#and as soon as i finish rereading this you guys better strap in because...i have like...two chapters almost ready to go lmfaooo

[queenofbaws]

there are already roughly a million posts like this already circulating, but man. just. sometimes you really do have to step away from something you're working on and come back to it later.

creative buds, please. please. no one is worse at taking my advice than i am, believe me, but seriously, if you've been feeling down or frustrated or stumped with something you've been working on lately, take this as your sign to maybe take a little break. a week, a month, whatever. you've been looking at it too long, you've read it too many times, you've erased that same line so many times you've lost count - you need to come back to it with a rested brain and fresh eyes.

however rough it feels to you now, i promise, promise, promise that it'll feel so much better after a little distance. <3

[maeve-writes]

Beautiful Hell

Inspired by:  Beautiful Hell by ADNA 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (tfatws) x Reader (experiment/mutant!Reader) Rating: 18+, Minors DNI Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Summary: Your past shows up in an unexpected way thanks to Bucky Barnes. You just wanted to be... normal, not caught up in the life of a hero or worse, and yet you’re drawn to him, addicted to him even. You thought that part of your life was over, but your relationship opens up a whole new chapter that you’re not sure you’re ready for. a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. I have not written anything that wasn’t work related in about three years, so I’m a little rusty. This is just a dip of my toe back into the water. I’d like to continue this if there is any interest! Thanks for reading!

There’s very little that makes you upset these days. You have a great job, a cozy apartment, and wonderful friends. It’s taken a long time for you to find stability and even longer for you to accept that it was okay to have it. Most of that struggle was on your own, but you eventually found others like you that were dealing with the same inner turmoil and you’ve grown.

The group still meets twice a month, but now you run it. You see the same pain and anger in the eyes of strangers that you once held, you’ve been in their shoes and you want to help start their journey of healing and self discovery. You would never turn someone away who wanted help, who sought out the chance to better themselves, but six feet of muscle and adamantium shuffles into the recreation room of the local Boy’s and Girl’s Club, and you bend the already folded aluminum chair in half. 

The squeak of the metal catches his attention and his brow knits together. His eyes dance between your face, the chair, and back again. “Cheap material,” you say weakly with a lift of your shoulders. You watch as he puckers his lips in thought and his hands are shoved into his jacket. 

One of your regulars, Sarah, takes the chair from you and tries to right it once more, but finds it more difficult than you played it up to be. “Set up the rest, I’ve got this,” you tell her, happy to tear your attention away from the man. You reset the bars of the chair and unfold it, placing it on the floor to see if it will act as it should. It’s a little wonky, the bend leans it too far back, but it will hold you - it’s a chair.

You sit among the circle and begin. People sip their coffee and share their stories for the week. The new people introduce themselves, including him, but everyone already knows his name. He didn’t share this time, but you could tell he wanted to from the way his jaw clenched and the uncomfortable shifts in his sheet. You were like that once, you know just how he feels.

Two hours pass and the crowd slowly trickles out. You start the clean up, the putting away of the chairs. You move around the room and do your best to ignore his eyes burning into you - into your soul. “You could at least help clean,” you tell him without looking up from the sink against the far wall where you now stand. “Chairs still need to be put away.”

It takes a few beats, but you hear his heavy footsteps fall behind you and the eventual scrap of metal as the chairs are being folded. There’s a steady rhythm to his method, a clink of his metal arm against the chair, the screech as the chair is closed and his footfalls to the corner to put it away.

You finish your last coffee pot, drying your hands and turn to see the wonky chair in his hold. “Cheap material,” he repeats, looking down at it before he bends it back and forth. You see him trying to mold it back into better shape than you had earlier as your face grows hotter by the second. When he deems it “good enough,” he brings it over to join the others. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you reply instantly. 

His head snaps around, blue eyes burning, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not true,” you counter, “I’ve lied to myself for years.”

He turns to you fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He doesn’t find your attempt at what he thinks is a joke funny. “Who are you,” he asks again, his voice becoming clipped and impatient. 

You tell him your name, your full name but it does not ring any bells to him. It wouldn’t, not in a way he would realize. “You saved someone years ago, not as… you, but as,” you pause and wave the towel you used to dry your hands, “you know.” You try your best to ignore how his body tenses up and you continue, “You killed his wife and his unborn son. You changed him. Changed everything, really. Somehow, I got caught up in it all.”

His hardened stare quickly shifts into curiosity and you force yourself to look away before you crash into the stormy blue. “They pumped us full of all sorts of stuff. A lot of us didn’t make it. I can still hear the screams if I try.” You grind your teeth to make yourself stop falling into that abyss. “But my dad raised me by himself, he taught me how to survive, how to be strong. He always told me: Girl, if you’re gonna go down, go down swingin’. And I forced myself to keep going, no matter what they did, I wasn’t going to let those assholes get the best of me.”

The towel was back in both of your hands now, pulled and stretched as you tried not to think about the pain and the loneliness that followed. “But eventually I was freed, just like you freed that other guy. I got a chance to be him now… but I didn’t take it.” The terry cloth ripped in half and your arms fell by your sides. 

You dared to look up at the man and you inwardly swore. His face was so painfully beautiful, full lips were in a pout and his eyes twinkled blue in their sadness, in their empathy. “They wanted us to be something and I wasn’t going to let someone else define me. I ran for years, scared and alone. I had to change my life over and over because I didn’t want them to find me, then I realized I was actually doing what they wanted… I was being someone I’m not.”

You crossed the room to the trash can nearby and not too far behind he followed. The two of you began to toss half-eaten pastries and empty disposable coffee cups. “So, I settled down here, started to go by my real name and took any threat that came my way.” You watched him sniff at an uneaten danish, “Cherry, I think.” His shoulder lifts in a ‘what-the-hell’ kind of way and he takes a bite. “It took about two decades for them to stop,” you finish, “and I was able to finally start to live my life.”

He silently offers half of the danish to you, which you decline. “And when the world went to hell in a hand-basket, you what, sat here and lived your life?” The blow was meant to sting and it did. He didn’t know if you were gone in The Blip but from your recoil, he got his answer. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you obviously have the ability to help people, you should use it.”

“I do,” you reply, offended. “This,” you wave your hands around for the second that evening, “helps people. Just because I don’t strap on leather and beat up bad guys doesn’t mean I don’t make a difference.”

Bucky stills completely, even his breathing, and he looks down into the trash can he has been pushing around for you. It looks as though he wants to toss himself in it. “You’re right,” he says with a heavy exhale, “that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just… the world is running low on heroes, they’re now relying on a guy in a bird suit.”

“I thought that guy was your friend,” you ask with a tilt of your head.

When the corner of his mouth tips up into a boyish smile, you mirror it with a toothy grin because of how infectious it is. “Yeah,” he nods, “I guess he is. But I just hate being the only muscle.”

“You’re plenty enough for this hemisphere,” you laugh and reach out to pat his shoulder, when you feel the muscle packed there, you whistle through your teeth, “and maybe the other one, too.”

He laughs and rolls the shoulder you tapped, tossing off your hand playfully. “Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt to have more because getting hurt hurts.” You two exchange smiles and finish trash detail. He ties up the full bag and prepares to bring it out while you work on putting a new one in the can. 

You lead him out back to the dumpsters and he tosses the bag in after you open the heavy metal lid. When it falls closed again with a loud, ringing bang, you pull out a pack of sanitizing wipes and offer him one which he gladly accepts. “This might not be the right time,” he begins, eyes drawn to the large, smelly trash bin next to the pair of you, “but would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Who knew you were so romantic, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease to hide your fluttering heartbeat that he can undoubtedly hear. Under the pale yellow beam of the streetlights you can see the flush forming on his face that mirrors your own. “I’m free tomorrow around seven.”

Bucky straightens to his full height and his eyes sparkle brightly when that boyish curl makes its way back to his lips. “Then it’s a date,” he nods as you both pull out your phones to exchange numbers and you give him your address.

“Don’t be late,” you warn him, tone playfully serious, “I get angry if I don’t eat before eight. Bad things happen if I don’t eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a low rumbling chuckle, “I don’t plan to disappoint you.”

Your face splits into a smile and you lead your way back in, “See you tomorrow, Sergeant.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes trained on your every move. “And it can’t come soon enough,” he adds under his breath.

x

Your day goes by in a blur. Work is stressful but rewarding. Even though you love your job, your mind was not completely on it. Just past noon you received a text: Just seeing if this works. I’m looking forward to tonight. Have a good day. BB

It is unclear if he does not really know how texts work or if it is his excuse to send you one, but either way it makes you giddier than a schoolgirl. You reread it several times, answer a few work related calls and emails before you finally answer back: It works! I’m also looking forward to tonight. My day was good, but your text made it better. Hope yours is fantastic! xx

You are hesitant to hit send, but if you are going to shoot your shot, then you might as well go all in. Your phone doesn’t even go to sleep before you get another text in return: I’m about to see the prettiest gal in town, my day will be more than fantastic. How do you feel about sushi and bowling? BB

Of all of the things to do, especially together, you would not think of Bucky Barnes to pick that as your first night out together, but you had a weakness for sushi and your competitive side could never say no to a game or two: I haven’t been bowling in years, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things. xx

Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be learning a thing or two before the night is over. BB

You aren’t sure if you guys are talking about bowling anymore and that thought lights a fire in your belly. With a shaky breath you send your last reply: I’ll be happy to learn anything as long as I get to call you Professor Barnes and I can stay after class for extra credit. ;) xx 

It isn’t until two hours after your lunch that you get your last reply from him: Looking up that reference sent me to the part of the internet that I’m still not used to, but I’m glad I did. You don’t happen to have a skirt and some of those socks that go up to your knees, do you? Don’t answer that, I won’t be able to make it through dinner. See you at 7. BB

You did happen to have just what he asked for and it was tempting to wear it, but you tucked the idea into your pocket for another time. Instead, you picked something more appropriate for bowling, a pair of navy skinny fit cotton dress pants with enough stretch to not rip when you bent over to toss a ball, a curve hugging camisole that was draped by a soft, cream colored cashmere sweater. 

After messing with your hair for an hour, you settled for a messy bun and just finished your makeup when your doorbell rang. You call out to him to “hold on” as you shuffle through your apartment, trying to wriggle into your loafers on the way to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry,” you apologize as you pull open the door.

He’s standing in the doorway dressed in a canvas jacket over a plain black shirt, dark jeans over his long, thick legs and his normal boots top it off. “You look gorgeous,” he says, forcing you away from your lingering gaze as it continues to travel up and down his body like he’s the one for dinner. “These are for you,” he presents a bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile. “They’re beautiful,” you say wistfully, taking the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you.” He nods and stands near the door as you finish putting on your shoes. “Let me put these in water and we can go.” “Take your time,” he says and trains his eyes on you. They follow you through the apartment, to the kitchen as you look through your cabinets for a vase. When you bend over, his head tilts ever so slightly which you can see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to try and catch him, he just smiles innocently. “Need any help?”

“I’ll manage,” you laugh and eventually find a vase. The flowers are arranged not so elegantly into the glass, but you add water and place them in the center of your kitchen island. “Now, I’m starving and getting hangry.”

“Hangry,” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I should feed you before that happens.” He holds out an arm and like a magnet you are drawn to him and latch to it, maybe it’s because of the metal. Nevertheless, you walk arm and arm to the sushi hole-in-the-wall two blocks away, eating in a small booth in the corner to hide away from prying eyes.

