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writingonleaves · 1 year ago

Text

things you never said (things you'll never say to me) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x original female character

warnings: swearing, sadness, angst, not my traditional fluff folks, very little dialogue, kinda a ramble disguised into a piece lol, google translated german, projection?? is that a valid warning

inspired by + title: "things i wish you said" by sabrina carpenter

word count: 2.8k

author's note: got into my feels randomly for this (incredible) song and decided to write something with it. also a part of @wyattjohnston 's lowkey loverfest 2k24!! hope you all enjoy this melancholy ride and please let me know what you think <3

*****

Nico Hischier has always been a leader.

You ask anyone in Naters or Bern who knew him growing up and they would say the same thing — he’s a polite, young boy with so much talent and a sensible mind. He may be the youngest of three, but everyone’s always turned to Nico for guidance. With a calming voice paired with a warm smile, it’s rare for Nico to steer anyone wrong.

And he sees it in himself too. Even when he was a rookie, when the C stitched into his jersey was only a blurred dream, he still felt like he had to lead by example. No one was expecting that of him, he knows that now, but he was a first overall pick, the weight of a losing team’s hopes on his shoulders. If he crumbled, those supporters’ hopes fell with him. His own hope would fall with him.

It took a few years, a pandemic, another first overall pick, a shit ton of roster changes, a new coach and other things to walk into a locker room that wasn’t used to losing. And Nico prides himself as being a leader in that transition. C on his jersey or not, he would’ve done it. Because he doesn’t know how not to.

Leanna always said he didn’t know how to turn it off.

When Nico had first met Leanna Spritz, it honestly was one of the worst first impressions he’s ever given. It was the morning after a brutal 6-1 loss against the fucking Flyers. The final score itself was bad, but the fact that it was against the Flyers rubbed more salt into the wound. He knew Lindy was gonna bag skate them all to hell and back the morning after and he just really wanted his cappuccino before to take away some of the bitterness.

All up in his head, he had crashed literally into Leanna. Before they both could comprehend, her cold brew had spilled. Somehow, Nico got away with an unnoticeable splash on his hoodie and no spillage from his own drink. But Leanna wasn’t so lucky. Her brown sweater wasn’t dark enough to hide the fact that half of her cold brew was on it while the other spilled to the ground.

“Fuck,” Nico had exclaimed, eyes widening and darting between her now coffee stained sweater, the empty cup on the ground and her red hair that only glistened with the sun rays. “Shit! I am so sorry. That’s totally my fault.”

Leanna had waved him away with a small chuckle as she dug into her purse for stray napkins. Far too nice for someone who now had coffee all over them because of him. “It’s okay. Mistakes happen.”

Nico looked at his watch and grimaced. Shit. He was going to be late to practice. And that would be even worse than usual with their horrible performance the night before. “Listen. I really want to buy you a coffee to make up for my clumsiness, but I’m gonna be late to work and-”

Leanna had nodded in understanding, lips quirked up. “Don’t worry about it. Promise. Go. Don’t be late for work.”

He had been so frazzled that all he remembered doing was blurting out another apology before practically running away, partially from embarrassment but also because he really did have to go.

A week later, Nico went back to the coffee shop. In the back of his mind was the redhead who he still owed a coffee to. But Nico’s also realistic and he knew he’d probably never see her again.

While he was patiently waiting in the long line, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He braced himself to interact with a fan, but turned around and was pleasantly surprised by who he did see.

“I thought that was you,” she had said, pink beanie over her hair and a twinkle in her eye. “Not going to spill coffee again on me, are you? I’m wearing white today.”

Nico swallowed before his brain turned back on and he grinned. “Good eye. And no. I promise I’ll be less clumsy today. And I’m less in a rush.” They were next in line to order and he ordered first before turning to her. She had tried to deny him but he just raised an eyebrow until she gave the barista her order.

“I’m really sorry again,” Nico said as they had shuffled out of line to wait for their drinks. “I hope the sweater didn’t stain.”

Leanna waved him off with her bright smile. “That sweater has been through too much for some coffee to ruin it. You don’t need to worry, Captain.”

Nico had been shocked that she knew who he was, which, in hindsight, is dumb. He’s not Jack, but he gets recognized a good amount around New Jersey still.

He cleared his throat. “Nico is fine.”

She smiled. “Okay, Nico. Well, I’m Leanna. Thank you for paying for my coffee. You didn’t have to, by the way, especially to clear your conscience.”

“That’s not why-well, it is. But I also, uh, are you in a rush?”

Nico remembers that day so well still, his English failing him despite living in North America for over five years as he basically asked Leanna on their first date right there and then. He remembers being thankful that she took some pity on him with her sweet smile and led them to a table. He probably would’ve stood there stuttering like a fool if she didn’t cut in.

“Nico?”

Nico blinks himself out of his memories as Jack walks into his living room. Sometimes he questions if he should’ve given Jack a key.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“We have skate,” Jack gives him a look. “Dude, take a shower. Quickly. Or we’ll be late.”

“Right,” Nico says, stumbling over to the shower. As the water’s warming up, his eyes stop at a purple bottle tucked in the corner of the sink. Hair oil. Leanna always joked that she couldn’t live without it. His hands twitch to reach for the bottle just so he can smell the grapefruit scent, but he forces himself into the shower instead.

He can hear Nina’s voice so clearly. Throw it away, she’d say in their mother-tongue that realistically Nico will never not be fluent in but sometimes is scared will slip away. Nina liked Leanna a lot, actually, the one time they met when she came to Jersey to visit last year. But Nina is also Nico’s sister, and cursed her name many times when Nico called her crying, waking her up in the middle of the night. She had stayed on the phone with him for three hours, letting him cry.

He forces himself to take a shower. To wake up a bit and shift his focus to the upcoming skate and game tonight. They’re playing the Rangers, which is just always a grind. He needs to be all in.

Nico keeps to himself while getting ready for practice, putting on his gear quietly while his teammates chatter about something or another around him. He speaks quickly to the equipment team about his skates and smiles in thanks. He catches a whiff of the perfume of their head of PR as she walks past in the hallway, and Nico swallows.

Realistically, he knows it’s not the same one. But it’s floral and smells like jasmine, so it might as well be.

As he’s driving home, he has the radio down low. He was never the one to fuss about putting his music on in the car. Because the world just works like that, a song that he doesn’t know the title to comes on. He hums along, because Leanna always played this song.

Instinctively, his fingers twitch to reach out to someone who won’t ever be in his passenger seat ever again. He can hear her voice, her thigh under his palm. It’s not safe to drive with one hand, she’d say with an amused laugh interlaced in her voice. He would always roll his eyes before giving her thigh a squeeze and keeping his hand there for the majority of their journey.

He remembers that sentence bringing him comfort when they were driving to her sister’s house in upstate New York. He was scared shitless to meet her whole family for the first time to celebrate her cousin’s birthday. It was below freezing point outside, but his hands were so clammy that one would’ve thought it was summer.

Leanna had put her hand in his hair at the nape of his neck. He had immediately calmed down.

He swears if he focuses hard enough he can still smell the green tea shampoo Leanna used. It was always interesting to him, because the first thing he would think of when he saw her flaming red hair wasn’t green tea. It deserved something more bold attached to it. Like orange. Or vanilla. Or coconut.

Because Leanna was exactly that. Bold. Bright. Crashing into the lives of everyone in her path with her bright smile, loud laughter and a personality that sucked you in.

Nico stops at a red light and absentmindedly looks to the right. His breath catches at the sight of a woman walking a beagle. Leanna always said that once she was more settled down, a beagle was the kind of dog she wanted to get, just like the dog she had by her side throughout her whole childhood.

At one point, Nico had thought she meant settling down in Jersey. Never did she give the indication while they were together that she had meant London.

He couldn’t force himself to unfollow Leanna on Instagram after the break-up. He catches himself way too often seeing if she still follows him. She does. And she even likes his posts most of the time. He checks.

Nico shouldn’t be surprised. Even though she cried so much when they broke up and he couldn’t handle it, through tears, she wished him nothing but the best. Even as she was actively breaking his heart.

As he pulls into the parking garage for his apartment complex, he kills the engine and just sits there. He should be focusing on the game tonight. Focusing on how they need to stop taking stupid penalties. Focusing on their positioning in the offensive zone.

You think too much, honey. Leanna would say, kissing his forehead twice, something she started doing to calm him down. You just need to play hockey. Least that’s what you always tell me. Everything else will follow.

And he would never admit it out loud — especially to Jonas — but he still repeats those words in his head. He’s not sure if it works, but it’s like a mantra. A routine. And hockey players know more than anyone how important routines are and how difficult they are to change.

It’s been two months and three days. It’s annoying that Nico can still hear her voice in his head, clear as day. He hopes one day he’lll never be able to remember. But he also dreads the day that he’ll forget what she sounds like.

He walks up into his apartment and pours out a glass of water, downing it in one go. The sun’s out for the first time in two weeks, and a small smile spills on his lips as he admires the sunlight through his glass windows. His eyes shift to a spot on one of the tables by the window on the right, where it seems like something is shining. His curiosity takes over and he walks over, a reminder popping into his brain that he needs to dust his apartment. Why does dust accumulate so quickly anyways?

His stomach drops. One of her combs placed nonchalantly behind one of his plants. The shine is coming from the light hitting the red hair caught between the bristles.

What the fuck?

Nico closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before hastily grabbing the comb and tossing it into the trash. She never officially moved in with him, but she was around the apartment enough to leave some things lying around here and there. He thought he had thrown everything out. Or more accurately, he trusted Jesper, Timo and Jack to do it for him during a particularly bad Saturday afternoon two weeks after everything fell to shit.

He checks the time and sighs. He needs to nap or else everything will be thrown off. Checking his phone to make sure no one needs him, he plugs it in to charge by his bedside, ignoring a text from Nina he’ll answer when he wakes up.

It’s a text she sends a few times a week when she senses that her younger brother’s having a harder day. From almost 4,000 miles, she still knows. Nico’s always loved his sister, but he’s never felt more grateful to have her as he has in these last few months.

eins zu zehn?? ❤️

One to ten, it translates to. On a scale of one to ten, how shitty or good are you feeling about it today?

Nico sighs, responds back with a 6, and wills his mind to rest.

Somehow, he wakes up decently well rested to his alarm. He stays in bed a few extra minutes, getting his mindset ready for gametime. He chooses to wear the gray three piece suit tonight. One of his more fancier fits. It is the Rangers, after all.

It was Leanna’s favorite suit of his. She always joked he “ruined the look” when he slapped on his beloved white beanie. I love your hair. I wish you’d show it off more, she’d say.

He digs out the beanie from his clean laundry.

He always leaves an hour or so to himself before he has to go to the rink. He usually spends it tidying up or doing things around his place to clear his head so he can come back after the game and just crash.

Today, he replays the breakup in his mind. Or what he remembers of it, since he blocked a lot of it out.

When you picture your future, do you see me in it at all? He had choked out, holding Leanna’s hands in his for what was the last time.

It hadn’t helped that she had also been crying as she said her next words. Neeks, baby. It’s not you, it’s me. And I hate that I’m pulling that out, but it’s true. Maybe this isn’t the right time for us.

Why can’t it be? Nico had said. Why can’t we make it work?

Maybe in the future, if things are different. She had said, biting her trembling lip. But even then, Nico knew they were empty promises. She’s too stubborn of a person to not bend the world her way. She just doesn’t want Nico to be a part of that world.

It’s not fair, he knows that realistically, but oftentimes he wonders if she ever loved him at all. That thought especially rode his mind after he saw her post a story on Instagram earlier last week. It was clearly a soft launch, with her hand in the hand of some faceless guy over dinner. Nico ended up scoring two goals that night out of sheer adrenaline and anger.

Because all he’s ever wanted was for Leanna Spritz to be happy. Even now. Even after all of this. Even if it’s not with him.

But fuck, she’s clearly moving on. Why can’t he?

He blinks, collapsing on his couch in the living room and staring at the wall. The last time he heard from her was a month ago, when he had gone down after a rough hit during a game against Minnesota. He ended up only being out for the next two games, but the hit hadn’t been pretty. His chest had taken the brunt of the damage. Everyone, including him, had been relieved that it wasn't more serious.

While he was getting checked out by the trainers the next morning, his phone had buzzed and he almost threw up.

Leanna Spritz✨

I saw the hit last night. Hope you’re okay. Listen to the trainers.

Nico was angry. What right did she have to text him that?

But then, he just felt sad. That bottomless pit in his stomach opened up. He felt nothing but emptiness.

His phone buzzes, this time with a text from Timo, and Nico takes a deep breath. It’s game time. No more crying over his ex-girlfriend.

As he’s sliding on his beanie in the bathroom, he catches sight of the hair oil again. He picks it up, smells it, before throwing it in the trash. It lands on the bottom of the can with a final thud. He clicks all the lights off, makes sure he has everything he needs, grabs his key off the hook and shuts the door.

Two hours later, everyone’s getting hyped up. He gives a mini impromptu speech, Jack slaps his back way too hard and Nico smiles, dimples and all.

He takes a deep breath before his blades touch the ice.

