#anyway LONG LONG TAGS IT FEELS LIKE ITS BEEN AWHILE SINCE A CHARACTERS MADE ME WANNA WRITE LONG TAGS. excellent.

[toxicyeuriii]

Okok so like I love many characters in reverse 1999 (looking at you medpoc, 6, and horro), and so I got an amazing fanfic with horropedia that I would like to share!!!

But here's a few things I wanna say b4 you read it. Reader works at laplace (ofc because i love laplace) and sometimes they deliver samples to the foundation, and since reader wears a little charm of ghost face's mask on their ID card thingie, so horro noticed a horror genre lover! Now lets start!!!

☆ -------------------------------------------- ☆

After working on an important vaccine for the foundation for quite a while, you're finally done with it! Only took 3 weeks.... But it's for an important cost! Healing the sick little children in the school of the foundation is really important for the future of arcane and St. Pavlov...

After grabbing all of your things and securing the vaccines into the case, you get up out of you lab and start to walk toward the foundation. During the walk there you see Mesmer Jr. working on the artificial somnambulism project, as usual, Ms. Sotheby with Matilda just going around looking for something you suppose, and Sonetto going to Madam Z's office.

It wasn't long until you reach Constantine's office to deliver the samples to her. You and her only had a brief discussion about the vaccines before you left her office and began to walk back to Laplace.... Before a certain nerd came your way.

" Is that charm on your ID the exclusive glow in the dark ghost face mask? I got the same one back at home!"

" Huh.... Oh wait, yeah, it is."

You say, which you gotta admit, you were a bit baffled at first.

" Who are you again?"

" We haven't met but my names Horropedia"

" But your ID tag says Joshu-"

Before you finished your sentence he interrupted you.

" Shush! I would rather be called Horropedia then....that name"

" Oh....okay"

He took a good look at your name tag again and then smiled

" [Y/N] is your name? Hm.."

You nod in reply to his question.

"Anyways, since you're obviously a horror fan like me how about we exchange numbers? So that we can talk about the horror genre"

He said in a very happy tone, which made you feel bad if you deny so you gave him you number....despite not knowing much about the genre.

After that interraction, you awkwardly waddled away..... Great, now a random horror fanatic has your number.

[Timeskip]

_______________________________________

Despite not knowing much about horror, Horropedia still talked to you as you learned more and more about the horror genre. Which you got to admit, the horror movies, shows, games etc, are actually pretty good, so now you understand why hes practically in love with it.

So one day while giving some samples to Constantine for medicine pocket because they were to busy to do so, so you did so. It doesnt hurt to help a colleague.

As you were coming back from her office, got a sense of deja vu, before you see Horropedia coming up to you with a big smile.

" Ah, the 'great' [Y/N]! Its been awhile since we met outside of our messages! How have you been?"

That's why you felt deja vu....

" Oh, hello jo- Horropedia, I've been alright, just busy with work. The usual, what about you?"

" Works been...work.. But I have a crazy proposal, what about you come over to my place for a horror movie marathon! We can just relax and watch as many horror movies before we ultimately fall asleep from the exhaustion, how does that sound?!"

That doesnt sound too bad really, it's just basically like a sleepover...hm..

"I mean, I'm free today and tomorrow, sure, why not?"

You could see his smile brighten immediately.

" Alright, I'll send you my address, and oh! I can show you my collection, I have many things like Jason's masks, and believe me, they are as freaky like in the movies!"

You smile and then nod.

" Sounds cool.... Well I'm going to go, I'll stop by after work, see you"

You say before leaving to go back to Laplace, to which he just waves bye. The way to Laplace was relatively quiet, except for the occasional footsteps of workers walking around the buildings.

Once you made it to your lab you began to work on your remaining work, which wasnt alot, you only had to write the rest of your progress report on the serum you're making.

As you work on it, the only things you can hear is the tapping on your keyboard, your breathing, and the occasional sounds of you pulling out notes. After a little bit you finally finish up your progress report, phew. You save it and then turn off the computer. Then you check your phone, might as well see where Horropedia lives so you can go home, grab your things, and then go over to his home.

He actually lives quite close to your house, atleast less of a walk there. You packed up all your things before going to his house.

When you got there you had to knock at the door three times before he finally answered. When you saw him you immediately noticed he was in more casual clothes, his hair being pulled back by two hair clips, him wearing a horror shirt, and......some monster slippers? They looked goofy as hell, so of course you chuckled a bit when you saw them.

" Hey [Y/N]! Welcome, here you can take a seat at the couch"

He said while letting you in. The house itself was small, enough for one person, and their dog.

" Cute dog"

You said while petting the little guy.

" Thanks! Anyways do you want anything to drink or to snack on?"

You nod while telling him your desired drink/snack..

You look around his living room to see alot of posters and other items that are horror related, like a mini nightmare on elm street poster, the Jason masks he mentioned prior, and a few other nice things. You also notice a dog bed near the yellow recliner chair.

He gave you the drink/snack you asked for and the sat down in his chair while crossing his legs.

" So, what's your favorite horror movie? I think we should start with that so I can judge if you have good taste in movies or not..."

He said in a casual tone, but it kinda felt like he was criticizing you....

" Oh uhm....Well I enjoy the house of 1000 corpses...."

He auditablely gasped at that.

" Seriously? I barely hear anyone talk about that movie anymore! It's a gem for sure!"

" Really? If I'm being honest it's one of my favorite movies..."

" Heh, well I can't wait to see what else you like"

He said while turning on the movie.

" I haven't watched this one in a long while"

You nod in reply.

The movie and snacks were really nice, all you both did was watch movies, eat snacks, and once you both were so sleepy and exhausted, fell asleep on the couch. He fell asleep in his recliner chair and you fell asleep on the couch, which was oddly comfortable.

Once dayrise came you woke up to the sunlight going straight into your eyeballs. When you sit and and stretch, you notice that Horropedia was still asleep, his glasses on the table next to his chair. You gotta admit though, Horropedia without glasses was a little cute, especially with his freckles more noticable because of his glasses frames not in the way. You yawn once again and then got up to go to the bathroom and change into your other pair of clothes you brought.

After you were done you noticed that Horropedia was now awake and was rubbing his eyes.

" Good morning....Hmm... Oh do you want to have breakfast with bloody horror movies on? It's definitely a stimulating appetizer"

He just wakes up and wants to immediately talk and watch horror.

" Hm... I mean sure, never tried it but I'm always up to new things"

" Great! Now, I'm sorry but I want to have pancakes today, hope you don't mind"

" I don't mind"

" Great, I'm going to stay cooking them"

He said while going into his kitchen and starting to cook the pancakes he mentioned earlier...

After a few minutes they are done! They smell delicious. He brings you a plate of pancakes to you, they also look delicious. While he was putting on the horror movie, you put some syrup on your pancakes, which you notice that the syrup is red colored, you don't mind, it's kinda funny though.

The pancakes themself was good, and the horror movies with it, ten times better. Though after that it wasn't long before you went home.

You gotta admit the movie marathon was fun, you and horropedia should have one every so often.

