#and i wish there was a way to say 'this is old fic that doesnt reflect current me' without just straight up abandoning or deleting it

[didsomeonesayventus]

In regards to last reblog idk i have a lot of works i probably should orphan (and in ff.net's case nuke entirely) but like. Idk man it feels weird and wrong to let go of something i was genuinely invested in and happy with even if it's incredibly cringe like hey i made that for fun i've grown out of it but like. It's still something that made me happy once and i dont want to pretend i wasnt stupid and free and cringe

[mikgreo]

BLLK BOYS! + “tits, boobs, or thighs?”

18+ slight nsfw, fluff.

ft. isagi, sae, aiku, reo, nagi, shidou.

a/n: im having blue lock brainrot and i cant escape them. YES, i had to write each one individually😊 kinda biased on reo.. hes my fav<3

MIGHT DO A PT. 2!!

➩ YOICHI ISAGI thighs.

he likes to think of himself as a gentleman, so he fears that staring at your ass or tits would make you uncomfortable. but from past experiences and from what hes seen, hes picked up that girls love having hands on their thighs. he loves resting his hands on your thighs and giving them an occasional squeeze. he doesnt care if your skinny, chubby, or overweight, he loves them, as much as he loves you.

“huh? honey, why are you asking me that, haha.” he scratches the back of his head, “if i had to be honest, i’d say your thighs, i love how squishy they are.”

he says as he kissed your cheek and hugged you tight, “i love you no matter what, baby <3.”

➩ ITOSHI SAE ass.

sae loves buying you expensive dresses, he likes bringing you to the fancy dinners or parties his co-workers invite him to. he loves the way the tight dresses he buys you complement your body and curves. he has you close by at all times and is very possessive of you, he finds himself holding you under his “wing” and putting his hands on your waist. he knows what he has and isnt scared to show it off, but he also knows youll be facing him the whole time, so he likes to show off his girl.

“hm. probably yer ass.” he said having the same nonchalant look on his face. “i like having those old geezers have something, they wish they could get, to look at. makes em reaal jealous. makes me the best for having such a beauty by my side.”

“i like showing off my trophies.”

➩ OLIVER AIKU tits.

aiku has a guilty pleasure of sucking on your boobs, he denies having a mommy kink, but he thinks it would be so fucking hot getting you pregnant and sucking milk out of your tits. hes not picky, but he prefers bigger boobs, he likes laying his head on them also, while fondling them.

“i hate to admit, but i fuckin’ love your tits, babe.” he looks up at you while he has his head on your chest.

“they’re jus so damn squishy and round, they sit so pretty, luv.”

➩ MIKAGE REO thighs.

growing up around money and wealthy people, the rich women he would encounter had always had some sort of plastic surgery/ procedure done, which he hated. he wanted a woman who had natural beauty, and a naturally beautiful personality to go with that. so when he met you, he fell in love, of course he couldn’t immediately act on it, not only fearing his parents disapprovement but he was scared that you would only like him for his money. but you guys hit it off just fine (a/n: i will prob write a fic ab this later, teehee.) present time, he is so inlove with you, he likes that you have natural features, of course paying no mind that you wear makeup or not, he loves you for you. he likes your thighs because its the only thing he knows a woman cant change about herself, he likes the naturalness that comes with them.

“Well, i love your thighs baby.. probably because i love laying on them, and i love how warm they are. so comfy too.” he kisses the top of your head.

“.. and cus i know thats the only thing you cant change about yourself so they’re mine forever<3.”

➩ SEISHIRO NAGI tits.

why? cus he likes the erocticness of them. (a/n: is that a word??) hes seen many video games with big busted women, so he’s always found them attractive, nagi also thinks its too much of a hassle to focus on anything else on the body, naturally boobs are the most prominent feature on a girls body, they easily stand out. so he just went with that. he personally likes to lay on them, alot. nagi would prefer smaller chested girls, mainly because he thinks theyre adorable, he would definitely belittle you because of it, since he is so used to seeing women with big boobs, he thinks small ones are less overwhelming, but cute.

“mm, probs yer boobs. i like the way they feel, like stress balls, i like that theyre not big, but not too small. theyre just right for me. theyre cute.”

he definitely was confused on why you were blushing but also mad at him. no girl wants her boyfriend to tell her she has a small chest!!!

➩ RYUSEI SHIDOU ass.

shidou loves slapping your ass. in public? hes gripping it. private? cupping it. around his friends? slapping it. there will never be a time where hes not doing something with your butt. this man is a sucker for doggy, and backshots, o how he loves them. he definitely makes u do reverse cowgirl as well. definitely unironically says “gyat” to you..

will eat ur butt. will do anal. hes that freaky..

“you seriously asking me dis? obviously yer fucking butt dude i love it, i could go onnn and on about how soft and jiggly it is. level 5 gyat mama.” he winked at you turning around, crouching down to get something from the fridge. you sprinted over to him just to slap his butt for revenge.. he did not like that. lets just say u wont he walking anytime soon!!

[allurilove]

Yandere x Zombie you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: He’s depressed, gore, murder, death?, he steals someone’s teeth, he tries to fuck you with his… thing, and kidnapping.

*Sorry for not posting! I had to watch TWD to finish this and omg Rick is so fineeeeee. This is pretty unedited. This is also the third fic, and you can read the first, and second for better understanding! He is referred to as “your stalker.” This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: You left him. He fell into a deep depression, not being able to function normally, and he tries to find you again. But trouble seems to follow him where ever he goes, and he has a little run in with a human.

This has been the second time you left him.

When he lifted his head back up, he saw that you were gone. He wiped his tears away and he stayed there on his knees. He doesn’t know how long he’s been there for, his knees slowly becoming numb, and sinking into the ground. He feels the weather change, how cool it becomes when it’s night, and how the birds chirp during the day. He feels the rain pelt him, he sees the grass grow, and the leaves fall down and sees the arrays of yellow and brown. His hair has become longer, a huge bush on his face, and he didn’t know how to function. He didn’t eat, didn’t move, and barely took care of himself. He ignored how his stomach would growl, or how it feels like his body would cave in itself at any moment.

He is now just a part of the sea of zombies, that would be eventually wiped out for human civilization to thrive again. He and you—would be gone. He hoped that there was a way to reverse this. His body has already gone through so much, he’s been eaten on, and generally looked like shit.

If his heart was beating, it would ache. Day and night, he doesnt move from his spot. He doesn’t acknowledge all of the wildlife checking him out, the occasional bunny or deer would sniff him, and he wouldn’t move. He was still as a statue, his eyes hollow, and his limbs were stiff. Soon enough, he flopped over and laid on his back, and stared at the stars.

He would imagine that you were still with him. That you would comment how the stars were so bright, and he would say that they couldn’t hold a candle to you. He would imagine that you two would have a little picnic— to be able to eat edible food instead of human carcass. He would imagine himself wearing his best, and that you would be in yours. That you would treat every outing with him as a date. He would imagine that you and him lived together, eventually getting married, and die old together.

If he died first, he would wish you to live your best life. And if you died first, he would join you. His best life wouldn’t come to fruition if you weren’t living. There was no point being on earth if you werent there with him.

He felt like he was stuck, his body glued to the ground, before he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He never understood the whole concept of being a zombie, he’s been one for a while, and he feels like he’s failing miserably at it. He touched the bite mark you previously left on him, he sighed as he felt the ridges of your teeth marks, and he closed his eyes.

He would stay there— imaging what his whole life would be like if you just accepted him.

It’s now been years since he has seen you. He has been walking up and down the roads, hiding from humans with guns or knives, and he tried to find you. He wished you didn’t hate him. Or that the damn city you two were in wasn’t so huge.

Your stalker learned a lot from the short time he was with you. You taught him that he didn’t have to ask humans for permission, and that he could just eat them. It was odd at first, and he had to force himself out of the habit of pointing to the human and then back at his mouth. But eventually, he started to feast. To be able to find and recognize the human scent. To be able to spread the virus person to person. He hoped that you would be proud of him.

He continued his journey north, and he found himself at the same place he was last time— when he woke up as a zombie. He first grabbed a bag that was tossed aside, covered in dirt and blood. He then started to find the essentials: razor blades, scissors, rope (to tie you up with), and combs. He then came across a CVS, picking up some magazines incase he gets bored. He hesitated as his hand went to grab some condoms. And he slowly looked down at his crotch. His thing, was officially retired ever since he cut it off and sewed it back on, and he doubts it works like a normal penis does. He dropped the condoms and pushed the door open, and he went back on the road.

He started to learn about the things that zombies do. He also learned that there weren’t many zombies that had the same capabilities like him. Most of them seemed to just run on instinct, and bite at whatever they could. So, it was hard to make any friends.

He came across a restroom at what was presumably a rest stop. He entered the bathroom, and opened his bag. He scrubbed his face clean, and brought out the razor blade. He gently pressed it onto his jaw, praying that he doesn’t nick his skin. Slowly his beard started to disappear, and he then took the scissors started to trim, and style his hair. He looked more presentable this time, and he still looked… dead. But he couldn’t fix that somehow.

He found a man that looked like he was around his size… and your stalker slowly looked down at the pants he was currently wearing. The jeans he wore were tight. And he was pretty sure he was chafing down there, and it was awkward to waddle after your victim. No one exactly took him seriously when he wore pants like these. He bends down and he inspects the dead body, his hands grazing over the full set of teeth the man had.

Dental… was pretty hard to keep up with. He began to pull and even try to bite out the man’s teeth, his hand gripped the man’s lower jaw and he snapped it off. He wanted to find a way to take his jaw off and sew the man’s onto his face, but he ended up just stealing each tooth instead. He shoved them into the slots that were missing teeth, and a couple were stubborn. Not willing to be in a strangers mouth, so he had to force them into his gums.