You learn about Bucky Barnes for the first time. Like everyone else, you hear things from the news, from the internet, you try to shift through the lies and mess. But here you’re learning what he likes, what he’s learned, what he wants to learn. He doesn’t give his past up as freely as you did, it’s obvious he’s still coming to terms with it, but everyone travels at their own pace.

He learns about you, too. He asks you about things none of your past dates have asked. Hell, even your past boyfriends and girlfriends weren’t interested in half of the stuff Bucky manages to squeeze out of you. And you find it so easy to talk to him, so natural. You’ve only known him for two days, but it feels like decades.

Your hand slips into his when you leave the restaurant and head to the bowling alley. He laces your fingers together two blocks into your walk and you once again wrap your free hand around his arm. It pains you to move away when you have to go in and put on the bowling shoes.

“Before we begin,” he says to you as he watches you put your names into the computer, “let’s make a bet.” You finish entering the ‘y’ of his name and lift an inquisitive brow his way. “If you win, you can have one thing you would want from me.”

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes, “And if you win?”

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, you watch it disappear with a pout, “I get a kiss.”

“You could just ask for one,” you laugh and slowly lean towards him.

Bucky, too, leans in and bumps noses with you, “Yeah, but it’s more fun if I work for it.” He sits back and winks, trying not to laugh at your deflated and deepening pout. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re up first.”

You sigh heavily and pick up the bright green ball that you picked from the line waiting to be thrown. “Okay, if I win, then I get to wear that skirt and socks for you,” you say over your shoulder before you toss the ball down the lane. It rolls down the center and knocks down all ten pins as STRIKE flashes on the screen above you.

When you flop down in the chair next to him, he’s still staring at the spot where you stood moments before, gears still churning. “Hey,” you laugh, snapping your fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze, “are you okay?”

“Would it be wrong of me to lose on purpose,” he asks sheepishly. You roll your eyes and cross your arms and he lifts his own in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it, that’s no fun. Just know, darlin’, I don’t go down without a fight.” He steps up and takes the same ball you used and chucks it halfway down the lane before it, too, knocks down all ten pins. He turns to you, a smirk plastered on his face.

As much as you loved to have fun, you loved to win more. “Is that how it’s going to be,” you asked, getting up to pass him on the way to take your turn.

He laughs, pressing close as you both slow when you come into each other’s orbit. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he nods and rakes over his lip with his teeth. A challenge is set and you don’t back down. Strikes and spares are thrown by the both of you in between lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings. 

In the hour you two have rented the lane, you managed two games and with one point over you, Bucky wins. He doesn’t claim his prize right there, it’s too public and there’s far too many people around. Instead, he offers to walk you home and you happily accept as long as you can wrap yourself around him once again, which you do.

You two try to take your time on the way back, enjoying the crisp evening air, but more so each other's company. The conversation from dinner continues as a flow of likes and dislikes between more sweet nothings. You’re lovedrunk by the time you’re at your front door and you don’t want the night to come to an end.

Reluctantly, you release him from your hold and he looks as disappointed as you feel. “Tonight has been wonder-” “I had such a great-” you both begin simultaneously and trail off together, ending in nervous laughter. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “for such an amazing night.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says, a hand timidly reaching out to rest on your hip. “I’ve been a little rusty at this kind of thing, but you made it easy.” His thumb traces the arc of your hip bone and you step closer to him. “But, you know, I might need some more practice.” You resisted to roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbles between the both of you. The distance closes by one of you, and you don’t care who, but you find your hands splayed across his chest, “I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be my second win of the night,” he grins down at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“Speaking of my win,” he trails off. His flesh hand raises to your cheek and you instinctively lean into it. Your nose wrinkles at his chuckle but it doesn’t stop you from raising on your toes to close what little space there was between you.

You could sense his hesitation, the silent question of what was enough and what was too much. A small hum bubbled in your throat as you pushed your hands up his chest, nails scraping up his neck and into his hair. You could feel the shiver ripple throughout his body and his teeth came out to bite down on your bottom lip.

It was your turn to laugh now and he licked into your mouth in return, turning it into a whimpering moan. You could feel his triumphant smirk against your lips and you reward it with a tug of his hair. His hips instantly buck against you which throws you off balance, but he catches you with his metal arm winding around your back and pins you against him. 

Your tongues slip and slide against one another, the taste of his sushi and beer choice mixes with your own. Your nails once again claw along his scalp and cause him to growl into your mouth. He surges forward with you in his grip and crowds you against your door, reluctantly breaking away for air, “We should say goodnight,” Bucky whispered against your kiss swollen lips.

“You can tell me good morning when you wake up next to me tomorrow,” you shoot back and roll your hips against his, causing both of you to react with a strained moan.

“Are you sure,” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush with your name on it,” you nod. You watch him debate the issue with himself before placing one last chaste kiss on your lips before losing his grip just enough to let you open the door.

You two stumble in, Bucky pulling you back to him, his mouth kissing along your jaw as you try to lock up for the night. You barely got the deadbolt turned when his teeth sank into your sink causing you to cry out. He instantly licks at apologetically and turns his attention to getting you undressed instead.

When your sweater is pulled over your head, you push off Bucky’s jacket, both falling to the floor near the door. Shoes are next to go, sloppily kicked off near each other and once again you two are drawn back together, tongues dancing. Your fingers twist into the short brown locks and his hands snaked down to your ass. He lightly cups each cheek, using them to bring you as close as possible, and even though your bodies leave very little room for air to pass through you still try to move closer.

“Bed,” he breathes into your mouth. You give him a quick nod. With a happy groan, he squeezes you by your bottom, picking you up to carry you to your room, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. 

Your small one bedroom apartment isn't anything special, but it is yours and it has the biggest, comfiest bed that you are in love with. Bucky easily guides you both there, not once breaking your kiss aside from grunting or growling from your teasing hair pulls or the rolls of your hips. 

He climbs onto the mattress with you still wrapped around his upper half, crawling up to the pile of pillows near the headboard where he eventually lays you down. His weight settles above you, and normally, you would welcome it’s warmth and comfort, but at that moment, you want it to be rough and needy. “Bucky,” you whine, this time the one to break the kiss.

Flushed cheeks and blown pupils, he looks down at you, boxing you in with his arms on either side of your head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re wearing too much,” you tell him as you try to pull off his shirt, it makes it up to his shoulders before it stops. His laugh shakes his entire body and yours, which makes you pout in return. 

“You’re wearing the same amount, doll,” he reminds you, looking down to see your breasts sway in your camisole. “Far, far too much, in my opinion.”

You roll your eyes and playfully slap at his chest, “Then do something about it.” He mutters something about impatience and sits on his knees between your parted thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head to toss it aside.

“Your turn,” he nods to your shirt while he works on the buckle of his belt. You hastily pull the top over your head and work on your slacks, wriggling out of them just as does his own. He sits back on his hunches and looks you over, laying spread out in a matching white lace bra and underwear set. Now at he’s down to his boxer briefs, you can see how big he his, how hard he is, and when his wandering eyes rest on your covered sex, you can see it twitch with anticipation. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t think your entire body could blush from embarrassment, but Bucky just proved you could. “That’s my line,” you return, taking in every inch of his exposed skin over hard muscle. Super serum or not, Bucky Barnes was a gorgeous specimen. When you two finally lock eyes once more, you both shiver. “Are you going to touch me?”

He lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to run a hand lightly over your damp panties, slick from your want for him. “I’m afraid I’ll never stop,” he replies honestly, instantly addicted to the needy whimpers you are giving him.

“I don’t think I would want you to,” you groan. “Please?” You feel his fingertips dance over the lace, tracing over the pattern and causing you to throb with need. “Bucky!”

“You need me, don’t you,” he asks, voice dropping to a low rumble that hits you right at your core and makes your toes curl. “You need my touch. Need me to satisfy that ache?” You nod desperately trying to sit up to pull him down on top of you, but he pins you down before you could rise. “Tell me,” he purrs.

“I need you,” you respond instantly. You’re rewarded with his fingers pushing the panties aside and begin to dance along the slick folds.

“You need what,” he goads. He finds your clit and rubs it once to draw a happy mew from you but stops much to your disappointment.

“I need you, Bucky. I need you to touch me, to kiss me,” you whine with a rock of your hips, trying to get him to move again, but he doesn’t. “I need you to taste me, to lick me, to fuck me.”

Smile on his kiss bruised lips, his thumb swirls around your bud and he sinks his middle finger into you with a groan. “You’re tight,” he hisses as he sinks knuckle-deep, “and dripping. Shit, you’re going to feel like heaven.”

You can’t focus on what he’s saying too much. The feel of his fingers pumping in and out of you feels good, feels right, but it’s not enough, even when he adds two or three. He works you open, your slick starting to run down his fingers, and he palms himself over his briefs.  “Bucky, please,” your voice cracks, “I need more.”

He nods, he has time to take you apart with just his fingers later, but it’s been so long since he’s been with someone like this, someone he’s felt like this with, he needs it as much as you do. When he removes his fingers from you, you whine at the loss but it cuts off into a gasp as you watch him lap and suck off your slick from his hand. Bucky freezes, eyes narrowing, and for a moment you’re wondering if you did something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Trying to stop myself from eating you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, jaw visibly flexing with the effort. You blink up at him, confused, but he shakes his head and forces himself to remove his boxer briefs. “I’m having you for breakfast,” he decides.

“Uh huh,” you reply absently, your mouth watering as his cock bounces against his stomach when it’s free. It’s long, thick, and leaking, trying to hypnotize you and very much succeeding. 

“I’ll let you return the favor, sweetheart,” he laughs. His flesh hand spreads his pre-cum down his shaft and he pumps slowly while his metal hand pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Still with me?”

Blinking free of your daze, you stare at his lustful gaze and nod. He moves closer, hooks your legs over the bends of his elbows and runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your hole twitches desperately for him, “Such a pretty little pussy, so needy.” Your hands wrap around his wrists and grip at him tightly, hard enough to make him hiss. “You’ve been a good girl, I guess I can give you what you want.”

He pushes in agonizingly slow, the head of his cock sinking in what felt like centimeter by centimeter. You clench around him, trying to draw more of him in, but Bucky takes his time to bottom out. When he is finally fully seated in you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and apparently so did he. “Fuck,” you say simultaneously. 

Your legs are positioned around his waist and he once again frames your head with his forearms, which, in turn, pushes him further inside of you. “You feel so good, doll,” he whispers against the ‘o’ of your lips. “So warm, so tight, taking me so good.” Your hands find their way up his arms and into his hair. All it takes is one tug that has him growling, “And I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy so good that it’s going to feel me all week.” He rolls his hips back as slowly as he originally pushed in, “And I wanna hear you tell everyone who it belongs to while I do it.”

He snaps his hips forward driving you up the bed and further into the pillows, a cry getting caught in your throat from it. His pace is brutal, skin slaps against skin, and his mouth seeks out yours. The kiss is sloppy, but hungry, just as primal as his pistoning hips. You hold on to him the best you can as the bed rocks, headboard slamming against the wall. Your nails trail against his skin, egging him on and drawing sinful noises from love-swollen lips. 

His hips shift angles and eventually find that spot that makes you see stars. “Bucky,” you cry out breathlessly, uncurling your toes and removing your nails from his shoulder blades. He buries his face in your neck and marks you with his teeth and tongue as he relentlessly fucks towards your brink. “So… f-fuck- so close.”