#lowkey loverfest 2k24 #k writes #hockey fanfic #hockey writing #hockey blurb #nico hischier #new jersey devils #nico hischier fic #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier writing #nhl #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nico hischier x oc

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years ago

Note

Ari- pre baby....: Your boss is being cruel and said a horrible thing about you to the bosses of your boss about you

Warnings for--WOAH THIS GOT SO OUT OF HAND--yeah, so, bad/rude management, bit of angst and language, relatively-tame protective!Ari but look at this guy, nothing tame about him, and then not-at-all-tame sexy!Ari again please just look at him and I dare you to tell me I'm wrong, smut, bit of praise/dominance? maybe, mostly just hng. (I'm FINE, btw, I'm not like lonely or repressed at all, FWIW, this is a totally normal reaction to...whatever. I have no shame anymore. 🤷🏻‍♀️) MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty for minors to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not for you! WC Who the hell knows. My guess is 2.5k about...

Too Eager, a Bedrock and Blueprints drabble

Sometimes you can tell by the way someone says something, they do not mean it kindly.

He's done it once before, your boss, described you as 'eager' when you volunteered to stay late and help with a project one of your coworkers messed up before leaving on an international vacation.

Someone had to do it, and at the time, you had no one to go home to. Why not? Dedication to your work makes you look good, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, eagerness crosses a line, and it's not a helpful or useful line. It's this ambiguous veil that you've passed through into being 'a woman' in this line of work. Eagerness translated to submissive and meek to your boss. He thinks you're a pushover now, and what's worse is there's no way to undo that stigma.

If you refuse to do extra, now that you have willingly done so before, you're not being a team player, you're being lazy, or you're clearly having 'a bad day.'

None of that is true, of course. You simply have a terrible boss, a man unable to interpret basic human decency without mansplaining it through a 1950s sepia filter for the incompetent.

You've come home crying a handful of times, played it off as nothing important to your boyfriend, and convinced Ari that you're just having those adulting pains that come with a full-time salaried position in a company hoping to do everything under the sun with as few employees as possible.

You're just worn thin. That's all. Ari understands that.

He even accepts that excuse for a time.

But then the phone call happens.

No, you aren't on the phone, and no, you are not meant to hear your boss say it to his bosses, but you do.

You once again 'volunteered' to finish a late project--if you can call being stared at by everyone in a meeting following the question "Who will handle this by Friday?" a voluntary choice--and walk past your boss's office to the restroom.

"Yeah, Donny--" clearly speaking to his own boss, Mr. Donovan, a golfing buddy once the courses open "--you know how these girls get. They're so eager to prove themselves. She's never said no."

Well, that just about sends you.

You're shaking by the time you wash your hands, splashing cool water on your neck in an effort to control the rising heat of anger. Frustration prickles behind your eyes.

Concentrating is impossible, and you text Ari to let him know you will be much later than initially thought. What can you do? What can you say that doesn't sound vindictive or childish? What happens when you go back on your word to get this done?

He joked about it, but saying 'no' runs a huge risk for someone like you. There's competition for this job. You had to work for years to be given this promotion even. Sure, you earned it, but it can be taken away just as easily.

Your boss knows that. Your boss's boss knows that. You think Ari knows that as well, but he actually doesn't.

Ari comes to pick you up, but when you refuse to come down to the truck, swearing you can't leave yet, he walks right on up to the offices.

He finds you in silent tears at your desk and kisses your forehead without a word. Your boss still chats in his office, seemingly avoiding going home to his own wife, loudly discussing the need for a new 9-iron.

Ari rips the phone out of the man's hand and disconnects the phone call.

"Hi, you don't know me and you don't want to," Ari starts with a huff that accounts for exactly 4% of his actual outrage at this moment, "but I'm here to pick up my girlfriend. She's been here--" he checks his watch "--an hour and forty-five minutes longer than necessary waiting for you to do your fu--job, and I'm taking her home. I assume you are capable of finishing your own damn work without supervision."

"It's not my job," your boss spits back.

"You're the manager. You've done her job before. You can do it again. It's what they pay you for."

Six-foot-scary Ari steps around the desk to prove his point.

"Unless you're so fucking lazy--" he tried not to curse, he really tried "--that you'd rather pay her double for every single second she puts up with your incompetence, daily, I suggest you get off your ass and do the work yourself."

The phone starts ringing beside him, and Ari picks it up.

"Hold please." He presses the receiver to his broad chest and glares daggers at the alarmed piece of shit cowering in a rolling chair. "She won't be here past five P.M. anymore, will she? Will she?"

Your boss shakes his head, taking the phone when Ari offers it, expressionless.

For good measure, Ari shoves the nearest stack of papers off the desk before stepping over the mess and walking out.

The entire ride home he thinks about how much he'd like to lodge that 9-iron so far up the guy's ass...and then realizes you're still crying quietly in your seat.

"Kid, I'm sorry. I swear, it'll be fine. He can't fire you for that. You still did more than you were supposed to, and if it takes him forever, that's his fault."

But you don't speak. Not when he rubs at your shoulders. Not when he opens the door for you. Not when you go to lay on the couch instead of eating dinner with him.

Ari sets a plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, but you ignore him and turn over, curling into yourself.

Sure, yelling at your boss wasn't his most tactical move ever, but that bastard's been messing with your confidence for so long. Ari couldn't take it anymore; he doesn't know how you have taken it for so long.

You must have fallen asleep.

Groggy, empty of that hot anger and embarrassment that fueled you before, you turn willingly when Ari sits on the couch and places your legs in his lap.

He’s quiet and gentle, stroking your calves below your work skirt, asking what you want or what you need, but your mind is just blank.

With the TV turned down, it’s just a hum behind Ari’s focused and flickering face as he watches you in rapture. He knows your bad days. He hates them as much as you do. He hates to see you as anything less than content, but he most loves to see you happy.

“Let’s get you comfy, okay?”

He rolls the zipper of your skirt down at your side and yanks it free slowly. He runs his hands up your body and back, under your blouse, to unhook your bra, ghosting a kiss to your clothed chest before sitting back up to tug at your tights. He didn’t say anything about you only taking your shoes off at the edge of the couch, which means Ari is being remarkably controlled for how much he hates shoes in the house. As he playfully shimmies the long and frustrating tubes of nylon over your feet, you sit up to pull off everything up top, letting the blouse and bra drop to the floor and crossing your arms over your bare breasts.

“Cold?”

You nod, and Ari takes off his own t-shirt right there to help you into. It’s warm from his body and each fiber smells deeply of a decade of comfort. His hands return to holding your thighs.

“Better?”

Yes, but you don’t want to talk about it.

You lay back and stare at the ceiling, watching what looks like blue flames dance over the beams and plaster. It wasn’t really your responsibility, it wasn’t truly your job you didn’t finish before walking out of the office, and it wasn’t even you who encouraged Ari to blow up at that shithead boss of yours, but tension and irritation still rise in your chest, constricting you as if the cotton switched to lead threads by some alchemy.

One of Ari’s large hands settles on your stomach beneath his shirt. Though it adds weight, the touch is human and grounding. He cares for you. He wants to take care of you, and sure, maybe his attempts have been imperfect so far but they show a willingness to listen and work. His other fingers draw patterns over the inside of your thigh, and he digs into the soft flesh a little more when you clench.

That tickles. He knows it tickles.

But he says nothing. He asks nothing. He stares forward like this is the most interesting silent movie he’s ever seen, except there’s definitely a lot of talking and he can’t hear a word.

He settles into an absentminded pace, and you don’t notice his position steadily moving until the tip of Ari’s index finger starts teasing over your panties.

His gaze doesn’t shift from the television. Ari’s pace doesn’t change at all for what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure because you’re not able to pay attention to anything but that featherlight drag over your skin.

You turn slightly, and his hand presses heavier into your belly, pinning you there. As his fingers push closer, drawing more distinct and deliberate circles, you grab hold of his wrist, and Ari hums.

“More? You like that, sweetheart?”

He stops to instead trace the edges of your panties, letting you whimper and squeeze him, rubbing your thighs together over his lap.

“Maybe these are in the way, huh? Should I—“

You’re already lifting your knees to help.

Ari chuckles as he slides off your underwear. You gasp when he doesn’t let both of your legs back down though, hooking one behind his head to keep you open and exposed to him. He doesn’t fake watching the screen anymore. He scoots closer until your hips are propped up on his thigh, folding you at the mercy of his fingers.

“That’s it. Let me in.”

Though he’s no longer teasing, your boyfriend takes his time working in one, then two, then three fingers. As he becomes more engrossed in your sounds and little wiggles of response, Ari turns toward you, kissing the inside of your knee and thigh, drawn in by the sight of you taking him in so smoothly.

He coos when you tighten around him, shallowing his movements in favor of curling those fingers and rubbing his palm against your clit.

Your grip on his wrist is frantic while that tether in your gut threatens to snap. The scrambling makes Ari flip his pressing hand over for you to grasp.

“That’s it,” he encourages hoarsely. “There she is.”

He knows exactly how to fuck you, exactly how to throw you over that cliff and break you apart exquisitely, and he loves to watch.

“More,” Ari demands over your cries and the loud squelching of wetness between you. “Give me more. I know you can.” His hand holding yours remains weighty and urgent against your body as you convulse, milking your orgasm for all its worth and then ripping away to watch your cunt flutter around nothing. “Fuck, yes. More.”

You’re only vaguely aware that Ari shoves his drenched hand down his sweatpants to slick himself, squeezing your grip back.

“More,” you repeat.

Ari groans, tearing the pants down away from his hips to fist his cock harder at your words. “Yeah?” He licks his dry lips after a ragged breath. “That’s what you want? More?”

The only answer you can muster is bringing your joined hands up and sucking two of his fingers into your mouth, a grunt of unbridled lust punched from his naked chest.

He hurriedly picks up your clothes, stuffing them under your ass as a makeshift pillow so he can straddle the side of the couch and fuck into you, your leg still over his shoulder. His shirt rides up as he tweaks your nipples between those same rough, sticky fingers.

He huffs out praise—how beautiful you are, how good you feel, how grateful he is that you let him give you this—and tells you to take whatever you want, to come whenever you want.

Your jaw goes slack, but Ari immediately uses that spit to swirl around your bundle of nerves as he drives in faster, deeper, harder. The only thing your mind can hold onto while your body floats is the sound of him teetering on the edge of ecstasy with you.

He slows to ease you through the overwhelming intensity. It takes you a long time to notice he’s remained hard inside you, and after sweetly petting all over your skin to ground you, he almost pulls out.

You tense.

“You didn’t finish.” It’s a question and condemnation in one.

“You didn’t tell me to,” he says with a debauched smile.

Gingerly, Ari lowers your leg down to hook around his waist, bending to nuzzle against the long line of your sweaty throat, pressed to where oxygen rushes in and out of your ravaged body.

“Go on. Practice. Boss me around.” He leans back, ready. “You know I’m only too eager to please you, kid. Anytime.”

It’s kind and genuine, an open invitation, a request you can refuse, but you don’t want to say ‘no’ to Ari. He is patient and receptive, loyal and respectful. He protects you when you flounder to see your own worth. You’re wanted and needed. The advantage is all yours. You are neither submissive nor meek; you are as dedicated to your pleasure as you are to Ari’s. That’s the whole package. That’s the woman he loves.

Eagerness is not a fault. It’s a gift you give to each other and your lives.

“Okay, then, old man—“ you reach to scratch through his thick beard “—take me to bed. We’ve got work to do.”

Ari grins and scoops you up with sudden energy before realizing he’s about to trip over the sweatpants pooling around his ankles. You laugh, and he curses up a storm, kicking them onto the floor by your shoes.

Like he did that first day in the house, the first day he showed how much he felt for you, Ari follows orders and carries you down the hall.

A/N: I had a lot of trouble editing this because the month of May just melts my brain with how busy it gets. Hopefully, this turned out okay. I got a sudden bit of inspo when I woke up the other day, and it seemed like the way to go at the time...Now, I'm not so sure. I'm going out on a limb and posting this anyway. If it's trash, please let me know, and I'll redo it!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @jamneuromain @nana1000night

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #bedrock and blueprints #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fluff #sinful sunday #series

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luckcycler · 9 months ago

Note

From someone who's making a danron project to another, can I ask how you determine things like the trials, investigations, evidence, etc? I'm having a lot of trouble coming up with how to write something cohesive OTL. Do you just outline the general development and go from there?

hi! sorry for the late reply! (I'm on holidays r n so I'm replying a little late to things)

Yeah...that's the hardest part in my opinion

What I usually do is I work the case backwards and think first what happened and then I try to make it more complex and see how I could translate those actions into visual clues in the crime scene for the player to pick up. I basically make a shitty summary of the order of the events that take place during the murder.

Then I do a rough version of the investigation and I'm not too bothered if all the clues are not in their place etc. since I'm planning on going back to do a second draft of it.

Next I do a quick shitty summary of the trial. Usually during this moment I try to figure out in what order I want to reveal things. Basically view it as small logic puzzles that when figured out make a whole. (If you are having trouble with how to start a trial, start with one of the things you point out in the Monokuma file such as time of death or cause of death.)

The flow of logic is super hard to figure out and sometimes you might have to switch things around. For my fifth trial I actually had to take out sticky notes and wrote all the points I wanted to discuss and have an answer for on them and then I placed them in the order I thought was the best (took me like 3 days to figure the right order and kept switching things around, it's complicated).

After I have my shitty summary and order of events figured out I do my first draft of the trial. Usually at this point I figure out if I need more truth bullets to be added in the scene or if they need to be worded differently.

Then I jump back to the investigation and fix it to reflect better the trial.