Your stalker felt like a new man.

It’s been a couple of years since you left him in the woods. You took the opportunity to flee without him noticing, and anyone would be foolish not to do so. You ran for your life, or as fast as your feet could carry you, and you disappeared from him forever.

You traveled up north, dragging your feet to a rest stop, and you passed a body that was missing teeth and pants. Weird.

You’re pretty hungry, your mouth filled with chunks of flesh as you tear the man’s legs apart. You barely swallow and you feel the meat slide down your gullet.

You soon find yourself at a cemetery. It felt like you cheated “death.” All of these people below you, once lived their life to the fullest and unknowingly escaping the apocalypse. While you, a undead being, had to live through it. You were respectful and mindful of where you stepped, and you read some of the tombstones. It was clear everyone here was loved, a bunch of decorations were still up, and vases surrounded each one. Despite the flowers becoming wilted overtime, you knew how much thought and care their loved ones put into it.

You notice a trail of blood on the ground, and you curiously followed it. It was odd to see that, especially in an area as pristine and untouched as the cemetery. You continue to follow it, your feet leading you up to a grave that was dug up. A huge pile of dirt on the side and the gravestone next to it. You wondered if someone crawled out of their grave.

You peer down curiously, trying to look past the clumps of dirt and blood, and you see some skin and bones poking out. A hand twitching and grabbing onto the air as if it wanted to be pulled out.

You waved a branch around above the hand. You weren’t about to sacrifice your body for this random thing. You watched as the hand paused as the branch hit it a couple of times, but then it surged up, grabbing onto the branch. You almost fall into the pit, but your feet plant you onto the ground. You pull and pull, and you see a head stick out.

Your stalker coughed as he was pulled out of his tortuous doom. His eyes immediately land onto yours. They seem to widen, and fill with tears immediately. His top half of his body was now out of the ground, and he wiggled around to hug you. You quickly maneuver your body out of the way, and he hugged a pile of dirt instead. His face nuzzling against nature, his lips puckering into a kiss, and he pulled back as his tongue tasted a worm.

Your stalker whined for you. He threw a little tantrum and all of his frustrations were voiced into little “ooh-“ or “ungh” or “mggggh.” He just wished you could understand him! He’s gone through hell and back just to find you.

Your stalker was so hungry that he used his nose to find a scent of a human, his feet leading him to the cemetery. All until he fell into a pit, dirt falling on top of him and he felt suffocated.

You gape at him, almost impressed by how he seems to pull his whole body up with a wiggle. All of the wind is knocked out of you as he pushed himself on top of you. He seemed to be grateful, his lips pressing kisses on your neck, and his hands hold your hips close to his. If he could speak correctly it would all be praises and compliments.

He then began to gesture at his crotch.

You immediately shook your head to say no, and he pouted. He pointed again. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and still said no. He then gestured at your crotch with a sheepish smile, a tiny peek of his pink tongue sticking out.

It took everything within you to not shove him down the pit.

He pulled his pants down, right below his ass, and he shimmed his cock out. It was floppy, not hard and couldn’t get hard since his blood couldn’t flow into it. He bit his lip as he tried to undo the pink stitches.

You haven’t gotten… laid in a while, and there was a man offering himself right in front of you. He pulled at the stitches, undoing the pink thread and his cock hangs off his body. He leans down, using his new teeth to cut it off.

When he got it off, he frowned as his cock was just limp in his hand. He then got an idea. He rammed the branch into his manhood, and he finally got it to stand proud. It sort of looked like a hotdog on a stick. But now he was able to control and maneuver his dick inside you.

He first wanted to see it in your mouth, and to see your cute lips wrapped around his pulsing tip. But you know, this will work for now. He got you to part your lips, his dick prodding its way into your throat.

God it tasted disgusting.

He held your face with one hand, the other pushing his cock in and out of your throat. Your saliva coating it all.

You pulled down your pants, spreading a bit of your legs apart, and you tensed up as he aligned his tip to your entrance. You closed your eyes, not wanting to look at the mangled cock press inside you.

Your stalker been wanting to be with you, and he can’t help but be a bit jealous of the makeshift dildo he made. But he watched with interest, his face close as the dick slides out of you, and his tongue flicked your hole to help with lubrication.

Sure, he wouldn’t be able to cum inside you and mark you as his, but the faces you make as his dick stretched you out so nicely… Fuck. He watched your toes curl, your back arching off the ground, and just to see your legs shake was enough for him.

He pressed kisses on your stomach, his face nuzzling into your body as he moved his hand to pump his cock faster into you.

He would tell you to cum, he would tell you how great you look, and how he would love to eat you out more. But his voice is just soft grunts. As you closed your eyes, the arousal building in your stomach— his hand grabbing his rope from his bag. He pulled the cock out of you, tossing it to the side and he forced you into your stomach. He quickly wrapped your thighs together, your hands, and he took off his shirt to gag you.

You wouldn’t be able to run away from him, you won’t be able to scream, and he smiles hard.

Allure: Not proud of this one. tysm for 870+ followers!!! 🫶🏻 It always makes me nervous to see my account growing, and the fact that many people want to see my writing 😬

[ch3rryb0mb3rr]

Tldr; please put warnings on smut and have it below the cut and stop sexualizing minors in media. Especially if they just came out of middle school thats weird. Write what you want but tag and put warnings when needed.

--

I get so pissed when im going to read something about my favorite character, and it's smut WITH ZERO WARNING.

No 18+, no NSFW, no MDNI and it isnt even in the fucking tags. I dont wanna read that shit. Put the damned warnings there for the love of all that is green on this earth it takes two seconds. maybe a bit more, but if you could pump out 3.4k words of pure porn, I think you can handle a couple of tags and warnings

I am a minor, and i use those warnings, so I dont read straight-up porn!! I also dont need to read about incest accidentally because there was NO warning, and it was NOT in the tags!!

(And for those of you who do put warnings, i thank you and wish the best in life!)

(I am also well aware that a lot of people dont listen to dnis like that, but it's helpful for the people trying to avoid reading stuff like that)

Also, while im on the subject, let's not sexualize minors in media. Yeah their hot, i can see that. But i dont want to see the start of an NSFW alphabet for a 15/16 year old. Aged up my ass. Just put the beginning below the cut?? And not after the first four letters??

I do NOT need to know a fav characters preferred body part is the tits thank you very much. I definitely do not need to accidentally read that they wanna suck on it like a damned bottle.

--

'This character as your friend is soo perverted he wants to steal ur panties hehehe' NO HE DOESNT. HE'S A TEENAGER AND LIKES CATS. TF?? theres adults in the majority of the show that are reasonably attractive. Write that shit about them.

'Oh, they have this list of kinks,' and its shit only someone who has read hardcore smut would have. They are 16 and most probably haven't had sex because the creator cant give them a fucking break from trauma.

'He would be soooo toxic and blahblahblah [insert romanticised assault and abuse and trauma]' NO. that boy is my age and is a nerd. Motherfucker wants to study at princeton and has absolutely no flirting ability. You're only saying that because he's black, most of that shit reeks of racism.

--

These characters are kids, CHILDREN, and you as an adult (if you are one) should not be writing smut about them, aged up or not. You should not be thirsting over a sophmore when theres PLENTY of good looking adults that you can be.

Theres a difference in growing up liking a character and having a crush on them and growing out of it when you're an adult. And being an adult thirsting over a teenage boy. It's not cute. it's not 'oh, it's fine because he/she's not real'.

Its really fucking gross actually.

--

At the end of the day just tag your stuff correctly. That way its easier for everyone else to find EXACTLY what they wanna read. Because at this point im just gonna start reporting fics with no warnings at the beginning.

Someome younger than me with no parents looking through their devices could stumble on that, and not know what it means, read it, and be scarred for life.

I was reading that stuff way way way too earlier and its fucked up my mental state a bit so if we collectively start putting in the effort to help prevent this from happening to another 11 year old or younger than we should do so.

--

Start gatekeeping fandoms like creepypasta from young kids, start tagging shit correctly

Another child does not need to end up somewhat hypersexul with very violent intrusive thoughts by the time they hit high school because their parents wouldn't look out for them, and the fandom did NOTHING to try to prevent it.

Its not your job to parent the kid, and to look over their should. Thats not what im saying.

It IS your job to, again, tag shit correctly, put warnings for gore, bluring violent images, saying outright that a certain game/book/story/etc your recommending is NOT for kids due to its violent nature/sexual content/etc. Reporting accounts of children under the age limit for social media (i.e., a 10 year old with discord or instagram) (it is breaking the T.O.S)

Act like that one lgbtq+ chat room website I was on for a couple weeks where all the adults kinda looked out for me a bit. And supported me figuring out who I was and collectively riped a guy to shreds after I blasted him at a failed attempt to groom me. (And told me I had done exactly the right thing in this situation. Also, hi, if you know who I am from there!!!) (Story time if ya'll want I look back and think its the funniest thing ever how I dealt with him 💀)

[bluerockcandy]

Ok but like picture this:

CW is the personification of time, hes a time god, so while he can stop time, speed up, slow down, he isnt always consciously aware of the speed of time. BUT, lets think of time as a part of him. So, when he likes people, wants them to succeed, even peripherally, time seems to be in their favor.

People often say oh time flies when you’re having fun and drags when you’re not. What if this were actually true. CW isnt always focusing on the people he likes, but time is him so it also favors these people. They will always just make it to class right before the bell or save someone just in time, an attack will be a second too slow.