“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” Bucky growls against your skin, snaking a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. “Show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” His thumb rubs over your bud once, twice and a white hot punch in your gut blossoms throughout your body as you let out a strangled cry of his name. 

You can feel yourself clamp around him, working him impossibly deeper, begging him to fall down into the abyss with you. And he does, hard. He chases his bliss with you, your name a mantra spilling from his lips as he spills inside of you. He doesn’t stop until you’ve both become too sensitive to handle anymore. He pulls out of you with a heavy sigh and falls next to you on the bed onto his stomach. 

“Holy shit,” you finally break the silence, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head turned to look at you with tired, blissful eyes. “Goddamn, yeah it was.”

You weakly reach around to search for his hand and eventually find it, he lances his fingers with yours. You don’t break eye contact when he leans over to share a few chaste kisses before collapsing again. “You’re fantastic, Bucky, and I want you to know that was the hottest sex I have had to date.”

His post orgasm bliss is shattered and replaced with a furrowed brow, “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“...but as hot as it is feeling you drip out of me, I need to shower,” you finish. You can see the relief wash over him and he nods in understanding. 

“I’ve got a good memory,” he yawns and taps at his head, “that image is stored right here.” You fight a blush and slide off of your bed to head to the bathroom when seconds later you hear him do the same. He shrugs at your questioning look, “No need to waste water, right?”

You laugh as you turn on the faucets only to be crowded against the wall and your mouth is covered with his once more. The water splashing against your bodies and the echoing sounds of your moans drown out the repeated calls to Bucky’s phone. Mission. Suit up. SW

Answer your damn phone. SW

It’s the green button. SW

Green button and slide right. SW

Dammit, if you blocked me again, I stg. SW

Man, what are you doing in Soho? Yes, I’m tracking you. OMW. SW

a/n: To be continued? 

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Realm of the Quarantine Reread End-of-Book Questionnaire: Assassin’s Quest

Any differences between your first/previous reading experience and this one?

Keep in mind I’m writing this months after finishing the book lol (it’s mental illness innit). I have LOTS of notes to go off but yeah, things aren’t as fresh in my mind overall. With that said the biggest difference I can think of between my first and second experience with AQ is my feelings towards Kettricken. I think the first time around reading you know that Fitz is an unreliable narrator but you are still limited by his viewpoint so you can get a bit trapped seeing things the way he does. For this reason, I think I pretty much just forgave Kettricken when he did on my first read, whereas on this read I was like……. Waiting for her to actually apologise and show some sympathy towards Fitz and it just…. Never happened.

Like, don’t get me wrong, I still love Kettricken as a character and I fully recognise that she has been traumatised. I don’t expect her to be nice or act rationally, and in the case of being willing to take Nettle for the crown… It’s cold but she’s doing what she feels she has to. My issue is - do what you have to, but don’t expect Fitz to understand or forgive you (same with Starling). But I think what bothered me the most was how Kettricken would constantly confide in Fitz and break down to him and he was always there to let her do so, yet she NEVER gives Fitz the chance to do the same. The one time he does “open up” in a sense is when she forces him to air out his traumas in front of everyone, and she didn’t show him any sympathy for what he’d been through then or later. She has been through hell, absolutely, but while her plight may not have been any better than Fitz’s it certainly wasn’t any worse. She pretty much had two modes in this book: completely cold or a crying wreck - but she was only ever crying for herself. She lets Fitz console her but she never consoles him. Again, this is a result of her own trauma and I don’t expect her to act any differently, but it just reaffirmed for me that while she and Fitz care for each other deeply it is not an equal relationship. Fitz feels an obligation to serve her and she - knowingly or not - takes advantage of that. Like, after realising that this is their dynamic it is so obvious that the same is true in Royal Assassin as well, and it will be interesting to see how it changes (or doesn’t) in Tawny Man as I don’t remember it well enough to say.

Must reiterate: Kettricken is still a great character and I still have a lot of respect for her, unfortunately she just falls into the overfull camp of people who love Fitz but have an unhealthy power dynamic with him.

The other big difference I noticed was that the Verity stuff just wasn’t as devastating this time. Not because it was any less sad but it just didn’t tear out my heart like it did the first time. That’s not a fault with the writing at all, I think it’s just the fact that, knowing what would happen to Verity and that we wouldn’t see the real Verity again, I kind of already let go of him at the end of Royal Assassin.

Something you can’t believe you forgot

I guess more of a misinterpretation/wishful thinking but like, realising that there is no passage explicitly stating that Fitz and the Fool were actually spooning in the mountains murdered me and spat on my corpse.

Oh also!!! Fitz yeeting himself out the window at Tradeford castle jskaskjf

Favourite character introduction moments/scenes

I love Kettle in general and the way we’re introduced to her as a cranky old lady sets her up perfectly

Favourite character arcs

Man they’re all so fucking sad lol but I guess the Fool? He goes from thinking Fitz is dead and his purpose failed to reuniting with Fitz, their relationship growing into something really real for the first time, and actually completing his mission - at least for now lol. This book is really the first time you get to see the Fool be properly vulnerable. Even when he was getting beaten up by Regal’s guards he always had his veneer of snark and superiority to hide behind - and I doubt when he went through his sicknesses at Buckkeep he would have revealed his weakness to anyone in order to be helped. But in the mountains he lets so much of that facade of the King’s Fool fall away - at least when it’s just him and Fitz. When he and Fitz meet again he lets Fitz see his grief and pain and hopelessness and joy as the Fool looks after Fitz, and then later when it’s the Fool who needs looking after he lets Fitz look after him. When was the last time the Fool had anyone really care for him like that, ya know? Had someone protect him purely out of love? Ouch dude!!!!

Also he gets to kiss Fitz at the end so good for him!!!!!!!!!! Be gay ride dragons!!

Favourite quote/s

“I would kill Regal. It only seemed fair. He had killed me first.”

“I had looked into the heart of my enemy. I still could not comprehend him.”

“The more I drank, the less tolerable my situation seemed. And the more intolerable I became to my friends.”

“I had never thought to be disdained by a tree.”

“The Fool, the Fool, only the Fool. I sought for him. I almost found him. Oh, he was passing strange, and surpassing strange. He darted and eluded me, like a bright gold carp in a weedy pool, like the motes that dance before one’s eyes after being dazzled by the sun. As well to clutch at the moon’s reflection in a still midnight pond as to seek a grip on that bright mind. I knew his beauty and his power in the briefest flashes of insight. In a moment I understood and marvelled at all that he was, and in the next I had forgotten that understanding.”

“When you can either laugh or cry, you might as well laugh.” - the Fool

Favourite relationships

Fitzandthefoolfitzandthefoolfitzandthefoolbahslbghabfhalgngjba 

Also fitz and nighteyes (speaking of which, Nighteyes’ arc in this book is also fascinating and surprisingly complex) and Fitz/Nighteyes/Fool mwah magnifico chef’s kiss

Favourite setting

Kelsingra baybeyyy. I remember the first time reading this having no fucking clue what was happening in that chapter but I guess it was the gay agenda all along

Favourite chapter

It’s gotta be the chapter where Fitz and the Fool reunite, right? Catch me just gradually losing my grip on reality with every lingering stare 

Most loved character

Foooooooooool

Most hated character

Ya know, for a minute I was actually wondering if I would like Starling this time round but yeah no lol. She was actually okay for a while but as soon as she sold Fitz/Nettle out she became The Worst, just as I remembered her. It’s not even because she betrays Fitz but because, like Kettricken, she expects Fitz to forgive her for it, to the point of running to tattle to the queen because Fitz isn’t giving her enough attention (I’m also not impressed with Kettricken for actually getting involved instead of just telling her to grow up). Not to mention her constantly misgendering/gendering (??) the Fool or just assuming the Fool’s gender and loudly fucking proclaiming it to everybody is just truly fucking disgusting. Like I cannot even explain how furious I was reading her incessantly using she/her pronouns for the Fool despite no confirmation that her theory is right or that the Fool is comfortable with this and despite EVERYONE ELSE using he/him pronouns. God I’m mad now lol. She just acts like a spoilt brat and it makes my blood boil. But that’s probably because I have known many people like this so… Good character writing lol congrats

Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimised by Robin Hobb (most heartbreaking and/or visceral moments)

The whole first chapter/s are just so heavy and carry on that gut wrenching feeling from the end of Royal Assassin. Fitz just has no real desire to live and watching him systematically severing the last few ties he has to his human life is just so sad.

Even though I wasn’t as attached to Verity this time, his goodbye to Fitz still made me cry

As did Fitz giving Kettle her skill back

Verity using Fitz’s body to have sex with Kettricken really got to me this time, mostly because I either didn’t notice the first time or had forgotten just how much it affects Fitz. It’s no wonder he doesn’t want to acknowledge Dutiful as his son when the event that brought that fact into being was so fucked up and traumatic. It’s really upsetting.

Burrich saying he almost took Fitz to Chivalry and he should have never let the Farseers take Fitz just …… breaks my heart. Just seeing Burrich so raw like that in general is so unusual it really takes you aback.

Details, observations, spoilery notes made with the benefit of the full picture

Strap in lads this part is lonnnngggggggg

Is it bad to immediately want to cry just from seeing “Sandsedge” on the map and thinking of Sandsedge brandy

I never really thought about how poor Hap didn’t get the real Fitz all those years and how their relationship could have been if Fitz hadn’t been partially forged

Pls I have no idea why but to picture someone as emotionally repressed as Fitz actually sitting down and writing about his life makes me want to fucking cryyyyeeeee

Fitz in the prologue talks about needing a purpose as something to distract himself from sinking [into his chronic pain, mental illness and addiction] and boy howdy if that ain’t relatable. As someone with mental illness and chronic pain Fitz is just painfully relatable way too often.

“I have never forgiven myself the triumph I ceded him when I took poison and died.” Fitz :(((( my guy :((((((( forgive yourself for surviving however you could baby!!!!!

This book mentions Bingtown providing slaves to Chalced

It’s so funny to me when people expect Fitz to have social skills as if he didn’t literally live as a fucking wolf for weeks at a time. It’s a miracle he bloody speaks

The state Fitz is in at the beginning of this book was literally Burrich’s greatest fear for him, yet Burrich doesn’t just say I told you so and leave. He stays, is patient and even optimistic.

“He (Burrich) is not bigger than I.” Why does this feel so wrong lol??? I just can’t picture Fitz as bigger than Burrich

“When you were younger and not supposed to go into taverns without me…” So it’s fine if the child goes into taverns and gets drunk as long as you’re also there. Got it, Burrich.

Fitz calling Chade “the grey one” wow get rekd old man river

Seeing Chade and Burrich interact is so bizarre

Fitz is still having seizures at the beginning of this book! I had forgotten that

God okay so idk if I can articulate this point super well but the whole thing of Fitz going through this extensive abuse and then essentially becoming an animal feels like a metaphor for the way your brain’s “higher” needs and functions just shut off sometimes under certain levels of stress. Like in order to cope with the trauma you don’t think about concepts, or long-term goals, or other people. You just take care of your basic needs - food, sleep, shelter, water - long enough that you start to feel safe and secure again, at which point your brain can open up a bit more and allow you to really think again; to want again, to plan again etc. Like obviously literally becoming an animal is a heightened version of reality, but the functionality of it is the same; our wounds and our fear stop us from fully embodying ourselves.

