter and your conversations with Jordan at the shop, when he passes by, always seem to end up at the topic of Ghost. The way he glares at you as you walk past him in the corridors. The way he sees you struggling when you carry boxes upon boxes- oh he won't help you, by the way. When you ask, he simply scoffs, "You're getting paid and you don't even want to do your job?"

Since that day, you've met all of the Task Force members. Price was as Margaret mentioned, sexy. Soap, comical, Gaz, kind-hearted, Ghost...yeah, he's there.

"But you don't get it man, he's so big- like over 6 foot! And those eyes- man those eyes. So condescending...but so hot..." you continue.

"Damn Margaret wannabe, we get it." Jordan jokes, drinking his can coke - which he didn't pay for. You'll tell him later.

As you both converse, loud footsteps enter the store.

Ghost. Again.

Did I mention he's been in here every day since the first time?

8 a.m. sharp, the moment you clock in for your shift, and 10 p.m. on the dot. Fucker's so annoying, he'll stay around the shopfloor, lazily looking at the various protein bars, even after you state the shop is already 10 minutes past closing.

But you don't mind. His silently stares at you, as if trying to remember the exact location of every beauty spot on your face, the consequent reddening of your cheeks, the slight touches of his rough callous fingers brushing against your own. All this unspoken tension, leads to your every thought being consumed by Simon Riley.

And when he enters the shop, wow. Buys the most random unnecessary shit ever. You notice how he walks in and purchases his singular Coco Pops cereal bar, day after day. This man isn't sick of them?

I mean, come o-

"Your obsession with me is flattering." He states.

Oh, forgot to mention, he's still an asshole. But at least after rehearsing to yourself in the mirror, you can actually speak up for yourself.

"Guh- buh- we- u-" Fuck's sake.

But he actually laughs this time. A loud imploding chuckle exits his mouth, and you actually smile a little at this unfamiliar emotion.

You can't tell what his face is doing under the mask, but his voice suggests a small smile rests on his face, but it soon disappears before he coughs awkwardly.

"Your boyfriend's in the infirmary by the way." He looks away, emphasising boyfriend a little too roughly.

You stare in confusion. Boyfriend? He picks up on this.

"Biggs. Rolled his ankle or some shit. Dunno why he can't just man it up. I've had worse injuries." He mumbles, smiling under his mark slightly, assuming Jordan isn't in fact your boyfriend.

Your eyes widen, "Jordy? Wha-who-how?"

"He-" But before he can answer your question, you're running out the shop to the infirmary, stealing a snack from the shelf for Jordan.

You fail to notice that you'd left a dejected Ghost at the counter, who'd picked up 2 coco pops instead of 1 this time, his smile faltering, as he planned to give you the 2nd, as a token of apology for his impolite behaviour.

In the end, he realised he'd been holding onto a ghost of a connection, overshadowed by the presence of another man.

He winces, being left alone at the till, hoping to actually strike up a conversation with you, as he gathers his (unpaid) belongings and walks out the door, off to shout at any rando that dares get in his way.

yALL its 2.30 a.m. and i'm craving coco pops-

#ghost angst #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff #cod #john price #ghost

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 8 months ago

Text

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 2

AO3

Summary: During a party at the officers' club, DeMarco gets the chance to smooth things over with Susie, and she shows her true colours when defending one of her friends

Warnings: Language, smoking, harassment, misogyny, violence

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

Susie jolted awake to the sudden bang of a door swinging shut, squinting in the unbearable brightness of the light which she assumed to be morning. "Susie!" Charlotte's voice hit her ears, and she folded her arms tightly over her head to block everything out, inhaling the smell of cigarette smoke. That was strange.

"What?" She groaned.

"You fell asleep in your uniform. Get up."

Blinking slowly, Susie looked down at herself, and sure enough, she was dressed head-to-toe in her dress greens, her shoes still on her feet, one leg dangling off the side of her mattress as she lay on top of the crumpled blankets. "...Oh shit. Is it morning?"

One of the other ATS girls let out a bark of laughter, and Charlotte shook her head, a smile curling her lip. "No. We just got in from the pub, it's been... what, three hours since you left?"

"God, no wonder I feel like shit."

"You look like it too. Are you sure you're alright? Not like you to call it a night after only one pint."

Susie's hand fell to her pocket, and she felt the cool metal of the money DeMarco had given her against her fingertips. She nodded weakly. "Yeah. No, I'm just tired."

Charlotte raised a brow discerningly, sitting down on the edge of Susie's bed. "Right. Get up, get out of that uniform, and tell me what's wrong. I'll iron your stuff tomorrow, I have to do mine anyway."

Her brow was furrowed in confusion but she obliged nonetheless, rising to her feet as she began to peel away her uniform, the inhabitants of their hut far too familiar with one another to be embarrassed about any state of undress. "What, you want to... listen to me talk about my feelings?"

"Yes, Susie. You know - like an actual human."

"Sounds terrible-"

"Susie!"

"Right, yeah, ok. Well... I think I'm frustrated."

Charlotte's mouth hung slightly agape, as if watching a baby giraffe learn to walk for the first time. "... you think?"

"No, no. I am," She nodded firmly. "... Yeah. There was a bloke I thought might've been my friend but it turned out he was pissin' me about."

"What a shit."

"...Yeah." Susie agreed, a distinct air of uncertainty lacing her voice. Charlotte stared at her like she was encountering alien life for the first time. The cold night air stung her bare skin as she hurried to pull on some pyjamas, uniform laid out as neatly as she could upon the bed. Even inside the Nissen huts, it was never fully warm - on particularly nasty nights, the women would pass around thick, wool socks so that everyone could double up on layers, the thin army-issue blankets doing little to keep them insulated. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Y'know, I don't think you're mean, Suze," Charlotte pointed out as she gathered the crumpled clothes. "Just... socially incompetent."

"Noted," Susie nodded, collapsing face-first onto the bed, the spring mattress shrieking its objection as she bounced up and down a few times below slowly settling to a halt. In her mind, it didn't matter why people didn't like her - they just did, and she wasn't very interested in changing herself to avoid it. Everyone had always liked her sisters growing up, and it mostly seemed to mean that they never got left alone. But Susie liked being left alone.

Or at least, she managed to convince herself that she did.

��━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun had long since set, a warm glow and the echo of brass music echoing from within the officers' club, a steady hum of conversation carrying on the breeze. Standing out in the darkness, back pressed against the wall, Susie pulled her cigarette away from her lips, a huge cloud of smoke erupting before her. She and Charlotte sported matching lights, the small, burning embers flickering orange as they puffed away in silence. Charlotte smoked about a dozen a day, but she refused to do it inside, repulsed by both the lingering smell of her own smoke and the thought of men watching her do it. It always seemed hypocritical to Susie, but nevertheless, she accompanied her, waiting patiently until they were both done.

"Freddy's back in town on Wednesday," Charlotte stated, breaking the silence that hung between them. She had been engaged to the RAF pilot for over a year, but there had never been time or money enough to arrange the lavish wedding they both so desperately wanted. Susie had only met the man once or twice, but he seemed a good bloke to her, albeit excessively chipper. She never quite trusted optimists.

"Oh, give him my best. I've got a pick-up run to fucking Peterborough on that day - apparently, they've got a shortage of vehicles, so I've gotta go all the way to them. Bloody waste of a day, really," She complained, lightly kicking one of the old empty beer bottles on the ground and sending it spinning across the tarmac.

"You should get the truck checked before you go - you'd hate to break down somewhere. I can call Bevan or something, she'll give it a look."

"Nah. I haven't been having any problems, I won't waste her time. She's got enough on her plate."

One of their bunkmates, a young woman named Maeve, tore open the door to the club, the music splitting the air. Her hat sat lop-sided on her head, cropped blonde hair erupting in frizz from the sweat that beaded on her forehead. "Are you gonna come in or what? I've already danced with three Yanks, how long does it take to smoke one fag?"

"Alright, Jesus," Susie rolled her eyes, twisting her heel as she stomped hers out. The sudden noise was jarring as they headed inside, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light after spending so much time outside. She couldn't quite remember what the party was even for, but the Americans didn't strike her as a group in need of much of a reason for one.

The women from her hut were all either crowded at one end of the bar or dancing with some of the men that filled the room, and Susie immediately made a beeline for the former, utterly uninterested in a bit of dull conversation or awkward flirting with a man she'd undoubtedly never speak to again. Her sister Beatrice often complained she had an un-romantic view of the world - she preferred the term 'realist'.

She had barely had time to take a sip of her first drink before she felt a tug at her trouser leg. Peering down, she met a familiar pair of dark eyes, Meatball's tongue lolling out of his mouth as he stared up at her, tail thumping against Maeve's leg as it wagged incessantly. The women were delighted by his sudden appearance, crouching down to scratch beneath his chin and rub under his belly, the dog revelling in the attention. But Meatball's presence meant one thing.

"Susie?"

Susie stood up straight, wiping a line of beer foam away from her lip as she found herself face-to-face with DeMarco, a stern frown creasing her expression. She'd managed to successfully avoid him for nearly a week, but with her back pressed up against the bar there was no escape.

She never dressed like she was supposed to be where she was. It was something Benny liked about her. Her hair fell uncurled down her back, her tie hanging loose around her neck, the top button of her shirt undone. Hand planted firmly on her hip, she appeared even more irritated by his presence than she had the first time they'd met.

"Look, can we-" He paused, an idea slowly surfacing. "... Will you dance with me?"

Maeve and Charlotte were both staring, expressions prompting her forward. DeMarco's friends were huddled nearby, clearly watching the scene, close enough to hear every word.

He's backed you into a corner. He's forcing you to answer. If you say no, he's made sure you're the one who'll look like an asshole.

What a dick.

"Fine." Teeth clenched, a bitter sweetness lacing her voice, she seized his arm, marching him towards the dancefloor and leaving the other women to fawn and coo over Meatball.

He stared down at the hand she had on his sleeve, frowning at the stiffness of her grip. Her shoulders were visibly tense, and he could feel the reluctance in every step she took. "... You look nice," He pointed out, flashing a smile.

Susie paused in the centre of the floor, taking his hand with about as much enthusiasm as if she were at a funeral. "Right. Sure."

The music had picked up, more than a dozen couples filling the room, dancing merrily. DeMarco liked this song. He'd danced to it countless times, with far more cheerful, willing partners. He could feel the warmth of her skin as he put a hand on her waist, and with a start realised that she was actually rather good at this. Staring down at the smooth movement of her feet, he almost forgot what he had come to say.

Clearing his throat slightly, Benny met her eye. “Susie, look. I know I don’t know you very well-”

“That is correct," She nodded firmly, and he fought the urge to scoff.

“Can you let me finish?! Jesus. I know I don’t know you very well - but - I can tell you’re not going to admit you were wrong. So I’m gonna do it for you. Susie, you were wrong. I was not trying to use you to get close to your friends - one of Charlotte’s friends had a date with one of my guys tonight, and I was asked to pass on a message that he had to cancel. That's why I needed to talk to her, you were just so-...” His mouth opened and shut as he tried to find the word, hand releasing hers for a moment to flail wildly in the air. “-You!"

Her gaze had begun to soften, and for a moment he felt a pit of guilt burrow in his stomach. "…But I’m sorry that’s happened to you before. Some guys can be real jerks.”

“Oh, really, thank you for the warning,” Susie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. DeMarco frowned flatly, and she cleared her throat. “Right. Yeah… Ok.”

"It usually helps when you let people finish their sentences," He shrugged, and she tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing. When he slipped his hand back into hers, she was noticeably less tense.

"Well, I didn't know what you were gonna say."

"Exactly, Suze. That's what the rest of the sentence was for," DeMarco pointed out, unable to restrain a chuckle, flashing a boyish, lopsided grin. She felt her cheeks heat up, and let out a snort of laughter herself, her stubbornness ridiculous in hindsight. After a moment, Susie couldn't help but laugh - a real, melodious laugh, erupting from deep within her throat, eyes squeezed shut as her head tilted forward, a single auburn curl slipping over her shoulder to hang in her face.