For danny, however, CW is basically a grandfather. CW loves danny. So time is like an eager puppy that wants to please him. If hes having fun with his friends and thinks, i wish it could always be like this, time fucking dilates for him, it really does go slower. When hes bored time speeds up just a little bit.

That was a long ass lead up to my fic idea but anywayss. Imagine danny gets old, time passes, but not really for him. Its probably a mix of being a ghost and CW being his grandfather, but hes stopped aging at some point. He loses his sense of time. When its always stopping and starting and speeding along and slowing down, it tends to lose some of its meaning. So he lives and lives until one day he realizes the world has completely changed around him. He’s become something of a homebody, staying in his home for months at a time, imaging the stars, recording star maps, generally enjoying his life.

Theres a knock at the door. More of a thud, really, and when he goes to check it out, he finds a man- a man bat? -slumped against his door. He’s baffled. But the man- man bat? -is injured, so he brings him in.

He tries to take the armor off, before giving up it just phasing it off of the guy. Not all of it, he leaves the cowl over the top of the face and the underclothes stay put, he’s not disrespectful, thanks you very much. He does what he can to patch the guy up. Its much easier to do on someone else rather than himself. The man bat guy doesn’t seem to be badly injured, a broken ankle, a fractured wrist and bruised ribs, but what really seems to have taken him out is a bad concussion, he guesses, judging by the fat ugly knot on top of the dudes head.

It is no matter, he thinks, he will just have to stay here and recover. And so danny drifts off, to put some food aside for his unexpected guest and to get back to work.

He genuinely forgets about the guy until he hears a thump. Trying to sneak out, the man bat has fallen. Now, normally, theres no way in hell Batman would have fallen. But when he’s seeing in quadruple and his head pounds with every beat of his heart, he can probably forgive himself for this little mistake. Maybe.

Danny floats on up to him.

Wait

Y am i writing this all out lol. I was just gonna outline my idea and dip 😭.

Basically, he helps bats recover, but finds he really likes hanging out with him. So time comes into play and slows down, just for them. When bruce is finally healed and can reach out to someone, the world has changed again. Shit went down in gotham. The city has changed. He doesnt understand at first. Its not really wirher of their faults, but hes- he doesnt know how he feels, sad, mad, frustrated, at a loss. He feels it all, in great detail, and it weighs heavily on him. But well, hes made friends with danny in the years- years???!! - hes been with danny. He goes back. They make up and stay together til bruce succumbs to old age bc he isnt the same as danny. Nvr was and wasnt going to be but at least they could enjoy their time together. The end.

[crushedsweets]

As someone who had been part of the creepypasta fandom since 2012, I agree with anon. I see SO much BS now that I never had to deal with until now. People apparently can't have head cannons anymore; you can't like so and so or the classic hate against AU's. As someone older, I do not care. This is supposed to be fun for everyone. I'm not letting some 12–15-year-old tell me how to enjoy myself. Also Gatekeeping is just cringe.

Really ?!? When I was 9-11 on qoutev reading fics/roleplaying, I remember people were really mean about anything that wasn’t “canon” (whatever that means at this point) and being really mean to “Mary sues” and self inserts .. Nowadays I feel like everyone I meet is like “yeah my AU is like this, but I like how your AU does this!” LOL

I think the biggest gatekeeping issue I see nowadays is “they’re killers!!! They’re cold hearted and this is supposed to be the SCARY FANDOM!!! If you make them anything other than horrifying monstrous creatures, you’re stupid and lame and boring and a child!” And the realism vs fanon vs canon etc debate.. but I literally couldn’t care less like this fandom was built on anime boy jeff the killer x readers you cannot convince me otherwise

I wish there was a better way to distinguish creepypasta (the scary stories) from the creepypasta fandom (the characters and relationships and comics and animations and cosplay etc etc)

Anyway that’s just my experience but I hope that u guys are able to find good healthy circles of people who embrace new interpretations and creative story telling and interesting designs and all! That’s the best part of this fandom and what makes it so much fun

Edit; not to say that what u described DOESNT happen though HAHA I’ve had people make some remarks about my stuff and whatever so I know it’s true !

EDIT 2; THIS WAS ABOUT STUFF I SAW ON TIKTOK IN LIKE SUMMER 2023 DONT SEND ME ASKS GOSSIPING SBOUT SPECIFIC PEOPLE THANK UUUUU

[drkmgs]

Make this a very special one please!

Can you do a fic about Reader is Wednesdays big sister and wednesday is still a little baby and is like 4-5, So Reader takes care of wednesday while her parents are gone. But wednesday is never happy around reader and only happy around others so she acts cold and mean to reader ( As usually ) and doesnt behave, So Reader gets angry and avoids her. and Wednesday gets EXTREMELY Murderous and furious because of it.

Older Sister

Wednesday Addams x Sis! Reader

Warning: flame gun.

I don't often get requests, so why not do it? It will be my first time writing from a female Reader's perspective but I still used "you". It isn't extremely murderous and furious for a Wednesday Addams, because I think her sadistic side would be built up by the time she grows up and Maia Weems is just the young Gwendoline Christie, I have been seeing her old pictures everywhere, so might as well use them...

Being an older Sister comes with big responsibilities because how do you expect a child to look after another child? Anyway, you just turned 18 and your parents thought it would be a nice idea to leave your 4-year-old baby sister with you while they're out of town and do what evil knows! Do you have any idea how to take care of a 4-year-old? No, but you tried your best to get along with your younger sibling, which you think would never happen.

You're about to pack your things and abandon this house. You can't imagine where this little thing gets her energy from. She's been running around the house with a machete in her hand when she's supposed to be in bed for her afternoon nap. Your patience is growing thinner and thinner over time.

The whole house knows if you're mad — a deafening silence would be present in the house, and it would make normal people mad and wish to be sent to an institution. So, when you had enough of Wednesday Friday Addams's shenanigans, you treat her like a ghost. She would say mean things to you, taunt you, and/or give you the cold shoulder, but you didn't care anymore.

You asked Grandmama and Uncle Fester to look after Wednesday since she would listen to them — while you do one of your school projects, which isn't due after the summer — not like any Addams, people seem to like you and were willing to partner with you. You were excited about Maia Weems coming over. She's magnificent. She's literally like her mother and she looks 100% like her, just years younger. You have had this crush on her since you both started Nevermore and you definitely want to impress her.

You were in the middle of doing your makeup when a little dark cloud opens your bedroom door. "I'm glad you realized you aren't a good babysitter and gave the authority to Grandmama and Uncle Fester." Wednesday had her hand barely on the doorknob. "but Mother and Father explicitly said YOU should look after me." Wednesday added and stepped into the room. You flicked your finger, causing her to be sent out of the room and the door slammed onto her face. This angered the little viper and she silently walked away, thinking what the best way to get her revenge was. The doorbell rang through the whole house and she looked outside the window, there she finds her solution to her problem.

You let Maia enter the house, and you could see her face light up at the sight of the house, you could tell she liked the aesthetic of it. You toured her around the house, not thinking about where your sister is, not until you see an incoming arrow, you were about to flick it away but Maia caught it in time. She was shocked but still had a smile on her face and that's when she noticed Wednesday hiding behind the door. "Oh wow, Who do we have here? Hi! I'm Maia, your sister's friend. What's your name?" Maia kneeled in front of Wednesday just a few feet away.

When Wednesday didn't answer Maia looked up to you for a little help. "That's Wednesday. My little sister." You introduced the 4-year-old hiding behind the door. "Wednesday? What a unique name, where does it come from?" Maia asked still looking up at you. "Our mother named her after her favorite rhyme 'Wednesday's child full of woe'." You looked at Wednesday, you gave her one of your signature signs — raising an eyebrow — meaning what was the arrow for? Wednesday didn't say anything but just shrugged and slammed her door, which caused Maia to flinch and lose her balance, but you were quick to hold her up. You received a thank you from her, which you acknowledged with a nod, but your brain was in full gear thinking about what is Wednesday up to.

Both of you sat in your room on the bed and it was awfully quiet. Too quiet for your liking. You had a gut feeling that Wednesday is up to no good. This didn't go unnoticed by the girl sitting beside you. "Y/N did you even listen to what I said?" Maia sensed your attention wasn't on her the whole time. "I'm sorry. What did you say?" You looked at her but still, you weren't fully attentive. Maia took your face in both of her hands and made you look her in the eyes. "I said, stop worrying about your sister" her face was inches away from yours which made you realize that and a slight blush creeps in on your cheeks.

That's when a little Wednesday Addams kicked the door open with a flame gun, which surprises Maia for a bit, then her facial expression changes to adoration. You were sitting there with your eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed at Wednesday. "Isn't she adorable, Y/N? Wednesday you look so cute with that flame gun." She said with a big full smile, which you love so much. This comment made Wednesday stop swinging the flame gun and turned it off. "Oh sweetheart, what's wrong? Did I say something bad?" Maia was confused seeing Wednesday's face start to distort into a...smile? and is that laughing? Is she laughing?

"Wednesday, you annoying little brat." You say which made her stop laughing. You snapped your fingers, which caused Wednesday to be trapped in an invisible rope, and floated in front of you. "Are you going to take your afternoon nap or I'll let Maia baby you until you get tummy aches from laughing?" You gently tell her, sure torture wasn't a big deal for her but laughing and a tummy ache is pure hell for your 4-year-old sister who's all melancholy since she was born. Talking to her gently was a sign that you mean what you said, being gentle in this family is odd enough, so when Wednesday got to hear your gentleness she had goosebumps all over her body, and made her tired.