Burrich be like, Fitz was getting way too dependent on drugs before all this so let’s steer clear of those. :) LET’S GET HIM ABSOLUTELY SHITFACED INSTEAD

I  love how Fitz has his own unique relationship with Lacey and she’s not just Patience’s servant in his mind

Fitz talking about how even his memories from before his time in the dungeons are soiled by his trauma :( baby boy

Dude it’s so rich Chade lecturing Fitz about not making a life for himself, having friends or just chilling out like???? WHO TRAINED HIM TO BE AN ASSASSIN CHADE?? Like I get your point but what the hell kind of life did you think he was gonna have? Who ever took the time to teach him the importance of making connections with people for their own sake, and when would he have ever had the time anyway? I think Chade himself doesn’t actually know what he expects from Fitz.

Fitz saying he’s bad at making decisions because he’s never actually been allowed to make any is literally a point I’ve made lol. This is what happens when you teach teenagers how to murder in lieu of any basic life skills.

Burrich + Chiv were luv at first sight. No I will not elaborate.

“We kept you a boy, looked after you too much.” Huh??????? Fitz was never fucking sheltered lol. He didn’t have autonomy. There’s a difference.

I’m so fucking glad Fitz hugged Burrich before he left and that they actually left off on okay-ish terms. I didn’t remember that and it vaguely dulls the blow of knowing we don’t see Burrich again til Fool’s Fate (and that he thinks Fitz is dead the entire time between now and then).

“If I shaved my hair back from my brow” bitch disgusting

“Honey was the older of the two women. Perhaps my age.” jskfjnajgbl my guy those aren’t women then those are children!!!!!! U freak

I was wondering for ages why Fitz doesn’t mention the Fool like literally at all bc that’s so unusual right? Even in Assassin’s Apprentice he thinks of him when he goes to Moonseye and just in general the Fool usually enters Fitz’s thoughts pretty frequently. So why now, when Fitz doesn’t even know if the Fool is okay, is he just not thinking about him? And then I realised that that is exactly why. Because the only two people from his old life he doesn’t think about are the two people whose fates he knows nothing of: Kettricken and the Fool. So he can let his mind wander to think what Patience and Lacey might be up to at Buckkeep, or who Molly is with or whatever, because he knows they are all safe. But in such a fragile state I don’t think he can bring himself to really wonder whether Kettricken and the Fool made it to their destination - he probably doesn’t really believe they could have, and that is far too painful a road to go down when you are trying not to think at all.

I know the first act of this book is slow and that bothers some people, but I think it is so necessary, not only for Fitz’s arc but also because it really demonstrates just how severe the situation has gotten with the red ships and forged ones AND it shows just how destructive a king Regal is. Without this perspective it would probably be much harder to buy that the extreme measures taken at the end of the book are really worth the sacrifice.

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit A: when Honey is coming onto him, all he can think about is Molly.

Fitz is so scared of the Forged ones :( his trauma affects everything. He has no faith in himself and less heart for the violence than ever.

Speaking of trauma metaphors: the way Fitz tends to drift off into the wit or Skill after a traumatic experience is… pretty much just dissociation but magique

I forgot that witted folk can apparently communicate with each other mentally, not just with animals

“Her head was the size of a bushel basket.” Ah, yes, a bushel basket, a thing whose size we are all intimately familiar with.

Fitz finally finds others like him and even then he is not fully accepted. Told he is doing the wit wrong. Othered by the Others. It’s the queer experience innit.

Also forgot that apparently the forged are attracted to the wit as well as the Skill?

“I wondered if I had as many wolf mannerisms as they had halk and bear.” Yeah no probably not you only bloody LIVED as a wolf, Fitz.

Okay I know it doesn’t need saying but Patience is just so fucking cool!!!!!

Jesus fucking christ, Fitz skilling out to Molly when he knows Will knows he’s alive and is looking for him is just… so dumb. So so dumb. I know he’s just fixating on her because he’s miserable and she’s like this unsullied thing he had before everything went wrong but holy moly is it frustrating 

Not to mention he doesn’t connect the dots between the fact that Burrich went to “help a friend” and every time he reaches out for Molly he sees Burrich sajkdbshkhja dude

Nighteyes leaving just goes to show that Fitz cannot rely solely on Nighteyes for companionship. No matter how innately the same they are they are equally as innately different. Fitz needs Nighteyes but he shouldn’t have JUST Nighteyes (which is why he, Nighteyes and the Fool are the holy trinity). When Nighteyes leaves, Fitz is in way too fragile a state to be left alone, but Nighteyes cannot think of the future or what might happen. All he knows is he’ll be back at some point and that’s all that matters.

“My anger fed my competence” whatever you need to tell yourself sweetie

I think I had blocked out the fact the Regal was keeping animals trapped in filthy cages so they could ravage people in the king’s circle uggggghhhhhhhhh I hate him

Fitz is down on himself saying that without Shrewd’s largesse, Chade’s information and Verity’s protection his idea of himself has been stripped away and that he’s not actually competent etc. but like. This is an extreme situation!! You’re literally alone in the wilderness with nothing and no one!! Who would thrive in this situation? And nobody gets by without help anyway! The people in our lives do define us to an extent. You don’t have to be able to stand 100% on your own at all times with zero resources to be considered capable. It’s human to depend on others. Yes I am chiding myself as much as Fitz here :))))

Burrich’s earring is the repressed gay earring. No I will not elaborate.

Fitz refusing to sell Burrich’s earring is frustrating yet something I would 100% do lol

Direct from my notes: Celery hiding out in caves?? Bad bitch

“I felt I was within the flames looking deeply into the Fool’s eyes” um okay gay

It’s actually surprising that Fitz admits he would not have gone after Molly even if he had known she was pregnant when she left. On one hand so self aware yet this doesn’t stop him from completely idealising their relationship.

And then you have Molly who says he was supposed to come after her “so she could forgive him”, that he was supposed to be the one to light the candles for her childbirth etc. The fact that she in any way thought he was mature enough to be a father just shows how little they really knew each other.

Burrich treating Molly like a horse while delivering Nettle is way funnier than it has a right to be jskakjasd makes me think of Dwight treating Phyllis’ back injury in The Office lol

The first thing Burrich notices about Nettle is that she has Chivalry’s brow are you fucking kidding me. Gay!

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit B: He had no interest in Tassin whatsoever until she literally started kissing him. At this point his body reacted, which is normal, but as soon as he got a second to actually think about it he stopped, because for him it would not be satisfying to sleep with someone he didn’t have feelings for.

“It seemed to take years for the dried beans and lentils to soften.” Okay mood

I love how Fitz just assumes Molly will take him back. “I have a woman and child awaiting me.” Says who bitch?

Small ferret? More like big legend

Ya know, we give Fitz so much shit but honestly with so much physical, mental and emotional stress on this journey how can we expect his mental faculties to be at 100%? I wouldn’t be making good decisions either, in fact I would be long dead.

Starling telling Nik that the earring once belonged to Chivalry is truly a smooth brain move

“Do not fear, little brother, I am here to take care of you again.” Words can’t explain how much I love Nighteyes and how often his dialogue makes me smile :’)

It’s so cute how Nighteyes is worried about Molly and Nettle until he knows that Burrich is taking care of them

It’s really interesting when Fitz claims “I’d rather be with Molly even if it meant rocking a crying baby in the middle of the night” because, well, he’s literally made other claims to the contrary, saying he wouldn’t have gone with her even if he’d known she was pregnant. Because at the end of the day as much as Fitz is compelled by others to do work for the greater good, I think deep down a lot of the time it is what he would do anyway. Like I really don’t think he could actually enjoy being with Molly knowing that the world is burning down around them. He would want to get out there and help somehow; not only to secure their own future but to reduce other people’s suffering as well. He’s an empathetic boy even though he’d like to be selfish.

Every time Fitz calls Molly his wife I lose ten years off my life

Again, I understand why he’s thinking like this, but Fitz’s ownership of Molly is just so uncomfortable. The fact that he can’t imagine her not having a place ready and waiting for him in her life when he returns just illustrates that she is not a fully realised person to him. She is just a comforting idea.

Oh yes, it was definitely Starling’s “pillowtalk” that got you captured and not the fact that you fit the exact description of the witted bastard right down to having Chivalry’s earring and a whole ass wolf

Somehow forgot that Jhaampe is basically a city of tents with only a few permanent buildings and people constantly coming and going

Fitz’s first words to the Fool are “I’ve come to you.” I’m gonna fucking die

Literally every single word from the moment Fitz realises it’s the Fool and starts describing him is a full body assault and personal attack I am seeking reparations

God the tenderness, the angst, the relief……… shall i pass away

“I doubted he was much taller, but his body was no longer a child’s.” My dude this is a gay awakening if I ever saw one

Fitz be like *spends 87 pages describing the Fool in painstaking detail* anyway I love being a heterosexual male

I’ve heard ppl cite Fitz’s descriptions of Kettricken as evidence of a crush (hard disagree) but literally nothingggggg even comes close to the way he describes the Fool. Not just this once but over and over again it’s insane.

“Talk fell off between us. The bottle of brandy was empty. We were reduced to silence, staring at one another drunkenly.” skjakfnajghajgnaLNGJ is it gay to silently gaze into thine homie’s eyes

The Fool protecting Fitz from everyone - especially Starling - in Jhaampe is often hilarious and always heartwarming

Realising Fitz was skinny enough for the Fool to lift on his own ahhh no wonder he said the famous “When I recall how beautiful you were” line, Fitz is a total wreck

I love that the Fool actually gives Chade shit for his plan to take Nettle. I love him.

“Too few folk cared for me. I could not hate a single one of them.” Oh, Fitz :(

I always wonder how the Fool really feels about Molly. Is he jealous? Does he compare himself to this woman Fitz idolises and he doesn’t know? Does he know that Fitz is barking up the wrong tree or is he stuck thinking Molly must really be Fitz’s soulmate since he won’t shut up about how much he loves her and can’t wait to get back to her? He just never really lets on how it makes him feel when Fitz has relationships with women. We know Fitz gets jealous of the Fool (for litch rally like no reason lol), so with the Fool being much more honest with himself/in general about his love for Fitz and having much more legitimate reason to be jealous, is he? Or is it just something he’s made his peace with, that these women give Fitz something that he cannot? Is he okay with that cos he has to be or does he have a different, less monogamous view of love and relationships (he does have three parents after all). I dunnoooo dude I just have so many questions. Like obviously - OBVIOUSLY - if Fitz and the Fool didn’t have romantic feelings for each other before, there is no doubting that romantic feelings appeared the moment Fitz appeared in the Fool’s hut. Fitz won’t admit that but mere chapters later the Fool is talking about how he loves Fitz in every way so like. He knows. So how does he feel when Fitz is calling out for Molly in his sleep, or openly speaking of seeking her out when all this is over, and lying to the Fool to protect Molly and his daughter. Really makes u think!!!!

Fitz reuniting with Sooty and going to see her every day in Jhaampe is so cuuuute and made me so happy. Sooty is a good girl :’)

Fitz be like *leans against the table where the Fool is carving and watches his fingers at work like a true repressed gay*

Verity is literally so strong???? He submerged himself in skill and was able to pull himself back from the stream can u imagine? Go off king!