_______________________________________

You and horropedia actually started to have more sleepovers after that, some you and him would just watch movies, some you and him gossiped about the foundation and Laplace, and some you and him just hung out doing things you both love. Sometimes too you and him would tire yourselves out so much that you and him would accidentally cuddle on the couch, mainly in uncomfortable positions but....who cares.

☆ __________________________________ ☆

Okay that's the end of it. This was mainly for my entertainment but I hoped yall liked it! I also had to mention house of 1000 corpses. It traumatized me as a child and now it's my favorite movie, ironic XD. Anyways I love yall and hope you have an amazing day :D

Also dont know if this is really a X reader ff but ima say it is anyways lmao.

[spacedewey]

Tagged by @elvisqueso

Put your repeat on shuffle and post the first 10 songs that come up and then tag 10 people.

As someone who never bought into streaming as a concept, this is me shuffling all 55,476 songs on my computer. There is literally no telling what will happen. I just felt like rambling about music for awhile, so...

Kool Keith, "Big Adventure," Nogatco Rd., 2006.

Ok, sure, what better way to get started? Kool Keith was enjoying something of a Renaissance in 2006, releasing a pretty staggering 3 albums. One was the extremely controversial Return of Doctor Octagon, which he fully supported until it bombed, and then said crazy things about how his vocals were stolen by his record label and he didn't make the album. The other 2, tho, Project Polaroid and Nogatco Rd, were well-received (And honestly, Return was a fun if flawed release). "Nogatco" is, you may have noticed, "Octagon" backwards, and introduced new character Mr. Nogatco. This album had a paranoid conspiracy vibe, UFOs and stuff, and this song is particularly sinister in sound, if not subject matter. This was a fun one. Weirdly not on youtube.

SZA, "Good Days," SOS, 2022.

Not to sound like that guy, but I like the early SZA more than the new SZA. The weird, dreamy soundscapes of her first three projects were hypnotic. In fact, I remember her posting right here on tumblr in 2014 about playing her excellent Z EP for a hero and being told "I can't hear you in this." That disappointment is what spurred her to become the SZA who made CTRL. And I get that, but I like that dreamy shit. Anyway, SOS was way better than CTRL, and this breezy, bittersweet song from near the end was really nice.

Dark Tranquillity, "I, Deception," Damage Done, 2002.

Pick any song from Damage Done and you have a winner. Sort of a comeback album for one of the revered pioneers of Swedish Melodic Death Metal after a few years making spooky goth metal. Not my favorite on that album ("Hours Passed In Exile"), but you can't go wrong, really. A band that's been around so long remaining remarkably consistent through just last year is really impressive. You think those guys ever feel bad about misspelling their name in the early 1990s and being stuck with it all these years?

The Kills, "Forty Four," Little Bastards, 2020.

I'ma keep it real with you, chief: I forgot this rarities collection from the Kills even came out. I remember now, tho, accompanied by that huge release of photos and videos and stuff from throughout their career. Can't imagine what was happening in 2020 to overshadow this in my mind. A cover of a Howlin' Wolf song that feels totally natural in their scuzzed up late 00s sound.

Issac Hayes, "Walk From Regio's," Shaft, 1971.

A song from Shaft that isn't "Theme from Shaft!" There's 13 of them! It's a good album, but I don't know that I'd remember any individual song without listening to it. This one is very quirky. There's a lot more going on there than people maybe expect.

Clams Casino, "Surf," Instrumental Mixtape 4, 2017.

I remember distinctly when Clammy Clams released this tape, putting it on and wondering, song after song, "How did someone even rap over this?" This one and "Norf Norf" by Vince Staples were on there, among other things, and even knowing exactly how someone rapped over it, divorced of its context, it was like "These beats are insane." This one's got a really claustrophobic vibe. Clams was God-tier for awhile there, to me.

Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings, "When I Come Home," Soul Time!, 2011

RIP Sharon Jones, man. I first heard her & the Dap-Kings on I Learned The Hard Way the year before this, and from then on, I would follow them anywhere. This one, and this whole record, is such a timewarp. The way they recaptured that sound, that moment in time so expertly and effortlessly. So good. this just happens to let me link the footage from when they were playing this back in 2011 and Prince joined them. Fuck yes, I haven't seen this since back then.

David Bowie, "Let's Dance," Let's Dance, 1983.

You kinda wish a cooler Bowie song woulda come up, ya know? Still, not bad.

The Weeknd, "Wicked Games," House of Balloons, 2011.

Wow, what luck. This is not a cover of the Chris Isaak song. As the Weeknd continues his meteoric rise, it's fun to flashback to this, my favorite song from his first project. He's described his early material as "horror music," but at the time, I was personally calling it "post-apocalyptic R&B." The beats sounded cold, desolate and dangerous, the lyrics a blurry haze of taking enough drugs to not feel anything during empty sex. It wasn't hedonism, it was nihilism. I'd never really heard anything like it. The snare hits like a piledriver. Putting on Hurry Up Tomorrow and being greeted by waves of bleakness harkening back to the old days was shocking to me. That album has obvious commercial songs on it, but I can't imagine what people who only know, like, "Blinding Lights" and "Take My Breath" thought listening to it. Gotta respect it.

Revocation, "Altar of Sacrifice," Great Is Our Sin, 2016

And, naturally, we round things out with Revocation covering Slayer. Naturally. Hey, that was fun. I don't usually tag people in these things, but this one's for @bassradius, @heartkindling, @mecha-chocomancy, @askinglifeonadate, and you, if you wanna do it.

[noodlegirl-googlyeyes]

hey! im noodle, or Ellie, and i was tagged to answer some questions abt myself by the wonderful and very rad @theprocfilesystem, thank you so much!

relationship status: single and not at all looking. i don't know if i ever will be, tbh, mostly just because i don't see myself as the kind of person who would want to. but, since it's late, i'll go ahead and overshare that i do have a regular hookup going with my main gal lliJ (im left handed) that meets my needs for sexual expression quite adequately

favorite color: for a long time it was deep purple! it was my sadboy color for sure. now that im a girl, though, it just feels sad, so i decided my favorite color would be yellow! so, yeah, its yellow :>

favorite food: carne adovada, a New Mexican dish made with Hatch red chile and (usually)pork! red chiles are dried and ground, as opposed to the green variety, which is usually roasted fresh. sauces made with red chile tend to have a very dark, smoky flavor, and have a particularly exquisite spice to them. there are many varieties of a protein in a sauce eaten in/on some carbs, but a carne adovada burrito really stands alone, for me <3

the song stuck in my head: unfortunately, it's 'Hip to Fuck Bees'

the last thing i searched online: i had to start typing in the word 'etiquette' because i couldn't remember how to spell it, but the last actual search i made was 'wired switch controller'(im just gonna get the gamecube style one probs)

the time right now: 11 pm exactly

dream trip: honestly it's less about the location and more about me being somewhere with someone who knows the area and culture well. partially it's because i won't enjoy anything if i don't feel safe, and/or if i feel alone, and partially because i hate being a tourist. i just wanna be there.