Then I go back to the trial and fix that.

so basically:

shitty short summary on order of events that happened during the murder

translate that to visual clues to be added in the crime scene and make a shitty first draft of investigation (it's okay if things are missing, usually you are gonna run into a logic problem (or several) when you are doing the trial and figure out what is missing then)

summary in which the order of events needs to be solved at the trial (flow of logic) (use sticky notes or other things that make it easier for you to visualize and switch the order around)

shitty first draft of the trial

go back to fix the investigation with the new information you figured out from doing the shitty first draft of the trial

go back to fix the trial

repeat last two steps until it's all good (??? profit)

sometimes I go back and forth between the investigation and the trial multiple times

I hope the way I do this helps you to figure out your own method! I definitely could be more orderly with it but I've found that this works the best for me.

Also, figuring that stuff out takes a long time, one investigation + trial can take me like... 2 months to do...

#fanganronpa #fangame help #it's my least fav thing to do tbh #I like focusing more on characters than the mystery but what can you do when you are writing a murder mystery vn

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heytheredeann · 1 year ago

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20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @cha-melodius, thank you! <3<3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

439! The plan is posting two more tonight so hopefull that will soon be 441 LOL.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

939,623! Almost a million yay!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment mostly TMFU, I have been getting into writing Banana Fish fic too, and I write for The Witcher, though less frequently than TMFU.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Stretch (Buck/Eddie+Christopher, 911, 3x02 AU)

Everywhere I'm looking now, I'm surrounded by your embrace (Harvey/Mike, Suits, soulmates AU)

I held your hand as you shook in the middle of the night (Geralt/Jaskier, The Witcher, 1x06 fix-it)

Leave it unspoken (Harvey/Mike, Suits, a serial killer on the loose AU looool I had forgotten about this one)

Concession (Geralt/Jaskier, The Witcher, Geralt likes being the little spoon fic)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yesssss, I'm like constantly behind and sometimes I answer months late, but I love answering because 1) comments make me so happy and I want the readers who took the time to let me know they enjoyed the fic to KNOW THAT, 2) talking about fics is SO much fun, I think that discussing things in the comments is the best part of posting.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

LOOOOOOOOOOOL filter for MCD on my Ao3 and take your pick. But I'd go with either Forever is the sweetest con (Napoleon/Illya/Gaby, TMFU) because the story is told backwards, so you start with post-MCD and end pre-MCD, so the ending is happy but. well. the happiness is gone already and you know it LOL, or maybe Meaner than my demons, colder than this home (Napoleon/Illya/Gaby, TMFU), purely because generally speaking when I play with MCD I kill just one of them off and leave the other two to pick up the pieces, but here there's just Napoleon left, so. probably worse than the others LOL.

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

Sooo, I tend to write one-shots, and I HAVE written fluffy fics, but I think I'll go with Something gets lost from a safe distance (Napoleon/Illya, TMFU) because it's part of a three-part series that's all emotional hurt/comfort, and then it ends with fluffy kissing so.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Eh, it has happened, I think it's inevitable if you have been doing this for long enough LOL.

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

Nope.

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

Not usually, I did write a TMFU/Supernatural crossover though LOL.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yesss, more than once and it's always extremely flattering that someone would want to go through all that effort <3

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

Nope.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Right now I feel particularly strongly about the TMFU OT3 but like. I love so many.

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

I HAVE MULTIPLE LONGFICS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS DAMMIT. I just never want to post longfics unless I have either a first draft for every chapter or at the very least an extremely detailed outline for every chapter, which means that I end up always posting one-shots LOL. Two notable mentions among these longfics are a "Napoleon gets amnesia and bullshits his way through it to avoid telling anyone because he has trust issues" fic and an AU with Illya as a ghost that's a whole angsty mess. help me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Eeeeeeeh the emotions I'd say. Or I HOPE so, since that's pretty much 80% of my writing loooool Also there a lot of lines of dialogue that I come up with that I unironically like.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plots for one, I just tend to write snapshots with no real plot most of the time, and action. I don't LIKE writing it, which means I can never tell if it's boring or if I'm just projecting, and I tend to avoid it. ...also romance/attraction/getting-together. My aroace ass never knows what is believable romance and what are just tv show tropes that are not actually real LOL.

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

I generally don't do it and keep to the language of the narration, just clarifying "X says in German" if there's a change of language. I write limited third POV, so I just see it as "filtering" everything through the lens of the person that we are seeing the perspective of. If I'm writing from Gaby's POV, for instance (she's German but fluent in English), I feel like TECHNICALLY the narration should be in German, so by writing in English I have already chosen a filter that is not 100% accurate. But that's the filter I'm going with, so English is the language that Gaby is communicating to the reader in, so everything should be communicated through English lens: if she's talking to someone in English, I will just write the lines with no specifications, if she's talking in German I still write in English and write "in German" in the narration, and if someone speaks a language she doesn't know I don't write the actual dialogue because she doesn't understand it, so the reader doesn't get to see it either.

I hope this makes some sort of sense LOOOOOL, I don't really mind any way I've seen this done, but this is how I prefer to go about it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Fallen book series. LOL.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Evil question, go directly to jail, do not collect 100$. This answer will absolutely change every five minutes, but right now I'm particularly feeling Souvenir from a life left behind (Napoleon/Illya, TMFU), just a tiny dissolution of UNCLE fic with Napoleon angsting.

Tagging: @imgoingtofreakoutnow @ikeepwatchinghelicopters @thetamehistorian @huggiebird @deducitetemporacarmen @set-phasers-to-whump @cherryjuicegf @geralt-of-vengerberg and anyone else who hasn't done this yet and wants to play <3

#i had so much fun with this sdfghjkl #ely has shit to say #not spn #tag game #cha-melodius

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hirukochan · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Thanks for the tag, @loneamaryllis

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

12!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

874,060 - When did that get so much??? I've only picked writing back up in January!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently mainly Harry Potter and I have one Rings of Power fanfic on hiatus (for now). I used to write for all sorts of fandoms though! Pirates of the Caribbean, The Hobbit, Percy Jackson, Marvel, Vampire Diaries, Naruto - to name a few.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"Your tears are of no relevance to me", my dark Snape/reader fic

2. Cigarette smoke, Profanities and Stolen Kisses, Snape/reader smut

3. A Servant of Death, my Snape/OC longfic, my baby, my beloved

4. Carrying Atlas, Deeply traumatised, sarcastic Snape/broken Harrie ddlg/pet play fic with much hurt and even more comfort

5. Stood-up, my three-part Snape/former student!reader oneshot/mini-fic

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to reply to each one! I love to hear what people think and interact with readers!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't actually have that many fics finished 😅

I love long fics, I love reading them and I love writing them so most of my works are still ongoing (and seem to be staying ongoing for a while to come 😅)

I'd say Petrichor. It's a Voldemort-wins AU so things are bound to look hopeless and dark.

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

Severus and his Sunshine!!!! A very fluffy, hopful ending 🥰

8. Do you get hate on fics?

After initially posting A Servant of Death II quite a few readers were angry the story would not be moving into a direction they wanted. Haven't gotten any since.

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

Yes 😃

I write Dom/sub mostly! Proper D/s (apart from my dark!fics) with safewords and boundaries and aftercare! I love including kink-wear and collars and other fun toys! All sorts of kinks, lighter and a few darker, more taboo kinks. Lots of bondage!!

Also dub-con and dark smut and I'm venturing into poly and threesome territory lately.

Basically anything I find interesting or worth exploring!

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

No. I had a rather ambitious crossover idea when I was a teen about a group of people chosen by the gods I had created to protect the universes of the world with every book/show/movie in existance being a universe that had been locked away by some evil supernatural beings. Each of the four people in the group could travel between the universes and had to fix the timelines if things went wrong. Basically all the misery happening in the stories was the supernatural beings messing with the universes. I wrote the first part that played in The Hobbit and started the second part that would take place in Naruto but I never continued the project.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of but I do know that after I published my first HP fic on Wattpad back when I was...uff idk 13?? suddenly everybody in the german marauders fandom was writing Voldemort's daughter fics. I thought that was interesting since I wrote mine because I couldn't find any Voldemort's child fics in german (my english was shit at the time, I'm sure otherwise I would have found plenty to read! 😂)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! But someone once made a podfic of my Adventcalender one-shot collection (with my permission). I don't think it's still online though. (god I hope not, those were terrible 😬)

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

No and I don't think I ever will. My mind is a strange and cluttered space and teamwork has never been a strong suit. I've been asked though, but that was more of a 'I have x-idea, will you write it for me?' then an actual inquiry.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Ummmmm....OCs. Everybody/OC. I love OC's. I love reading them, creating them, I love that I can have a person whose weaknesses and strength and personality fit my fav characters perfectly, especially since my fav characters tend to be unsocial loners with terrible trauma.

Apart from that I'm not much of a shipper...Snarriet probaly (thanks to @loneamaryllis - you know what you did 😑, jokes aside I've been thoroughly enjoying this ship and the community is so sweet!)

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

I sure hope I'll finish them all! Strawberries and Sin is being neglected right now 😅 but I love the characters and I'm certainly not planing on abandoning the story!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm good at worldbuilding, I certainly enjoy expanding existing universes with my own ideas! Whether it's by adding an entire Vampire monarchy including an origin story of how vampires came to exist or World Duelling Championships for my heir of a rich pureblood family to power herself out at.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I never know if I describe things enough, surroundings, emotions, etc. I think I tend to fixate on what a character is doing with their hands 😂

Also I can get lost in developing the relationship between two characters and forget to advance the plot just to then focus on the plot and neglect the characters 😅 still trying to find a balance there.

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

Been there, done that! I think it can be fun.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Written? Naruto! I was nine I think and I had no idea that fanfiction even exists or that other people were writing them! I just wrote down a truly terrible story on an old notepad I had.

The first fandom I created stories for in my mind was Harry Potter at around nine!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

A fic that is currently not on the internet anymore that I want to rework and publish once I've worked through some WIPs. It's about Snape and his best friend from an opressed people who both ended up joining Voldemort for good intentions and end up in his bed (two Death Eaters eagerly serving their new master 😏) but quickly realise he is not what he promised to be.

From my published fics it's a draw between A Servant of Death and 'Your tears are of no relevance to me'!

Tagging anyone who wants to do it 🫶🏻💖

#tag game #writing

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the-most-lamentable · 2 years ago

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oh baby it's askin' time. 58, 66, 73, 90, and 21 for funs :)

Good evening, got booted out of my account for a moment but I am back and presently avoiding working on my writing projects ( will be working after this because my project list is ever expanding and I Still need do get done the ch3 illustration aaaaaa)

What's the last thing a fic made you Google when you were writing it?

Uhh the last thing was the bus system in the Tampa Bay area to Plant city for the immortal blade story. He starts off as a college student before having the worst night of his life brought to you by maybe a few too many Jaegerbombs.

In other research I tried an energy drink to see how it would feel as I have a scene in that Eugenia is an incredibly passive aggressive ghost wherein Keith absolutely crashes right before a show so Mickey gives him a monster thinking what's the worst that could happen? It goes poorly.

When have you felt the most confident in your writing?

Occasionally when I'm working on a project I'll have one of those moments where I realise Hey I just set up and paid off some very nice bits of theme and motif Ohoho it's all coming together, I've connected the dots. It's usually then.

Otherwise, my best writing? This line I wrote at 4 am.

"“Well- jokes on you! Both of my parents are dead!” Kevin sputtered.

Jeremy paused for a moment. Someone nearby shouted, “Her ghost is disappointed!” The crowd murmured in agreement."

How do you visualize scenes? Do you see it like a movie in your head, or do the words just flow?

So when I first start drafting a story I will be sitting there staring at a wall and there's a tiny film projector in my head playing out key beats, very visual but also vibe driven. The Great Imposter was very one to one in the scene beats and imagery I came up with initially like the imagery of the study sequence where he's stuck watching the action unable to act, or the whirring ambulance lights in sprinkling rain for Shock Blanket.

When I actually start writing it's a bit of both, my brain is multitasking to high hell. Those central images serve as a guide which is supported by insane amounts of character research and story structure. Most of the chapter illustrations are those initial clear images translated to drawing. I figure if the iconography is so effective to me, it should hopefully work on my audience too as a supplement to the vibes.

Do you notice your own voice in your writing?

Exceedingly so, yes. While I do make an effort to write within character logic and voice, it is still my writing. I have been told my usual voice is resemblant of a late 1800s British satirist, which seems fair (irony is the death of sincerity, my deepest struggle writing) however other inspirations include: Terry Pratchett, Lemony Snickett, Clue 1985, Tj Klune, David Sedaris, etc. All this to say always very dry humor, fast rhythm, and exceedingly long metaphors that are just a bit too specific.

Pick a writer to co-write a book and tell us what you'd write about.

Uhhhh I don't know but if you ever want to write a story together here's my pitches that I am coming up with on the spot (absolutely no pressure, i just dont know how else to answer this):

An AU of Homeward, Boumd where the Beans are all human, but still just as fucked up. Like Chris mentions offhand that his brother once threw him into a hole in their basement and left him for dead and everyone is just !!!??????

Celia Bean had an affair (outside of her one with Robert of course) which after an ancestry test brings James's number of suprise siblings up to 3. I just feel like him and Chris have similar vibes. Plus the chaos of introducing these two groups, particularly Cornley being perhaps a little too snooping over this (Jonathan and Dennis trying to casually hide behind a newspaper in a café only to be immediately clocked by Chris)

I've got an urban fantasy noir sorta story where magic is real and the whole thing kicks off with a spell backfiring and James's dad disappearing. Features things such as Keith and Mickey Co running a psychic shop (Keith runs the shop, Mickey is his glorified landlord, roommate, and self nominated HR department), Kevin getting up to shenanigans as a ghost, human glowsticks being abused for said glowing, werebear the ultimate bear, group sleepover (See: James and Mickey fall asleep and nobody has the heart to wake them). I believe I've mentioned this one before.