He paused, the shuffling of his feet slowing, falling out of time with the music. She seemed all hard lines and rough edges, far too much so to ever produce such a wonderful sound. It was the kind of laugh that made a person feel lighter just for hearing it, and DeMarco hadn't realised quite how much he'd been staring until Bucky's teasing grin caught his eye from across the room, and he snapped out of it before Susie could notice.

The song reached its end, and her steps slowed to a halt, prying her hands away from his. "Right, you interrupted me before I could finish my drink, so I'm gonna go find it," She nodded determinedly, Meatball wiggling his way through the crowd to nip at her heels as she walked, his tail wagging back and forth wildly. Accepting her departure, Benny drifted back over to his friends, accepting a drink as it was passed to him.

"Breaking that shell, huh?" Bucky asked, that same pleased smirk creasing his cheeks.

His eyes narrowed slightly, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. "Don't believe everything ya hear, John."

Susie pried her shoulders through the press of bodies that had gathered around the bar, hands raised as she side-stepped between a few officers, watching keenly for her half-finished beer. She spotted Maeve, stood dutifully with a glass in each hand, and realised with a smile that she'd been keeping an eye on it for her. A pilot she didn't recognise was stood beside Maeve at the bar, talking her ear off, and by the uneasy expression on her face, she wasn't exactly enjoying it.

"Thanks, love," Forcing a smile, she took her drink back, purposely shouldering in between the pair, cutting off the pilot mid-sentence. He let out a frustrated grunt, but Susie didn't offer him a second glance, placing a gentle, reassuring hand on Maeve's arm. The newest member of her crew, the girl had been freshly nineteen when she arrived at Thorpe Abbotts only a few months ago. She was bubbly, blunt, energetic, and something about her seemed familiar to Susie, something that kept her tethered at her side. "I was just talking to Charlotte-" She lied, deliberately refusing to address the third member of their party. "-and we were talking about going down to the pub instead, find some better beer."

The pilot cleared his throat, speaking up. Something about his smooth accent rubbed Susie the wrong way. "Excuse me? Maeve, we should get on the dancefloor before the next song starts."

Shaking her head, Susie wedged herself even more firmly between the two, shouldering Maeve behind her. "No, she's not gonna be doing that."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Well, now you are."

The air itself had grown tense around them, drawing the stares of others just trying to enjoy their evening. Further down the bar, she noticed DeMarco and his friends watching with furrowed brows, sporting identical frowns as they slowly put down their beers in anticipation. She felt Maeve's fingers brush against her own behind her back, searching for her hand.

The pilot was growing more and more irritated by the second. "Listen, we're all just here to have a good time," He said tensely. "It's one dance, it's not gonna hurt anyone."

Maeve's hand squeezed hers, a wordless way of saying 'Yes it will'.

"I think we've established that's not happening, Yank. Now why don't you fuck off and bother someone else, before this becomes a problem."

He scoffed, clearly doubting Susie's ability to make this altercation any sort of problem for him. Over his shoulder, she noticed DeMarco making his way through the crowd towards them, frown darkening his entire face. "There an issue here?" He asked, voice sterner than she'd ever heard it.

"Yeah, DeMarco - why don't you come over here and put a muzzle on your bitch, huh?"

The moment the words left the man's mouth, DeMarco was lunging forward, Blakeley's hands seizing his shoulders before he could cause any real damage. A self-satisfied smirk curled the pilot's lips, but in the moment DeMarco had dove at him, he had failed to notice Susie, upturning her beer and pouring every last drop down her throat in a single gulp. By the time his head turned back towards the two women, her fist was already clenched and pulled back, and an almighty crack echoed through the officers' club as her knuckles collided with his jaw. Staggering backwards, his side slammed into the bar, undoubtedly leaving some nasty bruises as he tumbled backwards, landing flat on his ass on the polished wood floor.

A stunned silence had descended upon the room, every eye locked onto the scene, a few snickers rising from the crowd as the pilot gawped up at her, eyes wide and gormless. "C'mon," Susie uttered, taking advantage of the sudden stillness to worm her way through the crowd, tugging Maeve along by the hand, the girl staring slack-jawed at the scene as they passed.

Susie hadn't realised how stifling the officers' club was until they breached the doorway, stepping out into the cold night air, no light except for a single streetlamp, which flickered and buzzed intermittently. Her knuckles throbbed painfully, shoulder reeling from the sudden swing, but the pain seemed washed away the moment Maeve let out a laugh - a shrill, hysteric giggle, hands clamped tightly over her mouth to muffle the sound, eyes wide in shock.

"Holy shit, Susie!" She cackled, and soon Susie had begun to grin too, their expressions painted in sheer disbelief at the scene that had just occurred. "That was fucking cool! Quick - let's go back in there and kick 'im before he can get up."

"No, no!" Susie chuckled, grabbing Maeve's wrist to stop her from marching straight back inside again. "We're in enough trouble as it is, let's not, eh? Save it for next time we see him," She winked, making the younger girl giggle.

Suddenly Maeve gasped, a hand raised to her scalp. "Oh shit, I left my hat inside."

The sound of footsteps just inside the doorway caught their attention, and out hurried DeMarco, Major Egan tailing close behind, Maeve's ATS cap in hand. "You guys ok? You hurt?" Benny called, brow creased in concern.

"Oh, we are so great," Maeve laughed, accepting her hat with many grateful thanks. "I mean did you see that? One hit - bam! - down!" Susie nodded along, beginning to chuckle, her cheeks burning a bright red.

"Yeah, it'll be even more impressive if I manage to keep my job," She huffed, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Well, I dunno about you, Benny, but I sure didn't see anything," Egan shrugged.

"Not a thing," DeMarco concurred, grinning. She met his gaze, and for a moment they both struggled not to burst into laughter.

"Right, well I'm not nearly drunk enough to go home yet," Maeve declared, glancing around at the group to gauge their reactions. "Pub? Pub anyone?"

"Not for me," Susie shook her head. "Even if everyone denies what just happened, I'm already on second chances. I'm gonna get some sleep before I have to deal with it tomorrow."

"I'll go," Egan nodded. "Keep an eye on the kid."

"Thank you," She smiled earnestly, taking Maeve's cap and tucking it beneath her arm. They'd all told the girl not to wear it out, but she'd insisted, and it was becoming burdensome. John and Maeve began making their way towards the village, their chatter muffled the further away they got. Turning on her heel, Susie began to return to her hut, before the sudden sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention.

DeMarco was walking beside her, hands in his pockets. "Walk you back?"

"And abandon your dog? Shame on you."

He shrugged. "Meatball's been all over Buck, he'll be fine. That dog's a goddamn traitor."

She chuckled. "He's going through the rebellious teenager phase - wants anyone except his dad."

"No one told me parenthood would be this hard, y'know," Benny joked, a flash of teeth peeking through his lopsided smile. "Your hand feelin' ok?"

Susie lifted the hand she'd used to punch the pilot, a twinge of pain making her wince slightly as she flexed her knuckles. DeMarco reached out to gently hold it, peering down at the bruising already blooming across the back of her palm. "It was a damn good swing, I'll give you that," He admitted, and she let out a chuckle.

Neither spoke for a moment, until he broke the silence once more. "Hey, what'd you mean when you said you're 'already on second chances'?"

"Ah," Susie nodded. "Well, that's where the reputation comes from. A while ago, before you Yanks got here, I got in an argument with an RAF officer - headbutted him so hard I broke his nose. I nearly got fired, but now everyone who's been around long enough knows about it, they think I've got a screw loose or summat."

"No shit - are you serious?"

"As the plague."

DeMarco let out a long, low whistle. "Y'know, I just assumed it was 'cause you're..."

"A grumpy old bitch?"

"Yeah, that," He agreed, letting out a guffaw as she punched him in the shoulder. "Hey! You said it, not me!"

"Prick," Susie smirked, shaking her head. The officers' club wasn't far from the ATS huts, and it wasn't long before they reached her door. Pulling Maeve's hat out from under her arm, she placed it atop her head, jokingly tipping it to him in goodbye as she fumbled for her keys. "Well, if I still have a job tomorrow I'll see you around."

"You will," DeMarco nodded. "And hey, if they try to fire you, I'll tell 'em you're essential for dog-sitting purposes."

"Oh yeah, my main calling in life," She shook her head, smiling as the lock clicked and she swung the door open. "G'night DeMarco."

"Y'know, you're allowed to call me Benny."

Her expression contorted in a grimace, clearly not a fan of the nickname. "I think I'm good."

"Jesus Christ," He muttered. "Go to bed, Susie, just get outta my sight."

With one last laugh, she slipped inside, vanishing as the door swung shut behind her, leaving him alone in the darkness. Smirking to himself, he shoved his hands into his pockets, beginning the long walk back to his bunk.

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #bernard demarco #bernard demarco x oc #mota oc #masters of the air fic #mota fic #fic | better off #oc: susie #john egan

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libraryofloveletters · 11 months ago

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Sweet Like Candy

Paulo Dybala x Fem!Reader

Warnings: teacher!reader, candy shopping, paulo thinks you're insane, gross flavoured candy canes, some giggles and one slightly dirty thought from paulo if you squint.

Word Count: 715

Author's Note: paulo just has the vibe that he has never has a candy cane and he would give the best ratings lmao so here we are.

You had started making holiday treat bags for your class with the help of your boyfriend, who seems to be puzzled by the long curved candy you put in the bags.

As a teacher, you vouch to do all the things that you saw on Pinterest with your class.

Hence why you were at the store, in the midst of all the Christmas madness, shopping for candies and treats to put into little loot bags for your students.

Your boyfriend, Paulo, followed you around the store, pushing the shopping cart. "What about these?" He asks, holding up a pack of Christmas themed erasers.

"Those are so cute," you smiled, "get a few packs." You were picking up some pencils and little stickers you'd put into the bags for them.

The shopping cart was already overflowing with things that you and Paulo didn't need, but picked up anyways, along with all of the stuff that you had picked up for your students. You make your way over to the candy aisle and pick up a few packs of lollipops and Hershey kisses before you turn to the giant wall of candy canes.

"Why are they shaped like that?" He asks you and you glance over at him, the man leaning on the cart. "Like what?"

"Like that," he says, picking up a pack. "Candy canes," he reads the package, turning it over to read the back.

"Why are you looking at it like that? You've never seen a candy cane before?"

"I mean yeah, but I never tried it." He says, tossing the pack in the car, he assumed you wanted them for your students. You mirror his actions, picking up a few packs and setting them into the cart for your students.

It finally hit you what your boyfriend had just said.

"You've never tried a candy cane?!" You look at the man, utter surprise on your face.

Paulo shrugs, "I've been busy baby, what can I say?"

"Okay so make time, we're trying some tonight."

He nods, watching as your fingers waved over the shelves as if you were looking for something. You picked out a few different picks for him to try; peppermint, sour patch, Froot Loops, Oreos, and pickles.

"Pickles?" His nose wrinkles, "I'm throwing up already."

You laughed, "you need at least one gross flavour, it's a must."

It takes you a bit to get home but when you finally do, you unwrap the boxes of candy canes, taking one of each flavour out.

"Ready?" You ask him, getting him a glass of water before sitting with him on the couch. Paulo looks at you, holding back his laugh - you were taking this very seriously.

"As ready as I could ever be, babe."

You handed him the candy cane, he'd taste it, put a rating down and then take a sip of water before you repeated the process five times. It took him a bit of rearranging, and some double tasting before he finally settled on his official rating.

"Okay, let's hear it," you tell him, breaking off a piece from the peppermint one and sucking on it. Paulo watches you for a moment, lost in thought.