something i want: ive wanted to get a PC for awhile, it's been years since i had one. it doesn't have to be super fancy, just something that can handle a half-decent DAW and, like, be able to play my metroidvanias (lone fungus is out now btw and it looks amazing!) cherry on top would be someone to help me get started using linux, bc windows and apple can both go fuck each other.

thanks again for tagging me UwU i appreciate u! i would like to nominate @star-crossed-animals , @spoopyscaryalien , @dominoscarsidedelivery and @zoeadrien but u dont have to if u dont want to! also if u wanna do these kinds of games but no one ever tags u, u always have my permission to say i tagged u :>

in addition i'm adding another question: whats a piece of media(book, movie, show, album/song, etc.) that you feel represents you or an aspect of you that you haven't seen a lot of representation for? i know it's kind of wordy, sorry. but for example, mine is bojack horseman. when i was deep in my dark times, there were so many things about myself i hated. i started watching the show around season two, and i saw some of those parts of me in bojack in a way i'd never really seen before in media. in diane i saw some too, as well as some of the things i'd forgotten i loved about myself, but it was mostly bojack. he is not a good character, or role model, and the fact that i related so much to him was disturbing, sure, but also strangely comforting at the time. as the show continued to air, i grew as a person. i never finished the last season. by the time it came out, my values had diverged so much from his that it was kind of hard to watch. and for all my mistakes, i'm so proud of who i am today compared to that lost, lonely, angry figure slowly torturing himself to death.

like i said, its late so im oversharing lmao anyways ty again and peas and love on planat earf ✌️

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

i actually did think you didn't like sam and cas for the longest time, but it's more than your bias for dean is evident. it took awhile to see through that and understand you are coming at sam and cas out of love and in a fun way and just happen to like dean more. there are a lot of other blogs that make digs at characters (esp sam and cas) in a NOT fun way, but pretend they "love all of TFW" and that's on me for lumping you in with them.

.

You know Anon, back when I used to post absolutely NOTHING except for memes, and also had a Sam banner and icon, someone asked me who my favorite character was, and I made it a poll because I was curious how good of a job I was doing keeping my content even. Lo and behold—they chose in order by vote percentage:

Sam

Cas

Dean

Jack

Then as the poll has stayed up ever since, I think Dean and Cas have traded places in the voting (but by now everyone knows Dean is my favorite). But a very large percentage of people did not know Dean was my favorite starting out. I was surprised, because I do indeed love Dean very VERY much. It isn't that I don't like Sam and Cas—but to me, Dean is possibly one of the greatest characters of all time. I could not possibly put into words how much I enjoy his character and all of the reasons why he's touched my heart. There is just no one out there quite like him in my mind. I think my bias for Dean has come through more in recent times—especially since the finale, because I miss him very much and his shitty death gutted (DON'T) me.

I think watching the show, when you look at the story only through one characters' lens, it's very easy to resent the others for not being perfect friends/family/brothers. I have even seen someone voice the sentiment before, "To some degree, to love Sam is to hate Dean, and to hate Dean is to love Sam" (paraphrasing). The thing is, when you genuinely look at your favorite (whether that's Dean or Sam or Cas) and look at their motivations and feelings and actions, it's clear that they love each other very much. That's an unavoidable fact in my mind. Both the best and worst things they've done have been at least partially motivated by the love they have for one another. I cannot, ultimately, dislike Sam or Cas knowing how much Dean loves them. To hate them would be to hate a part of Dean that is innate to who he is—his love for his family—and the choices and sacrifices he has made due to that love. It would be to say that there is something broken inside him that makes him unable to make the right choices about who should and should not be in his life. It would be to say that the foundation of the show, at the center of which is Dean's heart and how people around him are pulled inside of its orbit, is something tainted and unworthy.

It would also be to say that Dean's mistakes are okay and theirs are not, because you will find countless parallel events and threads tying their different actions together in ways that are different but also are often very much the same, if you get their motivations.

I think, for every stan out there of any main character... it would be a good idea to watch through the show trying to see it through a lens besides that of your favorite. I did this with Sam, and I am currently doing a rewatch where one of the goals is to focus on Cas's point of view more. Nothing can give you greater compassion and understanding than trying to step inside someone else's shoes, and having done this is one of the primary reasons I can't bring myself to follow many SPN accounts I have come across on Tumblr, because resentment runs rampant in many places, over characters or ships, and I don't care for that negativity. It's also the primary reason I started this blog to begin with. I wanted to carve out a positive space, where I didn't completely refuse to engage with the characters flaws (god knows fandom won't shut up about them anyway), but a place where I pointed out their flaws only to say those flaws are okay, don't make any one of them more unworthy of love than any of the others. Those flaws (at least—the ones I agree exist... there's a lot of flaws attributed to Sam, Dean, and Cas that I don't agree with at all) are what makes them human (err... or angel, respectively). I am not interested in Mary Sues (and I am definitely not interested in fans who sand down characters into Mary Sues to escape any semblance of their favorite being "problematic"). Just show me why they make the choices they do, even when those choices are broken, and I'm compassionate and I'm fascinated. I dare anyone to do better than the characters did with the cards they were dealt—with the lives they lived.

I can't say I've had the same experience on Tumblr as you with blogs pretending to like Sam and Cas while having a clear bias for Dean... I've tended to see quite a lot more of the opposite or worse. There are, after all, several blogs dedicated to absolutely nothing except trying to spread outright hate for Dean, and there was a time not long ago that you could not even go in the Dean tag without seeing countless ugly posts spewing vitriol about him (that has faded significantly since the show ended). But I think we're all bound to be most wise to the bias against our favorites (hell—I have picked up on someone's dislike of Dean from a gif blog before... and it was later confirmed that I was right). This is also part of what feeds the culture of anti-ism in the fanbase. People watched these characters for 12-15 years, and they latched onto one of them, and they know that character, and in many cases find identity and comfort with that character, and they see that character accused of terrible things that really aren't accurate at all, and the kind of innate human response to that is to want to do the opposite—hate their favorite because they hate yours. I think it's clear that that isn't what we're really supposed to get out of SPN. I don't think the intended narrative is that Dean hates Cas or Sam or that Sam hates Dean or that any one of them is unworthy of love and acceptance or is perfect or is too flawed. People can choose the narratives they want, but I'll continue vehemently disagreeing with them and making fun of them with the tag #don't feed the stans after midnight.

[yoshichao]

the Smashers and their Host - Chapter ??? Preview

Series: Super Smash Bros.

Characters: Reader, Literally Everyone In Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Summary:  You’re an inter-dimensional being that owns a huge estate situated on the cusp of spacetime. You’ve been asked to rent out your mansion for the upcoming Super Smash Bros. tournament. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Reader-Insert, Romantic & Platonic Harem, Comedy, Fluff, No Smut

Read the fic here!

[hi a year ago i was writing a chapter about characters getting sick but then a pandemic happened, making this no longer as fun to write. as a result i’m not going to be posting this one for awhile... but i’m going to share the beginning portion of it anyways. hope you enjoy?]