The little girl yawned, still trapped in the invisible rope. Maia slapped your arm lightly indicating to let the little girl down, she stretched her arms to get the almost-asleep girl settled in her arms. You let Wednesday float above Maia's stretched arms and let her gently down. "I never knew you liked children?" Maia said rocking Wednesday in her arms. "I don't. I tolerate them." You move to stand up and show her Wednesday's room. Before Maia followed you, she looked down at the sleeping little girl and whispered "Be good to your sister, she loves you more than you know and I would appreciate it if you don't drive her mad, because I would like to marry her." The little girl squirmed in her arms, Maia knew Wednesday is listening and she knew this will change the relationship between you and Wednesday.

[starbeltconstellation]

hiiiii i hope you have been having an amazing summer! i hope this isnt that bothersome to ask since you’re still writing it out but i would like to ask around what month do you think you would be able to get the chapter that you are writing to come out? i also saw that you were saying that you were at around 40k words for this chapter so i don’t want it to seem like i’m trying to rush or anything, just genially curious. also hope that the fix doesnt end up being dropped for what ver reason since i think it might just be the only fic for the SW fandom that actually has me going back and re-reading and still able to enjoy it(which is a bit of a rare thing these days since i’m always surrounded by smut having fics, which is not a bad thing, but it can get old quite quickly).

also i have to say that this is the first time where the slow burn has actually been a slow burn and not just a lazy thing written out and having been given much thought. i really like how you have so far made each encounter between the oc and anakin not a copy and paste of their first encounter (with the oc being afraid of her life and anakin being just confused but both of them trying to figure out and work out their problems as each chapter comes out). this is all i have to say for now ig so again i hope you have an amazing day!!! 💕

Helloooo! 😊💕

Thank you so very much for the lovely ask and well wishes, dear reader duckling! 😁❤️✨ It truly made my day to see a new ask in my inbox . Hehe. ❤️❤️✨

And I’m soooo sorry for the late response! 😭❤️💔 It just takes me a while to get to asks sometimes with my life problems going on, especially because I want to dedicate the right amount of attention to giving my thoughts. But I just wanted you and all my other readers to know that I’m never ignoring you. 💕💕

It’s completely fine for you to check in and ask me about my chapter progress, dear! 💕✨ Makes me at least know someone’s still out there excited to see it. Haha.

I’ll put the rest of my answer under a read more:

Well, what I do for my Fic chapters is I try to split up the scenes from scenes from the actual EPISODES from The Clone Wars, and then write the other scenes from my own planned storyline in between everything else. What I had ORIGINALLY planned was to have each chapter be one episode of TCW, or another original storyline arc that I had chosen to add (ie; the Kudon III storyline). However, I very quickly realized that writing out a completely original storyline takes a lot fucking longer and more brain power than expected. 😭😖🫠 And not only that—the 🔥sensual Melakin scenes 🔥 take even TWICE as long as that. Lol. 😭 And so—QUITE sadly—I have had to admit to myself that it just isn’t feasible for my chapters to be that long, even though cutting TCW episodes in multiple chapters might break the flow of the story.

And so, after I FINALLY get out this whopper of a chapter (which I HOPE to have completed by the first weeks of August), I am NEVERRRR writing a chapter this long again. Lol. 😭🤦‍♀️

So rest easy with that, in the sense that hopefully a hiatus will never be this long again. I think the problem with writing chapters this long is that—for one—my SW hyperfixation is gone, which makes my writing way slower that it used to be (which I fucking HATE 😭🙃). For another, the problem is my depression steals my energy and motivation, and while the 25% of lovely reader comments I get out of the 70% silent ghost readers that I try to “pspspsps” into my comment feed, give me boosts of that good ol’ serotonin—at the same time: I think the problem is that, with the shorter chapters beforehand, I could write so much in one day, because in doing so, I would already get halfway done in only a few hours. But with such a long chapter, it makes me kind of dread writing for so long, to not even have the satisfaction of pressing “post” at the end of it all in reward. Lol. 😭💔🫠

And so, this chapter has gone at about a snails pace for that very reason. 😭😅

So, what I NOW am planning to do is to split each TCW episode and original storyline I come up with into probably a three arc format (ie; three chapters), which will make it much easier for me to write without getting exhausted. That way, the chapters should only be at the most 10 to 15,000 words (hopefully. Lol). 😅😂❤️

BUT! I will ease your mind by saying that no matter WHAT—I am NEVER abandoning this story. ✊😖❤️ It’s literally going to be my magnum opus. Now—I KNOW authors say that all the time and then become little lying liars who lie—BUT unlike them, I am writing this dream fix it fic specifically for ME. 😂❤️ So the only way I can have the story of my dreams is to FINISH this things someday. So I hope that eases your worries. Lol. 💕

And awwwww! 🥰🥰🥰💕💕💕 Thank you SO, so much for your kind words about my story and writing! It means the world to me that my fic seems to stand out on A03 and Wattpad to a lot of SW fans. Haha.

And thank you SO much for your compliments on how I’m writing Melakin’s developing slow burn/relationship and in their separate character arcs. It was really important to me that Anakin and Melanie weren’t just getting together to get TOGETHER. I like my stories to mean something, and if you’ve read my other meta posts, then you’ll know that Melakin’s romantic relationship has actually been PURPOSEFULLY paralleled with Anidala, to show the difference between how someone you love can actually make you grow to be BETTER, instead of a relationship where they both enable each other’s worst tendencies (even though the love may have been genuine).

But yeah, it was REALLY important to me that their slow burn was actually REALISTIC, because yes, I’ll admit some slow burns keep the two people apart for way longer than necessary just to have drama. But for Melakin, there’s just SO many reasons they can’t get together yet (ie; the Anidala secret marriage, Melanie’s lingering terror of Anakin, Anakin and Melanie still being barely even friends, and also Anakin’s future moral decay that Melanie remains at the same time disgusted by while trying to stop it from happening), so it makes the slow burn more genuine to me. Their relationship develops the more their CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT develops.

But anyway! You’ll be happy to know that I’ve COMPLETELY FINISHED all of my original scenes for my next chapter! 😊💕 So now—I only have to follow the transcript of TCW episode and write out the actual EPISODE STORYLINE—which will be WAY easier and shouldn’t take as long as before.

I’m not making any promises—but I’m AIMING for a new posted chapter in sometime in the next two weeks. So… just a heads up with that. ❤️❤️💕✨

Thanks so very much again for the ask, dear reader! 😊✨💕 It made my week. Haha.

Until next time! ✨❤️

-

To any new readers that stumble across this and are curious enough to check out my fic:

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@lemons-2-limes

@shoniwake

[demise-seems-dead]

@askingkyborg's main here to being you another emo chip mini fic! Spoilers for 33-36 and SHHH i know it doesnt make sense timeline wise because they go straight to the vampspire from town but shut up no they dont

this will be posted on ao3 when i fix my account btws!!

also also heavilyly implied OCD chip because yes <3

TW: Suicidal actions, ideation, etc. also minor disordered eating talk.

‘Care to spar with me, mon ami?” Chip looks up from the campfire at that point, maybe for the first time all day. His eyes focused up on Mathilde, the bird's eyes glinting softly. Of course, if Chip was honest with himself, that was a flat out no. Chip wasn't in the mood for being tactical, which is normally his thing. The only thing he wanted was for everyone to leave him alone. His brain has been on autopilot for the past two days and all he's done is sleep, eat and walk.

Chip isn't dumb. He knows mathilde is just trying to get him to do something, but what's even the point any more?

“Sure. I’ll spar, but we both know I'll lose.” The forced smile on his face wavers a bit.

Chip stands up, popping his back with a deep crackle. He sighs gingerly, and unlatches his arm blade. He knows I'd be smarter to use his crossbow if mathilde is going to fly, but it's not like he was intending to win. Chip is not a bad fighter, of course. No, he's actually quite good. It's just hard to think about when your mind is static and ocean foam.

Absently he loosens his neck, one of his habits that never ceased to leave him from years of assassin work. He always seems to have a crick in his neck, but it’s not really surprising. Chip had found himself in and out of jails, hostage situations, and attempted murder more times than he could shake a stick at. His body was a wheat maze of scars and old wounds, of torture and strain. But it was all part of the job, or at least that's the half assed excuse he gave himself.

The other part of Chip's fight ritual was coming into his surroundings. He followed mathildes movements in the clearing with lidded eyes, focusing in on the world for the first time since-...

Mathilde was moving cockily, as they almost always do. Slowly and elegant, feathers smoothed and freshly preened, it looks like. Chip raises his heels up off the ground, eyes narrowing in, trying to get lighter on his feet. His own body is different, and he feels less familiar with it. He's lost weight recently- not having eaten in a few days- too sick to his stomach from the previous weeks to even think about it. It wasn't a lot, but his shouldie hung off him in a different way. It made him wish he still had his D.A.G.A.R suit for training. His hand smelt like wild onions, and the rest of him like ash. He's been lighting the campfires with his tiefling abilities lately, instead of using his boy scout training from his childhood. Using that fire always drained him, but he can't help but be glad it helps him pass out at night rather than lie awake. He needed to sleep, to sleep, to dream and fight it off for a while. It's been his only time of peace for quite some time.

A few more seconds till the battle begins, mathilde is counting down, but he doesn't dare let the sound get into his ears. You focus on your target and your target alone when you fight. He’ll read their beaks movements for days instead of breaking his focus if he needs to.

Chip repositions, moving his left side forward. Not only is it the hand he's got his armblade on, but it helps hide his weak spot- the crossbow wounds still healing from the previous night. Barney had given him some healing in between, but in the night he'd gently picked at it. The red stains have always calmed him down, and on himself no different. Red meant alive still, red was the enemy, but red meant weakened and ready to die. To embrace the people they miss… so…so…bad.