Anyways thanks for the ask, forgive me if it's A bit incomprehensible I am extremely sleep deprived from an absolute eager with my friend last night wherein we reorganized her bedroom and then discussed theology till 4 am. Best wishes, Jon, I don't know why I'm signing off like an email but it's there now

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yellow-the-monster-girl · 2 months ago

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It's late at night and Dr. Etta Gray is feeling more productive than ever. The library is quiet, almost eerily, but she's used to it. She glides over to an old typewriter, a sheet of paper still in it. An almost finished work of many nights - but with any luck, tonight it will by done.

---

It's late at night and Cassius Dracula Jr. has just finished preparations for the ritual. He still has to wait for midnight.

He forces himself to take a deep breath to calm a little. It doesn't work. After all, summoning is hard and summoning Shades is among the hardest. The most dangerous. But he needs that scroll translated. There is only one being who knows Old Carcosan and is willing to help a vampire - and she is a Shade.

That's all he knows about her.

Cassius glances at a giant grandfather-clock near the corner. Thirty minutes to midnight.

---

Thirty minutes to midnight, the young scientist is on a roll. It's a good night today, Etta thinks as her fingers ghost over tiny letters, checking for any errors. There are none. There aren't ever any, but Etta, diligent in her work, always checks anyway.

She pulls the paper out and tries to sign it, but when she reaches for the pen, her hand passes through it. She curses under her breath and takes a moment to regain a solid form. A moment of hesitation before she grabs the pen again. She signs herself as Dr. Gray - and exhales, content.

Etta sets a new blank sheet of paper into the typewriter and checks her phone. Five minutes to midnight. The night is still young. Enough time to work on the next project.

---

Five minutes to midnight, the vampire boy is on edge like never before. What if it doesn't work? What if the Shade is evil? What if..?

He stares at the clock, biting his already short nails. What did the book say?

Place offering in the middle of the symbol.

What kind of monster requests caramel latté as an offering for summoning? Who knows? Certainly not Cassius, who swears he will get a new coffee machine tomorrow. With a warm cup of the best latté the old one could muster, he picks up the book again.

Recite spell precisely at midnight.

Five seconds. Four. Three...

---

On her way for her second coffee, Etta is suddenly intangible again. She hates when that happens. At least she wasn't holding the cup yet.

There's a familial tingle in the air. Electricity. But - but the lightst are all off and so is her phone, so what could- Oh no.

She tries as she might to solidify again. Nothing. In fact, she can see the edges of her own body blurring further and further and...

No no no no no!

She wanted to work on that project, dammit!

---

Cassius is prepared. Every possible reaction the Shade could have, he had accounted for. As he recites the spell, something in front of him darkens, until it takes a vaguely humanoid shape and speaks...

"Whoever you are, fuck you."

Every possible reaction, except this one.

"Uhh... Hello? Sorry?" he tries while mentally panicking and searching his brain for something appropriate to say. No reaction from the Shade.

"Did you seriously summon me on a Friday?" she asks with a sigh.

With no face to read, Cassius can't tell if she's mad or just annoyed.

"I, uh, need a scroll translated..."

---

Etta looks around the room, taking in the details. Ugly-as-hell wallpaper. Ritual symbol on the table, one used in summonings. She stifles a laugh - the runes are all butched up. In the center lies an offering - hope it's not blood or organs or such - YES! It's COFFEE! A small victory.

Then there's the man, young and distinctly vampiric.

"I, uh, need a scroll translated..."

His voice is intriguing from a purely scientific standpoint. He must be newly turned or else has kept up with modern slang extremely well. Slight Elvish accent - definitely modern Moon Elvish. He must've lived in Mist Valley for a time-

No! Etta abruptly shuts up her inner linguist. He needs a scroll translated. He actually meant to summon her.

"And you couln't've picked someone not drowning in works-in-progress?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but she won't let him.

"I mean, I'll do it, but - coffee first."

---

The Shade reaches for the cup, but again her fingers pass directly through it. Cassius feels a small knot of worry in his stomach. He tries an apologetic smile.

On one hand, he should be relieved. He'll be getting his translation, after all. But when he watches her struggle with the cup, he feels everything else but relief.

"Um, miss-"

"Doctor," she corrects him with a slight head-tilt. "Dr. Etta Gray."

Cassius only blinks in confusion.

"Sorry - Dr. Gray - I'm Cassius, by the way - I just wanted to ask - do you need help with that?"

He points at the coffee and wonders if this happens to her often. She lets out a sigh.

"It's the electricity. It makes it hard to hold a solid form."

"Sorry?"

Cassius isn't quite sure what to do, switch off the lights and light up... candles or something? As soon as he does, the Shade - no, Dr. Gray - Dr. Gray solidifies into a distinct form - hey, she has a face now!

---

Etta brings the cup to her newly formed lips and takes a sip - it tastes so good.

"Great coffee," she smiles at Cassius, before setting it on the table again. "So where's the scroll?"

Amused, she watches his eyes go wide.

"Oh! Right!"

He runs out of the room and returns with an old, tattered scroll in his left hand.

"Apparently it's supposed to be in Old Carcosan, but like, I don't know."

Old Carcosan?

OLD CARCOSAN?!

"Sit down," Etta commands the young man, barely containing her own excitement. With a grin on her lips she delves into the text. No, her inner linguist won't shut up now.

---

Cassius sits on the couch and listens to Dr. Gray's barely restrained excitement. The poor woman is practically vibrating.

"It's definitely an old variant of Carcosan, though this one seems influenced by one other eldritch language, one spoken primarily on Yhtil - oh, could this scroll be from the era, when The King In Yellow was first written?"

He shrugs. He's slowly growing tired of answering the same I-don't-knows again and again. Tired and bored. Dr. Gray, it seems to him, is the opposite of bored right now.

"Because that would make it older than anything I've ever studied. It would be fantastic, a breakthrough for linguists AND historians. And mages, likely. It would make this one of the oldest spell scrolls ever, which could..."

As Cassius listens to Dr. Gray, it dawns on him that it's going to be a long, long night.

Visual Writing Prompt #461

#writing prompts #prompt response #my writing #fantasy #dr etta gray #cassius and etta #my ocs

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an0det0l0ve · 2 years ago

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My darling,

it is nothing but an absolute honor to share the same passion for literature with you. It is something important to me; being able to talk about the works I read and write, and sharing my thoughts with someone who is equally interested. It is one of the things I value about you and what made me fall madly in love with you. And as I want to go on a little adventure with you, I will leave you a list with books I would like to read. I want you to pick one as a birthday present so we can explore it together.

Yours truly,

Cas.

⟴ ⟴ ⟴

⤪ The whistling, Rebecca Netley

Feel shivers down your spine with this chilling and gripping ghost story set on a far-flung Scottish island.

When Elspeth arrives on a remote Scottish island to become nanny to a young child, she hopes to bond with her. Until she learns that, for reasons no one will explain, Mary has not spoken for months. And the girl's silence is not the only mystery.

Hypnotic lullabies drift down empty corridors. Strange dolls appear in abandoned rooms. And as the nights draw in, darker questions arise.

What happened to Mary's late twin, William? Why did their previous nanny disappear so suddenly? And is the whistling Elspeth hears at night just the storm outside? Or is something else out there?

⤪ A good girl’s guide to murder, Holly Jackson

The case is closed. Five years ago, schoolgirl Andie Bell was murdered by Sal Singh. The police know he did it. Everyone in town knows he did it.

But having grown up in the same small town that was consumed by the crime, Pippa Fitz-Amobi isn't so sure. When she chooses the case as the topic for her final project, she starts to uncover secrets that someone in town desperately wants to stay hidden. And if the real killer is still out there, how far will they go to keep Pip from the truth?

⤪ Babel or the necessity of violence, Rebecca F. Kuang

A new dark academic fantasy by the New York Times bestselling author of The Poppy War. Traduttore, traditore: An act of translation is always an act of betrayal. Oxford, 1836. The city of dreaming spires. It is the centre of all knowledge and progress in the world. And at its centre is Babel, the Royal Institute of Translation. The tower from which all the power of the Empire flows. Orphaned in Canton and brought to England by a mysterious guardian, Babel seemed like paradise to Robin Swift. Until it became a prison… But can a student stand against an empire? An incendiary new novel from award-winning author R.F. Kuang about the power of language, the violence of colonialism, and the sacrifices of resistance.

⤪ The song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. Despite their differences, Achilles befriends the shamed prince, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine, their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles's mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess. But when word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped, Achilles must go to war in distant Troy and fulfill his destiny. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus goes with him, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear.

⤪ The Atlas Six, Olivie Blake

Each decade, only the six most uniquely talented magicians are selected to earn a place in the Alexandrian Society, the foremost secret society in the world. The chosen will secure a life of power and prestige beyond their wildest dreams.

But at what cost?

Each of the six newest recruits has their reasons for accepting the Society’s elusive invitation. Even if it means growing closer than they could have imagined to their most dangerous enemies or risking unforgivable betrayal from their most trusted allies they will fight tooth and nail for the right to join the ranks of the Alexandrians.

Even if it means they won’t all survive the year.

⤪ Things we do to our friends, Heather Darwent

Edinburgh, Scotland: a moody city of labyrinthine alleyways, oppressive fog, and buried history; the ultimate destination for someone with something to hide. Perfect for Clare, then, who arrives utterly alone and yearning to reinvent herself. And what better place to conceal the secrets of her past than at the university in the heart of the fabled, cobblestoned Old Town?

When Clare meets Tabitha, a charismatic, beautiful, and intimidatingly rich girl from her art history class, she knows she’s destined to become friends with her and her exclusive circle: raffish Samuel, shrewd Ava, and pragmatic Imogen. Clare is immediately drawn into their libertine world of sophisticated dinner parties and summers in France. The new life she always envisioned for herself has seemingly begun.

Then Tabitha reveals a little project she’s been working on, one that she needs Clare’s help with. Even though it goes against everything Clare has tried to repent for. Even though their intimacy begins to darken into codependence. But as Clare starts to realize just what her friends are capable of, it’s already too late. Because they’ve taken the plunge. They’re so close to attaining everything they want. And there’s no going back.

Reimagining the classic themes of obsession and ambition with an original and sinister edge, The Things We Do to Our Friends is a seductive thriller about the toxic battle between those who have and those who covet—between the desire to truly belong and the danger of being truly known.

⤪ Ninth House, Leigh Bardugo

A tale of power, privilege, dark magic and murder set among the Ivy League elite. Alex Stern is the most unlikely member of Yale's freshman class. A dropout and the sole survivor of a horrific, unsolved crime - the last thing she wants is to cause trouble. Not when Yale was supposed to be her fresh start. But a free ride to one of the world's most prestigious universities was bound to come with a catch. Alex has been tasked with monitoring the mysterious activities of Yale's secret societies - societies that have yielded some of the most famous and influential people in the world. Now there's a dead girl on campus and Alex seems to be the only person who won't accept the neat answer the police and campus administration have come up with for her murder. Because Alex knows the secret societies are far more sinister and extraordinary than anyone ever imagined. They tamper with forbidden magic. They raise the dead. And, sometimes, they prey on the living.

⤪ Dead Inside, Chandler Morrison

A hospital security guard with a morbidly unique taste in women. A maternity doctor with an aberrant appetite and a penchant for popping pain pills. When the two meet, they embark on a dark, horrific journey of self-discovery and transcendence. Lines are crossed, taboos are shattered, and good taste takes a permanent leave of absence.

⤪ Brother, Ania Ahlborn

Deep in the heart of Appalachia stands a crooked farmhouse miles from any road. The Morrows keep to themselves, and it's served them well so far. When girls go missing off the side of the highway, the cops don't knock on their door. Which is a good thing, seeing as to what's buried in the Morrows' backyard. But nineteen-year-old Michael Morrow isn't like the rest of his family. He doesn't take pleasure in the screams that echo through the trees. Michael pines for normalcy, and he's sure that someday he'll see the world beyond West Virginia. When he meets Alice, a pretty girl working at a record shop in the small nearby town of Dahlia, he's immediately smitten. For a moment, he nearly forgets about the monster he's become. But his brother, Rebel, is all too eager to remind Michael of his place.

⤪ Seed, Ania Ahlborn

With nothing but the clothes on his back - and something horrific snapping at his heels - Jack Winter fled his rural Georgia home when he was still just a boy. Watching the world he knew vanish in a trucker's rearview mirror, he thought he was leaving an unspeakable nightmare behind forever. But years later, the bright new future he's built suddenly turns pitch black, as something fiendishly familiar looms dead ahead. When Jack, his wife Aimee, and their two small children survive a violent car crash, it seems like a miracle. But Jack knows what he saw on the road that night, and it wasn't divine intervention. The profound evil from his past won't let them die...at least not quickly.

Country comfort is no match for spine-tingling Southern gothic suspense in Ania Ahlborn's tale of an ordinary man with a demon on his back. Seed plants its page-turning terror deep in your soul, and lets it grow wild.

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thearchivistsjournal · 2 years ago

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Day 305,

The mists are out so I’m back at the house, once again waiting to see if Maiko returns tonight to take shelter from the shades. She hasn’t yet and if past results are any indicator she isn’t likely to, but what else can I do?