"Room service!" you call out, peeking into the room with a friendly smile and a tray in your hands. Upon your arrival, Marth sits up in his bed and tries to offer a smile in return... but it is visibly weak, marred by puffy eyes and a flushed face.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise." The Altean prince's voice sounds different from what you're used to. It sounds like he has a stuffed nose... which he does, of course. "If anyone was to be bringing me soup, I would have expected it to be Peach."

You step fully into the room, nudging the door shut behind you with your hip before making your way over to the bed where the prince lies. "It was Peach's idea to make soup for everyone," you confirm, "but after we started delivering it to people, I think the full brunt of the illness hit her too and I told her to go lay down."

Upon discovering that over half the Smashers residing in your mansion had come down with a cold, you took it upon yourself to be a good host and play a part in helping everyone make a full recovery. Of course, having lived alone and illness-free for god-knows-how-long, you were a bit at a loss at what to do... and thankfully Peach was all-too-happy to lend a hand. You recall she seemed tired from the beginning but did her very best to hide it, and an hour and a cauldron of hot soup later, the exhaustion seemed to hit the princess all at once. It took some doing, but you eventually managed to convince her that you and the rest of the team could take it from there. She (and Samus, who was rooming with her while mansion repairs were still being done) was one of the first people you delivered to, and her warm, grateful smile was enough to convince you that you could do this. You can trek across the mansion for hours to deliver supplies to forty or so different people all day.

Even with your handy "shortcuts", it's more draining than you thought.

"Oh dear." Marth chuckles weakly at your explanation. "Thinking about it... for as long as we've been in Smash together, I don't think I've ever seen her fall ill before... I suppose I didn't even imagine it happening to her."

You have a feeling that Peach has gotten sick in the past - she is just very good at hiding it and powering through it. You're certain she would have continued doing that this time as well had you not convinced her otherwise. However, instead of saying any of this, you simply shrug while placing the tray on the bedside table.

"Well, she is a princess. You can't have royalty looking all unkempt and snotty - that wouldn't be right at all."

Marth needs a moment before he realizes… you are making a jab at him. The prince is flustered for a moment before he lets out a laugh, which you respond in turn with a cheeky grin.

“Do I look that bad?”

He is visibly unwell, but you feel inclined to soften the blow to his vanity. “Nah, I’m just teasing. Anything else you need before I go?” You can’t help but glance around Marth’s room under the guise of checking if anything in particular is missing. You respect your guests’ privacy, so you haven’t been in many of their rooms after the move-in - including Marth’s. His room is fairly plain and orderly - the only thing that really screams “Marth” in here is the mannequin that is adorned with his familiar Smash garb. Said mannequin also holds his sword, Falchion. You suppose storing an outfit with armour on it in this fashion is easier than trying to keep it in the closet or in a drawer. Though considering you don’t see any other articles of clothing lying about, perhaps the closet is just full?

...How many clothes does this guy have?

You’re curious now, but decide not to pry.

“Thank you, but I should be fine,” Marth replies, bringing your attention back to him. “You’ve done enough already. Merely visiting me was plenty - you’ve certainly been a sight for sore eyes.”

For a moment, you’re flustered… but then you remember this man is currently sick in bed. His thoughts are probably a bit jumbled and unfiltered. And really, who wouldn’t feel better knowing there was someone bringing them soup? Beauty comes from kindness and within, et cetera et cetera. All these excuses and more fill your head as you effortlessly wave away Marth’s silly words - you, a sight?! Ha ha! Why, isn’t that saying often used platonically as well? Yes? Maybe? You are drawing a blank.

You’re so lost in denial that you forget to respond aloud. Marth seems to take your silence and (unbeknownst to you) goofy smile the wrong(?) way and starts stammering out an apology, possibly growing even more embarrassed than you are.

“I-I didn’t mean… What I meant by that was… Well, it’s not that I didn’t mean it, but I mean, I find you… quite… um…”

“If you want a sight, next time you need something I’ll be sure to send in the cutest maid we have on staff,” you joke, easily shifting the conversation to more comfortable territory. Marth relaxes at the topic shift and chuckles lightly, still looking a bit embarrassed.

“I’ll never live that moment down, will I?”

“Nope!” Your first embarrassing encounter with any of the Smashers has been so diluted by increasingly hectic and bizarre moments that you find it more funny than embarrassing these days. Well, you say “these days” like it wasn’t just a couple weeks ago that that happened… So much has happened since then that it feels like it has almost been two whole years! Really, it feels like the tournament should have started by now. Crazy how time works like that, huh? Ha ha.

Anyways.

“Anyways,” you say aloud, not sure where that oddly guilty train of thought came from. It was almost like someone was trying to speak through you to express their feelings. But that’s ridiculous! Best not to think about it anymore. “I’ve got more soup deliveries to make, so if you need anything, just…”

Oh. Oh wait you don’t have a system in place for this, do you? And you’re pretty sure most of the Smashers don’t have cell phones… Gah, you knew you should have implemented an internal phone line! Maybe you can ask Master Hand to sneak it in there while doing mansion renovations for future needs. If you do it, you’d have to do it in every single room one by one, which sounds exhausting. You already have a lot on your plate today!

“Don’t worry,” Marth says, “it’s only a cold. If I need anything, I have enough strength to get it myself.”

You open your mouth to protest but… actually, he has a point. It’s not like anyone seems to be sick with the flu or anything. And most of the Smashers are adults - they are all perfectly capable of getting up and retrieving anything they may need or want. Well, R.I.P. to anyone staying on the top floor because you still don’t have an elevator, but… they can at least leave a message on the door or something. Whatever.

This is already proving to be a very good learning experience at how unsuitable your mansion is in its current state for hosting this many people. You’ll have enough experience and knowledge by the end of this that you could run a rental business in your realm if you wanted.

“Well, if anything changes and you start having trouble, just leave a note outside the door,” you decide definitively. Going door-to-door to check on people would be tiring (and you’d also risk disturbing people who are sleeping) - but taking a walk through the halls every couple hours to check for notes or whatever? Easy. Even your shortcut-less partners could manage that.

Speaking of your partners, you should really be getting a move on.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marth replies, wordlessly giving you the go ahead to skedaddle on outta here. “Thank you again for this.”

And he gives you such a kind and warm smile despite his ailment that you are practically stumbling out of the door, unable to figure out why it feels like there are butterflies inside you.

...Helping people out is good. That’s all.

Shaking away the strange feelings this encounter brought, you pop yourself back into the kitchen, where you are instantly greeted with the smell of hot soup. The room is warm thanks to the literal cauldron y’all made a day’s worth of soup in with Peach’s help, which remains on perpetual heat. There are only two Smashers in the room right now: femme Robin, who is using a laddle to scoop the soup into bowls and prepare the trays for delivery, and R.O.B., who is just on his way out with a tray balanced on his metallic arms. He stops when he sees you appear from nothingness, staring silently at you for a moment before turning his head back to a neutral position and rolling out of the room. Shrugging off the encounter, you approach Robin and the table of food trays.