"Paulo?" you waved your hands in front of his face, chuckling. "Don't be dirty right now. I still need your help with the bags."

"Oh yeah, right." He smiles, cheeks flushed a bit red before he takes a sip of water. "The official ratings are pickles in 5th place, Froot Loops in 4th, sour patch in 3rd, Oreos in 2nd and the winner is peppermint."

"Really? I thought you liked the sour patch flavour more than the Oreo."

"I did but then it left a weird taste in my mouth so Oreo took over as second place."

You nod, picking out a few of the candy canes for him. "Here," you hand them for you, "I'll pick up another box when I go to the store over the weekend, now come help me put these together."

Paulo sits across from you as you unwrap the things to put into the bags, he does his own unwrapping; undoing the plastic packaging on 3 of the candy canes and sticking them in his mouth at once.

"Paulo!" you laughed, "you can't do that, one at a time babe."

He smiles, holding all 3 of the candy canes as he shrugs. You shake your head, thinking to yourself that he's not that much further off than your students.

#holiday extravaganza blurbs 23 #paulo dybala #paulo dybala x reader #paulo dybala x you #paulo dybala x y/n #football #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football blurb

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equestrianequivalent · 4 months ago

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QuintSum has been finished. What now?

Yes, you read that right. I've finished the first draft of QuintSum. I'm done. I told you, I said I would be, and I finally am! So, what now?

Well, the short answer is that I'm going to release it all on Ao3, but there's a few things to discuss related to that process, because that won't be done in a day either.

How will you release the fic?

ALSO, IMPORTANT: If you started reading before August 2024, I suggest you start over from the beginning. I have changed way more than I ever could've predicted that I would, and it shows. While you're probably going to be able to follow the story, you're probably not going to understand a Solid amount of basic knowledge the characters hold, nevertheless what each character is thinking and why, especially not how we got to this point, if you don't reread the first 28 chapters. But also I'm not your mom you can do whatever you want. But don't say I didn't warn you.

We will go 1-3 releases per remaining arc. Most arcs will be released in two halves, as you can see in the screenshot above. The short explanation is that this means there will be less releases with more chapters. (And don't let the low chapter count fool you, the wordcount goes haywire sooner than you think. The chapters currently average around 4-6k.)

There is 135 chapters in total, it would take me over a year to upload this entire thing even if I released two chapters per week. And I don't want to do that. Therefore, I will release them per arc, which is a collection of chapters about the same part of the story, pretty much. Those releases will look as follows:

Arc 5: Chapters 30-34. (One release)

Arc 6: Chapters 35-51. (Two releases)

Arc 7: Chapters 52-59. (One release) (<- Most subject to change, this bitch is a complete mess in terms of chapter length already. Stay tuned to see how I deal with that I guess!)

Arc 8: Chapters 60-84. (Three releases)

Arc 9: Chapters 85-103. (Two releases)

Arc 10: Chapters 104-109. (One release)

Arc 11: Chapters 110-116. (One release)

Arc 12: Chapters 117-135. (Two releases)

I cannot say when these will be uploaded, but this means that there will be 13 releases of new chapters.

Probably. There is always a chance that I will split up the arcs more, because, I don't know if you've noticed, but the second draft is already getting ridiculously long, and these chapters sometimes take me multiple days to get through. I'm a full-time university student currently getting a bachelors, and I'm at least planning on getting a masters going as well, sometimes I just do not have the time to write as much as I really would.

Anyways! This is how it's going to work on My end of things:

I will edit and finalize the chapters in each release, and then upload that entire batch on Ao3 together. This will take however long it may. I have no deadlines and no goals to hit. It'll be done when it's done. Then I will release a post announcing that this arc has been uploaded, with a link to the First chapter in that arc. This will repeat until we reach the last chapters. And then we're done. It is Way less complicated than it sounds, all you need to do, really, is remember that I will release things less consistently, but when I do release, believe me, you will have stuff to read.

How long is this fic?

135 chapters. And the wordcount of the first draft ended up at 280k words. It will probably be a little more on Ao3 because I always add stuff when I revise. So far I'm 100% on track to double the final draft, but don't hold me to that. I'm personally assuming it'll be somewhere between 350-450k words. All my friends think it will be longer. We'll find out who is in the right once it is done. Point is that while I never intended to set the record for the longest fic sorted by word count on Ao3, well, right now it sure is looking like I will do just that. By a lot.

What is important to keep in mind?

Read the tags. I have consistently talked on my main about how the biggest goal of QuintSum has been to "make Elizabeth's death worth it". Third-party sources would agree that I have done just that. In fact, my friends would all claim I've managed to write a by-the-books tragedy. Do with that what you will. Other than that, you can expect pretty standard things from the game. And a few near-death experiences here and there. I will say tho, remember that I rate this story T, that rating speaks louder than Most of the tags. The tags aren't lying, but the severity of it is dictated more than anything by the rating.

Anything else?

Tell @jorvikzelda that you love them because they're the entire reason that I started, nevertheless finished this fuckass fic of mine. Stay tuned for the release, boys, we fucking made it.

(If you want some sporadic updates because I can't shut up, I'm always yappin over at @shiroselia and otherwise you can find me at Ao3 as per usual)

Cheers!

#sso #ssoblr #star stable online #QuintSum

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e1ectrostatic · 6 months ago

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30 Day Fictionkind Challenge Day 21

Q: What's something about the fictionkind community that you wish was different?

A: There are a few things. Listing them all would make me sound like a naive idealist, but I'll do it anyway because I enjoy rambling.

For one, I wish it was bigger! At least, the community that knows the actual definition of fictionkin and doesn't define it as something that doesn't include identifying as your fictotype. Twitter is especially bad with this and I don't enjoy the culture there. From what I've seen, Tumblr gets it, but the fictionkin population is definitely smaller. It's hard to look for fictionkin (or fictionfolk in general)-specific community, but that may just be because I'm not looking hard enough. I'm primarily looking for sourcemates though, and that's definitely been a challenge. ID/V has little to no fandom presence on Tumblr unfortunately, and fictionfolk from that source are even harder to come by.

Piggybacking off of my first point about wanting more community that knows the actual definition of ficitonkin, I wish there wasn't so much misinformation. Maybe this doesn't count in the way I'm thinking of because that's technically outside of the community, but still. I often lament about how many incorrect definitions of "fictionkin" are out there, in the public consciousness. It's caused people to water fictionkinity down into things like "relating to the character", "connecting to the character", or "being a really big fan of the character".

I often see people pathologizing fictionkinity and treating it as if it were inherently a delusion. This can be the case, and is deserving of respect. It's not like that for everyone, though, and to assume so is incredibly presumptuous at best, and invasive and harmful at worst. As a result of this, I've seen people feel the need to reinvent fictionkinity by saying "It's not kin and it's not a D/A, it's just me." That is what 'kin is, or what it's supposed to mean.

You don't have to adopt any labels you don't want to, but I wish people would at least do some research and examine why they're averse to this label. If you walk away from it still not comfortable with it, that's all well and good; at least you're informed now. But if you do end up liking it, you have a community waiting for you with open arms. I guess I can't fully blame them, because the misinfo is so rampant, but it still bums me out sometimes.

Piggybacking x2, I wish there wasn't so much infighting and fakeclaiming. The psychological vs spiritual dichotomy for example is strange to me. All experiences within that binary, inbetween, and outside of it are equally deserving of acknowledgement and respect.

Doubles exist, and you retain the right to feel uncomfortable or not want to interact with them, but to call them all fake is extremely rude. Their identities are just as real and don't compromise your own. Just block and move on.

Someone with "unusual" or "too many" or "cringy/weird" or "problematic" fictotypes is still valid and deserving of dignity and decency. Again, if you're uncomfortable with someone, you don't have to interact with them. If they're not bringing material harm to themselves or others, it's no one's business. They're real people with feelings and struggles of their own, I'm sure rude comments about their fictotype(s) is the last thing they need. You don't know nor are you entitled to their personal information or relationship to their source(s). Either be courteous or leave them alone.

Basically, I just wish people would realize there's no strict rulebook to being fictionkind. As long as you earnestly, involuntarily identify as your fictotype, you're golden. As for voluntary cases, they're perfectly valid fictionfolk too, this is just a fictionkind-specific post :]. But copinglinkers and other voluntary alterfictional identities, I'm waving and wish you all the best.

There might be other stuff, but this is all I can think of for now. Let me know if I'm talking out of my ass for any of this. I guess I just want people to be kinder and more open to what this community actually is. It's a genuine identity with a rich community history that encompasses many different kinds of experiences, and that's so cool.

#fictionkin #30 day fictionkind challenge #kin stuff #i'll be on the lookout for cool fictionkin (and fictionfolk in general) to follow methinks...#i'm open to blog recs or self promos.. if ur chill and i think ur blog is cool ill probably put u in my pocket #and @ ppl i already follow: if u have any sideblogs im not currently following its probably because im clueless and unaware of them X_X #feel free to direct me to em! im hungry

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discipline-your-body · 7 months ago

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An honest look at my eating habits and weight fluctuations

I'm going to start with senior year of high school. I did very intense dieting and went from ~115 lbs to lowest weight 89 lbs. However, over the summer I gained all of it back, after crashing from restricting so intensely.

I didn't weigh myself in college. In the first part of college, from living on campus I was much more active and eating on the healthier side but not perfect. The last year of college, moving into an apartment, I was much less active and eating worse, I was gaining a little bit of weight. I finished college around 135 lbs.

Post-grad and first full time job, it was a very active job, outside of work I was doing LOTS of walking/hiking. I had less time to eat, plus I was conscious of my meals and meal-planning. I lost 15-20 lbs without even realizing it. I was back to ~115 lbs. I was not regularly weighing myself and I remember feeling really surprised when I saw such a low number.

At 25-26 years old, I weighed myself again and was back to the 130s. And then it became the 140s. And then I saw a photo of myself and couldn't believe it was me. I told myself I'd do better. And then it became the 150s.

At the time, I was in denial. I thought I was eating exactly the same as a few years ago. I was utterly confused. I thought it was maybe just aging, just a part of life. But lets be honest.

I was not regularly exercising, wasn't going on daily walks anymore, wasn't doing any workout routines (maybe a 5-minute workout every once in a blue moon?) I was spending most of my free time at my computer writing or on my phone doom-scrolling.

I fell into a habit of getting breakfast takeout every day -- between Wawa, Dunkin, and Starbucks. Every day. Also, I was often ordering "large" drinks instead of medium or small. That's at least 600 calories for breakfast.

I started having two lunches at work every day. One lunch I would pack ahead (at least 500 calories), second lunch I would buy at work (around 400 calories).

Every dinner was either pasta (700-800 calories at least) or takeout (up to 1000 calories.)

Assuming I didn't have any snacks in between, that's at least 2200 calories a day. And that itself doesn't even seem like a huge amount, right? Well my BMR was probably 2000 at most. That means at least 200 extra calories a day. Not too bad, right? But that means 73,000 extra calories a year. And with each pound equaling 3500 calories, that equals gaining 20 lbs in one year. Perspective!

Keep all that in mind with how I was not working out consistently. I had a job in which I was on my feet most of the day and had to push and carry very heavy things. But that did NOT equal a true workout.

The two year period of my weight gain, I was depressed and going through a lot of horrible things. I was in denial about a lot, not only my weight gain, but other things going on in my life. I could not honestly look at myself in the mirror and admit that any eating or activity habits had changed.

Seeing the number on the scale go up, seeing myself look different in photos, no longer fitting in my old clothes and having to go up two sizes, was not my final straw. Finding out that I had Lyme disease with two years of symptoms that I chose to ignore, that was my first hint. That was what lead me to the doctor, who told me that I was on the borderline of overweight and could lose some. That's what put me on a diet/calorie restriction for the first time in ten years.