In more exciting news, I think I figured out what that marble does other than glow. It appears to be either a heightening of feelings of confidence or a dampening of fear responses. Maybe some combination of the two. The effect seems to require skin contact to activate, with the strength of the effect increasing as surface area of contact increases. Touch it with a finger tip and you won’t notice much of anything; make a fist around it and you’ll nearly forget why you were scared in the first place. Or perhaps more accurately, you’ll still remember why but the thing stops feeling like something worth getting worked up over.

I figured all this out because I happened to tarry overlong before leaving the library this morning so the mists were already thick by the time I set out. Thick enough that when combined with my wandering mind distracted by thoughts of the translation project, Cloud Tower, and Maiko I missed my turnoff. First time that’s happened in a long while. By the time I realized this, the world beyond the tip of my outstretched arm had already been rendered down to a white blankness. Standing in the middle of the road as I was, I could not even see the trees lining either edge. Panic began to creep into the edges of my mind. Had I turned around in place two times or three just now as I tried to figure out where I was? If I started walking forward, would I be heading toward the Village or away from it? If I was facing south, then overshooting my turnoff for the house a second time would at least put me back in the Village, but if I was facing north then by the time I knew for sure that I’d gone too far without hitting the Village or my turnoff then it would be late enough that, at best, I’d be skirting dusk by the time I got home, especially going slowly to try not to miss landmarks through the mist.

I became paralyzed with indecision, afraid of making the wrong choice in this fifty-fifty outcome. All the while I knew that every minute I just stood there stuck in a loop of trying to examine and re-examine my uncertain memory and reason myself into one course of action or the other was eating up precious time, but that awareness only through distracting self-deprecation into the mix. Unbidden, the similarity between this mist-shrouded world of white and the edge of existence Pat told me about sprang to mind and my decision-making was further derailed by visions of my many-times predecessor wandering forever in the blankness.

Eventually, my paralysis gave way to nervous fidgeting and my hand wound up in the pocket where I’d been carrying the marble. Rolling it between my fingers was like getting hit with a dose of some sedative drug. All at once I became aware of my breathing and heart rate slowing and a trembling in my limbs I hadn’t been consciously aware of until then ceased. Out of surprise at the sudden change and not yet having made the connection between emotion and artifact, I reflexively tightened my grip on the marble. With an astounding clarity my situation seemed so simple. I couldn’t tell which way is which from where I’m standing so just pick a direction, go with it, and deal with the consequences when they come.

And so I did. Just like that, I broke the loop and started walking.

As I walked I relaxed. As I relaxed I let loose of the marble. As I let loose of the marble I began to second guess myself. As I began to second guess myself I grew tense. As I grew tense I gripped the marble once more. As I gripped the marble once more I grew more sure of myself. As I grew more sure of myself clarity returned. As clarity returned I made the connection between the marble and my shift in emotions.

It occurred to me that this effect could as easily be placebo as artifact property. I reasoned it didn’t matter if it was helping me function right now. It occurred to me that I didn’t know what kind of side effects or dependency using a magical artifact to ignore fear and anxiety might cause. I reasoned that as long as it got me home before the shades came out I could deal with that later. It occurred to me that I could figure out if I was going the right way or not significantly sooner if I just walked at the edge of the road to my left and looked out for a side road to branch off since the only two going toward the interior of the island on this stretch of road were for the cathedral and the lake. I reasoned that if I’d not allowed myself to panic this would have occurred to me sooner.

And so I kept my grip on the marble until I got back to the house. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to test the artifact in a more scientific manner. I certainly have enough background fears and anxieties to notice the difference now that I know what to look for. That said, the foremost among those fears at the moment was - and is - the implications of possessing an artifact that affects my mind and emotions in this way.

On the one hand, the idea of simply being able to function like that is indescribably tempting. Was that what other people feel like when trying to operate under pressure? If so, then it drives home just how broken I am. To be able to just break out of one of my mental loops like that… quite honestly the thought of it brings tears to my eyes.

On the other hand, I hate the thought of being dependent on an external aid like this and I fear the prospect of it becoming a crutch that I’m dependent on. Would using it to help myself prevent me from actually becoming better on my own? And fear does have its uses, both for physical survival and socially. Would I become more inclined to take dangerous risks without regard for consequences? That’s already seemingly the destined doom of most outsiders. And what if I lose my verbal filters when talking to people? Who might I offend or even hurt with careless words? Worst of all, as much as a problem and burden as they can be, my fears and anxieties and flaws are a part of me. Would I even still be me if I excised them? And that doesn’t even get into the logistic issues of trying to keep a large marble in my grip all the time.

The fact that none of that seems so bad while I have a full grip on the artifact terrifies me in and of itself.

Maybe I can fashion it into a necklace and keep it tucked under my clothes for a constant low dose. Not enough to disregard things I shouldn’t but enough to take some of the edge off. And it would be there and handy to access more fully in an emergency. Maybe if I’d found this sooner I could have made a difference on the night we got back. Perhaps the best use for it would be on a conditional basis to slowly train myself what it feels like to be functional so that one day I won’t need it.

Oh, also, the idea of trying to keep it on me while I sleep on mist nights to make the nightmares easier to deal with has occurred to me. I’m just not sure yet how to keep a grip on it while I sleep. Well, I’ve still got a couple of hours of staying up waiting for Maiko before I need to call it a night to avoid the flashes for the next two weeks, that’s time to try some ideas.

<==Previous Next==>

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cruelanais-blog · 2 years ago

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Consider this my (rather late) retirement from community interpreting

I am a seasoned interpreter.

I've wanted to describe myself as seasoned since I was 14.

I'm seasoned. I've got spices thrown about. Some will burn when heated. The smell. I'm smelly.

I'm 40, and I've been to a lot of different places to interpret for a rich tapestry of people.

I've worked for presidents, ministers, department heads (who are THE BEST), judges, international higher-ups.

I've worked for doctors, lawyers, engineers, vets, national and local cops, prison governors, salespeople, millionaires, mayors.

I've worked for people on the street - severely or mildly poorly people, people with cancer, people who are finally free of cancer, people whose children are in surgery, mentally ill people, people in recovery, people who've been violent, people who've had others be violent to them...

I've worked for children.

I've worked for a mother delivering their baby. It went on for 3 hours. I translated "push!" a couple more times than the midwife. I literally helped persuade the father not to be a dick.

I'm basically a call centre representative. I pick up the random call I receive, and who knows? It may be a delusional paranoid having psychoses.

It may be an unlucky guy who got fentanyl in his weed and didn't know it.

I invite the sick and the poorly and legally oppressed people into my bedroom every time I pick up the call. They have one thing in common - they have issues that need solving.

I've worked in 12 countries, btw. Mostly in Africa. Something to be a bit proud of.

And it's OK. I love working for people. I got ADHD. I'm meant to be having tantrums every time something mildly bad happens to me bc I'm not afraid to admit it gives me (false but ok) relief. I kinda love self-drama, too.

I love doinb ig. The job itself, amazeballs.

But I am a call centre representative and there's a script.

"Hi! (Yes they add that) This is Jasun Horucan, your [redacted] interpreter. ID Number: 9BG5JAlas:p How may I help you?"

...

If I get a 5-min call for a nurse to ask a patient in ER a vital question, I spend 3 minutes doing this. First you introduce yourself to the patient and then let the nurse know, and if you couldn't hear something you can ask for a repetition, but you need to let the physician know... Oh, Heaven Forbid, they don't understand a tiny word you've said to the patient!

Imagine your pharmacist doing this to you every time you needed prescription medicine... That information is confidential, too? Right?

Oh, then, I'm asked to say "Everything discussed here will remain confidential". How am I to make sure of that?

I can vouch for my own confidentiality, but for others'? Not really.

So I shoulder the whole burden of somebody calling the company and saying, "It was the interpreter that said it!"

I'm 40. I've been working for 20 years. I'm not trusted to do my job.

Imagine yourself sitting at a desk working and your boss (whoever that shithead is) is able to listen to every work conversation you have and emailing you every month about anything you may have said...

Right?

I had people way above my pay grade trust me with their words in a country they didn't know about.

I had million-dollar international projects trust me with being a good voice for them.

I wrote official letters at ministry headquarters, damn it!

Patients (should) already trust me with their information.

BTW: This is all playing into the hands of the AI'ers (I love you guys, no shade) who say we'll be replaced by whatever will come after us (there will be a different name for them, like a name and a surname :). It means an automaton controlled remotely may easily do what I do...

(except for saying "Push harder!" a few more times than the midwife)

I say "Get well soon!" to people. I give them my condolences. I don't care how they do it in wherever the doctor is; this is how we do it!

It is the cultural idiosyncrasy companies will forever ignore in their quality briefings (8 slides with single sentences on them).

And I don't work with people they looove to model in their 8 slides with single sentences on them - "Oh, we don't give honey to babies, now, do we?"

All ill or disabled or pregnant or physically self-progressive people aside, I work with refugees. They are at the intersection of having had trauma and experiencing trauma at the same time. I love working with them; the clients are not half-bad, either.

But it's not a mechanical voice they'd feel comfortable hearing. They really _ and really _ don't care about good accuracy (and I'm as accurate as you can get). They'll ask the questions in their minds and repeat it until they get what they want anyway... Another cultural idiosyncrasy!

Let me be human. Let me be the 20 years of experience I've had.

I worked in village barns in Central [redacted] once, with vets on a surveillance trip. We were to visit villages, find farms, and draw blood from butts of cows - to check for FMD. I met some amazing cows, calves, and kids there. In our last village on the first day, we, 1 old and 1 young vet and I, got stranded in a mountain village as the amazing lead _ the old vet, of course! _ had hired a BMW sedan for a trip to a cold area, expecting the heaviest snow in 20 years. But hey!

Once the sun set, the village got colder. We were soaking vet from all the disinfectant we'd showered ourselves with. Right at this point, the villagers said goodbye to our little freezing trio, leaving us thinking well, life's been good.

Finally, though, we were rescued right after sunset by a guy who was dropping off his child to their mother who apparently enjoyed turning his small van into a disco, blasting music as he sped down on winding roads.

Next morning, we called the mayor to arrange a snow plough, which we followed to the village in a taxi. We got the car back and this time, were minded to put on some chains, which eventually broke a couple of times along the way. The winding road the dad had pushed through at 80 now turned into the gates of frozen hell. We nearly had an accident.

Good days. Good days.

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prism-rush · 7 years ago

Text

Prism Rush Main Story Episode 1 Chapter 1 (King of Prism)

Beyond the Rainbow!! -sparkling acceleration to spring-

Episode 1: The Challenging Road to Revival #1

Translators note: I have skipped over the first two episodes “Digest” and “Prologue” because they are largely just a recap of the first King of Prism movie, and have gone straight to “Episode 1.″ So, this begins right after Shin has performed Over the Sunshine at the end of the first movie. This story ultimately links the first movie with Pride the Hero.

Oh, Yukinojo references a Kabuki show in this one. I didn’t get the joke. If you got the joke, let me know.

Shin: The future of Edel Rose is up to us....

Yukinojo: With everyone’s feelings abreast, we must embark on a new journey.

Yu: And our powers combined we’ve got to revive Edel Rose...!

Shin: Yeah!!! Alright, let’s do it!

Leo: Hey, Shin-kun?

Shin: Hm? Leo-kun, what is it?

Leo: About what we’re gonna do... what should we do?

Shin: Um... about that.....

Kakeru: Shin-chawan.... could it be that you don’t have a plan?

Shin: Umm... well..... yeah!

Taiga: Seriously?! How can you be so straightforward about even that!

Minato: Well, you have to admit Shin’s honestly is one of his good points.

Shin: I’m sorry....

Minato: Don’t apologize! From here on out we’ll decide what to do together.

Shin: Yeah!

Taiga: If it’s gonna get all lovey-dovey I’m out of here.

Minato: Oh no you don’t. We’re all going to figure this out together.

Taiga: You guys can just decide whatever you want.

Minato: But it’s about all of us! So. Let’s. Talk. It. Out. Together. .....Right?

Leo: Minato-san... even though he’s smiling, his eyes are scary.

Yukinojo: He’s torturing him with kindness....

Taiga: O-okay!! I got it! We’ll talk!

Minato: Yes, yes. Good boy. Now, Ichijo, where do you think we should start?

Shin: Um... well, I want more people to find out about Prism Shows! I want everyone to know how much the world is shining!

Kakeru: Well, how about we do a spectacular spectacle, like WOW! We can rent out a hotel in Macao. Oh, and call the president!

Yu: Sure. Like we have the money for that. The one who has money around here is...

Yukinojo: A show that will captivate everyone’s eyes. Leo, how about we do Father and Son Lion Dance?

Leo: I don’t think so! Twirling like that will make my head spin!

Yukinojo: I see. Too bad.

Kakeru: It seems the princess of the Kabuki world has some... different ideas...

Leo: Let’s do a show in animal pajamas! I’m sure the kids will love it!

Taiga: NO WAY IN HELL.

Kakeru: Well, Taiga, do you have any bright ideas?

Taiga: To get lots of people.... Ah-ha! A festival!

Shin: Oh? A festival?

Taiga: A festival is the best way to bring people together! If we give out rice cakes lots of people will come!

Yu: I don’t really think people care that much about rice cakes these days...

Taiga: What. Don’t you start talking shit about rice cakes.

Minato: Boys, no fighting.

Kakeru: How about we cover an Over the Rainbow song? They are so popular it will have lots of appeal.

Yu: No, wait...!

Shin: What is it, Yu-kun?

Yu: I am the all knowing all powerful Zeus! I’ll show you something even Over the Rainbow can’t do!

Kakeru: For example...?

Yu: That is.... well... I’m still thinking!

Taiga: UGH. Just like I thought, this is getting us nowhere.