“A couple more down - how many are left?” You spot the stack of trays that haven’t been prepared yet, each with a Smasher’s name stickied onto them. “Oh. That’s how many…”

“You work a lot faster than the boys do,” Robin chuckles, her voice notably different-sounding than usual. You’re pretty sure she’s sick too, but unlike Peach, she hasn’t been overwhelmed by it yet and waves away any concerns you’ve thrown her way. “R.O.B. can only carry one order at a time, and the Pikmin keep spilling or dropping things… or eating it. Shulk is… well, I think the stairs are too much for him.”

“That’s understandable,” you chuckle. Yeah, your team is not the greatest for this job. But you’re still thankful for the help. “You are giving him orders for people on the lower floors though, right?”

Robin gives you A Look before gesturing to the soup and the pile of crackers and bread… among other world-specific foods that are apparently good to eat when sick. “Hey, I’m busy putting everything together here! I don’t have time to tell everyone where to go! Just pick up a tray and go, that’s what I’ve been saying.”

Oh geez, not even you’re completely familiar with the rooms that the Smashers chose for themselves. You can imagine Shulk having to search every floor just to find the name he’s been looking for is on the top… Thankfully Peach managed to round up any and all roommate scenarios before leaving to rest, or else this could be even more hectic.

“Fair enough,” you relent, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the others’ hardships. It is admittedly funny to think about, but you intend to work hard enough so no one tires themselves out at what would otherwise be an endless task. You’re hoping that after this first round, you’ll all have a break when you only have to deal with specific orders… until dinner time, of course. Then this chaos will begin again.

“Ugh, and no one has even delivered food to my poor, sweet Lucy yet!” Robin groans dramatically, hand to her head like she’s acting in a movie. “Here I am, selflessly toiling away for the sake of everyone else, while my only daughter continues to suffer! Oh, won’t somebody deliver this soup to her in my stead?”

“Uh… Yeah, sure, I could do that. Or if you’d want I could stay here while you--”

“Oh you will?!” Robin cuts you off before you can finish, grinning as she scoops up the tray with Lucina’s name taped onto it and forces it into your arms. “You’re a lifesaver! A knight in shining armour! I’m sure she will be SO happy to know someone as sweet as you is looking out for her…”

With an awkward (but amused) hum, you accept the tray and adjust it so you’ll be able to grab a couple more. Before you can start browsing the selection though, Robin starts coughing - first soft, but then she’s leaning over and hacking into her arm. Uh oh. “Robin, why don’t you go lie down? I think the rest of us can take care of things from here.”

“No no, I’m fine. Really,” she says, considerably less bombastic than before as she manages a smile. You can tell that it’s forced. “Someone has to prepare all this food and look after the kitchen!”

She’s… not exaggerating. Olimar’s Pikmin tend to sample the selection any time they’re in here to pick up another delivery. And then there was the one time Kirby came in today…

...Best not to think about that nightmare.

“Well… maybe you can at least take a break?” you suggest, not wanting her condition to get any worse via pushing herself too hard. You all may need the help, but… you’re sure you can manage! “There aren’t too many trays left to prepare--” Ten isn’t much, right? How much work could it possibly be to put food on a tray? “--and we could just have Shulk or R.O.B. watch the kitchen.” You’d volunteer yourself, but like Robin said, you kind of are the most efficient person on hand right now. Even Palutena has this cold - there’s no one with teleportation powers well enough to lend a hand.

Robin puts a hand to her face, clearly considering your offer. You notice how tired she looks now that she’s not overcompensating her energy to hide it. “Oh, but…”

“You could bring a tray with you,” you tempt. “Go lie down, eat, maybe read or watch a movie? Then maybe in an hour if you feel alright you can come back…?”

The tactician is silent, envisioning the possibilities you are proposing. Finally, she nods and steals a random tray, ripping off the name and sticking it on one of the empty ones. “Alright, you got me. I’m convinced. Say hi to Lucy for me, okay?!”

With a cheeky grin, she leaves the room with food in tow. Briefly you wonder if she had been looking for an excuse to go sit down for a while now…

After Robin is gone, you start browsing the trays so you can deliver more than one order in a single trip. Should you try for a bunch on the same floor as Lucina, or should you grab some for higher floors instead so your partners can catch a break? Just as you think you’ve made a decision, a certain Monado Boy enters the room with an empty food trolley.

“I ran into Robin on the way here,” Shulk says in lieu of a greeting. He looks tired, but devoid of any cold symptoms that everyone else seems to have. “She said she was taking a break but seemed rather… excited about it. I don’t suppose that means we’re down another member?”

“I guess we’ll find out if she comes back or not,” you chuckle. You’re pretty sure Robin is a fairly reliable person but… she can be rather sneaky about her true intentions. “Either way, I think we’ll be fine! We can do this!”

Your positivity is infectious; Shulk returns the smile, albeit weaker than yours. While you’re certain he’s probably just tired from running around so much to help people, you can’t help but ask him again:

“Hey, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick too or anything?”

Shulk shakes his head. “I told you before, I don’t seem to have it. Really, I don’t feel sick at all.”

When you asked him earlier, he told you that he had a weird history of never getting sick at the same time as his friends. He just never seemed to catch the same bugs as them. His explanation for it was as good as yours - which was no explanation, because he doesn’t know how it happens either. Just luck and coincidence, probably. When you try to imagine Smashers with strong immune systems, Shulk would have never been at the top of the list. He just… he looks so frail! But you can’t fight the facts: he’s one of the only human Smashers who is still perfectly healthy right now.

“How about you?” Shulk asks, returning the question. “You haven’t started feeling sick, right?”

He must be worried that you are going to ditch him too. “Nope! Like I said earlier: I don’t get sick. Like, at all.” You honestly can’t remember the last time you had gotten sick. Certainly not since you “moved into” this world, which was… well, it’s been awhile! Assumedly, it’s just one of the many perks of who you are and the realm you live in. Regardless, it’s been long enough that you’re convinced that “virus immunity” is one of your many undefined abilities.

Unfortunately for you, “not being a clumsy fool” is not one of your cool superpowers.

“Oh no!” You let down your guard for just a moment and accidentally let the trays in your hands tip, dumping all the food and utensils onto the ground. Man, you’ve been doing so good today! Shulk helps you clean it up, but a certain issue remains.

"Ugh, what if specific foods were on those?" you bemoan aloud. "I can't remember what came from each tray…" And you don't know anyone's tastes well enough to remake them. Though you suppose you could just leave the soup plain… put a bit of everything on the side…

"Who were they for?"

"Lucina, Yoshi, and Villager."

"In that case, I think…" Shulk picks up a blue-and-white bag among the mess. "...this is for Villager."

This makes perfect sense. "Now for Yoshi… probably all the fruit?”

Shulk ponders for a second, then nods. This also makes perfect sense. The two of you put all the bananas, berries, and peppers onto Yoshi’s tray.

“That just leaves the soup for Lucina!” You grin and rush over to the still-warm soup pot and fill a new bowl. “That was easier than I thought.” You are pretty sure you didn’t make any mistakes whatsoever. Except… wait a minute.

“Didn’t I deliver this earlier?” At your query, Shulk glances over to the particular tray you’re pointing at. It’s labelled for Peach and Samus, but you’re certain that this was one of the first deliveries you made!