I restricted for two months and I lost 5 lbs. But it was so hard and the weight loss was happening so slowly. I lost patience and gave up. I told myself I'd just eat better and be more active. So I didn't count calories, but I just tried to make healthier choices.

One year later at my next doctor appointment, she weighed me again and told me I had gained 5 lbs more from my previous appointment. So the tiny amount of weight I lost between then, I gained double! And THAT was my final straw.

That day, I joined a weight loss app and decided to fully commit. It's now been a little over three months and I've lost 10 lbs. I'm just a sliver above the healthy BMI bracket. I'm now 145 lbs, which I don't think I've been since 2-3 years ago.

My biggest lesson I've learned right now is that we have to be honest with ourselves. We make so many excuses. We don't want to see the ugly truth. It's far too easy to turn a blind eye to weight gain. But your body wants your attention. We don't listen to our bodies!

A lot of times you think you're hungry when you're actually tired. Make sure you get enough sleep. And late evenings or nights, when you're craving a snack, it's likely your body is actually telling you to go to bed early.

Fast food breakfast adds up. Starting the day with 600+ calories is just setting yourself up for failure. Do NOT order "large" drinks and expect to have a small body. Even "medium" drinks are risky. Lattes are basically milkshakes.

Walking helps out more than you'd think. Making exercise a DAILY habit is essential.

Weight gain has much less to do with age, far more to do with habits, and we like to blame aging as an excuse for not being in control of our health. The metabolism doesn't slow down until your 60s.

Stop accepting free food from work. Stop buying your lunches from work. Work doesn't care about your health and wellness, they want to sedate you with sugar and salt.

Longer post than I expected :) but basically, I accept my actions and take accountability for my weight gain and health decline. I am making an effort and putting in the work to do better!

#journal #personal #weight loss #caloric deficit #diet #health #dieting #low cal diet #low cal restriction

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worldiary · 1 year ago

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A few of you asked for progress updates on the crochet experiment, so here we are!

Thoughts on crocheting lace for the first time:

Glad I was forced to get a set of crochet needles, if I got to pick just one I think I accidentally would have gone too small.

Daiso has nice, cheap, lace yarn in a nice small bundle. Perfect for "idk if I'll keep up this hobby".

The upside of getting crochet needles the same day I got the yarn is that I was able to capitalize on my energy and my Sunday by getting started. The downside of not waiting for a tatting shuttle is that... I'm not sure I want to switch to a shuttle after I just bought a set of like 5 crochet needles. So maybe I'll wait until I'm bored of the crochet needles, if such a thing occurs?

My eyes and knuckles are confused by this sudden change in muscle usage. I feel like an old woman with my mildly sore knuckles and mildly irritated eyes. I work with computers, so I was excited to try a hobby that doesn't involve staring at a screen. But is it that much better if I'm staring even closer?

Oof, I'm terrible at it so far. Below is a pic from day 1. White is the YouTube video screenshot and navy blue is mine. You see how in the center of the white one there's a ring of little columns and then 2 layers up there's another ring of columns? That's (in theory) what I've achieved in the blue image. But! I'm not restarting anymore: done is better than perfect. And for a first project, it's not bad. It's in a circle shape, mostly.

Torn on my decision to start with a doily rather than straight lace. What I'm doing is less repetitive which means it's not boring (good) but I get less time to perfect each technique (bad). Also if one ring has a mistake in it, the next layer is built on that mistake (mixed). If it was straight lace, if I made a mistake it would look very obviously like a mistake, assuming I fixed it going forward. But I would get to start fresh each time. But! The doily shape is a little more usable (coaster)... Idk what I'd do with a straight strip of lace.

All that to say, once I finish this tragic coaster, maybe I'll try a straight lace strip next? If I don't try this again.

My fake!eureka moment at the end of day one/before starting to crochet in day 2 is: everything is secretly a chain stitch from a different angle. I noticed that every time I have to ladder up to the next layer, I do a bunch of chain stitches to fake whatever the end of the layer will connect to. Which suggests that all the dc-ing I'm doing through the rest of the layer will look exactly like my chain stitch by the end. I assume I'm actually wrong about this in general, but it at least seems true for this doily pattern. Maybe only true for the dc?

Today was day 2 and amusingly I started layer 5 and was like "Ohhh I think I finally understand what I did wrong in some of the previous layers. Great, I think I've got the hang of it, this is going to start looking a lot better" and then proceeded to make the most HORRIFIC layer. So now I've learned that consistent thread tension probably matters? Not that I know how to resolve that yet. Also, counting dc stitches is the worst. Chain stitches are short enough that they can sit in your bioRAM. By the time you finish one dc, you can't remember if it's your first or second one. So that probably didn't help. (Also no, I don't know what dc stands for. I think maybe double crochet? But I know it as the 1-in-pull-4to2-3to1). We'll see how layer 6 goes tomorrow! I'm optimistic it'll be better than layer 5 🤞

#crochet #lace #shuttle tatting #fiber arts #worldiary speaks #crochet diaries

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lostinthewiind · 11 months ago

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Brink of Extinction: Chapter TWO

Attack on Titan

Rating: Mature

Warnings: sexual themes, death, gore, mature themes, extreme violence, body horror, blood, weapons, major character death

"The commander is ready to see you now." A mousy boy no older than sixteen or seventeen met Siv in the large entranceway of the Scout Regiment's Headquarters.

Siv eyed the boy. In the ten minutes she had been waiting, he had scurried back and forth more times than she could count. He was clearly the commander's assistant, that much was obvious, but his boundless enthusiasm for his job didn't quite match up with the meagre responsibilities of a glorified errand boy. Maybe it was because Siv wasn't used to seeing that sort of gusto among her fellow academics, but his joyous display was a tad disconcerting.

With a forced smile, Siv motioned for the boy to lead the way. As he guided her through halls and up various staircases, he chatted the whole way. Siv didn't hear a single word. She was too busy noting the stark contrast between the Military Police Headquarters and the building she was currently in.

She had always known the Military Police were afforded the best of the best, but this place made her old, stuffy office seem luxurious in comparison.

"This is it." The boy finally stopped in front of a set of double doors and knocked twice. When a voice from the other side of the door beckoned them in, the boy opened the doors and let Siv enter first.

From behind his desk, Commander Erwin Smith peered over the document in his hands. "That'll be all, Micah. Thank you."

Seconds later, the doors were closed again and the boy, Micah, was gone. Left alone in the intimidating presence of the commander, Siv distracted herself by taking in her surroundings. The office was modest, yes, but well decorated. There was a large maroon rug on the floor, a mahogany desk, some cabinets on the side that stored various books, and the occasional painting hung on the walls.

"I'm sure it's not much to look at compared to everything the Military Police have to offer, but we make do with what we have." Erwin noticed Siv inspecting his office from top to bottom.

Heat rushed to Siv's cheeks at the comment. "Apologies, Commander. I didn't mean to make my curiosity so apparent."

"No need to apologize, Miss Grier. I would assume a healthy dose of curiosity comes with the territory of your profession."

Siv relaxed a little at the obvious attempt to bridge the gap between soldier and scholar. "That it does. It also doesn't help that I've been thrown for quite a loop the past twenty-four hours."

Erwin stood and gestured to the chair across from his desk, encouraging Siv to take a seat. "For that, it is my turn to apologize," he told her, only sitting back down again once she had made herself comfortable. "It had originally been my intention to work alongside Mr. Rutger. Unfortunately, it became quickly apparent that he was not the sort of individual I was looking for."

"He does ask an awful lot of questions." Siv smiled, referring to the brief conversation they had shared the evening before.

"Too many for my taste." Erwin returned the smile with a soft chuckle. "Another deciding factor that he was unfit for the position was when it became obvious he had nothing to do with the research I was so interested in. Your research."

Siv felt an unusual feeling settle into her bones—the feeling of recognition; of acknowledgement. "You knew?"

"Not at first, no," he admitted. "When I first met with Mr. Rutger a few weeks ago, he briefly mentioned some of the projects his apprentices had been working on. He didn't seem the least bit enthralled with your work until I showed interest."

"He thought it was riddled with speculation and assumptions."

"I've risked a lot more on a lot less." Erwin gestured to the papers he had been reading: the official report Siv had submitted that morning. "I knew it from the moment I scanned it that your work was exactly what I was looking for, and as I read more in-depth, it only confirmed my suspicions."

Siv quirked a brow. "Which is?"

"That you are exactly what I've been looking for." He leaned across the desk, piercing blue eyes freezing Siv in her place. His gaze was intense, filled with so much hope and excitement. It was as if he believed Siv could be the sole solution to all of his problems.

After a few seconds, Siv realized she had been holding her breath and slowly exhaled. "I'm glad you might be able to find some use in my research," she said, trying her best to stick to the facts and not get caught up in the commander's contagious intensity. "What I can't understand, however, is why I needed to be transferred."

Erwin grasped the report hard. "This is exactly what I need, yes, but it's just the start. Just the foundation." A sly grin spread across his face. "Together, you and I will perfect my long-range scouting formation. Together, we will make the Scout Regiment strong again."

"Long-range scouting formation?" Siv questioned. She was trying really hard to focus on one thing at a time, but the weight of the Scout Regiment's reputation being placed on her shoulders was a hard burden to ignore.

"All in due time," Erwin assured her. It was clear he was holding himself back from divulging this great idea of his to her, and for a second, the academic inside of him broke through the surface. "I don't wish to overwhelm you on your first day. Take some time to get settled. The glory of humanity can wait another day or two."

Siv felt the weight on her shoulders build and build until it became difficult to breathe freely. "Sir, you do realize I'm just a research assistant, right? I come from a family of farmers in Dauper. I'm more than willing to give you my work if it will benefit your scouts, but I'm not a soldier. I can't do the things you expect out of your average scout."

Erwin sat back in his chair and hummed. "You don't do field work?"

"I don't do field work," Siv confirmed. "I regret to inform you that I've lived a very sheltered life with the Military Police."

"You have no interest in gathering your own data?"

"Honestly, sir. No."

Erwin hummed again, this time lower and more to himself. "Well, never mind that for now then. As I said, let's worry about getting you settled in first." With that, he stood up from his desk once more. "Would you like to see your office?"

Following the commander's lead, Siv was quickly reminded just how much he towered over her. Looking up at him, she suspected he was a good nine or ten inches taller. When he glanced down and met her gaze, she quickly looked away.

"Day one and I already have my own office?" She quickly filled the silence as she followed Erwin out of his office. "It took me six months before Claud deemed me worthy of having my own space."

"Shared office," Erwin corrected with a small smirk. "But I have a feeling you will get along quite well with your fellow academic. They're a little eccentric, but they're well-meaning and you two have much overlap in fields of study."

Siv tried her best to not show her disappointment in being denied a space to call her own. "The long nights can get quite lonely." She instead opted to look on the positive side. "It will be nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of."

Erwin smiled. "I appreciate your optimism."

"Someone recently told me that your path in life isn't always up to you. So I'm just going to make the best out of whatever situation comes my way."

Reaching for the door handle of an old wooden door at the end of a very long hallway, Erwin flashed one final look of motivation. "I encourage you to remember that in these next few moments." He twisted the handle. "I promise you will get used to them."

As soon as Erwin pushed the creaky door open, an individual with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and goggle-like glasses shot up. On the workbench in front of them, Siv spotted various machine parts. All around the dimly lit room that appeared to be more of a workshop than an office, bits and parts lay strewn about.

"You must be Siv!" the person exclaimed, raising their hands to reveal their grease-covered fingertips. "I've been so looking forward to meeting you!"

"Hange," Erwin warned, already exhausted by their unbridled energy. "Rein it in."

The person, Hange, frowned and placed their dirty hands on their hips. "Well excuse me if I get a little excited about a new friend when you keep me locked down here alone in the dark all day."

Erwin grimaced and quickly regarded Siv. "We do not lock the door. You—and Hange—are free to come and go as you please."