Mathilde moves, battle begins. He knows they're saying something snarky but he's too tuned out to regard it. He's watching and commanding from third person, and that's just how he wants it. Bob down, weave right. Mathilde lands a firm noncorporeal blow to his face, and he gasps out a little, breaking part of his concentration. A smooth trickle of blood drips from a now busted lip, and chip can't help but smile.

The chipper killer. That's what people used to call him, back in the day. Always had a smile when he killed, made jokes and jabs. This was basically the same, just less lethal. A laugh busts through chips teeth, and he smiles. Mathilde obviously looks a little shocked by his reaction. 

Chip plants his left foot, pressing all of his weight on his toes and not his heels to keep him flighty. He takes a slash with his arm blade. His eyes shut, but fly back open in seconds. Mathilde has a sting of blood dripping from the cut over his chest, red plumage soaking even redder. Chip laughs, and he sounds wild. A snarky insult comes to his lips but he presses it down.He can't cause hesitation, you hesitate you die. He needs to get his target. 

Chips' eyes are blurry, and he can hardly make out the figure in front of him. He's used to shots in the dark though. The blurriness backs up, and a sneer falls into his face. Kill. His ears flicker down a bit, and he moves forward. The kill drive of his nature was seizing him, hands steady and brain calculated. A stab at the shadows, voice howling in his own skull. “DIE!” 

Blood was splattered onto his hands, and it didn't matter whos it was. There's shouting all around him. He wants his target dead. He wants everything to die. He wants to die-

“CHIIIPPP!” a high pitched squeak breaks his brain, and the haze fades. The dark shadows reform, and suddenly he sees mathilde, blood dripping down their front and hands in front of their face, not in cowardice but in preparation for attack. An attack from him. 

Chips eyes shoot down at ellga, who was the one who snapped him out of it. His arm blade glistened in the draining sun, wet blood still on it. He looks up at mathilde, and the bird gives a sympathetic look at the absolute horror streaked across Chip's face.

“Mathilde i am so-’ “Don't be sorry, we were sparing, you just got a little into it is all. im fine, barney can heal me right up-”

“Already on it” the old man blurts, but looks at Chip with a spike of fear that makes the tiefling want to dry heave. 

“I-I-”

Chip runs a hand through his hair, unable to talk. He knew his killing nature was catching back up to him with carol dying, but now he's going back to how he was. 

Chip stumbles a little, back into ellga. He jumps forward and turns, pulling his hands all the way away. Sweat beads down in a streak off his chin.

‘IM- i- I'm gonna go forage-!” Chip announces with his most normal smile, his fakest smile, and turns on his heel. Mathilde makes a noise like they're going to talk, but just sighs, and it wills Chip into walking even faster in the opposite direction. He stumbles his way down the hill, moving away from the patch of grass they'd been at and into the main town of vania. He bumps into every person there, and several ask him if hes alright from the blood on his hands and his face. They don't know him, they don't know he's a monster. They don't know he's a friend hurter, or that he's the reason his wife is dead. They don't know anything, so Chip doesn't say anything. He just walks.

By the time the sun starts setting, Chip doesn't even know where he is. Vania isn't huge by any stretch of the imagination, but chip is already lost enough in his own mind to know where exactly he is in this unfamiliar place. After a while, he settles, tucked behind a building and hidden, breathing heavily.

He stares at the blood on his hands, and he twitches. Chip has never been a messy killer. Blood makes his hands itch, too wet then too dry. Dirty and disgusting. As much as he hates the smell of bleach, he always uses it for crime scenes. Blood was too dirty. Filthy, nasty, and wrong. He's been nervously rubbing his hands for hours, the blood mainly off, but still feeling like it's on there. He rubs some more at it, and curses under his breath.

He hurt his friend. 

He's a bad omen. An omen of death.

He's killed hundreds.

He's a bad person. An omen of death.

He's the reason his wife is dead.

He's a bad husband. An omen of death.

He's the real problem.

A monster. An omen of death. 

Why does he even bother being ALIVE? 

Chip sighs, running a hand through his hair and then wincing. Now that's contaminated too. Everything about him is dirty and wrong. Tears threaten his eyes, pushing into the corners and making a soft noise as they roll over his cheeks.Days of lapsing suicidal urges and injuries have snapped him into a terrible, terrible place.  Softly he presses his forehead onto his knees, feeling the cool scared up skin over his hot face.

He's not sure how long he rests but his dreams are uncomfortable. Swirling memories of killings past. Bad bad memories. They never bothered him before, but now he knows what it's like to lose somebody. Now he knows how much of a monster he really is. 

He's only ever startled awake by voices. Mushing noises of high and low pitches. He opened his eyes, and they flooded over with brightness. He stifled a groan, headache and ready airdropping into his skull and ears ringing like a kenku scream. His eyes focus, and he sees several balls of gleaming light, and his party in front of them. 

“What is tarnation…?” he grumbles, and the light speckles vanish, the sun's last entrails covered by mathilde spreading their wings. His eyes go up to his team mates who are staring at him with worry in their eyes. He winces distantly, feeling a spike of guilt as he sees mathildes feathers pushed out of place and puffed up. 

‘Oh.. uh… hey guys..” He rubs the back of his now sore neck.

“Chip crétin! Je devrais avoir ton visage pour ça, pourquoi diable m'enfuirais-tu comme ça, Ellga était inquiète, Barney était inquiet, j'étais inquiet d'avoir crié à haute voix ! Ce n'est pas si mal, je vais bien, c'est bien!” mathilde scolds in panicked sounding French, grabbing Chip by the collar of his hoodie and yanking him up.

 Ellga huffs. “Why’d you run off? It's fine! You two were having fun! It was a play fight. It's not real! Mathildes is not dead- well, they are, but it's unrelated!”

“I-” chip sighs heavily, shutting his eyes a bit. “You're right. Sorry. I guess…” chip searches for the words in his head, scrambling to think of what to say. Tiredness flushes over him in a wave, and he lets out a sigh, throwing his hands up. He lets his head embrace the wall behind him, and his horns click on it. 

‘I'm just.. I'm just so..so..tired.” he gives. “I didn't mean to hurtcha’ mathilde, I just got lost in my own head. Guess my…killer ways are catching up with me…” “Well you’d never intentionally hurt any of us. You told me coming into town that you're a good assassin.” Barney tries to encourage, but chips heart falls. “Yeah, well…is there really such a thing?I'm still a murderer” he chokes, and his body tingles with the feeling of blood splats from past kills all surging up and bubbling under his purple skin.

“Nonsense. Words are all made up, mon ami. One isn't worse than another. An assassin is a profession, and a murderer is apparently a death sentence to ‘za living. It dos’ant matt’ar! Those titles don't dictate who you a’hre, the people who love you do. And I say you're perfectly fine. We all do bad t’ings sometimes.” Chip sighs at mathildes word, ever wise in their later later years. “I suppose.” he says, not at all convinced. Ellga frowns, and it makes Chip want to bury his head in the vanian dirt. She turns to the alchemist, who Chip had almost forgotten about.

“Mr alchemist, do you have any cures for sadness?” “Not…quite, ellga, but i have somethings that may help, if chip here is willing.” The room pauses, and all eyes form onto Chip. “Awh, what da heck..?”

“Give me your arm blade.”

“What?” Chip stares at Robert like he's crazy. “Just hand it to me.” Chip sighs, and unties the arm band to it and tosses it over to the alchemist, who catches deftly. He looks at it for a moment, and then tucks it into his bag.

“How's that supposed to help? That's my best stealth weapon.'' Chip finds himself grumbling.

“Exactly. That way if you try to hurt yourself, you don't have anything silent to do it with.”

“Oh.” He momentarily wants to fight off the claim, but the arrow wounds in his foot and his lower neck burn with a shot of pain to remind him. 

“Okay.”

“Besides that-” Robert continues momentarily, digging around in his bag, tophat sliding down his head, “I've got a potion I want you to try. It should help.”

He extends out a vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid. Chip extends a gloved hand, and takes it. He removes the cap with a pop, and tips it back. He drains the liquid in a quick motion, and wipes the corner of his mouth.

“I don't feel any different. I just feel really tired and useless, mainly.” He says, and his head flinches back at his own words. Robert smiles, and taps the vile.

“Truth telling serum. Now you can't hide anything from us.” he pats his shoulder as he chuckles.

Chip goes to scold, but realises everything would get turned on its head when he says it. 

Mathilde snickers. "There isn't any way to heal depression with a potion, but now our too clever rogue cant hide anything from us.”

“You guys are my favourite people.” chip sighs, exasperatedly. Ellga squeezes his hand.

“Come on, let's go to the vampspire. Maybe seeing my home will cheer you up.”

“Yeah… maybe it will.”

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

shepshermitdesign23 WEEK ONE

grian as a rogue

he is an avian rogue, chaotic neutral, he uses kind of long metal hooks that he holds in both hands (think jet from atla) his background is that he's yk looking for scar hes trying to find info on scar so when it says "grian needed that information" thats what i meant cuz he doesnt know where scar is and NEEDS to find him (that's his motivation)

(1946 w)

tw: slight blood, battling with magic and also not magic, yeah

i wrote this for @shepscapades hermit designing thingie but i decided to write a fic for it instead, as my drawing skills leave much to be desired lmao- so uh here have roguey grian being a rogue and stealing things! (btw i did not edit this even once so its really rough just bear that in mind while reading sldkjfs)

The stars are him, and he is the stars. This is a fact, something he knows beyond doubt, something that’s always been there underneath, rippling against the waves of Grian’s life. So as he leaps across the rooftops, a shadowed figure wrapped in black and gray, he stares up at them, breathing deeply to calm his rabbiting heart. This is fine. It’s just another heist, another job, it’s the last one.