...Wasn’t it?

“Um.” Shulk seems just as puzzled as you were. “Honestly, I’m not sure…”

You try to reach further back into your memory, but it seems to get further and further the more you try. Today’s events have been a blur of chaos and confusion. “...I guess I’ll just do it again??” It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember doing it, if the tray is here then that means you have to deliver it! You pick up the tray and put it on your trolley, then start loading the trolley up with more and more trays until it’s full.

“Oops, I almost forgot…” You turn and look at Shulk, who is also loading up a trolley. “Shulk, can you take Lucina’s? Robin asked me to, but I’m out of space.”

The two of them seem like good friends anyways, you’re sure Lucina will be more happy to see Shulk than to see you.

“Sure thing.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you start pushing your food trolley out of the room. As soon as you’ve exited the kitchen, you warp to the second floor of the mansion. Static dances on your skin from the instant transmission, but you ignore it as you approach Peach’s room.

[hello again its me, this is the end of the preview. there wasn’t much to it and it ends on such a Nothing note but i hope you liked it regardless. one day this will end up in the fic, but not anytime soon i think lol. i hope you have a good day/night.]

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Heavy in Your Arms

Prologue

Summary/Author’s Note:  Back from the service and hell bent on drinking his way through Southern California, Tig Trager is a rambler. He's alone, he's lost, and he likes it that way. He stumbles into Charming, a quiet town with a large presence in the form of the motorcycle club. Here he finds more than he bargained for, and something else he never thought he would deserve.

I got a message about this story awhile back and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. This is the story Tig fans begged S*tter for and he never delivered. I have really been missing Tig lately so I edited this from its original form that I posted seven years ago. I originally posted this as an OC under the pen name thatlassiegotglassed - Which was my original AO3 back when I was foolishly ashamed of my fic. Now I don’t give a fuck. 

Pairing: Tig Trager x Reader Word Count: 1624 Rating/Warnings: Language, death, violence, blood, typical SOA stuff, eventual smut

[Masterlist] [One Shots/Drabbles]

--

"Yeah, I dumped an FXR on the I-5 and the poor bitch slid right in front of oncoming traffic...Found out she was pregnant. Really loved that one..."

June 21st, 1993

The roar of the big trucks and the swishing of the smaller cars blazing down the freeway filled his ears and would have been calming, but they were out of place. He had been asleep, safe in his own bed, the cars from the road had never been this loud. He shifted slightly and instead of cool sheets under his hand, he felt the grit of the blacktop and the wet clumps of side-road sand, rough against his skin. He did what he did every morning and slid his hand down, looking for you. You would hum contently as he wrapped his big hand around your hip and pulled you back against him so he could smell your hair, nose you awake--but he wasn’t in bed. 

He had had a dream, a wonderful dream, that he had been riding. His hands had gripped the handles as the sun played hide and seek with the oncoming rain clouds. The crisp smell of the spring air had tickled his nose and filled his lungs as trees and the tall grasses of the fields outside the city whipped passed him. You were a comforting weight at his back, and every time you squeezed your arms around his middle it brought a smile to his face. 

The weight on his head let him know he was still wearing his helmet. With slow movements, he reached up and unclipped it, shoving it off and letting it bounce against the road.

Everything hurt. Fuck. He coughed, the movement pressing his cheek back to the cool blacktop, the air from his mouth blew dust particles up and made him shut his eyes. 

Except this was no dream. And you weren’t next to him.

Shit.

He had been riding and it started to rain, and the semi cut him off and--

“Doll?” he said, his voice feeling like razor blades down his throat. He repeated but with your real name, hoping it would get your attention more than any of his terms of endearment. 

When you didn't answer, he knew something was wrong. A silence had fallen around him, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears, as he saw your body laying twenty feet from him. Your helmet had fallen off, hair spilled to the side, blood flecked your temples and down your cheeks.

He started crawling, using his forearms to drag himself closer to you as other cars came to a halt and people started yelling. If he got to you, if he reached you--everything would be okay. You would be okay.

You had to be. 

--

January 1st, 1991. Somewhere in Southern California

He had met you on a Friday. A pretty calm day, where the world was relaxed in a way that he was not. How could he be? Alexander 'Tig' Trager was, how did they say, 'fresh off the boat', back from his service, he had made it. But, he wasn't concerned with doing it ever again.

The whiskey burned his throat. It was cheap but it was plentiful and he had no plans on stopping. He would take that pathetic government check and he would put it in the pocket of the first shitty dive bar he found.

“Hey, doll!” he said, raising his empty glass at a leggy blonde standing by the bar and shaking it slightly.

She gave him a scowl, turned her nose up and quickly walked back over to a different table to sit down with her small group of friends. Apparently, she didn't work here. Shit. He almost felt like an ass. Almost. The feeling quickly went away and he contemplated getting up for a refill.

“Hey, if you're not using it, then get off.” A gruff voice said from behind him.

Tig looked over his sun glasses at a large man. The man was obviously referring to the fact that he was sitting on the pool table. With a neck that seemed to thick for his face, and large, ape-like arms that dangled worthlessly at his sides, Tig knew if it came to blows, this asshole was toast. He hadn't had a good fight in awhile and just one look told him that this could be the itch he needed to scratch.

He put a cigarette between his lips and took his time lighting it. With a lazy hand, he pushed his glasses into his short, black hair. “But I am using it, man.”

“Move.”

“Nah--”

“Listen, pretty boy--”

“Pretty boy?” Tig said. His blue eyes flashed and he smiled. The second was one of his true talents, he could twist his lips and flash his teeth, in a way that made men run for the hills and made women fall out of their skirts...or so he had been told. “I've been called lots of things, brother. But that?”

“Just move your ass, okay?” the ape-man said as he jerked a thumb back towards the bar.

Tig didn't like being told what to do. It was one of his weaknesses according to his higher-ups in uniform. They had tried to break him, get him to bend and take one in the ass for Uncle Sam, but he refused. He wasn't about to do it for some low life in some shitty, middle-of-no-where bar.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke over his shoulder. His pulse evened out, his breathing stayed calm, his subconscious entered that special place right before he spilled someone's blood on the pavement.

“Alright, one,” the guy started to count. 

“Oh, you’re counting, now?”

“Two.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Two and a half.”

“Three,” Tig finished for him and pressed the lit end of his smoke into the man's forehead. He may have looked like an ape, but the bastard squealed like a pig. He brought his elbow down in the middle of the man's back as he doubled over and clutched his face. Tig shoved him to the side as one of his friends came at him at a run.

“Fucker!” the second man yelled and managed to land a solid right hook to Tig's cheek.

The prick was wearing rings and Tig knew there would be blood without even looking. As he fell back against the pool table, it screeched across the hardwood floor and a few patrons jumped out of the way. His hand landed in a puddle of beer as he knocked a glass over on the felt and his brief moment of mourning was cut short by another blow to his face. That did it.

With a growl, he headbutted the other man. Skull connected with skull and he gripped his shirt, jerking him towards him before he could fall and sunk his teeth into the man's ear. Tig dug his hands into his hair and shoulder, kept his neck at a ninety degree angle and didn't stop till he felt the skin split between his teeth.