Siv let out a chuckle that was laced with a mixture of nervousness and overwhelm. Before she could respond, Hange had somehow crossed the room in a matter of seconds and was shaking her hand. "I'm Hange Zoë. Nice to meet you."

"Siv Grier, but it appears you probably already knew that," Siv introduced herself.

Hange laughed. "Man, is it nice to have another like-minded person around here! Get it? Because we both like research. Mind." They snorted.

Siv smiled softly in return. "They must not have a lot of academic-focused people in the scouts."

"They really don't." They shook their head and leaned in closer, lowering their voice. "And between you and me, it makes for some pretty bland conversations."

"I heard you." Erwin cleared his throat loudly.

"Not you, of course! Never you, Commander." Hange waited until Erwin had averted his gaze before nodding subtly to Siv, indicating that yes, absolutely him.

Sensing that his welcome was long overstayed, Erwin turned toward the door. "I hope this space suits your needs," he told Siv before taking his leave. "It might not be what you're used to, but I can assure you, you will be comfortable here."

"Thank you, Commander." Siv bowed her head slightly. "I hope to serve the scouts well, in whatever way I can."

Erwin nodded in return. "I have every faith in your abilities, Miss Grier."

Once the commander had left, Siv turned to find Hange back behind their workbench, once again tinkering with whatever contraption they had been focused on before her arrival.

In the corner of the room was a small pile of boxes that contained Siv's personal effects. Glancing around at the many occupied surfaces, Siv wondered where she was supposed to put her things. Not that she had many things to begin with, but eventually she would need some place to set up if she was expected to get any work done.

"I promise I did clean up when I heard I was getting a roomie, but then I had a spark of inspiration last night," Hange said, seemingly not bothered by the clutter at all. "Don't worry, it'll all be gone by tomorrow morning. I doubt you're itching to get to work right away anyway, what with the sudden life-altering change and all."

"It has been quite a lot to take in," Siv confessed. "I'm not quite sure what the commander expects of me but I'm going to try my best to help."

Sitting back in their chair, Hange pointed some sort of tool in Siv's direction. "First thing you should know about Erwin is that he expects a lot from everyone, but no one more than himself. He's a real dreamer, that guy."

"I see."

"And the first thing you should know about me," they turned the tool on themselves, "is that I love to encourage his crazy ambitions. We all do. Erwin Smith is the heart of the Scout Regiment."

Pulling up a chair next to Hange, Siv nodded along. "He certainly has a way of making you feel important, that's for sure."

"'Her work will change the future of the Scouts, Hange. Mark my words.'" They did their best impression of the commander, right down to furrowing their brows and puffing out their chest. "That's what he said to me about you. He's really going all-in with this long-range scouting formation plan."

Siv swallowed hard. "You'd think he would have wanted someone with a little more experience."

Hange quirked a brow. "How so?"

"I've never been beyond the walls. I've never even seen a Titan."

Hange's mouth hung open and they dropped the tool in their hand. "Never seen a Titan?"

"Not one."

"They're so magnificent!" Hange's opinion on the monsters most people feared and hated was a jarring change of pace. "They're the perfect subject for study: creatures of habit but pleasantly unpredictable at times. An individual with a curious mind couldn't ask for a better mystery."

Siv couldn't help but feel drawn to Hange's intoxicating thirst for knowledge. "That's certainly a unique take."

"You'll see." Hange smiled. "When you see your first Titan, you'll see."

As silence fell over the two strangers-turned-colleagues, Siv watched absentmindedly as Hange returned to their project. In front of them was what appeared to be a wearable contraption with two large, circular chambers on the sides. To the right of them sat two large rectangular objects and two gas cylinders.

"What is it you're working on?" Siv questioned when she was unable to piece together what was happening on her own.

"I'm modifying my ODM gear." Hange didn't falter in their fine-tuned movements as they answered. "I'm trying to find a way to adjust the speed at which the gas blows into the fan, effectively giving myself more control over my speed in combat."

Siv narrowed her eyes at the deconstructed military gear. "Aren't those things standard issue and only altered by the technical department? I thought it was illegal to tamper with them."

"I'm not tampering." Hange popped open a panel with a flat-tipped tool. "I'm improving."

Siv shrugged. "Can't argue with that. Anything I can do to help?"

Finally looking up from their work, Hange grinned wide. "I knew I had a good feeling about you." They handed the lit lantern from the corner of the workbench to Siv. "Hold this a little closer. It's hard to see in these little black box mechanisms."

"Almost like they weren't built to discourage individuals from 'improving' them in the first place." Siv held the light exactly where Hange had directed.

"Almost." Hange nodded. "Good thing I've never been easily discouraged."

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walkingstackofbooks · 2 years ago

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DS9 3x10 Fascination thoughts (I'm re-watching, so there may be future spoilers)

"Isn't that the earring you-" "-bought for Mardah?" Huh, I thought Bajoran's earrings were personalised and individual to them, like when Kira recognised Nalas', not something bought by others as gifts.

I say this every time, but I love Sisko and Jake's relationship

"But I'm not going to have any fun." "Oh." XD

Julian's "we've played 70 games" makes me think he's comfortable enough with the chief to not hide things like counting racquetball games <3 although I doubt it was a perfectly round 70

"And you know what all those games have proved to me? That I'm a poor substitute for your wife." "I could've told you that sixty games ago."

Okay so an average person could have done that 70x2=140 calculation in a few seconds, but Julian did 70x2=150 so either he made the mistake on purpose, or he rounded 73/4/5 games down to 70 then doubled the actual number and rounded it up to 150.

His little grin at the end there <3 Idk the "Maybe you can try and convince her to stay" was just a nudge, knowing that Miles would be like definitely not and realise he didn't really resent her being away.

Odo's noticeable slow down as he approached Nerys

Kira's smile at "Actually, I was thinking of joining you this year." - she's SO beautiful, I love her smile to bits

"Well then, we'll see each other later." "I'd like that." He's so awkward but he's trying <3 I didn't like last time suddenly realising he was in love with her, but this time round I am here for it, because she obviously thinks super highly of him, and although he's jealous and doesn't always hide it, he never tries to make her uncomfortable or push her (at this point), even though he's not used to these feelings.

"For you I will make the time, Odo." She does like him a lot. (And her smile again, wow, she's radiant)

Keiko's sigh at "I should never have given you all that candy" - if she had been looking at Lwxana, that would have been a death stare.

"I usually make it a point to drop by Quark's three or four times a day at random intervals, just to let him know that I'm thinking about him." Oh do you, now, Odo?

Ughhhh, Lwxana is So Forward and I don't like it. Odo's so uncomfortable. (I do ship them. Just not right now.)

"What kind of help do you mean?" THat is the correct question to ask. He sounds so nervous and he is so right to.

Lwaxana just being like #icanfixhim 😅

"The office has changed Kai Winn" Has it, Bareil, or is that just wishful thinking?

KIRA'S HAIR. ffffffffff I love her look rn

He's jealous of Jadzia. If she was a guy Kira would have gone "she's just a good friend." But no, perish that thought even be entertained on this throughly straight space station.

KiraDax tradition!!

Miles and Keiko's argument is so Aghhhh. Neither of them are exactly wrong but they're both tired and grouchy and need to give each other some grace or some time.

Kira is SO BEAUTIFUL, her dress is gorgeous but so is SHE

Her catching eyes with Dax who smiles back why can't they BE GIRLFRIENDS

Jake's grin and "wanna go out with me?!" he is such a child. At least in this episode it's mind games and kind of endearing.

Kira is understandably speechless at that

"Because I was hoping that you and I could get to know each other better... A lot better." Oh dear.

I don't like how Lwxana forces Odoout of his comfort zone. I think she would be good for him if she went at his pace with the PDA, and actually asked him about it, rather than assuming he needs to have affection forced upon him. I know I liked her more in DS9 than in TNG, but atm I'm just frustrated with her

Oh it's Quark's trans flag suit!

Yay, Keiko and Miles made up! "You know, I haven't sat here since you've been gone. " "That's so sweet. " I love her smile too :)

Annnnd another argument. of course.

Jealousy is not a good look on you, Miles

Yes, Miles, you are behaving like a child.

Oh fuck you Miles she is TIRED do better than this for goodness' sake you're an adult

"Of course I like her." "Well so do I." I love how simple this argument is and how clearly Jake thinks it solves everything XD

Sisko is so worried and rightly so <3 But clearly has no clue how to handle this curveball

"That's very thoughtful but I have nothing to give you in return." "Being with you is the only present I need." Nah, usually that's a sweet line, but here's it's just downright manipulative

"There's no divorce, no broken homes, nothing but peaceful conjugal bliss." This is a really good illustration of why divorce can be a fucking good thing and rising divorce rates since women have been given more rights and freedoms is not a worrying sign!

"You cancel the party, and then that way we can spend the evening alone together. What do you say?" "Sisko to Bashir." XD I just really like this as a response. Not "something is wrong", but acting on that wrongness immediately

Miles is good at apologies, I'll give him that

I remember the first time I watched this I was convinced Keiko was in her bedroom with someone else having been affected by the weirdness, and everything was going to ramp up even more between the two of them.

Huh, Lwxana is arm in arm with Julian too! She gets round XD or he does....

That was the most ridiculous kiss XD How Siddig and Visitor kept straight faces during that scene I have no idea!

Okay, so Sisko is the only sane one here and he's just noticed.

Oh, and Odo is too

Julian's slight self-awareness of "this is very embarrassing" mid-kiss is so amusing to me

Jadzia just stealing the betrothal bracelet like a magpie there

Keiko's entrance :o I'm glad she took the time for herself to just think things over and figure out what she wanted, rather than feeling like she had to accept the apology straight away.

Sisko really just took that punch

JADZIA'S SO GREAT. Taking down Bareil like that was just so much fun to watch, she's wonderful (poor bareil i guess)

Keiko and Miles are so stunned XD I forgot they've missed out on everything else and have literally no clue what the heck is going on here.

Sisko's tact XD "hen Mrs Troi's amorous feelings for ... someone on the station"

"There would have to have been some pre-existing latent attraction." They didn't have to add that in, but they sure did.

"Only on a subconscious level. Best not think about it too much, if you ask me." *Sigh* *sad nod*. Oh, poor boy, he's really going to try hard not think about it isn't he

You KNEW he didn't like you and you STILL kissed him? This is NOT OKAY, Lwxana!

I'm happy Keiko and Miles made up, but it would make so much more sense for Miles to insist on resigning and going to Bajor to be with her. I'm sure he loves her enough to, and the only reason he didn't is because he's a main character - but in universe this makes him a little eh.... and Keiko deserved sooo much better

*Throws racket* "Chief" straight away. Yep, you're definitely not trying to be a wife-substitute, eh, Julian?

So this was a long one! I did enjoy that episode, despite it's weirdness and frustrations... and how achingly heterosexual it is. Hey ho. It's silly and fun and very Star Trek, still

#ds9 fascination #ds9 3x10 #andi watches ds9 #WSB

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firelord-aub · 9 months ago

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Sooooooo. I'm late to the voting part, but I wanna drop my number bc it's funny. To preface this, I have cleared my history before, and I made my account in November of 2019. I don't remember the last time I cleared my history, but it was probably sometime in 2021 or 2022. (Buckle in, I did some math here my dudes)

My history is currently 1020 pages long. That comes out to roughly 20.5k fics. And if I work with the general assumption I will be that I read about half as many fics in the last two years as I did in the first three of my account being open, I probably at least doubled that number when I was still deleting my history. I think I was averaging somewhere around 20-30 pages of fics each week when I deleted the history on Fridays. Thsi varied obviously based on outside obligations, but 27-32 is the numbers I remembered seeing the most often while clearing it.