Kakeru: It seems we all have different business tactics...

Shin: But, no! We have to work together....

Yukinojo: I’d like to be alone to think for a while.

Leo: Oh! Yuki-sama wait!

Yu: Ah, dammit. What should we do.

Minato: Maybe it would be better if we all took some time to think.

Shin: ....Okay....

(Shin goes outside.)

Shin: Nobody can agree on anything. How are we going to get anything done when we’re all so different. I have no idea what we should do...!!!

Shin: Ah.... I’m yelling at a river. ....Huh?

Louis: Shin. Long time no see.

Shin: Louis! We both ended up here again.

Louis: I came here because I wanted to see you. Ehehe.

Shin: I have to do my best for Edel Rose. But everyone has different opinions and nobody’s getting along. Oh... what should we do... Ah! I’m sorry! You have nothing to do with this! I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.

Louis: Shin, do you like Prism Shows?

Shin: Well... yeah, of course I do! I saw my first Prism Show because of you, Louis. My heart was thumping and it was like my body was wrapped in such happiness! Everything around me was bright, as if to tell me, the world is always shining!

Louis: ........

Shin: Louis? You staring at me like this is making me kind of embarrassed...

Louis: You just look so radiant whenever you’re talking about Prism Shows.

Shin: Radiant...

Louis: I want to see more of your Prism Shows, Shin.

Shin: ...I see. I want more people to see Prism Shows. I want to tell so many people that the world is shining! I want them to know about how much fun it is! So!! There is no reason for me to be moping around! Thank you Louis, I think I finally.... huh? Where did he go?

(Back at Edel Rose.)

Hiro: I’m home... huh? You could cut the air with a knife in here.

Minato: Welcome home, Hiro. We had a bit of a falling out...

Hiro: What happened? And where is Shin?

Yukinojo: It seems he was really worried about us not being able to agree... he went out and he hasn’t been back since.

Leo: Shin-kun... I’m worried about him....

Yu: Without Shin, things just don’t seem right.

Hiro: Shin... I hope he’s alright....

Shin: Hey everyone I’m back!! Oooh, it looks like I’m just in time for dinner!

Hiro: Huh? He doesn’t seem like he has a care in the world!

Shin: Yup! I stopped worrying myself!

Hiro: Already? That was fast....

Shin: Since everyone is so different, I don’t think we’ll always get along. But, for the sake of Edel Rose, we just have to keep moving forward! So, let’s just do our best together!

Leo: Shin-kun!!! I’m so glad you’re back!!

Shin: Ahh! Leo-kun, my face!!

Yukinojo: Just as I thought, when Shin’s gone it’s lonely in here, as though we’ve lost our light.

Yu: Shin, where were you!

Taiga: Ugh, you made us worry....

Kakeru: The party can’t start without you, Shin!

Minato: Ichijo, everyone was waiting for you!

Shin: Thank you! From now on we’re gonna do this togeth--

Yamada: Hey! Are you all in here?

Shin: Yamada-san? What’s wrong all of a sudden?

Yamada: Just shush up and watch.

Shin: ....wHAAAAAAT?! Louis... is doing a Prism Show with “pride”?!

Hiro: HuaahuhhaaaaAAAAAh.

Click for Chapter 2!

#king of prism #kinpri #prism rush #i actually have chapter 2 in my drafts like 85% done #if this gets a lot of notes I'll post it within a few days #if it doesn't it may sit for a while.....#every so often I have to pull an overnighter to adjust for time difference for my work #and lately when that happens I pick a translation project to work on #this time I chose this blog #so I started this and added a bunch more random stuff to the queue #merry christmas!

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ramp-it-up · 2 years ago

Text

Bucky Charms

Summary: You learn more about Bucky other than the physical. Are you ready to risk it all?

Pairing: Dark CEO! Bucky Barnes x Journalist! Reader

Warnings: As always, 18+ ONLY, SMUT. Minors DNI. ANGST. Fluff. Descriptions of past trauma, kidnapping, death, violence. Steve and Sam, Pining, lust, flirting through music, teasing, karaoke, non con surveillance, oral sex (m recieving) degradation kink alongside praise kink, Sir kink, good girl/bad girl kink, p in v (wrap it up!) lil bit of breeding kink, Soft Dark Bucky.

A/N: This is part of the Playlist Series. Read the previous part, F*cking Bucky @ysmmsy and @blackwidownat2814 are my exquisite muses who created the playlists, with more to come. 😉 Thanks you both! 🥰 please leave feedback, like and reblog. It helps to inspire me. 😊

The playlist is real and is linked here!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

I’ll stop the world and melt with you/you’ve seen the difference/ and it’s getting better all the time/there’s nothing you and I won’t do/I’ll stop the world and melt with you…the future’s open wide…

You listened to that cut over and over until you fell asleep after Bucky left your apartment and woke up with it still on repeat.

You’d certainly melted for James Buchanan Barnes last night, and he melted all over you. You smiled at the window, feeling light and buoyant as air, but then sat up and frowned as you realized what Bucky said.

“Professional.”

He’d suggested that you could both be professional. After last night, you didn’t think you could do it, but you had to try. You moved to get out of bed and realized that you were still sore.

You grinned as you padded to the bathroom and ran another hot bath. You didn’t regret a single thing about the night before.

And you had a feeling that despite what Bucky had said, neither did he.

Bucky was late to work. For him. He walked into the office at 8:45 am.

Steve and Sam shared a look across the shared space, but didn’t say a word. Until Bucky put in his AirPods and started singing Frank Ocean.

A tornado flew around my room before you came/Excuse the mess it made…

“Okay. What the hell is going on?”

Bucky stared up at Sam who was now hovering over his desk and who’s broken through his noise cancellation.

“Hunh?

Steve got up and walked over to Bucky.

“Don’t play dumb with us. You are late, and in an awfully good mood. Singing, Buck? What happened last night, Bucky. Did you get with Y/N?”

Bucky looked up at the two men who were most like brothers in his life. He couldn’t hide anything from them.

“So what if I did get lucky last night?”

Bucky put his long legs up on his desk and leaned back in his ergonomic chair.

“What makes you think it was her? There are 4.3 million women in this city.”

Steve and Sam just stared at him, then Steve spoke again.

“Sure. But there’s only one that you are laser focused on.”

Sam agreed.

“Yeah, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

Bucky’s grin got wider and he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Sam shook his head.

“I’ve heard that before. That means this is serious, because in the old days…”

“We got a blow by blow. Literally.”

“Fuck you Steve. And fuck you Sam.”

Bucky threw up double birds at his friends.

“And step the fuck back from my work space. I’ve got work to do.”

When his business partners had safely retreated, Bucky picked up his phone to text you. He couldn’t not text you the morning after, but he had to be careful.

“See you at 4 o’clock. Looking forward to moving on with this project.”

You read the text, your heart beating a mile a minute when you saw the notification. You took some deep breaths as you walked to the subway station to go into the city. It was pretty straightforward. No subtext to be parsed out.

There was no way to know that you were the project that Bucky was talking about.

Both of you went through your days, listening to the playlist Bucky was building throughout the day. This was not the music to do work to. The songs were cute and flirty, silly, surprising, and in some cases full of emotion that went well beyond a professional relationship.

But it was just music, right?

You two sent songs flying to the playlist throughout the day, flirting with music in place of words, glances, and touch. Etta James, Savage Garden, Monica, The Pogues, Frank Ocean, The Darkness, from the 80’s to last month.

It was a very eclectic mix that seemed to summarize both of your personalities perfectly. On the A train that afternoon, you caught an older woman smiling at you as you cheesed at your phone.

Bucky was becoming more and more active on IG since your interview and he’d posted a photo. It was a close up selfie of him staring off into space at his desk in a dark grey suit with a purple line-patterned tie. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and his blue eyes were dreamy.

This man was posting thirst traps fully clothed. And judging from some of the comments, plenty of people were falling for it. There were over 1200 likes in the 90 minutes it had been up.

You didn’t want to like the picture, but then you read the caption.

No time to relax! Finished a full day of work, looking forward to working on a passion project this afternoon. #Icanseethebluerskieslikemulticoloredflowerfields

You scrolled through the comments, people saying how handsome he was, sending their coochie through the interwebs. You sighed, and liked the picture, and then posted your own comment.

I drifted off the Earth to march in your parade/Colors on me moving slowly

Bucky was waiting for your comment, ignoring all of the thirst replies and hoping that you’d respond. He replied with two perfect words.

Technicolor, girl.

Then came another slew of comments about his response and you started gaining random followers.

Oh lord, you thought, this was going to be a lot.

You decided to get control of yourself before 4 pm. If not, you would fall right into Bucky’s arms as soon as you arrived. And that wouldn't do, would it?

45 minutes later, you stood in front of Bucky Barnes’s brownstone for a minute making sure you had composure. You did a mental check of all your systems.

Heart rate: normal.

Breathing: easy.

Panties: dry.

You were confident that you were in full control and could be professional. You paused and bit your lip as you thought of the night before Bucky had made you feel like no one else had. You shook your head to clear it.

You could do it. You could be strong. He probably wasn’t as attractive as you were making him out to be. After all, it had been a while, you were horny, and now, you were fine.

Your hormones had made him out to be more than he actually was. He wasn’t all that. The dick was only amazing because you’d been sex starved. That was it. He had no control over you.

You stood up straight, your self-talk making you confident, you reached up to knock on the door.

Bucky watched your internal struggle on his laptop. He admired the body that he felt like he knew so well after just one night. Your choice of outfit was modest, but sexy. Blue chambray shirt over slim fit black pants and tank with wedge sandals. You were covered, professional, yet comfortable. There was only one upgrade he would recommend.

His blue chambray shirt. But all in due time.

Bucky studied your countenance and posture as you paused before you attempted to enter. The way you bit your lip made his cock shift, but he willed it down. You looked as if you were confident in your self restraint.

Perfect.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as you knocked, once, twice, three times and when he saw you look around and lick your lips, tentatively reaching for the digital lock on the door was when he went to open it.

Your heart started beating off kilter when your knock went unanswered.

System one down.

You moistened your lips and looked up and down the street. There was no mistaking what he said last night. It was the right time. And the right place. You had the combination to the door, but you remembered what happened the last time you entered. But you screwed your courage and reached for the lock.

The lock drew away from your hand and you moved as if you were falling down Alice’s rabbit hole when Bucky opened the door.

First sensation: the sound of The Internet playing on a sound system behind him and you knew you were in trouble.

Know you wrong/But sho you right/Home alone/For the night…

Second sensation: falling in slow motion into Bucky’s arms as you tried to follow the knob.

“Oh!”

You stumbled forward further into his chest.

“Hey!”

Bucky chuckled as he held you fast. You two stared at each other and you forgot to breathe. Damn, he was as handsome as you thought. Even more so.

System two down.

Bucky inhaled a good whiff of your scent and smiled down at you.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

You looked up at him, slightly confused as you attempted to process the next sensations of Bucky’s hands on your body, the smell of him all around you, and that sexy tenor in your ears. And that smile, that face, that mouth. Your serotonin spiked.

Bucky just continued to smile as you remembered yourself. You pulled back and straightened your clothes.

You concentrated hard for system three to stay afloat. But then you looked back up at him. i

Damn. He was beautiful.

“You okay?”

“No.”

Your panties were not as dry as they were. You wanted to climb the man in front of you, your hormones going crazy with flashbacks of the night before.

James Buchanan Barnes had put it down and now you were addicted.

But you couldn’t just flow with that. You were a professional.

“What-”

“I mean… no worries.”

You smiled brightly at him to cover your embarrassment.

“It was my fault, I should have waited–”

“My fault, I should have checked-”

You both spoke at the same time, and then laughed. You loved Bucky’s eye crinkles.

You cleared your throat and straightened your spine.

Bucky covered a moan in his throat with a cough. That body was his weakness. His cock thickened with thoughts of pulling you in his home and then fuck you on the hallway floor, but instead he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

He smiled, and you blushed.

“How are you?”

Bucky ducked his head and smiled that smile at you. He looked so young.

“I’m good, Y/N. Real good. And you?”

His smile was hopeful, and full of knowing. God, you were a simp. Professional wasn’t going to work.

“I’m good, Bucky.”

You smiled at him and you two just stood there grinning.

Bucky just continued to stare at you. His smile and his nervousness was doing something to you, so you cleared your throat again. This was so not what you were expecting.

Finally, Bucky realized the awkwardness of the situation.

“Shit. I’m being rude. Come on into my office.”

You laughed again and followed him into the room, noticing his laptop. It made you grow warm.

“How did you sleep last night?” asked Bucky.

What a question.

He was closer that you thought, but farther away than you hoped. You turned around and looked at him, biting your lip and shifting on your feet.

“After a nice, hot bath, I slept like a baby.”

That eyebrow raised and made you squirm with the faint sensation of him inside you. You could still feel the effects of him.

“Hot bath, huh?”

“Yes, with Epsom salts. I was a bit… sore. Needed another this morning.”

You lowered your eyes to your fingers which were clutching your bag, and then raised them back up to his face. That tongue snaked out and licked his bottom lip and his teeth captured it. You dragged your eyes up to his and saw the desire there. But he also looked contrite.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.”

You interrupted him, fighting to keep your eyes wide open while they were on his. You tried to keep your voice from cracking when you said, “I liked it.”

Bucky took a deep breath and stepped to you.

“Y/N. I want to talk to you… about ground rules. With us.”

You lowered your eyes. You just knew he was going to shut all of this flirting down. You weren’t going to beg him, you just had to suck it up. Even though this thing between you felt like crack.