It’s the last one. And of course, his last day on the job, he’s given an offer he can’t refuse, the biggest and most important thing he’ll probably ever do. Grian has been sent to steal the crown. The king’s crown. Ren’s crown.

Grian knew Ren once upon a time, before he was consumed by the power that was offered to him. He remembers how they would go out for drinks at the pub, laughing and towing along their respective boyfriends, betting on the raucous barbarians that just couldn’t help but pick fights with each other after getting tipsy on a few drinks.

But that was almost a different life. Now Grian’s older, he’s smarter, and he can’t remember the last time he laughed. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he smiled. When Ren became king, when it was revealed that he was the heir who had been missing for so long, Grian was adamant against a resistance. He decided that it was best to just… stay in the shadows, in honor of their old friendship.

And he’s been surprisingly good at doing so. But the offer he’s gotten… well. Let’s just say it’s something he can’t refuse. Someone he can’t refuse- or rather, information regarding to their whereabouts from a very reliable source. The only reason Grian is going to be able to pull this off is because if he does, he knows what could be at home waiting for him.

He’s been so lost in his thoughts he’s almost missed his stop, and he tucks his hooks into his belt, making sure his wings are properly bound to his back, their bright colors sure to give him away otherwise. The castle looms in the distance- Grian’s target. He pulls out his spyglass, taking note of the guards patrolling around the castle, Ren’s trademark red banner hanging from their waistbands.

How is he going to go about doing this? He scans the castle walls for an obvious in, but if there’s one thing to be said of Ren, he is not lax in his security. His eyes rove over the towers once again, hoping that maybe he’s just been a little bit mistaken, but no. Every inch of this castle is swarming with guards.

“Fuck,” Grian curses under his breath, putting his spyglass back into the pack and tightening his fists on his hooks, trying to come up with an alternate plan. He could go in by brute force, incapacitate or kill all the guards on the way up to the treasure room, but the problem with that is to be honest, he doesn’t know if he’d be strong enough.

Another option lies in the fact that he can fly- if he wished, it would be as easy as one, two, three to unbind his wings, soar up to where the jewels are kept, and enter through the window. But he’s certain someone would see him coming, maybe even the Hand, and Grian doesn’t want to have to deal with that. In fact, he’d rather he has to exert as little force as possible. His strengths lie in being sneaky, not strong, and though he often wishes he had a little more muscle on his bones, he knows where his forte is.

So, what’s the ploy? Grian slides down the roof a little further, crouching and hoping he won’t be seen. He supposes that if he wants to pull this off without getting caught, his best bet is… going through the trash chute. God damn it. Grian heaves a disappointed sigh, but it’s not like there’s any better option. He jumps nimbly down from the roof and begins to follow the sewers, divots of odorous rushing liquid carved into the ground. 

He’s memorized the floor plan of Dogwarts Castle, to the very point that he knows which pipes lead where and when. He crawls into the ground, soaking his front in the foul mixture of rot and feces. Only a couple years ago, Grian would have found this idea appalling, and though it still freaks him out a bit, he’s resigned now to the things he needs to do if he wants that information.

And he does. He wants it more than everything. So he crawls forwards, breathing shallowly through his mouth to block out the stench, his memory the only thing leading him through the pitch dark maze. Turn right, then left, another left, right again. There should be a ladder here. He blindly runs his fingers against the dead end he’s come across, and sure enough, a cold rod of metal sticks out from the wall. Grian moves his hands upwards to feel another, and another, and another, until he’s standing to his full height.

Then he grabs hold of the rung right above his head and begins to climb. He pulls his whole body upwards with each strong push, going four rungs at a time to save energy. He’s so close, he’s almost there. He can see the light peeking through the end of the tunnel, and he closes his eyes for a second, recalibrating to figure out where he is. That’s North, then East, South, and lastly, West. So he’s in the bathroom across the hall from the jewel room. Good. So long as no one’s taking a poo right now, Grian’s in the perfect position. 

Plus, he’s so covered in human waste that even if someone is to see him, they’ll probably just assume he was cleaning out the sewers. He quickly climbs up the last couple rungs, his head poking out into a decrepit stall. Pulling himself out of the toilet, Grian briefly considers dumping the ubiquitous bucket of water sitting in the corner over his head, but in the end decides against it. It could make too much noise, leave too much of a trace, and his employer for this job has insisted very particularly that Ren or any of the guards cannot know, under any circumstances, that Grian’s the one stealing the crown.

Flipping locked the latch on the door quickly, he peers through the moon-shaped window, waiting for a gap in the constantly rotating circles of guards. Before he leaves, he makes a quick glance to the door of the jewel room across the hall, the horizontal slit in the golden lock telling him all he needs to know.

For whatever miraculous reason, the door is unlocked. Grian takes his chance, opening his door and leaping across the hall in one fluid motion, quickly sliding into the treasure room before the sounds of chatter from the end of the stony, lamp-lit hall get any louder. He slides his hand up one of his hooks, using the pointed end as a sort of skeleton key to lock the door. A quiet clicking sound tells him he’s met his goal, and he slowly turns around, his heart beating haywire in his chest.

He stumbles backwards as he realizes someone else is here as well. He’s a warlock, his blond hair cut off at his shoulders, a black headband pushing it out of his eyes. The man’s robes are a dark green (an unconventional color for a warlock, Grian notes,) a looping sigil imprinted in the center of his chest. His eyes are a light, piercing blue, a staff clutched in his right hand and a sphere of red light dancing in his left.

“Hello, Martyn,” Grian barks out in a laugh, because he should have known, he should have known. There’s no way Ren would make it this easy for him, and the door to the treasure room being unlocked was a big giveaway that he ignored. And why was he so careless? Because he needs this information, he would do anything, he would- he would kill his own mother if it meant he got to know. And because of this, he’s been unspeakably sloppy.

“How’ve you been, buddy?” Martyn smiles darkly, his skin shallower, his eyes more sunken then when Grian saw him last. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, for sure, too long,” Grian agrees, trying to drag out the conversation long enough to gauge his chances of winning this fight, and if that’s not an option, how he can nab the crown and fly out before Martyn can react. He’s already shrugging the bindings off his wings. “How’s Ren doing? Tell him I say hi, yeah?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Martyn grins, his teeth pointed, more animalistic than Grian remembers. “You can tell him yourself, right before you’re sentenced to death for betrayal of the kingdom.” The warlock lunges, lobbing the sphere of red energy at Grian’s now unbound wing. He just barely dodges, feeling the edges of his feathers singe as the wall behind him implodes.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, Martyn,” Grian mutters through gritted teeth, clenching his fists even tighter around his hooks and lunging forward, dodging the staff and hitting Martyn square in the stomach. The warlock grunts and flies backward, clutching his midriff and glaring darkly at the rogue who’d caused him pain.

“You’re asking for it,” he growls, assuming a powerful stance and spinning his staff, a whirlwind erupting from its end, tracing its way towards Grian. But Martyn’s underestimated the avian once again, and he leaps above the tornado, jumping nimbly around the room. If he can just lead it towards the glass case that holds the crown, the power of the wind will break the glass, and Grian will be home free.

He’s already gotten a good hit in on Martyn, and to be honest, he feels a little guilty about it. They used to be friends; there was a time before Ren cornered the enchantment market and took over the kingdom. There was a time when it was just Ren, Martyn, him, and Scar at the pub. Oh god. He stumbles, tripping up- and it nearly costs him his life. Focus, Grian. He can’t think of Scar right now. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Glass is imploding all around him, and all of a sudden, his goal is met: the display case for the crown splits open, sharp shards flying all over, grooving scratches into his skin and clothes. Martyn’s eyes widen, realizing his mistake too late. Grian is quicker, grabbing the crown and turning quickly, aiming a swift kick to Martyn’s head. It connects, and he falls to the floor, momentarily dazed.

Grian could kill him, right here and now. It would be as easy as a quick snap of the neck, and for a moment, he considers the possibility.

But he’s a sentimental fool and he’s too soft for this, he still remembers the time when they were all friends. And so he leaves Martyn laying on the floor, growling quietly in his ear before he leaves: “Don’t forget this. I left you alive when it would have been so much simpler to kill you. You could leave, Martyn. Join me and leave. We could use your skills.”

And then Grian’s gone, jumping out the window and letting his wings flare out behind him, the king’s crown clutched securely in his hand, flying out into the stars, out into the sky that has become his home.

[rin-hanarin]

There's this 11 years old Homestuck fic that forever changed my perception of the post scratch timeline called Like Forgetting the Words.

I think about it sometimes and I imagine Rose and Jade would remember important bits and pieces, but Dave and John wouldn't. Alpha Dave gets the shades and the bunny, "had brief obsession with Con Air" according to Dirk, built and entire memorabilia museum, but he doesn't consciously remember. He'd watch things John Crocker was starring in by accident and have a good laugh at how dumb and friend shaped he is and get an unbearable sense of longing for something, but he wouldn't remember anything still. Then one day Rose takes him to some random grave in Washington and says that she needs to visit a friend, and she brings flowers and talks to the stone, and Dave just kinda watches her do that. She asks him vague questions and he has no answers, so he one day comes back alone to the grave and brings red flowers, saying something like "thats probably blasphemy or some shit i hope your family doesnt freak out if they ever see that". He finds the meaning of these flowers in a book by a certain J. English Rose conveniently gifts him one day, and it's something really specific, written in a manner young girl would write and not a famous old rich woman. He comes back to the grave every year in April, talks about whatever at it and has one-sided conversations with himself, and wishes "John" a Happy 13th one day in 2009 and finds it hysterical that it's the date of his death on the gravestone for some reason. He comes to the grave one last time after killing the juggalos because he thinks he saw a flash of blue there and says that he "wanted to bring these motherfuckers heads to you didnt you hate clowns or something? thats kinda fucked up now that i think about it i dont wanna defile your grave with these pieces of shit bro my bad". He dies to the Condesce and thinks that maybe he'd get to see them again.