Bro I literally can’t with the Fool mentioning Jofron so casually and Fitz immediately thinking wow oh my god they’re definitely fucking oh my god the Fool has a girlfriend - Fitz sweetie calm down

I love how Fitz and the Fool just naturally walk together :))) and Nighteyes babysitting Kettle is so cute

Molly never once says that she misses Fitz. She says she always expected him to do the right thing, to come after her and not leave her alone with a child. But she doesn’t look back on their time together fondly or have much positive to say about him as a person. And all that is fair, but it’s also just… Not really the behaviour of someone who’s been separated from their soulmate. It’s more just someone who’s been left in a shitty position by someone they cared about but hardly knew.

Fitz asking the Fool what is between him and Starling when they’re literally just being civil is sooooo fucking funny. Not everyone finds the Fool as irresistible as you do, Fitz.

The Fool just casually finding a pretext to call Fitz the light of his life

Fitz telling Kettricken firmly that he will not travel if the Fool is ill is one of the only times he ever puts his foot down with her GEE I WONDER WHY

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again…… there really do be something about the way Fitz can’t meet the Fool’s eyes………. It’s not like they’re weird and colourless anymore like they used to be!!!

The Fool already talking about Clerres in this book!

Fitz and the Fool and Nighteyes playing in the stream is too fucking pure omg, it’s what they deserve

And then Starling has to bloody ruin it bc she’s homophobique

But seriously, Fitz actually lets go for the first time in ages and has a nice evening only for Starling to go tattling to Kettricken, and Kettricken having the gall to confront Fitz about it. And then Fitz solves the problem by saying he doesn’t disdain her when like!! He has every right to!!!! She sold him out, sold his daughter out. She never even apologised but instead has just been totally petty and self-righteous and stirring up trouble amongst the group. She hasn’t earned or even asked for his forgiveness. So fitting that she’s the one constantly judging Fitz for his relationship with Lord Golden in Tawny Man lol, she just cannot let Fitz and the Fool be the queer icons they are!!!

Verrrrrrrrrrry interesting that Fitz only “suddenly missed the human warmth and comfort” of Starling taking his arm or sleeping against him literally IMMEDIATELY after the plumbing and love confrontation with the Fool. I mean he has been doing all of those things with the Fool (sleeping together, walking arm in arm etc.) so it’s not about human touch at all, it’s about convincing himself that a WOMAN’S touch is somehow inherently different.

He does the same thing with Starling as with Kettricken. She technically apologises but it’s not sincere and that’s not why he forgives her. Same as Kettricken, she tells her sob story and he can’t hold onto his anger. It makes sense, but it’s just very toxic. It would be nice if at least one person would really recognise how much they’ve hurt Fitz and really, genuinely want to atone for it, or apologise without expecting forgiveness. The onus should not be on Fitz to forgive Starling but on Starling to grow up and not need Fitz to like her in order to remain civil and do what they have to. Also “I do not find your wit bond offensive” has the same energy as someone telling you out of nowhere like “It’s fine that you’re gay :)” like wow thank u?? lol

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit C: “I wanted her with a desperation that had nothing to do with love, and even, I believe, little to do with lust.”

“By his love he is betrayed, and his love betrayed also.” So fate agrees with me, Fitz and the Fool are in love? :)

Anytime the potential that Fitz might have to choose between Molly and Nighteyes I lose brain cells. That’s ur brother Fitz!!! It’s not even a choice!! How dare u

It’s just sooooo intentionally laid out for us in this book that Fitz’s relationship with Molly really wasn’t good or healthy and that his fixation on it is misguided, and I think that’s why I struggled sooooo hard with the ending of Fool’s Fate, because it kind of implied the exact opposite. I’m hoping on this reread I will pick up on it being laid out as a result of Fitz getting his memories/teen feelings back rather than it just feeling like a lowkey retcon, but I guess we’ll see lol

“I felt I was a bit in love with him, you know. That sort of lift to the heart.” the confirmation that the Fool KNOWS HOW IT FEELS TO BE IN LOVE sends me deep into the swamps goodbyeeeeeeeeeeee

“The one who loves him best will betray him most foully.” So fate agrees, the Fool loves Fitz best :)

“You do love me! … Before, it was words. I always feared it was born out of pity.” Godddddd Foooooooooool!!!!!!!!!!! 

Everything about Fitz, the Fool and Nighteyes meeting in the skill for the first time is just truly perfect iconic unparalleled.

Fitz’s love for Verity hurts my heart so much. Just think of the relationship they could have had if they weren’t stupid royals.

Kettle’s whole speech about Fitz and Molly… Just yes to every word.

Look I’m just gonna say it… The way Burrich reacts to Molly’s advances … like I know it’s probably not intentional but it just reads as very much fitting in with my headcanon that he is gay. As soon as she makes it clear she wants to sleep with him he like leaps across the room lol. I do believe he cares for her and loves her in his way, but it does feel mostly like he’ll just do whatever he needs to to care for her and the baby.  Sowwy

I wonder why the Fool wasn’t as affected by his giving up of memories to Girl-on-a-Dragon?? Or was he, and he just gets them back before we see him again in Tawny Man?

“Take my hurt that I never knew my father, take my hours of staring up at his portrait when the great hall was empty and I could do so alone.” um this is so fucking sad

It was the Fool who sent Starling to find Fitz after Verity uses his body and again I have to ask, wtf is going on in your mind, Fool!

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit D: Even once he actually sleeps with Starling he has no enthusiasm about it, he just kind of goes along with it, likely to prove to himself that he has really let go of his past/Molly. 

I always wonder why the Fool leaves now. Is it because he thinks their work is done and doesn’t want to risk messing things up by hanging around his catalyst like at the end of Tawny Man? Does he intend to come back and find Fitz again but get sidetracked by a lead or a new dream? Like it’s just weird because at first he was like “Prophet and Catalyst stick together” and was gonna stay with Fitz - or was that just an excuse because he was obsessed with Girl-on-a-Dragon? Fool u spicy lil enigma

It’s blood and the wit that wakes the stone dragons so does that mean King Wisdom was witted? Or is that obvious lol

Fitz isn’t even bothered by the Fool’s kiss, just shocked. I am looking.

Patience shouting orders at Verity-as-Dragon is beautiful ksjjk

Of courrrrrssse Burrich names his first son Chivalry

In the epilogue, the Fool is the only one Fitz actually says he misses. Exquisite.

I know some people have an issue with Regal’s death but personally I find it delicious

Okay that’s all (I say as if this wasn’t 139841989 pages long). See y’all in 92 years when my sister finally starts reading Liveship!

[oflcvers]

i need your focus {colin ritman}

Summary: you work with your husband colin at tuckersoft. while he’s making hit after hit, you’re struggling to stay sane 

Pairing(s): Colin Ritman/Female!Reader

A/N: requested by anonymous. the original post can be found here

I didn’t go to college for this.

Getting a degree in public relations was the easy part. The University of Buckingham nearly shoved the now neatly framed document into your hands. It looked good when they had women walking down the aisle in cap and gown. It looked good for their wallets too. Your previous job was just as easy. Your uncle recommended you for the position and not even a week later you were on Talkback’s new public relations and marketing team. At least the guys back at Talkback had a likable CEO making smart decisions and the company had some sort of. . . order. But this was unlike anything you’ve seen. You should have known from your hiring interview this was bad news.

“Graduated from UB, eh?” Those were the first words out of Mr. Thakur’s mouth when he met you. He scoffed. “Wonder how you managed that, love.”

He offered the job to you shortly after——Public Relations Manager; Thakur said it like it was a whimsical snippet from the latest edition of Buster——and you took it. It was easier for both you and Colin. The trek from Talkback’s headquarters was starting to get too expensive and took too much of a toll on your poor Ford Fiesta. Tuckersoft was closer to home, closer to your husband, and most importantly, paid much more. At the end of the day, it was all about the cash.

The first week on the job was the most challenging week you’ve ever had. The employees you supervised weren’t the issue. In fact, they happened to be the most supportive, inventive, and easily approachable people you’ve ever seen in the workplace. Mr. Thakur was the issue. Every idea you broached or suggestion for marketing you made was shot down. They were written off as child’s play. However, when a male colleague expressed the same idea you had to the CEO, he welcomed it with open arms.

It then became a social experiment. You’d send your employees to Thakur when you had an idea that was rejected, prepping them to pitch that same idea to him, but with their own ‘masculine charisma.’ And if the colleague you sent in had a penis, the stuck up prick loved the suggestion. It worked without fail each and every time. Your blood boiled. But a week later, Thakur had the absolute audacity to approach you in your office, forcing himself through the door without so much as a knock, and asked you to swing by him tomorrow to go over the marketing situation for your husband’s nearly finished game.

“I hired you on your merits, Y/N. If you have to send one my own guys in to talk to me all the time, what’s the point of even having you here?” Your throat tightened and you channeled your fury into the pen in your hand. The cap nearly snapped under the pressure of your thumb. There was a nasty glint in his eyes as he smiled, noting the effect he had on you. “Can’t wait to hear from you tomorrow, love!” 

Colin noticed your aggravation as soon as the two of you got home.

"Y/N, what’s going on?” The door to your flat swung shut with a thud as Colin locked up behind you two. You laughed bitterly, setting your coat on the hanging rack while dumping your purse on the coffee table. The metal of the strap clanked onto the heavy-duty glass like rain. You settled down messily on the couch.

"You have the time to hear it all?” You meant it in jest but the emotionless stare on your husband’s face suggested otherwise. He joined you moments after, shifting on the cushion next to you before loosely hanging his arm around your shoulders. You exhaled slowly, your chest retracting before leaning into Colin.

“It’s just. . . Thakur.” His name was acid on your tongue, burning through your flesh. “No matter what I do he refuses to respect, let alone acknowledge me. It’s infuriating.” You turned to face Colin. “I literally have to send the men I oversee into his office to give him my ideas so he can accept them! And then he calls me out on it! Do you know how humiliating that is?”

You knew Colin didn’t understand the strife. He was plowing through his follow up to Metl Hedd currently, given the creative freedom to do what he needed to do. Now that you took the time to think, you were certain he never had the restrictions that you’ve been fighting against ever since you could talk. He was never questioned over his work, never belittled by his colleagues or superiors, and was never looked down upon because of what was between his thighs. There was no way Colin could understand the deeply rooted sexism that pitted itself against you. But regardless, he listened to you unconditionally. Colin may have remained quiet throughout it all, but he gave you the respect that was sorely missing in your workplace. You don’t remember how long you ranted for——it had to have been at least five minutes or so——but by the end of it, you felt a little better. This was what made your marriage with Colin so strong: the way the two of you listened to each other so willingly. It kept both of you sane.

“And now for the first time since I’ve been hired, I’ve finally been gifted,”——you spat——“An audience with the premiere prick himself. He wants me to tell him what my team and I are thinking about marketing wise. And I can do that, it all depends on whether or not he’s going to be an adult and actually listen to me.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your exhale long and even.

“He’s going to listen to you, Y/N,” Colin said matter of factly, his gaze intensely honed in on you. Looking up at him, your lips pursed.

“And not because you’re going to threaten him,” you replied back immediately, causing your husband to huff out. “How’s that going to look? That I need my husband to fight my own battles for me?”

“Well, it’s my fault that you’re in this mess. I suggested you come work with me; I have to do something for you, love.”

You shook your head, withdrawing from Colin’s frame to lean up against the couch cushions. “I have to do this myself. I’m not going to have you hovering around me all the time.”