Doing the math for that fic-wise, and going for the mid range of that number in the poll at 30 (600 fics) a week for two years (we'll leave out the last two months of 2019 for ease here) that comes out to about 62.4k fics in those two years. Adding that to the number currently in my history we get about 83k fics, that I might as well round up to 85k because I genuinely can't remember when I stopped deleting my history and there's the extra two months in 2019 I just cut out.

Now, adding a bit more math into this, I'm cutting that number into thirds, because let's be honest here, I only actually read about a third of the fics I click on. The other two thirds either get dismissed within the first chapter due to reading incompatibilities or a lack of interest in the actual story. That gives me about 28.3k fics read in just over 4 years.

Now that's a lot of fics. When I was backing up to calibre (I still do sometimes but I don't feel like pulling out my old laptop to check my numbers) the backup was somewhere close to 40k fics, but I can bring that back down to 30k pretty easily when I know there were several series in there that were very long and had several fics that I wasn't interested in, nor wanted backed up at all, but it was easier to grab the series than pair it down manually when backing it up, so I'd say that's pretty damn accurate for that number.

I have 2041 bookmarks on my account, but I also have a few collections saved that would count towards that and several of the bookmarks are series with anywhere between two and I think 289(? I'm pretty sure there's one that's in the 1000s but I can't place the name right now so I don't want to count it right now). Not all of my subscribed fics are bookmarked either which raises that number even more.

Anyway. I read a lot of fics. And if I'm not bullshitting right now (which I'm fairly confident that I'm not? Sometimes I pull numbers out of my ass without realizing it though) "a lot" means about 30k, or about 7.5k a year/20 a day.

Which... actually sounds like a shit ton written out in simple numbers, but I suppose I tend to read several oneshots in a day and they usually average between 4 and 10 minutes of read time, so getting through 20 of those in a day wouldn't even take two hours. And that's not even talking about the series that are just longfics but the chapters are different fics instead. Realistically if we're talking how many stories I read in a day it's probably closer to two or three assuming I haven't gotten lost in a longfic that takes me a week to finish.

#fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 history #tumblr polls #polls #i regret nothing #this is how i cope

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neverthatsirius-jo · 4 months ago

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𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓

summary — after the halloween night incident, a misunderstanding leads to a fight, which consequently leads to your first kiss with spencer.

content — bau!reader x spencer reid, fluff, friends to lovers, there’s only one bed oh nooo, arguing and some jealousy, reader is a bit mean in this one and is still scared of feelings.

word count — 4.2k

a/n — moral of the story: if i ever give a posting date, add to that three to five business day. also the case in this one is inspired by s05e21, and there’s another part inspired by s04e09. some pieces of dialogue are from those episodes too. i can’t look at this fic anymore because i edited it a hundred times and then i realized that i had been mixing past and present tense!! fun!! and also i'm fighting the urge to re-write both this one and the first part in present tense. i don’t know which i like better yet. we’ll see. i’m so sorry about the title puns. i cannot escape them. if i left the wrong tense somewhere, i’m sorry, my brain is fried. this turned out to be much longer than i expected (that's what she said sorry)

← part one

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

“𝐖𝐎𝐖...”

You were standing in front of a wooden cabin, surrounded by snow, and you could make out the back scenery full of pine trees delightfully adorned with the same white that covered the ground beneath your feet. You smiled resignedly at the ironic timing, not at the circumstances that had brought you there, as you stood by the door with your team. Spencer by your side, of course. Like always, but not quite.

You hadn’t been trying to ignore him the entire week. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself, anyone who asked, and Spencer himself the few times he’d asked if something was amiss.

It had been a busy week, you felt awkward after what had happened on Halloween, even more so by his silence about it, and you just weren’t as inclined to initiate conversation like usual. No matter this, Spencer had treated you normally, or as normally as you’d let him, all week despite the lingering awkwardness that you both carried since the Halloween get-together fiasco.

You were in the small—the population no more than fifteen hundred people—fishing town of Franklin, Alaska. The sheriff had called for the team’s assistance to help with the investigation of a series of murders that had been committed in the span of that same week. He had taken the time also to personally show you to where you’d be staying. A cabin of considerable size made of dark wooden logs with a big white sign that read ‘Karen’s Tavern’ in tall, brown letters.

“We have four of the upstairs rooms available,” the woman that had all but rolled her eyes at you when you tried to offer her a smile when you came in announced.

“Four?” Spencer asked. The same woman offered him a ‘what can you do?’ smile. Of course. It was your turn to roll your eyes then.

“Come on, that’s the best we can do,” Sheriff Rhodes said. “Your team is double the size of my department.”

They both bid their goodbyes and let your team to decide on room assignments before you had to meet at the station.

“I’m not sleeping with Reid,” Morgan was the first to speak up. Penelope quickly claimed him to be her roommate for the night, slapping her hand onto his.

After Penelope everyone started partnering up before you could even open your mouth to say anything. JJ got with Emily, Hotch with Rossi, and everyone kind of assumed you and Spencer would be sharing. You accepted your faith silently and, with Spencer close behind, brought your suitcases up to your room. You didn’t spare it a glance; you left your luggage behind the door and trotted back down the stairs to listen to what your assignments would be.

“You three.” Hotch pointed to Morgan, Spencer, and finally to you. “I want you to go talk to the bar owner’s daughter. She was the last person to see or to talk to our last victim. She may have noticed something weird, heard a conversation…”

You three nodded at the same time and wasted no time before going out into the cold with a small map you had grabbed from the tavern’s counter in hand.

You chose to walk in silence while Morgan and Spencer bantered their way to the bar, preferring to relish on the crunch sound the snow made with every step you took and nothing else. The same cold that gave way to the snow didn’t take long to get to you as you quickly realized your button-up shirt wasn’t ideal for the climate. Spencer noticed it too, giving you a sideways glance when he heard your teeth clattering. Not breaking up conversation he took off his coat and placed it on your shoulders. With things being awkward as is, you accepted it with a nod and put your arms through it silently.

When you got to the bar the first thing you noticed, and felt, was the chimney to the left that hosted a warm, welcoming fire. It prompted you to give Spencer his coat back. There were quite a few people, most sitting on stools at the large wooden bar, at that time of day. You hadn’t even finished taking your coat off when a young woman approached the three of you—although she was clearly more interested in talking to Morgan; not even sparing a glance at you or Spencer—to ask Morgan if he was the one leading the investigation, and asking him questions about it and the job. For a moment you thought she might be the owner’s daughter you were supposed to talk to, but as the questions seemed to grow more personal and less about the investigation you took a quick look at the bar, where there was a woman preparing drinks, and realized she wasn’t. Forgetting your little ignoring game for a second, you side-eyed Spencer who was turning his head to you, at the exact same time. You both suppressed a smile and stepped to the side to let Morgan do his thing, pretending to look at your map.

Once they’d finished—and Morgan had politely rejected her number—he turned around, his trademark charming smile still on his face.

“How?” Spencer asked.

“What?” Morgan asked back, following the girl with his eyes as she left the establishment behind you. He only returned his eyes to Spencer when you heard the bell chime.

“Every case, you get at least one girl’s number.”

“I didn’t get it,” Morgan corrected.

“And she’ll be crying over it tonight, I’m sure,” you teased as you folded and pocketed the map.

“You know what, pretty boy?” He lifted his index finger. “I bet you could get the bartender to give you her number.”

Both you and Spencer turned rapidly to look at him surprised.

“Ha ha. Funny,” Spencer said.

“Trust.” He wrapped his arm around Spencer’s shoulder, leaning in like he was about to let him in on a secret. “When you’re talking, what makes you feel like an expert?”

Spencer didn’t have to think much before answering. “Statistics.”

“Well, that’s not gonna cut it. Something else.”

“Well—when I do magic?” Spencer answered, doubtfully. You watched the conversation like you would a tennis match. Except this wasn’t as entertaining and you didn’t know how to ease the frown on your face.

“See? That’s nice. Chicks dig magic,” Morgan said, nodding his head with a smile. “Now come on. Go and do some magic.” He grabbed Spencer by the shoulders and sent him in direction to the bar with an encouraging pat to his back.

Your frown deepened as you turned to Derek. “What are you doing? We’re working.”

“Uh-huh, and if pretty boy over there succeeds she’ll be more predisposed to giving us information.” He squinted his eyes. “What? You’re jealous?”

“What? No!” You responded. Too quickly, judging by Derek’s all-knowing smile.

Not able to tear your eyes from where your friend was performing one of his classic magic tricks, you rolled your eyes as the girl took out a dollar bill from her barrette wide-eyed. She flashed him a beautiful smile as she handed Spencer the bottle of water he was buying.

“Why do you look like you’re going to start blowing smoke out of your ears then?”

But you weren’t listening anymore. “What’s there to talk about so much?”

“Hello?”

“I mean this is a serious case; there are four people dead. What are they laughing about? Come on.” You crossed your arms, tearing your eyes away from the scene.

“Hey!”

“What?!” You finally snapped your head back to look at him.

“I was talking to you. You’re in your own world.”

You sighed, trapping the air as it came out into a pout. “Sorry.”

“You know it’d be so much easier for everyone if you both stopped being so goddamn stubborn. Kid over there is head over heels for you and from where I’m standing right here it looks like you are too. What the hell are you both playing at?”

A horrible, stupid blush crept from your neck up to the very point of your years. Though everyone always joked, and teased, and alluded, no one had ever been so direct about the subject. “It’s none of your business,” you murmured, rubbing your forearms in search of some form of heat you didn’t need to keep your hands busy.

“You got me there.” He shrugged. “Just think about it.”

Just as Morgan was finishing with his lecture, Spencer came back with the bottle of water in his hands and a dumb smile plastered across his face.

“You saw that?” He asked Derek, beaming proudly.

“Sure I did.” He eyed you, but you pretended not to notice as you looked away. “I told you, you could do it.”

“Okay, now. What about the victim? Did she give you anything useful or were you just thirsty?” you cut them off, trying not to be too harsh with your tone.

The lack of response from him as he took a few seconds to compose himself was enough to tell you had failed. You decided you were going to bite your tongue for the evening and that you did, speaking no more than was necessary as you spent the rest of the day carrying out Hotch’s orders and focusing your mind completely on solving the case. You would have plenty of time to wallow in your self-pity when you got to your room.

You weren’t really upset about the flirting per se. It had never bothered you before. You understood your feelings weren’t a set of laws he had to abide by so as to not hurt them; much less when he didn’t even know about them. There had been plenty of times in the eight years you had known him where girls swarmed to his side, batting their eyelashes, and giving him compliments. You didn’t mind watching them drool over him, you couldn’t blame them and you would have been a hypocrite to do so. He was mostly none the wiser to all of it but that’s not why you didn’t mind. You just weren’t overly jealous, much less in cases like this.

He even had been on a date last year. He had told you about it, before and after, and you had helped him ignoring any kind of negative feelings that may have brought up. But you had never, ever, felt how you did right now.

A horrible, confusing mixture of anger, upset, and betrayal, which was unwarranted if you took into account you weren’t anything other than friends. You guessed it was your fault for stupidly thinking there was a silent ‘yet’ addendum to the ‘no more than friends’ now after what had happened last week, the way he had looked at you, the way he’d had you in his arms.

You weren’t expecting him to ignore the subject completely. Sure, he wasn’t ignoring you in the way you were him, but in your mind you couldn’t help but think that he was just playing with you that night last week. That he had figured you out and wanted to test his theory; to test if you really had the silly schoolgirl-like crush he had come to conclude you had. Scientific method or whatever.

In your heart, in your soul you knew that couldn’t be the truth. Spencer wasn’t capable of being that cruel; not to anyone but especially not to you. But not finding any logic to his attitude—not even after replaying the moment in your mind over and over again obsessively—you had thrown yours out the window too.

You kept your silence even as you reached the room you’d be sharing, as you held the door for him to come in after you, and as you started unpacking some of your things for the next day.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asked, once you’d finish violently folding your fifth piece of clothing atop the bed.