Young John Crocker would spend hours listening to clocks ticking and writing in journals in different colors, trying to find the right one with the right voice to go with it. He ends up being left behind by his sister, the last thing remaining is her garden with a wide selection of rose plants, so he looks after it to pass the time, begging of Betty not to destroy it. He has a great interest in film and the way it develops during 1900s, but never someone to share it with, and he so desperately wants to that he end up writing his every thought about it like he's writing a letter to someone. He would collect vinyl records and scratch them sometimes for no apparent reason, and asks his son in his will to auction his collection some day after his death, only for some rich movie director to buy them later for such an obscene amount of money that Mr. Crocker expects him to ask for a refund. He never remembers anything, but his family recalls how detached he was sometimes, like his thoughts were in a completely different world, and in the end of the day no amount of movie roles and comedy gigs made him any less lonely.

[bi-as-in-bi-bitch]

hello! how did you know you were bi?

the way I reacted whenever asami sato came on screen was in no way normal enough for me to be straight

nah but seriously:

wow, i have not thought about that in years... its actually pretty hard to pinpoint exactly when, but ill try to go over the main points:

i realized i liked girls in seventh grade, in the middle of a private religious school, while i was thinking about how pretty jenna coleman was in doctor who.

i wa sitting next to my extremely conservative best friend. and i immediately panicked and said to myself "no, we're not doing this."

i repressed myself for a while, kept saying to myself that i liked guys, only guys. i had major crushes on danny phantom and my 6th grade math teacher and this bollywood actor (hrithik roshan in dhoom again)

so i said to myself that i couldnt possibly be gay, i liked guys!

but girls were so freaking pretty. why did my heart race when a cute girl smiled at me? why was i so scared around the girl i really really wanted to be friends with? why couldnt i stop staring at my geography teacher like that?

i honest to god thought i was lying for attention. idk whose attention, its not like i told anyone i was having these feelings.

i kept it so so repressed and convinced myself i was lying to myself.

then i went to high school and met people that were pan, bi, gay. i made an instagram, a tumblr, a wattpad account for my doctor who fics, and i started to learn this whole new vocabulary on how to describe sexuality and gender preferences and whatnot.

i finally came to the realization that i am not gay, i am not straight: i'm bisexual. guys are cute. girls are cute. liking one does not diminish how much i like the other.

i was so happy to have a way to describe myself. but at the same time, i went through a phase of hating myself for liking girls. i felt like i was a weirdo when i took notice of a cute girl. it took me a while to get over it and start accepting that what i am and how i feel is not wrong, im not hurting anyone by having these feelings.

i accepted that i was bisexual when i was 15 years old.

i started coming out to my friends around tenth grade. i remember i was so nervous and my hands were clammy. i said i was bi, and they laughed and patted me on the back. i went on a walk with my best friend and she noticed the pride bracelet i had on, and asked me about it. i remember being so scared when i muttered 'i'm bisexual,' and she immediately got the biggest grin on her face and punched me in the arm (shes not good at physical affection), and told me she was so proud of me and happy that i felt safe enough to come out to her.

coming out to people at my age isnt as big as a deal to me anymore - i go to an arts college, literally every other person is some flavour of queer - but when i was growing up i didn't know that it was something that existed.

im proud of my identity and i wish i could share it with the world. i wanna hang bi flags in my room and wear pins that say 'i'm bi' on them and wear cuffed jeans and flannel shirts and carry a big sword (HUGE part of being bi). but i live in a conservative family, and ik that the older generation (my parents and their siblings) are never gonna understand me, so i cant be fully out, but that doesnt mean i cant be proud. i have stealth bi pins. i made a painting with predominantly pink, blue, and purple colours, and hung it up in my room. i own two plastic swords.

i made this sideblog mainly to rb posts that i wanted to find later, but i wanted to have something with my name on it where i could be blatant about the fact that i find men and women so goddamn attractive. hence, 'bi as in bi bitch' was made.

i wonder if this was helpful at all? i kind of went on a ramble there. is there anything you want me to elaborate on?

[jungkookstatts]

I bawled after reading wslm 😭 it was so beautifully written, my heart broke along with jk's 💔 if u dont mind, how does jk live out his life now that hes begun to heal? Id like to think that hes so devoted and in love with oc that he doesn't marry anymore or even if he's healed. Idk, they seemed so in love, i feel like they considered the other as their soulmate. In my mind, jk doesnt feel the need to look for a new partner bc the love they shared was enough to last this lifetime and beyond. I imagine him establishing and dedicating a foundation in her name, maybe adopt a kid too whos mom died of the same illness? Probably something that makes him feel connected to oc in some way

I'm so glad you liked ㅜㅡㅜ it was a tough one to read fs.

I wrote a little about JK and the after, like what he would do on each other's birthdays and anniversaries after y/n passed here.

But the healing process for JK is most definitely a long and excruciating one. He defo could not marry anyone else. It's not that he does not want to feel the love of another person again, or that y/n wouldn't want anything but for JK to feel the love of someone else. It's just that he still does feel y/n's love despite her passing. Thinking about or pursuing another relationship when he still feels her love and still loves her wouldn't sit right with him. Y/n was and still is his soulmate. Hence, he would rather wait how ever long it took for his soul to meet hers again in another life. He goes on each day with the memory of her and her love holding him with each breath he takes. And that is enough for him.

As for foundations and kids, it's really hard to say. JK is a CEO, which means he's hella busy all the time. He makes bank, though. So realistically speaking, I'm not sure if he would necessarily have the time for a foundation. But you can bet he's donating whatever he can for research and funds for those who have the same condition as her. Maybe later on in life, like when he's an old geezer and retired, he may join a foundation and participate in it like he always wished he had the time to when he was working.

I feel like maybe. Maybe he would adopt a kid. Just one. It would be bittersweet. JK and Y/n had always dreamed of starting a family. But after her sickness, all they focused on was doing what they could with the time they had, which was just getting married. However, later down the line, he starts your wish of having kids. The baby would fill him with so much love. You can bet your ass he would love that little kid like no other. He would call Y/n mom when referring to her, and he would tell the child stories and show pictures of her whenever they asked. It was a good way for him to heal, too. Talking about Y/n often hurt, but when he was talking about her to his child, he felt reconciled.

Ah. That hurt.

This fic will never not make me shed a tear or two.

-Froot 🌱

[taintedtort]

oooohhh~ myyyy~ i dont even one to ask it, but characters reaction on older sibling is just so damn good. absolutely sweetest parts are Xiao's ofc and Kazuha's.boy can u imagine this reliefed sigh adeptus would let out when readers sib finally starts coming around?but another thing, how fun it would be since someone for a change felt brave enough to bully damn yaksha???id imagin3 Xiao's face at their first interaction would be priceless.("if i thought that y/n was strange human, her sibling is even more so" kind of tjoughts id imagine). Poor man would probably be so so surprised someone dared to act so harsh around an immortal being..oh well, at least they are not afraid of him, thats probably for the better.and damn u showed Xiao so cute like this, being happy his partners sib finally stops being such a meanie and now he can breath freely..

Kazuha is so sweet trying to win this person over with his natural calm friendly nature and poetic charms.how sweet of him to try and keep being nice even tho readers sib obviously acted unreasonably rude.true sweatheart.and Wanderer,im always happy when authors do not bend characters just for the sake of the sorry, i always feel like saying thank you honestly.because yes, there is no way Wanderer would just play a role (at least not after it doesnt work first time) and be sweet to obviously just as annoyed sibling of readers.he would treat them the same way they treat him, but still he loves his oartner and tries to uphold facade along with the sib as long as it needed.and ofc i love that u showed that Wanderer still not just illogicaly rude, he just blant and perfectly capable to hold a normal conversation.as long as other dont gets on his nerves so much..

Childe probably would be the fastest to actually bond with readers sibling, i agree with your vision on him.i mean, two grown ups gushing about their orecious sibs.tho i still think Ajax would act cautious not to anger the sib, since how dare he touch u too much when they re around?the audacity..noone wants sweet relationship they were building so hard to blow up again.

aand~ im happy u enjoy my feedback!u certainly deserve it, i adore reading your works even when i dont make a request.but honestly i get so exited when i see you post my requests.i hope ill find more ideas to send them to you again.

(btw if you dont mind im curious, how did you call your Wanderer in the game?do u prefer Kabukimono, Scara or Wanderer?aaand do you feel like ever writing for Kabukimono, Wanderers old innocent self, in platonic way ofc?)

- 🦊 anon.