“Who said anything about hovering?” His smile was playful as his glasses slid down his nose. He was trying to keep you at ease but could tell quickly it wasn’t helping. Straightening, he continued. “Let me talk to him, Y/N. No threats; cross my heart and hope to die.” Using his pointer finger, he traced a cross against his chest.

You knew Colin was only caring for your wellbeing and your best interest. It was all he did; he offered all the support you could possibly need ever since you started dating. You trusted him.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Fine. But no threats.”

With a chuckle, he pressed a kiss against the corner of your mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

You were ready for this presentation. All your notes were read, reread, and analyzed twice after you and Colin spoke the previous night. You felt more confident when approaching the conference room. You walked inside, setting your things down at the end of the table, looking up to greet your boss. But you weren’t anticipating him to have a plus one to your presentation.

Settled right next to Mr. Thakur was Colin, leaning back in his chair as he was fiddling with a roll up. He looked at you smiling before flashing you a quick wink. What was he doing?

“Good morning, Mr. Thakur. Good morning, Colin.” you started, definitely confused by this arrangement, but not necessarily annoyed by it. Even though by definition this could be considered Colin ‘hovering’ over you, it didn’t feel that way. It was as if he was on the sidelines just rooting you along. That comforted you.

“Morning, Y/N. Colin asked me if he could sit in on our discussion a little while ago——”

“Since it is my game and all,” Colin chimed in, pivoting the roll-up with his tongue. “I’d like to get an idea of what you two are thinking for it.” He paused for a moment. “As long as that’s okay with you, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to speak but instead found Thakur speaking in your stead. “I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

“I was asking my wife, not you.” The finality in his statement paired with Colin’s expressionless stare towards Thakur made your heart squeeze. Not from appreciation, but from the anticipation of how your boss would respond. Backtalk like that probably would have left you without a job, and his reaction to your husband’s snark startled you even more.

“Right,” Thakur began before turning to you. “Well?”

You nodded. “That’s okay. Colin can stay.”

A slight smile was all you got from Colin, but you knew his satisfaction ran deeper than he outwardly expressed. With that, you got started. Your presentation wasn’t too long since you only covered the marketing ideas both you and your team came up with. All of you concluded that you wouldn’t have to do much. With Colin’s name branded everywhere and the overwhelming demand and desire for a follow up to Metl Hedd, there wasn’t a need to put too much money into advertising. A brand deal with Epoch Co. was mentioned frequently among your team, especially since the Super Cassette Vision had just been released in Europe.

And for once, Thakur was listening to you. He was actually engaged with what you had to say, asking you relevant and important questions that you had more than enough of an answer to. Although you knew the real reason Thakur was doing this was to appease his golden goose, it still felt good to be taken seriously.

By the end of your meeting, Colin got up from his seat. He hadn’t spoken a word since the beginning but with a hum, took in everything you had written down on the board in front of you. “I trust whatever you think is best for us, Y/N.” With a curt nod to you and Mr. Thakur and a gentle squeeze to your hand, the programmer was gone, leaving you and your boss in the conference room. As you cleaned up, you looked up at Thakur expectantly. He remained quiet for a moment, unable to look at you at first. After a few, grueling seconds, he spoke.

“I agree with Colin. You seem to have a good handle on all this, Y/N. It’s your call. Let me know what you decide on at the end of the day, yeah?” You nodded, gathering your papers as you watched Thakur exit the conference room. Glancing out the door, you found Colin as his computer, already looking at you. His self-satisfied smirk was unmistakable and you couldn’t help but smile along with him.

[abunchofsemicoherentwords]

What are roommates for?

Summary: She has an Anatomy exam tomorrow that is really important. Tom and Haz, being the wonderful roommates they are, take good care of her.

Pairings: Reader (?) x Tom Holland x Haz Osterfield 

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None?

A/n:  I could have used roomies like this (Tom and Haz specifically, is what i mean) when I was dying over exams two weeks ago tbh. Man I hope you guys enjoy this, its been like a month and a half in the making. It’s basically a fluffy domestic piece and I really pray to god its not boring af :/ This part of @spxderman-s and I’s Roommates Collection. We’d love to hear what you guys think of that, our collection. Any requests or ideas maybe? Anyways, hope y’all like this and I’m so sorry it took me so long to get something posted, I appreciate your patience x

Masterlist

She came out of her room, messy bun drooping to one side, feet dragging with each step. It was late. She rubbed her temples with one hand, her empty mug loosely grasped in the other. She was drained. She had one final exam tomorrow – Anatomy, her worst subject. Despite managing to ace all her assignments throughout the semester, this exam would determine whether she passed or failed.

Stupid exams worth 70%. Ugh.

She heard the television playing quietly in the living room and found herself wandering in, drawn to the emanating light like a moth. She needed a break anyway. Harrison was on the couch, a Friends rerun playing in the background as he scrolled through his phone. She flopped down beside him with a heavy sigh.

“How’s the study going?” he asked, locking his phone and turning to her.

“I just can’t wait for this thing to be over,” she groaned.

“You’ve been studying your ass off for the past fortnight. If anyone is going to ace it, it’s you,” he encouraged, patting her leg.

“Thanks, Haz,” she smiled half-heartedly.

“You look really tired though, shouldn’t you sleep?” he questioned, voice full of concern.

“I should. I feel a headache coming on, but I feel like there’s mo–,” he cut her off.

“Nu-uh, no more; you’ve studied as much as you possibly can. You literally can’t cram any more information into that brain,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You know everything. You’re going to nail it tomorrow, ok? I believe in you. And so does Tom.”

“Now, I’m going to make you some tea, and then you gotta go to bed, alright?” he finished, standing up and taking her mug.

She nodded helplessly, accepting his truth. As he left, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She settled in, watching Chandler and his own roommate, Joey, up to their usual antics.

Not too long after, Haz returned with a steaming cup of tea. He lowered it into her outstretched hands and sat back down beside her, careful not to spill the hot liquid.

“I added some honey and lemon, I know that’s how you like it.”

“Thanks,” she smiled gratefully, taking a sip.

“No problem.”

When her cup was empty, she placed it on the stool and snuggled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“How’s your head?”

“Better.”

“Good,” he leaned his own head atop hers.

As she watched the television absentmindedly, her eyelids began to feel heavy. She strained to keep them open, before she finally gave in, closing them and stilling her mind. She fell asleep, snoring softly.

As the credits started rolling, Tom walked in. He noticed that she was asleep and gestured at Harrison.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s really tired,” he responded in a whisper. “Can you put her to bed? I don’t want to wake her.”

Tom walked up to them and slowly slipped his arms beneath her knees and around her shoulders. He gently picked her up, so as not to interrupt her sleep. As he cradled her against his chest, she nuzzled her face into his neck, seeking warmth. She seemed so small, curled up in his arms. He carried her to her bedroom where Harrison pulled back the covers of the bed. Tom lay her down and she turned onto her side into a more comfortable position. He tucked the covers around her and stroked the loose strands of hair out of her face.

“Goodnight, love.”

The boys tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“Poor thing, she’s exhausted. I’ll be glad when she’s done tomorrow,” Harrison said sympathetically.

“We should do something tomorrow night.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, a movie night or something? Just buy all her favourite stuff and watch whatever she wants,” Tom suggested.

“She’d love that,” Haz agreed.

“Sweet, it’s sorted then.”                                                

*

The blaring alarm woke her with a start. She poked the screen blindly until it shut off. Snoozed for nine minutes. Warm and cosy under the covers, she sunk a little further and drifted off again.

The second alarm made her sit up straight, disoriented. She checked the time as she turned it off. She had four hours before her exam, plenty of time to get a little extra revision in. Clambering out of bed, she headed straight for the kitchen to make herself some coffee. She wasn’t normally a coffee drinker, but exam season was brutal and she needed all the help she could get.

Wafting down the hallway was not only the smell of freshly brewed coffee, but bacon as well.

“Mmmm,” she swept in through the doorway, mouth watering at the delicious smells.

“Hey, you’re up. How did you sleep?”

Harrison was at the stove, stirring eggs in a pan.

“Great, but I need coffee. And some eggs. And some bacon too, please,” she beamed.

He poured her a mug of coffee and handed it to her.

“Waffles, too?” he asked.

“Mmm yes, please. You’re too good to me, Harrison Osterfield.”

“Well, we need you at your best today. Don’t get used to this though, alright? It’s only because you have a super important exam.”

She poked her tongue out at him as she took the heaped plate. She was pouring maple syrup when Tom walked in. He yawned, rubbing his eyes and pushing his unruly curls to the side.

“Morning,” she said to him cheerfully.

“Morning, love. You seem to be in a good mood… which is a little strange considering what today is.”

“I’m just excited to nearly be free, I guess.”

Tom took a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a coffee.

“What are your plans? Anything special?”

“Mm, not really, I might just sleep,” she shrugged, scooping a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“Fair enough,” Tom nodded, taking a sip from his steaming mug.

“What time do you finish?” Haz asked, sitting next to her at the counter.

“4:30.”

“I’ll pick you up after your exam,” Tom said.

“What, no, you don’t have to do that.”

She stood and picked up her plate.

“I’ll just catch the train home.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “You’ll be burnt out after your exam; I’ll pick you up. We can grab dinner on the way home, it’s no biggie.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way,” she was still unconvinced.

“Yes, I promise, it’s totally fine. I’m happy to do it. What are roommates for?”

“Okay, fine,” she laughed, rinsing her plate and mug at the sink.

“Thanks for breakfast, Haz.”

As she moved past him to the door, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Anytime.”

“Where’s my kiss?”

She turned to a pouting Tom.

“Oh, sorry, kisses are reserved for those who actually do things for me.”

“What? I just offered to pick you up.”

“Ah, but you haven’t picked me up yet,” she pointed out.

Haz sneered as she spun on her heel and left.

“I see how it is,” Tom grumbled, finishing his coffee.

“Smooth, mate.”

“Shut up, Harrison.”

*

“Students, you have five minutes remaining,” a monotonous female voice rang over the speaker system.

Crap.

She reread the last couple of lines she had written before hurriedly adding a concluding statement to her answer. Her hand cramped and she shook it vigorously. Oh come on, not now. She had one question left. Almost done.

Three marks, three key points. She knew the answer to this one. She scribbled out a short paragraph. God, please let them be able to read my handwriting. The muscles in her hand were tight as she released the pen from her grip, having stabbed a full stop onto the page. She flicked through her exam in the last two minutes, making sure she hadn’t missed anything.

“Pens down, students. Your time is up. Anyone caught writing after this time will immediately be given a fail.”

She fell back in her chair with a sigh of relief. Done.

Ten minutes later she was outside, allowing the filtered sun to shine down on her. She faced the great hall in which she had sat so many exams. Ugh.

Turning away, she walked down to the street, checking her phone. There was a message from Tom. He was parked near the fountain. She made her way there, spotting his car immediately. She strode over and swung open the door, getting in.

“Hey, how was it?”

She pulled the door shut and looked down at her lap.

“Not great,” she said forlornly.

“Aw no, what happened, love?”

He waited for her to answer, ready to offer comforting words.

A grin spread across her face and she looked at him, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty sure I totally nailed it.”

Her contagious joy spread and he grinned too.

“Yeah! See? I knew you could do it,” he raised his hand for a hi-five. She slapped her palm against his.