“Fucking psycho!” the man stumbled back and the ape man was back on his feet, yelling, arms stretched out and headed for Tig's neck.

Tig met him head on, bringing a firm right hook into his gut and bringing his knee up to collide with his face as the man doubled over in pain. He reached back and grabbed one of the pool balls, twisting around until it connected with the ape-man's temple. The sound was sickening and he dropped like a brick.

Tig raised up and could feel the first drop of blood slide down his cheek. He reached for his beer and pulled up an empty bottle. Dammit. What a waste. He flung it lazily over his shoulder and grit his teeth when it smashed against the wall.

“You owe me a beer,” he said, giving the man on the ground a kick. He didn't move. The fucker was out cold. He looked at the other man, still holding his bleeding ear and looking at Tig like he was about to start foaming at the mouth. “You gonna pay for it?”

The man just stood there, mouth open like a fish. Tig stooped and dug around in ape-man's pocket until he found his wallet and snatched a twenty-dollar bill from the main compartment. It'd have to do.

He heard the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked and he looked up just as the bartender and apparent owner of the place was pointing the barrel at his chest.

“Get out, Mister,” he said, firmly. “I'll call the cops.”

“They started it,” Tig said, stuffing the money in his back pocket.

“Well, I'll finish it,” the owner answered, jerking the end of the gun towards the door. “Get out.”

“Gladly,” Tig said, grabbing his leather jacket off the end of the pool table. “This place is a fuckin' dump, anyway, man.”

The man with the ear, or well, lack thereof now, gave him a wide birth as he pushed through the double doors and onto the dark street. He pulled his packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, only to flip the top open and find it empty.

“God dammit,” he cursed, tossing the box across the lot. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. It looked like he'd have to make a stop on the way home.

He threw his leg over his motorcycle and turned on the headlight. A deep glow lit up a small section of the dark parking lot as he kicked it to life and left the pathetic excuse for a pub in the dust.

--

Tell me if you wanna be tagged. I didn’t tag my Perm Tag List because I know you guys are all here for my Pedro Pascal character Fics so---I was not sure if anyone would wanna be tagged in Sons stuff.

[sebspocketsquare]

Quarantine 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (online)

A/N: Heya guys! Here’s part 5, sorry it’s been a little bit. I had some trouble with this one because I really just wanted to get to part 6 LOL. Anyway, i hope you enjoy it! -T

Warnings: Flirting, language, quarantine, feels, fluff

The next morning, a string of texts wakes you. 

It’s J, letting you know his friend will be by in a couple of hours to install your security system and bring by groceries. 

He tells you to double check who’s on the other side of the door before opening it, and informs you that his friend's name is Sam.

Seems simple enough.

You get dressed, deciding to wear something a little nicer than the pajamas you’d been wearing lately. Makeup finds its way to your face and you even manage to brush your hair.

You could at least make yourself look human today, especially since you didn’t know how good of friends J and Sam were.. what if he went right back and told J you looked like you hadn’t bathed in weeks? 

That wouldn’t be good for your blossoming relationship…. friendship? Whatever it was.

You’re getting yourself a glass of water when someone knocks at your door. 

The couch had been moved back to its original position, and you look through the spyhole on your door to find a man standing there in a doctors mask with a backpack and bags of groceries in hand.

“Can I help you?” You ask through the door.

He makes eye contact with you through the spyhole. “I’m Sam, J’s friend. I’m here to install the security system for you?”

That was convincing enough for you. Opening the door, you offer a small smile. “Hi.. I’m uh.. I’m Clair.”

You can’t tell if he’s smiling through the mask, but he makes his way inside and sets the bags on the floor. 

“You mind if I take this off now? I promise I’m not sick.” He motions to the mask and you laugh softly. “No, go ahead. It’s fine. Just uh.. Stay six feet away.”

He removes his mask with a sigh of relief before flashing a pearly smile at you, “I’m Sam. Nice to officially meet you.” He looks familiar for a split second, but you convince yourself you’re merely imagining it.

Sam gets right to work with the install, and you take that time to put away the food and wine he’s brought. It’s too much for just you, it’ll last you months, but with everything that’s going on, you don’t know if you’ll even be ready to leave the house again anytime soon.

You make sure to shoot J a text telling him thank you.

Sam puts a device on each window and in each doorway of your apartment. A keypad is put right by your front door, and a panic button right beside your bed. He helps you set up a 4 digit pin that you’ll need to enter any time you come or go, and shows you how to set the alarm when you go to sleep at night. It’s so simple, but so secure.

J was right. It made you feel better. Safer.

Once everything is completely set up, he pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to you. It’s an order form. For your computer and television. You’d made the decision to not let him replace your tablet. He was already doing too much.

“Oh..” is all you can manage to say as you look it over.

Sam chuckles in return, “He um.. he really cares about you, you know..”

Meeting his eyes, you risk asking him a personal question, “What’s your opinion in all of this..? How he feels about me?”

He looks taken back for a moment, but smiles fondly before he answers. “I’ve known him for awhile now, and.. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him when he’s talking to you.”

You can’t help but smile at that knowledge.

“And Clair?” 

You meet his gaze one more time.

“I know it’s probably weird for you, that he wants to take care of all of this for you, but.. let him. He’s a good man. He doesn’t have any ulterior motives. He just.. when he cares about someone, he’s all in.”

Your heart warms at his words and you nod slowly.

He smiles again before picking up his backpack and heading for the door. 

“Hey Sam?”

He turns to you just before he’s out the door.

“Tell J I said hi.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Will do… and don’t tell him what I said about him being a good man and all that…  he’ll never let me live it down.”

HIM

I know as soon as the system is installed because a crude outline of her apartment appears on my computer screen. 

I set alerts to let me know anytime someone approaches the vicinity, when she leaves and when she sets the alarm for the evening. If she presses the panic button, it alerts the authorities first and then me.

I have to take every precaution to keep her safe. 

I’m closing the window on my computer when Sam returns home. I hear him kick his shoes off and set his bag down before heading straight for the shower. He pokes his head in my room on his way there. “System is installed, also.. damn she is way out of your league.”

His observation makes my heart rate increase. “Wait, what? What does that mean?”

He laughs and shakes his head, leaving it at that as he continues on his way.

I find myself suddenly jealous that he’s gotten to see her with his own eyes and I haven’t.

“You could at least describe her for me!” I call after him, to which he just cackles.

My best friend is an asshole.

HER

You’re sitting on the couch watching random videos on your phone when a new message comes through from J.

[Sarge:] Everything go smooth? :)

You’re sure he already knows the answer, and you’re positive that Sam already told him all about you, but you decide to humor him anyway.

[clairv0yant:] Yes. :) Thank you again for everything.. I really appreciate you. I checked the tracking on the form that he gave me and everything should be here by the end of next week. 

[Sarge:] Doll, I promise you don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to be able to help you out. :) 

[Sarge:] It will be strange not gaming with you every night for a while, but.. We’ll just have to find another way to spend time together.