Bucky tipped your chin up, the feeling of his fingers on you shooting electricity straight to your core.

“I don’t want there to be any.”

“What?”

You were confused.

“I thought last night would get it out of my system, but it only served to make me want more.”

What was he saying?

“More? More what? You want more sex?”

You were thrilled and disappointed at the same time. Bucky Barnes had you stirred up.

“Of course I do.You’re beautiful. That body, the way you feel…I’m not dead.”

Bucky stood there and his eyes raked over you with possession. And you let hIm, wanting to belong to him. That realization had you shook.

“But I want more. More than just sex. And if you just want sex, then that can’t happen. Feelings would get involved. At least for me.”

Bucky drew in a ragged breath.

“So you have to know that you are in control of this…” he moved his hand between you both, “this situation. Because I can’t trust myself to not go headlong over this cliff with you…”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours and you tried to return his honest gaze. His words were so fucking charming that you were ready to jump as well. But you had work to do.

“I get it, Bucky. Let's just take it moment by moment. Right now, I’ll behave and be a good girl.”

Bucky released a light groan and shook his head as his eyes dilated slightly.

“Please stop. Unless you want me to…”

He stopped, and you could tell that he was holding himself back by the way his jaw clenched. The knowledge that you had this power over him was heady stuff. But you decided to chill.

“Okay, you’re right, we have work to do. Now is not the time for.. more.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip.

“Definitely not.”

“Totally.”

You took a deep breath.

“Where’s the manuscript?”

Bucky’s eyes swept over you one more time, then turned to his laptop, sat down and typed for a few seconds.

“In your inbox.”

He was calmer now, and anxious for you to read his story.

You sank down into the couch and opened your bag to grab your own laptop.

You looked up at him one more time before you started to read, and when you began, you were quickly immersed in the narrative.

An hour and half later, you looked up at him, tears in your eyes.

“Bucky… I…”

“Is it any good?”

You looked at him in a totally new light. This was a different level of intimacy than just sex. This was his soul laid bare..

“Is it any good? Bucky, it’s fantastic! The honesty, the raw emotion…thank you for trusting me with this.”

Bucky gave you a sad smile and your heart twisted. You centered yourself by observing details and realized that his tie was now off and his sleeves were rolled up. He seemed more relaxed and natural and now that you knew the full story of Bucky Barnes, he was a marvel.

You put your laptop aside and stared off into space, trying to process. Bucky watched your profile, anxious and wanting to pull you into an embrace. But you were setting the pace.

You looked back over at him after a full minute.

“Are you sure you want all of this out there? This gives insight into your most personal, devastating moments. It will give people a lot of access to things most people hold close. And it opens you up for a lot.”

You had an entirely new perspective on James Buchanan Barnes. One that went far beyond sex.

“Yes. Writing this down has helped me to heal. Publishing it will bring closure.”

Bucky stood up and poured himself a drink, and offered the brown liquor to you. You nodded and took the glass, realizing that it was probably Macallan 18.

This man had lost his wife, his whole life… you couldn’t imagine. And here you were wondering if he were playing games.

“It must have been horrifying.”

Bucky nodded and looked down into his drink.

“At first I had no memory of what I’d done and how I’d done it. I woke up in the hospital and saw the headlines that the CEO of CapTech had been found injured and sobbing hysterically as he cradled his wife in his good arm. The most anyone knew was that Sarah was killed in a failed robbery attempt. No one knew about the kidnapping.”

You rocked back in your seat, remembering the rumors around that event. Word was that Bucky went almost insane with grief.

You realized now that the rumor was true.

“My heart was buried in the casket with Sarah, and after everything that happened, I went into a type of hibernation, holed up in the Manhattan penthouse above our offices. Steve and Nat challenged me to get back to work a year later, telling me that they were taking up my slack.”

Bucky laughed bitterly, shook his head, and took a drink.

“It wasn’t until Sarah’s birthday two years later that I finally noticed that Sam was grieving as hard, if not harder, than I was. And I realized how selfish I’d become.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained look on his face and you shivered, feeling a fraction of the emotion he must have been feeling. You wanted to cry.

“Bucky… I’m so sorry.”

Bucky looked at you.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. It’s alright. I’m ok now.”

“But… how?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“Well, intense therapy for one. Family therapy with Sam. Running. Running with my friends, or… with strangers I bump into.”

He gave you a smile and you smiled back, hopelessly connected to this man.

“Another thing that has helped me immensely was meeting you and seeing the way you crafted our interview, and experiencing the response to it. I’m communicating about myself more with the public.

“Yes, I’ve noticed the response you’re getting on social media.”

Bucky just chuckled at your thirst trap shade.

“I need you to help me tell this story, Y/N. Please. Help me.”

You leaned toward him. You two gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Your story is powerful the way it is, but right now, the way it reads leaves you open to some liability for what happened to those men in that warehouse that day. I believe you that it was self defense, and defense of your wife. That was such a hard thing to live through and to write down. I have an idea on how to revise the story to keep the emotion, but protect you, and Sarah and Sam at the same time. Hear me out.”

—--

Two hours later, you’d sketched out revisions to Bucky’s memoir. You were emotionally spent. And starving. It was almost 8pm. You looked at Bucky when you were done and he read you like a book.

“I ordered Thai food 45 minutes ago when you were on a roll outlining. I hope you’re hungry.”

You sighed and smiled.

“Feed me and I will love you forever.”

You laughed at your joke, but Bucky did not.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

Suddenly, the air was thick with need.

“About that… Bucky… I want to work with you on this project. But I can’t deny that… that I am attracted to you in the worst way.”

Bucky smiled and cocked his head.

“’The worst way.’ Is it that bad? I feel like I need to apologize.”

You nodded.

“It is bad. If we need to be professional.”

Bucky looked up in the air.

“Well. Think about last night…”

You shifted in your seat.

“I mean, we just did some pretty good work tonight. After what happened,…”

Bucky grinned

“Well. You’re not wrong…”

You grinned back at him. You just liked him so fucking much.

The tension was thick. You were about to climb onto Bucky’s lap when the doorbell rang. He looked disappointed, as if he was reading your mind again.

You stood up, drank some water and tried to get your head on straight. Bucky came back in with and you remembered your hunger for food.

When you’d eaten, Bucky had a suggestion.

“Listen, we did some good work, had some good food, but I don’t want the night to end. And it is Friday. Don’t need to get up early tomorrow.”

Bucky looked at you like a little boy again.

You raised your eyebrow at him

“What do you suggest this late that we haven’t already done today?”

Bucky grinned at you.

BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE/THE WAY THAT YOU FLIP YOUR HAIR GETS ME OVERWHELMED/BUT WHEN YOU SMILE AT THE GROUND, IT AINT HARD TO TELL/ YOU DON’T KNOW OH-OH/YOU DON’T KNOW YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!

You two were laughing through belting out the One Direction song at the top of your lungs at Upstairs Karaoke bar, not far from where you both lived. You were both jumping around and acted like idiots, as one does when they have a proper fun time doing Karaoke.

“Omg! Bucky! That was terrible.”

You grimaced, thinking about your singing voice.

“I bet you’ve reconsidered this idea after that.”

Bucky just ginned and swung the mic around in a circle as the music for the next song came up.

“I can do this all night.”

I can't fight this feeling any longer…

You grinned back and joined him in singing REO Speedwagon.

——

Three hours later, at almost one am, you walked back toward Bucky’s brownstone, and your apartment. When it came time to turn in the direction of your place, you took Bucky’s hand and tugged it toward his place. You walked in silence toward his house until you spoke up again.

“I’ve been through the gauntlet of emotions today, Bucky.. I mean in the last 24 hours.”

“Hmmmm?” said Bucky.

“Yeah. Lust, uncertainty, infatuation, nervousness, sympathy, motivation to write, attraction, hunger, silliness, and just plain fun. It feels like we’ve lived a lifetime today.”

Bucky stood on his stoop and looked down into your eyes.

“I feel the same. With maybe a couple more thrown in.”

You cocked your head.

“Yeah, like what?”

“Mmmmmm. Not ready to reveal that just yet. But I do want to explore a couple that you’ve mentioned. But, like I said earlier, that’s not my call.”

“Which ones?”

You didn’t know why you were holding your breath.

“Lust, infatuation, attraction… and hunger.”

You knew he wasn’t taling about Thai food.

“Oh.”

You tugged his hand, leading him up his own steps and put the code into his door.

“I would like to experience, more of those. And more of what you want. Bucky. Let’s drive off that cliff.”

With that, you pulled him inside.

You two kissed all the way down the hallway to his living room, where you ended up on his leather couch, pulling off your jacket and pulling the sweater he had put on over his shirtsleeves up over his head. You were feral for him.

And so, it seemed, he was for you.

“Come here, Doll.”

Bucky grabbed your neck and pulled your lips toward him as he devoured your mouth and his hand roamed your body.

“Been wanting to kiss you all night. Want to kiss your lips. I love the way they suck my tip.”

His hoarse voice in your ear did things to you, although you were confused at first until his put his hands in your leggings past your panties and used two thick fingers to part your pussy. He wasn’t talking about the lips on your face.

He used your slick to lubricate his digits and entered you, pumping a few times, watching as your head lolled back on your shoulders. He kissed your neck and cleavage as you succumbed to the pleasure. Then, he pulled his hand away and toward his mouth, earning a whine from you.

Bucky meant to just taste you, but that taste stirred something in his soul.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

He kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him, then rested his forehead on yours as he asked a question.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

“Let me suck your dick, Bucky.”

He pulled away from you, and looked you in the eyes.

“You’ll get anything to ask for.”

This was a different Bucky, not totally unlike the night before. Still sex on legs, but this Bucky was gentle, but still oh so sexy.

He pushed you backward until you stood up before him and he took off his shirt, and then his pants. You reached for him before he took off his underwear, pulling his waist band so that his hard cock slapped his abs. You stared down at it but didn’t touch it.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since last night, when you denied me.”

You swiped your thumb along his tip and then sucked it, making him lick his own lips.

“Sit down, please. Sir.”

Bucky sat, and then you kneeled in front of him on the hardwood floor. Bucky noticed and put a pillow down for you to kneel on. You smiled at him as he started stroking himself. You stared, your hand trailing song your neck and chest absentmindedly as you admired him.

“It really is a thing of beauty. Ever since I saw it the other day, I’ve been obsessed with it. How it would feel, how it would split me apart. How it would taste.”

You looked up at Bucky and it was like he’d been shot with a magazine of cupid’s arrows.

“Damn, Doll. You sure do have a way with words.”

You reached for him, grasping his shaft in one hand that looked small now, and his balls in the other.

“I’m not all talk…”

And then you leaned forward to lick a stripe on the underside of his cock, from his balls to the tip, stopping to suck the thick cap vigorously.

“Ooooh, shit… Doll. That mouth.”

Bucky’s head was sideways, cocking his head to watch you from that angle.

You opened your mouth and took as much as you could in your mouth and relaxed your throat to let him in there.

“Gotdamn.”

He placed his hand on your head but placed no pressure on you as you bobbed freely for his pleasure. And yours.

You placed your hands on his tensing thighs as you came apart as a result of your mouth, and he shuddered when you released him with a pop just to grab it again and trail your tongue back down his length. You drew his balls into your mouth, one at a time as you continued to stroke him off.

Bucky was looking at you with disbelief. He was putty in your hands. He leaned forward to kiss your sloppy face.

“I want to be inside you, wanna make love to you. Take off those clothes.”

He spoke to you softly, yet with a command your body remembered. You stood up slowly and tried to gracefully shed your garments as he stroked himself and looked up at you like you were the moon.

“So beautiful.”

Bucky reached out and made grabby hands for you as you stood naked before him.

”C’mere. Climb on. Let me in again.”

He continued to stare up at you, kissing your sternum and each breast as your thighs trembled on either side of his as you slid down over his mushroom cap.

“Buckyyyyyy.”

The feeling of him splitting you open caused a delicious pain, the soreness from the night before still evident. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to his size.

And you didn’t want to.

“Fuck me baby doll. Fuck me good. Fuck your self on this dick.”

Bucky slipped his hand between you two and started circling your clit in tight little circles.

“Oh my god Bucky! I can’t. Can’t breathe, can't concentrate…”

Your mind was mush as Bucky drove you toward your peak and up over the edge.

“Shhhh…”

Bucky leaned down to lick your nipple and suck briefly, teasing each breast in turn to work you up even more.

“Don’t think. Just feel. Release all thoughts. Cum for me.”

“Jeeeeeezzzzzzuzzzzzz!”

You came ferociously, clenching around Bucky and causing him to pulse inside you.

“Thaaat’s a good girl.”

He did not let up on your clit and drew your pleasure out until you were a complete mess on his lap.

Bucky licked a stripe up the middle of you, from your belly button to your cheek as you lay back in is arms, cock drunk, and still impaled on his very stiff dick.

“You tastes so fucking good, Doll. Tasted you in my dreams last night.”

You your surprise, he stood up, holding you and turned around to place you on the couch. The fine leather stuck to your sweaty skin, but you didn’t care.

“I don’t want to service you anymore.”

Bucky started pumping and telling you how he felt. All you could do was moan in response.

“Want to make love to you.”

He watched your fucked out face and started stroking more insistently.

“Of course, if you were mine, I’d service you anytime you needed it. Give you everything your heart, mind, pussy, body could want…”

“Yes, Bucky… yessssss.”

You were blissed out, hearing and feeling all the sensations you wanted at the moment.

“What are you doing to me doll?”