“Couldn’t have done it without the support of my loving roommates,” she nudged him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he started the car.

“Seatbelt,” he reminded as he checked for traffic. She pulled the strap over her body and clicked it into place.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked. “I’m starving.”

“Up to you. What do you feel like?”

“Pizza, duh.”

“Of course, how stupid of me.”

“Tom, if there is ever a day where you ask me what I want and I don’t say pizza, please know something is very wrong.”

“Yes, princess,” he teased, rolling his eyes at her dramatic words.

*

Soon after, they were walking through their front door.

“We’re home,” she sing-songed.

“Haz! Guess what?” Tom called out.

“I’m in here,” came a shout from the living room.

She and Tom took off their coats and went in. They found him with a stack of blankets and pillows so high, only the top of his blond quiff was visible. He dropped the pile onto the sofa with a huff and put his hands on his hips.

“So?” he asked, looking between the pair.

“Our girl totally nailed the exam, Anatomy has got nothing on her,” Tom answered proudly.

“Well done, babe! I knew you could do it.”

He stepped over to her and gave her a hug.

“Thanks, Haz.”

“But, is, uh, someone sleeping on the couch tonight?” Her face expressed confusion at the heap of blankets.

“Actually, this is for you.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch?”

“No,” Haz shook his head.

“We’re celebrating,” Tom clarified. “We’re celebrating you finishing all your exams. We thought you’d like a night in, just the three of us.”

“It was Tom’s idea. We bought those sour strips you like, mini m&m’s-”

“Because they taste better,” Tom added excitedly.

“And ice cream. Plus you pick the movies.”

“Triple chocolate ice cream?”

“Definitely.”

She squealed. She threw her arms around their necks and pulled them into her.

“I love you guys!”

Upon release, she smiled broadly.

“You guys are actually the best. Thank you!”

“We know,” Tom said with mock arrogance.

“Get comfortable and choose something good. We’ll get the snacks.”

“Pizza should be here soon too.”

The boys left. When they returned, they were confronted with the sight of their roommate cocooned, head to toe, in fabric. She was scrolling through Netflix’s rom-com selection.

“What do you think of 27 Dresses?” she asked, eyes not leaving the screen.

“If that’s what you want,” Harrison replied, sitting on her left and opening the tub of cold dairy. He handed her a spoon and dug his own into it.

“It is. James Marsden is gorgeous,” she swooned.

“He is.”

She clicked play and spread the blankets over herself and Harrison’s laps. She held up one end of the covers.

“Hurry up, Tommy.”

He jumped in next to her and the three of them wiggled closer together. He held a piece of candy out to her whilst popping a piece in his own mouth.

Shortly into the beginning of the film, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Harrison handed her the ice cream and stood up.

She paused the movie as he left and looked at Tom.

“Thank you for this, and for picking me up today. It’s really sweet of you.”

“Anytime, darling.”

She leaned over and lightly kissed his cheek.

“I owed you.”

Harrison entered with the pizza, managing to catch the tail end of his roommates gazing at each other. He subtly smiled to himself.

*

Full stomachs, multiple bathroom breaks and a rom-com and 80’s adventure movie later, they were struggling to decide on a third film.

“Maybe we should just go to bed,” said one.

“It’s only nine o’clock. I’m not tired.”

“Me neither.”

“Nor me, to be honest.”

“Then what should we watch?”

“How about something Disney?”

“Yeah, I love Tangled!”

Two heads turned to look at Harrison in surprise.

“What? It’s a great movie about finding yourself and being your own person.”

“Right,” Tom said skeptically.

“I love it, too,” she declared. “Actually Haz, Mother Gothel kind of reminds me of you.”

“It’s the eyes, right? Same blue,” Tom teased.

“Absolutely,” they cracked up.

Muttering curses at them, Harrison reached over and picked up the ice cream. He shoved a spoonful into his mouth, brow knitted in annoyance.

“We’re just kidding, Haz,” she soothed. “I happen to think you have very pretty eyes.”

Having been appeased, he put the ice cream on the stool and shoved her into Tom.

“Move over.”

“Why?”

“I wanna lie down.”

“Fine.”

She and Tom scooted over, Tom into the corner with his body angled towards her. She pressed her back against his side, resting her head on his chest. He let his arm fall around her waist loosely, content to have her in such close proximity. Harrison shifted his body to lay down on what was left of the space. He rested his head on her knees. She grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head, stroking his hair.

“Everyone comfy?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Uh-huh.”

He found Tangled and put it on.

By the time Rapunzel had discovered she was the lost princess, the three roommates, cuddled together, were fast asleep.

Tagging: @tommysdarlin @nadiacth @everythinguncharted @lionfart @settlebackeasy @johnmurphys-sass @bisexualmomfriend @tomrannosaurusholland @girlwith100names @jjgirl4797 @spideytomsbutt @spideyontherun @unfoxs @fandomscombine @oswald-1998 @spxderman-s @timemngmtoptimisationproblems

[sgscenarios]

drowned in feelings and alcohol

summary: wow sana is in this DEEP

Sana didn’t know when it started. It was all a blur, and there was such a thin line in between friendship and having feelings for a friend that Sana had just brushed all that she knew away. She was in love with you and that’s all that she knew was certain at this point.

The two of you had been friends ever since you approached her in your first year of high school, and now, the two of you were in your second year of college, and you had built up quite a name for yourself. Being the sociable person that you were, you tried to make as many friends as you could, and you attended as much parties as your schedule allowed you to. On the other hand, Sana had still kept to herself, save for the few close friends that she made through you. You had always made sure to ask Sana to go to a party with you, because what kind of best friend would you be if you didn’t ask her?

Sana wasn’t really one to go to parties. She liked staying in and doing whatever she wanted, which usually was to eat 10 meals and sit on the couch for the whole night while watching her favorite drama. The only reason she accompanied you to parties was so that she could spend more time with you, and usually you wouldn’t leave her by herself, because you and the lord knew, there were not a lot of people that could be trusted (usually frat boys that tried to get every girl they saw drunk so that they could take her somewhere else). 

Tonight would be the same. She was getting ready to go to yet another party with you. You got ready before her and thus made your way to her dorm, surprising her while she was quickly but carefully putting her make up on.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? I was going to go over to yours once I was finished.”

“At this rate, you weren’t going to be finished until the party was over.” You laughed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall, looking at her through the mirror.

She finished up and turned around in her chair, frowning and sticking out her tongue. “I was done already anyways.”

You two soon made your way to the party, hearing the music blast from inside the house. You entered confidently with Sana trailing behind, her hand holding onto your shirt to not get lost. People began to greet you as they saw you, and you smiled while greeting them back. You entered the kitchen with Sana, meeting up with Nayeon as she gave you and Sana a drink in those infamous red cups.

You took it and drank from it, handing Sana’s cup to her. The both of you stayed in the kitchen for a while until more people started to arrive, and then, seeing as Sana would be safe with Nayeon, you left to other parts of the house socializing with other people. This left Sana with Nayeon and Jeongyeon, who had joined earlier.

“You know Sana, you’re going to have to tell her sooner or later.” Nayeon said nonchalantly, swirling her drink in her cup.

“Tell her what?” Sana was genuinely confused. 

“That you like her, obviously.” Jeongyeon added on. “Are you trying to act dumb?”

“No?” Sana cocked her head to the side. “How do you two know about this?”

“It’s so obvious, Sana.” 

Sana only sighed her head dropping low. “I’m not going to. I know she doesn’t feel the same.”

“How are you so sure about that?” Jeongyeon asked, a brow raised.

“I just do, okay?” Sana sighed once more, eyeing the hard liquor on the kitchen counter before pointing to it and gesturing to her cup. “Now, would you two be sweeties and pour me some of those drinks over there?”

“Sana,” Nayeon started, “That’s hard liquor. You don’t usually do those. Are you sure?”

Sana only nodded, holding up her cup.

Nayeon sighed and grabbed the bottle of vodka, Jeongyeon rummaging through the fridge for a bottle of soda to use as chaser. Nayeon took Sana’s cup and poured a shot’s worth into it before handing it back while Jeongyeon opened up the soda and slid it over to Sana. Sana only eyed the chaser before downing the shot, clearing her throat before setting her cup down. 

“It’s going to be a no chaser night for me tonight. I have decided that I,” Sana motioned to herself, “Am going to party hard tonight. And neither of you are going to stop me.” She quickly added on the last part before the two of them could say anything. “Now, pour me another drink!”

This routine continued until Sana was a little bit past the whole tipsy stage. She was in the beginning of drunk, but she could still make out what was happening around her. At this point, Nayeon and Jeongyeon were making her take the shots with a chaser as a condition for her to continue drinking, so she accepted the chaser, but it just made her drink more in a small amount of time. Soon, she grabbed both of them and led them to the living room, where the furniture was pushed aside to allow room for dancing. Sana pulled the both of them into the middle of all the bodies and began dancing with them, bodies grinding against each other and sweat beginning to build up due to the body heat. 

They danced for a while until Sana became too tired and Nayeon had to pull her out to go back into the kitchen. Once there, Jeongyeon poured a glass of water for her, insisting that she drink it. And she did, but right after that, she continued to pour drinks for herself again. Now she was way past drunk and she was stumbling everywhere, giggles coming out of her every minute as Nayeon tried to keep her from going anywhere. Soon the two of them gave up, deciding to go and find you so that you could take her home. 

But right as they left, one of the guys had came over to Sana, strategically standing in front of her to block her from escaping. That guy just so happened to be Kim Sangchul, biggest fuckboy on campus.

“So,” he started, “you here alone?”

Sana looked up at him, a stupid grin (caused by the alcohol) on her face. “Who are you?”

He laughed, cupping Sana’s cheek. Before he could say anything, you appeared, leaning against the entryway. “Fuck off, Sangchul. She’s with me.”

He only scoffed, “What are you going to do, Y/N?”

You walked up to him and clenched the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to whisper. “You know damn well what I am capable of. Now get the fuck out of here before I ruin your pitiful life.” You pushed him away forcefully, not forgetting to take in his blood drained and scared face.

You then stood where he stood, arms crossed while you tsk’ed at Sana. “Why did you get so drunk?” You shook your head, placing one of her arms over your shoulder and helping her out of the house (which was really hard because she was a stumbling mess) and into your car. You strapped her in and closed the door before getting into the driver’s seat. You then pulled out your vibrating phone. Nayeon was calling.

“What’s up?”

“We left Sana for a moment to find you but now she’s gone and I’m worried! What if a fuckboy has her?”

“Don’t worry,” You laugh, “Thanks for looking after her, but I have her. I’m going to take her home. Luckily I came right in time because guess who was trying to talk her up? Fucking Kim Sangchul. God, if I had been a minute late I don’t know what I’d do.”

“That’s a relief. Yeah, no problem. She’s a gem. Don’t lose her, Y/N. But anyways, drive safe. And since the life of the party has left, Jeongyeon and I will be heading back too.”

You hung up with a smile, but you were unsure of what Nayeon meant by “She’s a gem, don’t lose her.” You decided that this was something to ask her tomorrow, when you were in your right mind. Right now, you had to take care of Sana. 

The drive back to your place didn’t take long. You had decided it would be better to not bother her roommate and just let her sleep over at your place for the night. You carefully helped her in, taking off her shoes and laying her on your bed. You sighed as you looked at her, she was probably feeling good right about now. You were glad that she wasn’t the emotional drunk, because honestly, you couldn’t deal with people crying. You sucked at that. You glanced at her once more before grabbing your pack of cleansing wipes and wiping her make up off. After that, you placed a water bottle on the nightstand in case she woke up before you.