You thought it would be a bit weird—not to mention rude—to not respond, so you finally broke the silence. “Me? I’m perfectly fine. You?”

He kept quiet while he watched you finish taking everything out of your carry-on.

“I asked you a question and I’d like a real answer.” He was still a few steps from the door beside his own suitcase. “I thought we were better than this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You turned around, squinting your eyes, challenging him to respond.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked first.”

“Oh, my god.” He interlaced his fingers on top of his head and spun around to turn his back on you.

You grabbed the pile of folded clothing, with such force that you scrapped any folding you had done, making them a ball of wrinkly clothes again. You still went ahead and threw them in the small drawer that Spencer wasn’t using.

“Why are you upset?” He tried again, once he had regained some patience.

“I’m not.”

“The clothes would beg to disagree.”

That broke you a little bit. You turned around to not give in and show him the tiniest—not so tiny—hint of a smile. It wasn’t even that funny but he had that effect.

“I just wanna solve this case.”

“We’ve solved worse.” He said; he was right. “Was it something I did?”

You turned to look at him ready to snap with a sarcastic comment again, but all you saw was sincerity in his eyes. It wasn’t just because you were profilers that you could read each other like a book. You knew he wasn’t playing dumb, much less playing games.

You sighed. “No, Spencer. Just let it go, okay?”

“I don’t want to. You’ve been weird the entire time since we got here. It’s almost like you want nothing to do with me.” His voice was soft. “That not to mention this entire week.” He sounded hurt.

“I’m sure you can drown your sorrows at the bar when this is all over, Spencer.” You hated yourself for just having to throw the snarky comment his way. “Maybe you’ll get free drinks.” So mature of you, to bottle it all up, to be so scared of communicating your own feelings that it all becomes a ticking time bomb for whoever’s had the bad luck to cross your path.

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The bartender. Didn’t she give you her number? I gotta say the dollar magic trick is quite the charmer, Spencer.” Once you had started, you couldn’t stop though. You had to cough up the venom that was consuming you inside.

“I didn’t take it. We’re working a case.”

“Ah, yes. We are now.” You clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth and went back to the drawer to fold your clothes again. You needed to keep yourself busy with something.

“What? Is that what you’re mad about?” You couldn’t see his face but he sounded incredulous.

“Why would I be?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“It doesn’t make much sense, does it?” You asked mockingly.

“No it doesn’t. Especially considering I’m not the one who sprinted out of the kitchen.” The sentence out of context threw you off for just a few seconds. You snorted when you caught on.

“Sorry?”

He snickered back. “Don’t play dumb.”

“Emily was calling me!” You pointed to a wall in the room, as if Emily had been there.

“Yeah! And you were really eager to respond!” He nodded along as he spoke, eyes wide.

You wanted to lie, to laugh in his face, and pretend he was speaking nonsense. You couldn’t. Not to him, not with anything. You opted for silence.

“You didn’t say anything the next day, you seemed uncomfortable; I didn’t want to push you to talk about it, I just took your silence as a way to gently reject me, which is fine!”

You blinked; you were now even more confused.

“I don’t know what today was. I don’t really do that st—Morgan was just… being Morgan.”

You shook your head. “You think I rejected you?”

He shook his head back, mirroring you. “Not saying anything after I tried to make the first move, wouldn’t you consider that a rejection?”

“What first move?”

“Come on.” He tilted his head, eyes pleading for you to let down your walls and speak your mind.

“I thought you were trying to hug me. Maybe you needed a hug.”

“If you thought it was only a hug, how come it was your first thought when I said first move?”

He didn’t need the 187 IQ to figure that out, but you cursed it in your mind anyway.

“You mentioned it first, maybe you forgot.”

“No, I didn’t. I have an eidetic memory.”

You could curse that now. “Maybe it’s not as fool proof as you thought.”

“We’re getting derailed.”

“Point still stands, I never said anything about rejecting you.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to say something.”

“Well, say something now.” You’d never heard this kind of rawness in his voice. He was almost begging you to say something; not what he wanted to hear, just something. “Did you? Want me to kiss you?”

Having him put it into words made you want to cringe and curl up in a ball and hide underneath the sheets not to come out again until the team had to get back to Virginia. You froze.

“I—” You licked your lips. A nervous tick. “I don’t know.”

He mirrored your action. You don’t know how but he kept his eyes on you. You couldn’t.

“That’s fine,” he says after a few seconds.

You both stood still, frozen in time. You looking at the floor, him at the ceiling. After some time of unbearable silence—not the kind you take refuge in—you decided playing statues was making matters worse so you decided to start preparing for bed like nothing was happening. He didn’t follow, still stuck to the same spot you left him in, until after you had come out of the bathroom and buried yourself under the sheets.

You didn’t address the obvious issue; the singular, smaller than you’d wish bed. You only did so when you caught him walking away with his pillow in direction to the armchair in the corner of the room out of the corner of your eye. You sacrificed the warmth of the comforter and silently made your way over to him. He looked up at you. He didn’t do it intentionally, you knew, but he looked up at you like a kicked puppy. You extended your hand, he hesitated for a moment before taking it and you ushered him to the side of the bed you’d decided was his. You pushed him down, throwing him on the bed to then go back to your side trying to suppress your smile. You got in facing away from him.

“I don’t mind sleeping in th—” he started.

“Shut up.”

“You.”

You smiled. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was too.

The silence that followed left way for all you wanted to say to him and couldn’t seem to. You cursed yourself in your mind. ‘I don’t know?’ Of course you knew. You wanted to turn around and kiss him senseless until you couldn’t anymore and had to give your irritated lips a break. You also knew though, you weren’t one to change ways when something worked. You and Spencer worked; at least you used to.

The mental image of him at the bar, with the owner’s daughter, came back to your mind. You wanted to scream. At yourself mostly. You didn’t have any right to act like you just did. In a way, he was right. He had taken the first step, and all your subsequent actions were of rejection, even if that wasn’t what you had meant to do.

“Spence,” you called. “I’m going to say something and don’t interrupt me because if you do I will take a silence oath for life.”

He smiled as you turned around, tangling the sheets. “Okay.”

“I didn’t ignore you because I wanted to let you down gently. I ignored you because I was scared. I care about us, and I’m stupidly bad at relationships but I like you. I have for years, maybe even longer than you have. As more than a friend.”

He listened, nodding along awkwardly, his head on his hand, and his lips pursed into a tight line, to signal that he had no intentions of interrupting.

“I saw you with the bar girl and all of a sudden I wanted to change career paths and become an unsub myself, which is really unfair because you didn’t do anything. I know this is all my fault. I know that my not talking issue led to all of this and I really didn’t want to ignore you but—this is what I am, Spencer, and if you want to curse me out for being so goddamn stupid and kick me out, that’s fine. I’ll have Garcia let me sleep on the floor,” you half-joked. You were out of breath, and your face was all red and hot to the touch.

“You done?”

You nodded.

“Firstly, this is not entirely your fault. I didn’t say anything either and since I know how you are, I could’ve.”

You wanted to contradict him but he had respected your time talking so you wanted to do that for him too.

“Secondly, I don’t think you’re stupid. And if you call yourself stupid for that then you’re also calling me stupid, in which case I feel offended.”

Your smile turned downwards.

“Thirdly… I’m going to kiss you now. That okay?”

You pushed past the knee-jerk instinct to want to push him away and nodded.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in the gentlest kiss you’ve ever been given. It had no right giving you the same adrenaline kick that you get on a rollercoaster. Just a chaste peck on the lips. Lips meeting lips for the first time.

‘Hi, it’s good to finally meet.’

‘I know.’

It brings you back to the innocence of not having been kissed and the butterflies in your stomach as you sit next to your crush in a circle at a friend’s birthday party.

‘I don’t really know what I’m doing but I like you and this is what people do when they like each other.’

He backed up to scan your face. You were still leaning forward, dazed. You felt so much you wanted to scream. Or at least run and jump around the room to waste some of the energy that you felt coursing through your veins, tickling you. You didn’t do that, though.

You all but threw yourself at him, he had to grab you by your elbows, to kiss him again. This time it’s more desperate, hungry, wanting. If it had been anyone else, maybe it would have taken him more than the two seconds it did to match your fervid rhythm.

‘I’ve not stopped wanting you for a second all these years and I’m sorry I let you believe otherwise.’

He gently went moving his hand up to your neck, right below your jaw, thumb on your cheek with the rest of his fingers below your ear, slowly guiding you to a more leisured pace.

‘We have time’

He smiled against the kiss.

You didn’t speak another word that night. You fell asleep soon after, there had been a lot of work to do the next day and before being two idiots in love, you were profilers. His hand laid on top of yours, where it belonged. No matter how many times your hands let go throughout the night, they made sure to meet again before your alarm woke you up. You didn’t let go when you stepped out of bed, stretching your arms until you were only attached by your pinky fingers, trying not to trip. You had to inevitably separate when you changed out of your sleeping clothes but you joined them again to walk down the stairs to the lobby to meet the team.

“Well, well. Would you look at that.” Morgan raised an eyebrow. He’d always been the one to tease you both the most. Following a close behind was Garcia, who was trying to suppress a smile beside him. In his mind he probably thought his words to you had made this happen. Maybe they had. Now it was your turn to figure out what ‘this’ was.

You stuck your tongue out to him behind Hotch’s back.

You couldn’t even remember what the fight you’d had the previous night had been about or why you’d eluded him the whole week. Maybe communicating wasn’t so bad nor were your feelings a thing to be so scared of. The world hadn’t fallen apart yet, and you couldn’t say you would have minded it in that moment, with Spencer caressing your hand with his thumb.

thank you for reading, reblogs and replies are appreciated <3

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#[💌] ; jo’s writings ── ◡̈#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid hurt/comfort #i'm not sure what this is

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wild-battlebond · 1 year ago

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kalos league notes 👍

125

well trevor's getting eliminated first round. rip.

i do think the angsty badgeless guy is interesting just because it's the first time the perspective of someone who didn't get all their badges in time hasn't really been shown before. even if he is kind of a footnote (unless it happened in os or something and I forgot)

and paralleling ash's battle against that guy with trevor's battle is fun

this has nothing to do with the battle & it's also not really utilized by the anime but it's interesting to think about how draco meteor is kind of an attack associated with friendship… it doesn't rely on it like moves like Return, but typically it can only be taught in the games once you have high friendship with a dragon-type. so when someone used it, it kind of implies a lot about their friendship with their pokémon

oh the stronger-stronger mantra is back. also i guess it's fitting since others already tossed out mega evolution but it's still kind of suprising he leans on bond phenomenon so early into the tournament

ofc they describe ash as a "star trainer". this poor kid's never getting out of the limelight in the kalos region

126 (tierno)

using malva's news report as a recap + to fill in the audience on some other stuff is fun

what do you think leagues do when they don't have an even amount of trainers registered. do they just kick out the odd-numbered trainer

first trevor then sawyer… why does everyone have a "secret weapon". did someone think cameron's secret weapon was really compelling or something

why does it move onto the semi-finals so quickly… well it's a lot of full battles so i guess it makes sense. since a full battle takes up a whole episode

anyways i remember tierno's battle being a lot of fun to watch so I'm looking forward to this!! i still feel bad he can't be a performer 'cause he would sweep

ace king tierno's blastoise - wait wait wait what did clemont just say

but tierno's raichu was also male…?? gay king tierno's raichu??? (i looked it up & bulbapedia counts this as an error & apparently the episode is edited on at least hulu of japan to take a notch out of raichu's tail. so it's simultaneously gay king raichu AND trans queen raichu??? that's awesome. people need to post about this instead of pikachu with a heart tail from the theatre troupe episode)

so knowing blastoise was on its last legs, he had it use a set-up move for his next pokémon (raichu, I'm assuming it's set-up for thunder). awesome (i was right about thunder. here's the thing… mega sceptile's ability is lightning rod… ←knows this very well from raising a mega sceptile just to try and make SOS chaining dedenne easier (←it did not get easier)) why does mega sceptile have lightning rod in the first place though… it already has double resistance to electricity as a grass- and dragon-type. oh, right, it's because VGC is doubles. you can use it to defend a teammate.