OMG 🦊 ANON THIS IS SO LONG HAHA (not negative, i don’t mind it i think it’s funny)

you’re the sweetest istg 😭🫶🫶 i’ll be honest i wrote the older sibling thing when i was half delirious so i don’t even remember what it was about, BUT IM GLAD IT WAS ENJOYABLE EVEN THO I WAS SO HAZY WHILE WRITING (i didn’t even remember writing childe until you mentioned him)

to answer your questions, i did not get wanderer in game bcus the devil overtook me and i pulled for childe, didn’t have enough wishes for my babygirl.

overall i prefer wanderer i think, especially for writing purposes. i reallyyyy like character development as well, so wanderer is top for me. however, i still call him scara regardless because that’s just his name in my head yk??

i also know little to nothing about kabukimono because i don’t pay attention to lore, i’m so sorry i have terrible memory (i also never do quests if i’m being honest) so i wouldn’t know HOW to write about him, so probably not just bcus it wouldn’t be accurate 🤷‍♀️ (im not up to date on scara stuff AT ALL. literally everything i write about wanderer is purely knowledge from other fics i’ve read)

[surprisequeersubplot]

Hello, I'm here to gush about my favorite fanfics again! Tonight, we've got an epic Irondad multichapter on our hands that I wish I could read all over again for the first time! Even better, the author has recently started posting more little snippets in this universe, the most recent of which is a good old-fashioned outside POV! Might I bring your attention to the Before You Go series written by mak5258. Just an incredible gem, dare I say an absolute staple in the Irondad genre. Tony and Peter's dynamic is on point throughout. Peter feels very much like the capable teenager-almost-young adult that he is, with autonomy and independence, while still needing the balance of his parental figures in his life. Tony's arc of learning to trust and rely on Peter while caring and integrating him into his life more and more is an absolute highlight. May is fantastic in this one, and she and Tony have a great working relationship. If you're a little leery of kidnapping fics, let me assure you that despite the summary and prologue, the actual kidnapping plotline is a pretty small part of the actual story, and doesnt go quite as whumpy as a lot of other kidnapping fics do in this fandom. This is a slight spoiler, but it's in the tag so I think it's safe to mention that it's technically a bio-dad story as well, however it's done in one of the more interesting and unique ways that I've read. While it's a slow burn to the familial reveal, the wait makes the emotional payoff all the more poignant. Quick lil warning, tho, there is an element of dubious consent, but it's a small part of the overall story, not depicted on screen, takes place and the past, and is imo handled quite delicately.

So go on, if you haven't read it, then treat yourself. If you have, this is a great time to do a reread! Either way, grab a warm beverage, snuggle up under your favorite blanket, and dive in. I personally find this universe quite cozy. 💛

[buck-star]

BUCKY! SOFT! POSSESSIVENESS AND SLIGHTLY JEALOUS READER? DEFINITELY A GO!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Plus the picture you chose! This is amazing and perfect and uhhhh I love it so so much, just like your writing!

“Thought I could walk you back to the apartment. You know…the old-fashioned way.”

Biker!Bucky is hot and sexy! BUT BUCKY WALKING HS HOME THE OLD FASHIONED WAY? THIS IS SWEET, PERFECT! ADORABLE AND PRECIOUS!

He doesn’t say this to earn any reaction from you, so he misses the way your eyes soften.

Awwwww, he just wants to be cute! HE IS ALWAYS BUT THAT MAKES HIM EVEN SWEETER!🙂‍↕️❤️ I’m in love with him, now even more if ifs even possible!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

He’s loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt to offer up a triangle of smooth, tan skin.

BUCKY THAT'S ONLY OURS TO SEE!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but I ask myself too why we haven’t kissed him and his pretty skin and his pretty face, his pretty face and his pretty everything yet.🙂‍↕️😂

As if sensing your gaze, his eyes shift from the passing blur of the city and meet yours in the glass.

This is so sweet and intimate at the same time! Oh I love this man so much, and you make me fall in love with him so much harder. And I love him already sooooo much!🥺❤️

More passengers board at the next stop and he moves, giving his seat to an elderly lady with a heavy bag in each hand. She showers him with sweet praise before sitting and smiling at you.

He’s such a gentleman! So perfect! SO PERFECT! Our man our man our man our man!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

He laughs at something the older woman says, and you watch his blue eyes crinkle at the corners and the dark strands of his hair fall in front of his forehead.

We can’t blame those girls becuase Bucky’s precious, handsome, pretty and sexy. But luckily, HES ALL OURS! Hehe, when he laughs he’s so cute and ahhhh this man is the sweetest and softest!🥺🥺

Because it’s this moment he chooses to glance down at you, eyes soft and warm as he reaches to brush his metal thumb along your bottom lip.

Their dynamics! Urgh, he’s just the perfect boyfriend, only having eyes for his girl and knowing exactly how to make her happy and feel special — because for him she is!🥺🥺

You turn into his hand and press your mouth to his palm.

I’M GONNA CRY! I CANT handle that much softness today. But I love it! I adore it! Such a small gesture but so meaningful.

He kisses you sweetly in the middle of the street, causing several people to part and move around you, their muttered grumbles going completely unnoticed.

I WOULD MELT INTO A PUDDLE! Would he kiss me… and even more in front of others. He’s not afraid to let everyone know that he’s happy and has the girl he loves by his side!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

“I wasn’t done kissing you doll face,” he says with the corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparkling.

I adore and love how he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. I mean yes he talked to the elder lady, but just becuase it’s cute. BUT HE DOESNT CARE WHO IS STARING AT HIM, unless it’s his girl! He doesn’t care about it otherwise! He’s so perfect, such a gentleman.🥺❤️ YES KISS ME MORE! KISS ME SENSELESS!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

“I wish you could feel what I feel when I look at you doll,” he whispers against your lips. “Then maybe, just maybe you’d understand why I can’t look at anyone else.”

WITHOUT LYING! I have tears in my eyes. WOAH THAT WAS DEEP, so cute and with such a love and affection. This man! YEAH I LOVE AND ADORE HIM!🥺❤️

JO? THANK YOU! This was another masterpiece and I love you for it! Bucky’s the sweetest and I didn’t know I could fall more in love with him, but I just did. He has just eyes for her, for the girl he loves and he’s so soft. Their dynamics is so amazing and sweet! WE NEED TO WRAP HIM INTO A BLANKET AND CUDDLE HIM, KEEP HIM SAFE AND LOVED. He's so precious and I love the way you write him, I adore it.❤️❤️ NEW COMFORT FIC!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

This Is Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 918

Summary: You have a late day at work and Bucky wants to walk you home.

Author's Note: This is just some softness because why not! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness and fluff, maybe our reader feeling a little jealous and possessive hehe

The evening breeze ruffles the bottom of your dress, and the fabric tickles the back of your thighs as the scent of hot dogs and car exhaust drifts from the street.

You glance at the curb. “Where’s your bike?”

“Home,” Bucky answers simply as he takes your hand in his. “Thought I could walk you back to the apartment. You know…the old-fashioned way.”

He doesn’t say this to earn any reaction from you, so he misses the way your eyes soften.

You’ve both had late days. You were finishing things up at the office and he was working with Sam at the VA. Now, however, it’s time to go home and he insisted on meeting you so you could make the trip together.

The busiest part of the day has come and gone but you’re still lucky to find seats together on the crowded train. You watch your reflection in the window opposite you and even in the grimy glass and beneath the harsh, often flickering fluorescent lights, it’s impossible to miss how beautiful he is.

He’s loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt to offer up a triangle of smooth, tan skin. The open shirt frames his long neck, the tempting hint of collarbone peeking out just enough to make you wonder why you aren’t kissing it right now.

As if sensing your gaze, his eyes shift from the passing blur of the city and meet yours in the glass. Your reflections rock with the movement of the train, and he watches you too, a small, knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

More passengers board at the next stop and he moves, giving his seat to an elderly lady with a heavy bag in each hand. She showers him with sweet praise before sitting and smiling at you.

Bucky takes the spot in front of you, his right arm raised to grip the handrail suspended from the ceiling.

You now have an exceptional view of his torso and the front of his dress pants.

Yummy.

The sound of laughter draws your attention, and you see a group of girls seated only a few rows away. They sit with their heads pressed together and if their hushed giggles and wide-eyed stares are any indication, you know exactly what they’re looking at. Or rather, whom.

You look up to find Bucky looking down at the older woman, listening and oblivious to the leering glances being cast in his direction.

You can’t blame the girls. If you saw Bucky on the train you’d do whatever you could to get a better look. It makes you think back to the first time you met and how you were immediately drawn to him.

He laughs at something the older woman says, and you watch his blue eyes crinkle at the corners and the dark strands of his hair fall in front of his forehead. He looks boyish and gorgeous and you immediately glance over like the jealous wife you are and sure enough, every head in that group of girls is turned, eyes wide, mouths wider, swooning.

And even though you haven’t spoken a word, you begin to wonder if every thought you have is somehow projected onto a screen above your head. Because it’s this moment he chooses to glance down at you, eyes soft and warm as he reaches to brush his metal thumb along your bottom lip.

You turn into his hand and press your mouth to his palm.

He’s beaming when the train comes to a stop and takes your hand as you stand and pulls you out the door, sliding his arm around your waist as soon as you’re on the platform.

“I like this,” he says quietly, tucking you into his side.

You laugh. “Like what?”

“Walking you home.”

He kisses you sweetly in the middle of the street, causing several people to part and move around you, their muttered grumbles going completely unnoticed. The kiss is so soft, so earnest that your chest swells painfully and you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him to you.

The group of girls walk by and in the background you hear their wistful sighs and comments.

“She’s so lucky,” one of the girls says.

You pull away from Bucky and look their way, grabbing hold of his suit jacket possessively.

“Did you hear that?” you mutter.

“Hear what doll?” he asks, his eyes on you, having never left.

“Those girls have been swooning over you since we were on the train.”

“What girls?” Bucky asks, his full attention still on you.

You finally drag your eyes away from the retreating group to meet his.

“I wasn’t done kissing you doll face,” he says with the corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparkling.

His palm frames your cheek, and he pulls you closer, uncaring that you’re still standing in the middle of the busy city street.

You grab his wrist and lean into his touch.

“Bucky.”

The admonishment is totally empty, and he knows it, bumping your nose with his before the soft press of his lips is all you feel.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice them,” you whisper, eyes closed, and face pressed to his.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

Your eyes open.

“I wish you could feel what I feel when I look at you doll,” he whispers against your lips. “Then maybe, just maybe you’d understand why I can’t look at anyone else.”