Bucky’s eyes moved from where you two were connected to your face.

“So beautiful…”

He grabbed your hand from where it was resting on his abs, picked it up, and brought it to his mouth, kissing your palm. Your back arched at the added sensation of his lips on your hand and the long fingers on his other hand grabbed your hip as he continued.

Bucky’s ice blue eyes were watching you as yours closed in ecstasy.

“Yes.”

He started moving your hip, long fingers digging in and sure to leave a bruise.

“You like this? Like how I’m giving it to you? You deserve it. Such a good girl.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

You started moving, loving the feel of the wiry hairs at the base of his cock against your clit.

“Feels so good. Feels like this dick is mine.”

Bucky’s eyes were focused on yours now. He held your stare, which bloomed new warmth in your belly.

“You want it to be yours?”

You didn't answer, just bit your lip and nodded.

Bucky’s hand snaked up behind you and grabbed the hair at your nape, causing your neck to bend and your body to arch backward.

He admired your form and the way your breasts moved as you did. You could feel him swell impossibly more than he already was.

“I’m trying to be gentle. Sweet and slow. Like a good girl should be fucked .But you just make me want to… make me wanna fuck you. Like…”

Bucky groaned and squeezed your hip.

“Take it, Bucky. It’s yours.This pussy is alll yours.”

You rotated your hips so as to feel all of him, and which caused him to spurt a little inside you.

“You trying to make you cum inside you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You moaned as Bucky’s hand came around and grasped your throat skillfully. His other hand grows and pinched your nipples, causing your hips to move wildly.

“There’s my bad girl. Damn. I think I…..”

“Y-yes Sir?”

Bucky almost let it slip.

“I think I wanna cum inside.”

He leaned down to whisper into your ear. That voice making you clench harder around him.

“Would you like that? Hot load of cum in your tight little snatch?”

“Oh, ohhhh shittt. Yes!”

“So fucking pretty when you’re needy, Doll.”

The combination of filth and praise sent your over the edge and you detonated around him, causing Bucky to hike your knee over his elbow and start chasing his own end.

“I can’t… No. I won’t deny myself any longer. I want this. I want you and I’m gonna. Shit can I? Can I please cum inside?”

Bucky begging got you hot and bothered again. You nodded vigorously.

“Please, I want it too!”

“Circle that clit for me. Circlie it. Cum again for me just one… fuck, just once moreeeee!”

Bucky came inside you with a shout, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your cervix. You came when you felt that and as Bucky pumped like a jackrabbit inside you.

“Holy shit.”

He chuckled in your ear.

You curled yourself around Bucky and gladly accepted his weight for a few minutes. Then, he lifted himself off of you and knelt on the floor.

“Was that? Was that okay? Did you really want this?”

Bucky looked so earnest. You nodded.

“Yes Bucky. And I want more.”

You bit your lip as he smiled down at you.

“Wanna spend the night?”

You shook your head.

“No.”

Bucky’s smile dropped. You put your hand on his cheek..

“It’s practically morning. I’ll sleep over and let you feed me breakfast later. And then we’ll talk about spending the night.”

“Anything that’ll make you smile, Doll.”

Hit play on that reblog button! 😏

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zikadraws · 2 years ago

Text

Since I've been back at it lately, I thought I'd present my latest version of Agent 4 ! It's the one that I would consider "closest to canon". Enjoy.

Now time for some extrapolating, buckle up 'cuz it's gonna be long (orange text for more personal headcanons) :

The canon site mentions that 4 was "too busy with [extra]curriculars" to know about the Squid Sisters. So I picked up on that, and now 4 is a squid who picks interests in many things at the same time !

They are sixteen years old when they meet Marie.

They go by they/she and is genderqueer

Technically their 'canon' name (result banners name) is "Surume" which happens to translates to "Shredded dried squid" but we're gonna ignore that they don't really like their name, so they think 4 sounds more rad. Edit : her complete name is Surume Eurasia NITPICK.

They have a very hyperactive brain, fueled by passion and satisfaction of discovery, and they are always looking forward for new stuff. (Canon describe them as "Down for whatever" and pretty much opportunistic and not thinking much about it.) So they have a HUGE knack for science, because they love the "F#€! around and find out" aspect of it.

They are curious about EVERYTHING and once they get interest, they must find out exactly how it functions, in all its details and lore if you will. This curiosity got them in trouble by the past.

Their curriculum (in my head) is bioengineering. They are astonishingly efficient in a lab. Though they are eager the entire time, so really the hardest thing the school had to teach them is how to follow the scientific procedure properly. (Consider all options, make differential schemes, write down everything, etc...) (Marie actually helps them with their studying method sometimes)

Their specialties are :

The topic of "waves", such as soundwaves and brainwaves. They studied the respawn points in excruciating detail on their own, and wrote an essay about squid souls, and how every living thing has its own "DNA Vibe" that can be retraced like a data log if deciphered and even exploitable if translated as a code. That essay was very detailed and got many professors *concerned* that it made sense.

Because of #1, they have a big interest about 'Souls' (which are an acquired Fact™ in this society by at least a century) and how they can be resurrected, identified, interfered with and conserved.

The topic of cell division, DNA, how a primal organism follows a program of growth.

They have artificially conserved fish embryos, and are coming to a point where they can fully develop them in vitro.

They have engineered a device that can scan an object (small to middle size) and represent it in 3D, in its deepest layers. You can put that on a computer or tablet and analyse and deconstruct the layers. They actually patented this one. It isn't new as a concept, but it's a handheld version. Also a device that can pick up brainwaves and translate them as digital writing. Several languages. Main issue here is the headaches and picking it from a distanced target, but they're definitely gonna patent this one too.

They are working on a project that they name "Primal Cell". Basically a cell with no specific purpose at its beginning, that can be "coded" through an interface into developing into a specific organism (one that one has the code and variety pattern for). It's their life project.

They mainly do all that for fun technically, but they want to use that for medical purposes, notably people with chronic illness, very bad mutations or terminal disease. After hearing about the Subway, it adds another possible use to their list. Also great communication innovating leap horizons.

They are big buddies with Sheldon because they both like infodumping and 4 is pretty good at crafting and weapon ideas, and helping him out with testing, and he helps them with material supplying, and once they start talking, it quickly sounds like intense seagull bantering. Both screaming over the other. Hellish.

They are shy and awkward with people at first meet but the second they're comfortable with you, oooh, buddy...

They're roommates with 8, nicknamed "Night" because N+8, on Marie's request. Night learned more with her in a week than she would have in six months of private classes. Night really likes 4. Night feels more at ease with them than with 3. Night stayed with them at Inkopolis during the whole Splatlands thing. I would recommend a check up on Night and 4.

They grew out of the city but close enough by, they were adopted and had two dads. One was a firework maker.

Versatile, wields all weapons pretty decently, also learned to summon them at will as well as her inventory through specific ink bending, which is technically illegal. She may be working on making the inventory able to fit in *bigger* items. Also has a specific interest with ink manipulation.

They're kinda very clueless, yet have an extremely developed sense of intuition.

They have a bad tendency to brush their problems and feelings under the rug, despite being pretty self-aware. They're a walking contradiction lol

They can often be mentally exhausting sadly, including for themselves ; and either brush off feelings or have an overwhelming empathetic reaction. The whole "Get yourself hurt because you think like a flea circus all the time" kind of thing.

🟠 They worked for five years at Grizzco part-time for money, up to Profreshional, but ended up quitting because they were way too curious for their own good and did something they knew would get them fired or worse, so they preferred to quit before anyone could fire them 'cause quitting looks better on the employment papers than being fired. Grizz had seriously his eyes on them by the end of it though. They always asked too many questions. 🟠

They're the embodiment of Chaotic Dumbass who also happens to everyone's surprise to be a Literal Scientific Genius.

Aaand that's about it I think.

So as you can see my version of Agent 4 is still pretty chaotic, true to their team of choice, though they have a lot going on for themselves. They have the potential to become the greatest bioengineering scientist of their time, hopefully for the better.

Though they are sure to face some though moral dilemmas during that process.

I can definitely tell that I'm falling back into my Splatoon phase so expect more intense bs to come, if you have questions or comments about them or related, don't hesitate !

Thank you~✨🙏🎶

#splatoon agent 4 #agent 4 #agent 4 splatoon #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon headcanon #agent 8 #grizzco #long post #orange text lol sorry for your eyes #inkling #oc i guess #subject to editing #anyways

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carlisles-girl · 3 years ago

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Hullo! I just found your blog a few hours ago and I really like the writing you’ve done for Twilight :D Would it be possible to put in a request for head canons with Aro Vulturi and specifically a human mate that is Bella’s cousin who lives with Charlie; She plays violin very well and is seeking a job in the arts and writing. Most of her friends and Bella kind of just nod or zone out when she talked about her ideas and she feels like she bores everyone, but he would never make her feel that way, asking about the characters not her book and picking favorites? As well as having ADHD and sometimes being difficult to keep up with because of all the topic hopping and difficultly staying focused?

a/n: Of course! Unfortunately, I will not be able to write the ADHD section of your request, as I do not have ADHD, and I do not wish to manage to offend a few people if I were to write it incorrectly. I would also like to apologize to my readers as I have not been posting as of late. I hope you all enjoy! <3

Aro Volturi With An Artistically Inclined Mate

Aro absolutely worships the sciences and the arts, so I do sense that he would be the most supportive if he had been granted a mate who was skilled in the artistic area.

Whether you were skilled in music, painting, sketching, writing, poetry, you name it, Aro would absolutely love to look over your work and give you a kiss on the cheek whilst you were completing your work.

“You are the most talented, mia cara.” (Translation: “You are the most talented, my dear.”

You were Bella’s cousin, and lived with Charlie before you had met Aro and the rest of the Volturi.

Aro understood that you loved your family, and that you would do anything to see them again.

You had met Aro when Bella came to Volterra with Alice to save Edward. You went with her, and that’s when you also found out Aro was your mate, and he was yours.

You were awestruck that this gorgeous, centuries old man, whom of which was also a vampire, was destined to be with you for the rest of eternity.

You decided to stay in Volterra with him, despite Bella pulling you by your wrist, in attempt to get you back home.

“Bella, I’ll be fine. Make sure to tell Charlie that I am alright, too. Call me when you get home.”

You were slightly embarrassed, but you managed to get Bella to leave, with the help of Edward and Alice.

“Bella, I’ve seen it happen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but you wouldn’t of let them go if I had told you.” - Alice

You spent the rest of the evening with Aro, as he taught you about Volterra, and the rest of the vampires.

You were changed shortly after meeting, as Aro could hardly, but still managed, control his thirst around you.

You were in your room when you were practicing your art.

Aro was heading up to greet you, and to complain about the vampires that had managed to break such easy laws to follow.

He peaked in through the crack of the already slightly open door, to see you speaking amongst yourself.

“No, no, it would be so much better if I add this.”

He smiled to himself, as well as slightly furrowing his eyebrows together, wondering what you were speaking about.

Aro glided over to the chair you were sitting in, and placed a kiss on your collarbone, greeting you as he usually did.

“Carissima, what are you working on this evening?” (Translation: Dearest, what are you working on this evening?”)

“Oh it’s nothing important, Aro.”

“How so? Everything you do is important to me, I would love to hear about your projects. All of them, in fact.”

“Really? You’d truly like to hear about them?”

“Of course I would!”

“Don’t you have more trials to involve in?”

“We have all the time in the world, mia cara. I am far more interested in you than those trials that involve mediocre vampires.”

You smiled at him before bringing your face down to your art. Aro placed his hand over yours, indicating that he was, in fact, more interested in your craft.

“Okay, so I have this, and I’m just not entirely sure if I like it, like, if I like it enough for it to be complete.” Aro looked over your shoulder to see a sheet of paper showing all your plans, the plans before actually creating a final product.

As Aro was looking over your sheet, his smile grew wider as you kept pointing out certain things that you liked, and things you would make sure would end up in the final product.

“Well, dolcezza, if you have to question whether or not you completely like it, there is a great chance that you don’t completely like it.”

You looked at him with understanding, “Yeah, that does make sense.”

“Oh, I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”

“Oh no, not at all! I was just thinking about what I could alter.”

“Can I give my opinion? I’m quite fond of this artistic area. We also have many books in the library and our archive if you need any additional assistance.”

Aro is very understanding of any frustrations you may come across when practicing your craft, which comes in very handy.

If you can’t express what is frustrating you, Aro will place a comforting hand on your cheek, which will allow him to access your thoughts, also allowing him to understand you more in a more in-depth way.

He will also often study with you in the library, helping you find the best books to help you understand your situation.

If you do music, like an instrument, he will gladly hear you practice.

Marcus loves you two together. He especially loves whenever him and his other brothers are in that office-like room that was shown in Breaking Dawn Pt.2, and the door slams open and you come running in to show Aro an idea you had.

Marcus loves that you bring Aro much happiness, as it reminds him of the happiness that Didyme illuminated.

Caius definitely gets more frustrated whenever you burst into the room, but he doesn’t show it because he really enjoys discuss art with you, so he turns around whilst reading the novel he was reading prior.

He just wishes that you enter the room with much more grace.

Aro has dedicated a room in the castle to your finished products and your supplies.

Only you and him have the keys to this room.

Aro likes to visit this room whenever you go and visit your friends back in Forks, as he misses your presence and occasional scribbling whenever you get a new idea.

#twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight oneshot #aro volturi oneshot #aro volturi x reader #aro volturi imagine #twilight aro #aro volturi #aro twilight #volturi kings #volturi preferences #twilight

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