You quickly changed and got into bed besides her, turning off the lamp. While trying to get comfortable, Sana wrapped her arms around you, pulling herself closer to you. Apparently she thought you were her roommate, Mina. 

“Mina.... How do I tell Y/N that I like her?” she muttered out. 

You furrowed your brows, surprised, but smiled nonetheless. “Sana... This.. isn’t... Mina...”

That was pointless, because Sana was drunk and she wouldn’t even comprehend anything, so she continued to ramble on.

“She’s such a wonderful person and she’s friends with everyone and if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have gotten so many friends... I don’t know when it started, but I like her so much.. I just don’t want to lose her if I end up confessing... because I know she doesn’t feel the same.”

You chuckled to yourself, “How are you so sure that she doesn’t feel the same?You won’t lose her. Now, go to sleep. You’re going to have a major hangover when you wake up.” You placed a soft kiss on her forehead, deciding to text her so that she’s have something to wake up to.

[y/n] 3:26am: last night you told me about how much you liked me thinking that I was Mina (which was totally cute), and I just wanted to tell you that I like you too, so you don’t have to worry about losing me.

After that, the two of you fell asleep, and true to your words, Sana woke up with confusion as to why she was in your bed and the worst hangover she would ever experience, but she was overjoyed when she saw the text from you. And then embarrassment flushed over her when she reread the part of the text that said “you thought I was Mina,” burying her face into the pillow.

[cupnoodle-queen]

CHASING SUNS: Chapter 8 Power

1,949 words MY BABY IS GETTING SO BAD ASS! I love rereading this chapter, so happy with the scenery. UGH. Also, I had serious song motivation for this one: Hard Time by Seinabo Sey was on repeat, such a good track. Tagging friends @blindbae @nifwrites @themissimmortal

Cam flexed gloved fingers over the hilts of two weighted short swords, turning them to catch the light, their intricate filigree designs worth marvelling. They were lighter than she expected, yet she could already tell her arms would be jelly after a long fight.

Gladio looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

“They aren’t very short.”

Her response was met with an eyeroll. “That’s because you are. Average height people have no problems with their size.”

“I am average height,” She protested, though would be lying if she denied having straightened her back a bit.

Gladio took a step closer to Cam until only inches separated them. Dangerously close; she could smell his shower gel. He looked down at her with a smirk. “So am I.”

She shoved him away, doing her best to ignore the sudden flutter at her hipbone. “To hell you are, I haven’t seen anyone your size around here.” Cam holstered the weapons and sighed, her breath a bit visible in the chill of morning air.

“Just something to get used to, I guess.”

Her first hunt with the swords was nothing to shake a stick at. Her wrists were weak, lacking the muscle and stability of seasoned swordsmen. Gladio had warned her they would be sore, but she didn’t complain. Change required pain, she thought, a temporary albeit necessary evil.

After her second hunt, cleaving her dominant sword down on the skull of a Bashura, she’d anticipated the soreness. It was there, lesser though. Icing them at the end of the day made it all worthwhile.

The third hunt was awkward. Flans are not meant for slicing and Cam took a beating, Gladio having to offer a shoulder as she hobbled their way back to his Jeep. The contact made her forget about the pain. It was a welcome reprieve.

It was only after countless hunts, when she’d stopped icing her wrists altogether as it wasn’t required, upgraded her swords to sharper ones, so many snapshots of the dead in her phone that she had to flick her finger to scroll past them all, did Gladio finally change up their almost daily routine. “We aren’t going hunting today.”

Cam laced up her new combat boots, the glint of metallic accents and shiny leather catching her eye. “Oh? What’s up?”

“I’m showing you how to duel.”

Her head shot up at him. “We are?”

“Yeah.” He worked a kink out of his neck and leaned against the Jeep. “Figure you’re used to those things enough to not take my arm off.”

“Wouldn’t want to mess up your tattoo.”

“Heh,” he chuckled dryily. “Paid decent gil for it, I’d rather keep it on my body.”

Right on que Steph slinked over like a jungle cat, skimming a milky hand across the muscled plains of his shoulders. “I’d rather be on your body, big guy.” she stopped in front of him and tilted his chin into a heavy kiss, her lips parted and devouring his mouth.

Another part of their daily routine was having to endure Steph’s petty attempts at getting a rise out of Cam, often succeeding but not to the point of Cam saying anything. She’d look off in another direction, fiddle with her fingerless gloves, tighten a strap on her chestpiece, anything to distract herself from the pang at her hip, stinging like barbed wire dragged across her skin.

After Steph had finished saying goodbye to Gladio, they headed out. The spot he chose was overlooking a massive gorge, the city of Lestallum on the other side. The residual light that spilled over the hub offered just enough to keep the daemons at bay while they sparred.

Cam stood before him, several paces away. “Now what?”

Gladio had his massive great sword drawn, casually rested over his shoulder. From hilt to tip the thing must have neared her size. Nervous tremors rolled off her in waves. His tone was casual.

“Attack me.”

Her eyes bulged. “No, I’d rather not be killed today.”

“Do you trust me?”

Cam hesitated. “Yes.”

“Attack me.” 

His eyes looked up at her with steadfast determination. Ready for her.

With nothing to lose she drew her swords, inhaled, exhaled and charged forward, weapons poised to come crashing on him. Her heart screamed at her and the fire at her side shot pain to her core. This action went against her nature, against the path the Astrals mapped for them.

In a blink Gladio’s sword swung up and over his head, landing between her blades with a harsh CLANK. Cam could tell he wasn’t using his full strength otherwise she would be toast. He jutted the blade sideways and in some gesture that broke physics laws, pulled the swords from her grasp with a twist of his wrists. They flew from her grip and landed on the asphalt, clattering.

Cam froze, still trying to comprehend what happened. Gladio sighed. “Think it would be that easy?”

“One can hope, right?”

As Cam gathered her weapons off the ground, Gladio offered pointers and tactics. “Focus on your opponent’s body language. The side they relax their weapon on. Where they’re looking, ‘cause they’re tryin’ to figure you out as well.” He rested his sword back on his shoulder and paced to the side. “Never let them in your head. They do that and they get you off guard, you’re done for.”

Flicking her wrists and letting a kink out of her neck, Cam considered his advice. She studied his movements, how he carried himself; upon first glance it was even and strong, but with extra attention to detail, Cam could detect the slightest window of opportunity. There was a hesitation in his composure, as if he were struggling to keep his breathing rhythm steady. His shoulders seemed to dip, chest emptied of air. Vulnerable.

Cam readied herself, the little nod that Gladio gave her que. This time she did not charge him, opting instead to play the slow and stealthy card. Cat and mouse at it’s finest. Her eyes never left his, demanding his full attention, watching his moves from her peripherals. She was patient, eager to strike but at the same time hungry for the overtake so she circled and so did he, a slow stalk of amber alertness.

Finally, there. Cam was agile, her wrists long since accustomed to balancing the blades she wielded as she leaped forward towards her prey, her centric force directed without straying course. Her blade clipped the edge of his sword and he faltered; it was unexpected, startled. Her other blade met the opposite side and he flinched, though kept a firm hold on his weapon. Cam reeled back and struck again, this time he was ready for her and their blades bounced against each other's, the loud clanking harsh on Cam’s ears, metal against metal and almost sparking on contact.

The exchange lasted longer than Cam anticipated, the transfer of energy against their steel back and forth getting her blood pumping, adrenaline tapped and mainlined, sweat beading along the now scarring wound on her face. Every chance she got to make eye contact, she did. Not only did it light a fire in her, but it got him off guard for the slightest second.

As the days went by their dueling interactions lasted longer, each one pushing her further and honing her reflexes. It engrained itself in her everyday occurences, her balance improving, attention to detail skyrocketing. Her body was adapting as well, the clothes she wore on her back when she first arrived at HQ becoming baggy around her frame, the spare tire she carried most of her adult life melding into taut flesh over toned muscle. She dreamt of it, matching his blows with mirrored tactic and finesse to counter the movement. Soon enough she craved the thrill of competition more than that of the hunt. Soon enough she almost leapt from her bunk everyday, excited to push her limits.

Soon enough, the pain of Nolan’s absence was pacified, the void filled with the fight. With Gladio.

Try as she did to deny herself, she was letting her soulmate marking get the better of her judgement. She had the color of his irises memorized, the duration of his breaths timed to the millisecond, the little grin he gave when she lasted longer than the previous fight, how invested he was in her, how much he strived to better her. It made her better. It made her want to be better.

Not once had she succeeded in disarming him, though. He’d rendered her weaponless multiple times, but she held her own as she improved, their exchanges and clanking of blades back and forth the soundtrack of Cam’s life.

On one especially rainy evening, as they sparred like they had every night before, something shifted in Cam. A momentous quake in her mind, her lifeblood and essence. Her arms windmilled with speed and fury of a seasoned fighter towards Gladio, rain pelting against her already soaked-through armor, wet curls of her loosening ponytail splayed against her shoulders and neck. She was beautiful death and fury absolute. A machine. Terrifying.

For a fleeting moment Gladio’s heart stammered, watching the construct of lethality, a creature of his own creation before him, land blow after blow to his weapon’s edge.  And then, he’d missed the chance to counter; Cam’s blades all but fused to his sword, a force he’d never imagined possible from the petite woman knocking it from his grasp, the great sword smacking against wet pavement.

Cam was starstruck. She hesitated, the rain cold refreshment on her screaming muscles, before she let out a body-rocking laugh. She’d finally succeeded in disarming her opponent, disarming GLADIO, the physically strongest person she’d ever met. She chuckled so hard her already exhausted lungs struggled to maintain airflow.

Barely a month ago she’d lost the love of her life, her home, her purpose, darkness of her own creation fogging her mind. But now, standing beneath the sheets of downpour, holding her weapons as an extension of her form and not  foreign objects, having bested her opponent before her, she was a complete one-eighty of her former life.

Powerful. Confident.

Lethal.

Gladio smiled, seeing her full of life and overjoyed. He’d never heard a genuine laugh from her before, and it’s dulcet sweetness softened his shell. He was proud of his protege, the girl who’d turned up one day after setting his heart aflame years before, stoking the flames and rekindling the fire. Her skin glistened in the rain, the light from nearby Lestallum making her skin sparkle.

He was near her without even noticing, his body acting on impulse, fueled by the alignment of stars predetermined before their birth. Cam was frozen in place, their torsos barely touching as Gladio placed a hand on her waist, tugging it forward as his head lowered, lips parted, rain-drenched and needing hers. Though darkness existed around them his eyes were a light at the end of the tunnel, promises of warmth and happiness and-

Suddenly Gladio’s phone went off, interrupting their shared musings. He exhaled, backed away from Cam and answered the phone call, his voice sandpaper. “Yeah?”

Cam knew who it was without asking. It was always the same, his red-haired siren beckoning his return, ensuring he didn’t spend more time with Cam than her. Promises that she was his world like reciting a script.

It was dismal to listen to, so Cam would throw her weapons in the back seat of the Jeep, get in the passenger seat and watch him through the windshield, a silent film of answering repetitive questions and tired assurances.

She rubbed the sun at her hip, the blaze renewed.