i like goodra but it's so mean that they point out he has the option of transferring in a lab pokémon

127 (sawyer I)

i still love this guy's garchomp's nickname. garchoo. i gotta name one that one day

sycamore keeps staring at alain sadly & it's like. maybe if you weren't such a loser your weird son/nephew/unrelated research assistant wouldn't be such a loser either. you ever think about that

cute pep talk :) why does ash always seem so nervous his pokémon will leave if he messes up tho

I FORGOT HAWLUCHA DRESSES UP FOR THIS MATCH!!!! so awesome aw he wasn't even in the battle for more than a few minutes. sad & fail. so yeah as an adaptation of its ability slaking is essentially a "charge attack"… it sits around for a while, but when it does finally attack, it's extremely strong.

it is kinda wild how everything sawyer does is a counter to ash's pokémon. it makes for an interesting battle for sure, but it's also kinda like… this kid needs to get a hobby…

pikachu brings the first fun usage of the battlefield terrain

everybody idolizes this kid so badly. can you guys please find your own ideal rather than patterning yourselves after ash's every word and action

128 (sawyer II)

so to prevent pikachu from using the battlefield in a fun way, he chops down every tree. that makes sense. (i wonder if the battlefield shows up again in the finals… it probably does but it also seems like a huge pain to repair)

hellll yeah classic pikachu jumping around on floating tree stumps

it's the kind of battle that's incredibly fun to watch but not a lot to say. they put all the animation into this part of the battle.

they should have had sawyer be the XY rival who showed up in the world championship instead of alain. altho maybe not because it's hilarious that alain instantly lost to cynthia

129 (intermission)

ah it's the league intermission episode of course pancham and chespin having a little spat is the inciting incident oh but mairin is here so it's kind of important

hooray the famous pokémon league computer room

it's a throwaway line but that is actually interesting… it makes sense gyms would close during the league since you don't really want people picking up badges until the next circuit starts

i do like that after All Of This pikachu becomes extremely suspicious of eerie businessmen in the future

130 (alain I)

immediate clever usage of the battlefield to neutralize sandstorm

crunch not phasing pikachu when it makes contact with iron tail is an example of type match-ups affecting moves? (does steel still resist dark?)

are diantha and sycamore just making conversation or are they supposed to be commentating for TV or something

oh he's got a weavile. he shouldn't be allowed to have such a cool pokémon

HAWLUCHA POPPED OUT JUST TO CHECK ON IT [NOIVERN] 🥲 and then he lets it get revenge on the pokémon that knocked out its kid. poetic cinema hooray hawlucha sweep also im not sure what hawlucha glowing red is. just a metaphor/a way to show it's getting heated up? (i thought it could be an ability, but none suit what's happening. also seems like bide, but hawlucha doesn't know that iirc?)

AND A BISHARP… we need to ban alain from cool pokémon speaking of hawlucha's ability, it definitely isn't limber. because it got paralyzed.

AND THEN HE EVEN HAS A POKÉMON THAT'S ONLY COOL TO ME (UNFEZANT) CAN WE KICK THIS GUY OUT OF THE LEAGUE. at least it's only unfezant M tho that one's not as cool as F oh yay a birds battle

alain slowly learns the definition of "having fun"

classic close-quarters thunderbolt hooray pikachu sweep 👏👏👏 that was fun to watch

hitting charizard with so many moves in rapid succession… it brings to mind trying to rush a kill in a fighting game. like trying too hard to grab your opponent because you know they're damaged enough that ness's back throw will be an insta kill. he knows charizard is alain's last pokémon, so he's rushing to take it down as fast as possible, while possibly not paying enough attention to everything else.

131 (alain II)

don't take pikachu out in the first minute of the second part. that's sad. oh wait disregard what i said about charizard being alain's last i forgot about bisharp oh ash also has two left. well i forgot about goodra

alain's clearly saving charizard for greninja

that thing's guillotine is way too accurate

now it's greninja time for the rest of the battle

haha it instantly KO'd bisharp (which had already taken a lot of damage)

wow he actually set up the battlefield with rain for greninja's sake. that's a first

now it's the big bond phenomenon VS mega evolution battle

here's the part where alain starts mirroring charizard's movements. oh wait that was also the end of the battle. this was more anti-climatic than i remembered

a lot of people point out that water shuriken had the type advantage in the last exchange of moves, but that's entirely untrue due to mega charziard X being part dragon-type. it was a neutral match-up on both sides.

#pokémon #pokéani #x&y #xy125 #xy126 #xy127 #xy128 #xy129 #xy130 #xy131 #…it’s a long league!#fiftytenpost #xy liveblog 23

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dyk3medown · 2 years ago

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hey lovely! I have a robin request haha 😄

I'm thinking maybe reader is a cheerleader and kind of popular but she's not the mean type and is more of a nice go everyone type? and reader has been pulled into the upside down stuff and robin confesses to liking reader when they're alone due to being stressed about reader possibly getting hurt?

I'm sorry for how frantic and messy this request is I for some reason can't word things well at the moment 😅.

<3 thanks love!!

Confessions

robin buckley x reader

summary: robin ends up in the upside down with the cheerleader she's been pining over for years

warnings: fem!reader, some allusions to period-typical homophobia, there’s a small injury, gals being gay

a/n: i may have been a bit too confident in my abilities when I was asking for request considering nowadays my writing experience is almost exclusively academic papers but here we go anyway! i really hope you enjoy this <3

edit: i just realized this is my first ever real fic so go me!! let’s go lesbians!!

Robin Buckley was obsessed with Y/N L/N. From the moment you walked through the gym’s double doors to come practice the big routine with the band, she couldn’t take her eyes off you. In all honesty, she was kind of in love.

It would’ve been a lot easier for her to deal with her feelings if you had done what she assumed you would do, which was ignore her. To her dismay, Robin quickly discovered that you intended to do nothing of the sort.

Unlike most of the other cheerleaders, you actually interacted with the band at joint practices, occasionally wandering over to the bleachers and striking up conversations when you had a break. You took the time to learn everyone’s names and seemed genuinely interested in what people had to say, even when it involved musical terminology that you were clueless about.

It seemed like something out of some cheesy movie. The band kid falling for the cheerleader? Aisle 7-b of Family Video had at least three films with the exact same plot.

As much as Robin might have wished it so, in real life, cliches like that just didn’t happen, especially if the lead roles were both girls. Looking back, maybe it wasn’t too unrealistic, considering the horror movie you had found yourselves trapped in.

Following a blurred and panic-filled series of events, you had managed to land yourself in what Robin called “The Upside Down.”

Almost immediately, you were swarmed by what looked like demonic bats, and one of them had managed to attach itself to your leg, leaving a wound that was steadily oozing blood.

After Robin ripped the creature off of you, the two of you managed to fight off the initial swarm before running and finding cover. Robin tried her best to give you an abridged version of everything that had happened behind the scenes in Hawkins the past few years, and, all things considered, you were taking it quite well.

Robin, on the other hand, was almost hysterical.

The two of you huddled under a large fallen tree, using a torn strip of Robin’s shirt to wrap your wound. Her hands shook as she applied the makeshift bandage, and you hissed in pain as she tied it off.

Robin winced at the sound, apologizing frantically. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry, you never should’ve been dragged into this-” “Robin,” you started. “-It’s all my fault I c-” “Robin.” “Shit, I’m so so sorry-“ “Robin!” You reached forward and gently cupped her cheek in one hand, making her look at you.

“None of this is your fault,” you assured her, looking directly into her eyes.

She tried to speak again, but you cut her off. “Listen to me. Whatever messed up shit is happening right now, none of it is on you. Robin, you saved my life.”

You suddenly realized how close you had gotten. Your faces were only inches apart, close enough for you to count the freckles that dotted across her nose. You let your hand drop from her face, suddenly very nervous.

You normally had no problem with confidence, nervousness being a rather foreign feeling, but there was something about the girl in front of you that gave you butterflies in your stomach.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” Robin said quietly. “You’re too important and good, and god (Y/N), I’ve liked you for so long and I know you’ll never feel the same way and I can’t believe i’m telling you this now but if we don’t make it out I just wanted you to know-”

You surged forward and pressed your lips to hers, effectively putting an end to her rambling. She remained frozen for a few seconds as if in shock before melting into it, eagerly kissing you back. You teased her bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, and she gasped, the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. You wanted more of those noises; you wanted to hear all of them, to make her whine and moan and fucking scream.

Your parents would kill you if they could see you right now, and you couldn’t imagine what your friends would think, but all that mattered in the moment was Robin.

Robin, who made sarcastic comments at practice that always managed to crack you up. Robin, who never shut up in the most endearing way. Robin, whose lips were so soft against yours.

You broke apart after a few more moments, panting, a giddy smile painting both your faces.

“I like you too, if that wasn’t obvious.” “Yeah?” Robin beamed at you. “Yeah.”

Robin snorted as the absurdity of the situation set in. “You know I always imagined our first kiss would be somewhere nicer.”

You giggled lightly. “Not exactly first date material, right?”

“I’d really like to take you out. On a date, I mean.” Robin laughed nervously. “I mean only if you want to, I understand if you don’t want to be seen with me in public or anything.”

A roar rang out in the distance, and you both jumped.

“Let’s get out of here first, and I’d love nothing more.”

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things x reader #wlw #let’s go lesbians!!

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libraryofloveletters · 4 years ago

Text

Love Delivered To Your Doorstep

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context)

Category: fluff for the most part.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do.

-----

Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication.

Letters had always been more of your thing.

Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him.

When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30.

You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter.

You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving.

You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment.

September 30th.

‘Hi baby!

Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon.

I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ?

Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :)

I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.

Write me back soon, I love you.

Yours always, y/n’

You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.

October 22nd.

‘Hi y/n,

This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure. I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.

Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back.

Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor.

Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming)

Peace out,

Evan.’

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.

The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind.

November 4th.

‘Dear Evan,

I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you.

To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status

Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter.

Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up.

Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer.

Anyways, signing off for now.

Yours always, y/n.

ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.

Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’

Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet.

December 21st.

‘Hey y/n,

Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me.

I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now.

How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun.

I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now.

Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description.

well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ?

Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n.

Peace out,

Evan.

ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’

January 13th.

The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it.

Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.

‘Dear Evan,

Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ?

I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go.

How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories.

As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had.

But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah)

I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present?

I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.

Yours always, y/n.’

He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country.

February 12th.

2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it, a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name.

‘Hey y/n!

Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas.

My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me.

Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell)

Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ?

So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it.

The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it.

Peace out,

Buck’

The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash.

‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n

Love, Buck.’

You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there.

*4 years later*

A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August.

4 years had blown like nothing.

It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it.

Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now.

He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall.

She must be his new neighbour.

He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that.

Except, she was still busy.

She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile.

Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n.

---

Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties.

A fresh start.

It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into.

It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates.

Buck’s last letter to you.

You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing.

‘Dear Buck,

I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change.

Guess where I decided to go ?

Did you guess yet?

No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ?

LA!

Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.)

Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ?

I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first.

Yours always, y/n.’

Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye.

It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor.

The unit number was the only difference.

There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in.

You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address.

Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall.

Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years.

The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you.

Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door.

Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door.

“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?”

“I am, who are you ?”

“Y/n.”

You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled.

“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar.

“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer.

“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter.

“Water’s fine, thanks”

He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you.

“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile.

“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?”

“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose”

“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums.

“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before.

“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?”

“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact.

A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer.

“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?”

“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.”

“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles.

“Buck, we live in the same building.”

“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other.

“Okay.”

----

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