His words only cause the smile on your face to grow. He’s so sweet. So considerate. So genuine and unfathomably selfless. You weren’t sure what you’d done to earn the affections of such an amazing person.

[Sarge:] By that I mean.. expect phone calls every night ;) 

[clairv0yant:] That sounds perfect to me. :P

xxx

You spent more time on the phone with J over the next week and a half than you’d ever spent in your life. Constantly exchanging texts and making phone calls, but never once asking the other for a photo. Not that you weren’t curious, because you surely were, but you were afraid of what he expected you to be like. Did he already have an image of you in his head? An ideal Clair?

You’d tried to picture him several times, but failed at each attempt. He still remained a mystery to you.

When your new tech finally arrives, you nearly jump out of your skin with joy. You make sure to lysol the holy hell out of the shipping boxes before touching them, and once the product inside is removed and placed in the safety of your apartment, the useless cardboard goes into the recycle bin outside.

It takes you an hour and 45 minutes to get everything set up, but of course as soon as you’ve finished, J is insistent about playing.

It’d been so long, there was no way you were denying him.

You missed it just as much as he did.

“You know what I miss most?” You speak into your mic, keeping your eyes trained on the battle scene happening on the screen before you.

J hums a soft, “hmmm?” in response, trying to keep his focus too.

“Mexican food.”

He can’t help but let out a bark of laughter, obviously shocked at your most missed thing while locked away.

“Mexican food? Really?”

It’s your turn to hum a soft, “Mmmhm”.

He’s quiet for a few moments except for the sound of his keyboard clacking as he fights, determined to win this round.

When the word Victory appears on your screen, he speaks again.

“You know I um..” He pauses, and you can feel his anxiety seeping through the internet connection. “Nevermind, heh..”

“What is it?” The first emotion you feel is concern. What could he not feel comfortable telling you?

“Promise you won’t just laugh at me?”

That’s a promise you know you’ll be able to keep. “Of course, J. What’s up?”

There's a bit of silence on his end, and then you swear you hear his adam's apple bob in his throat in a gulp for courage. “When all of this is over, I.. I’d really like to take you out on a date..”

You’re stunned into silence, thankful that a new game has yet to start.

He must take the quiet as a negative response, because he immediately backtracks.

“I-I mean, that’s stupid right? You wouldn’t go on a date with some guy you met online.. Hell, I could be some cree--”

“I would love to.” You cut him off before he can ramble on too much.

“You-really?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it brings an even bigger smile to yours.

“But only if it’s mexican food.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, the rumbling of the sound making your heart flutter.

“I wish..” He stops himself again, letting out a little sigh, “I wish I knew when that would be though.. When all of this will be over.. I just.. I really want to spend time with you, Clair.”

A new match begins in the game, but you’re so distracted by his confession that you almost miss your window to pick your character.

“We’re spending time together right now, aren’t we?” You joke, but there’s a falter to your voice, a doubt. You know what he really means.

“You know what I mean, I.. I want to be there, with you.”

It’s your turn to exhale a sigh.

“I know what you mean..” A funny image comes to your head, and you find it slipping from your tongue before you can stop yourself. “What would a quarantine date consist of anyway? You sitting on the opposite side of my front door drinking beer, while I sit inside drinking wine?”

He’s silent.

Not even a laugh.

It’s a whole two minutes before he speaks again.

“You know.. That could work.”

TAGS: (I wasnt sure who to tag, so if you dont want to be, I’m sorry!! Just trying to get this out there. ALSO if you wanna be tagged INBOX ME! I tend to miss people in the notes :(  ).  @mindingmyownbusiness​ @plumfondler​  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety​ @loricameback​ @tinaferraldo​ @geminimoonbeamx​  @preserumsteverogers​ @moderapoppins​ @lowkeysebby​ @buckyshattergirl​  @jayattemptstoruletheworld​    @the-observant-fangirl​ @moondancewrites​ @moonbeambucky​ @trinityjadec​  @stevieang​  @bionic-buckyb​ @eyecandybarnes​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @promarvelfangirl​ @ballyhoobarnes​ @bucky-plums-barnes​ @cate-lynne​ @witchymarvelspacecase​ @imaginingbucky​ @theimpossibleg1rl​ @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing​ @formulafun​ @curvybihufflepuff​ @fanficsformarvelkillme​  @shadyskit​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @reading–mermaid @fuckmestan​ @siliverin​ @verygraphicink​ @sallyp-53 @thatsbucknasty​ @steadyphantomcat​ @booktease21 @kiki5283 @lostinspace33 @drayshadow​ @theperditioncrasher​ @mmyepic​ @feelmyroarrrr@alien-beans @heartsaved​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @dreamingofonceuponatime​ @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ @bluerorjhan​ @tarynsnotokay​ @jamdropx35 @turquoisekokiri​ @pinknerdpanda​​ @starkrobb​ @marvelgirl7​ @unscriptedtimetraveler​ @fangeekkk​ @wonderlandmind4​ @pinkisokay​ @mrsdaamneron​ @rynabarnesrogers​ @wish-i-had-something-better​ @stanning-seb-stan​ @oilersgirl35​ @vaisabu​ @paranoid-borderline-insane​ @bonkywobble​ @vikki-rogue​ @witchymegg​ @a--1--1--3​ @margetastic33​ @stuffandstuff-stuff​

[troybarnesbucky]

tagged by @sabitchhh :)

Why did you choose your url?

troy barnes (community) and bucky barnes (mcu) are two of my fave fictional characters who happen to share the same last name!

Any side-blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them

i do but I will not elaborate because I dont use it anymore and its a cringy fandom. the account was weirdly popular and I hate it lol.

How long have you been on tumblr?

on and off since like 2012-13, but ive had this account since 2018 or 19, I dont remember. 

Do you have a queue tag?

nope, too lazy to start one and dont care enough to.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I was lonely, didnt have any friends and needed a vacuum to scream into about my dumb fandom things. 

Why did you choose your icon?

donald glover is hot... next question.

Why did you choose your header?

was too lazy to make a cool one and I found this edit that went well with my theme so.

What’s your post with the most notes?

nothing fun lol its my post about sarah halimi and how antisemitism is ignored by everyone. 

How many people do you follow?

303 but I'm constantly unfollowing and it seriously went down after the increase in antisemitism on here. also most of them are inactive anyways. 

Have you ever made a shitpost?

I don't know what counts as a shitpost but probably?? I would say I used to on my side blog but I mostly reblog or vent on here. 

How often do you use tumblr?

sometimes I'll go a day or two without checking, but I deleted insta and tik tok on my phone so I've been on tumblr a lot more. 

Did you have a fight/argument with a blog once? Who won?

actually yeah I have but it was awhile ago, it was about antisemitism and I reckon I lost because I essentially left the fandom because of it. 

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?

fucking annoying, a symptom of this performative activist mentality that has been so pervasive online in the last few years and I hate it. 

Do you like tag games?

yeah I love talking about myself im a jewish virgo, but I always feel so embarrassed when I do them and tag other people bc I feel like im bothering them :/ if I ever tag you and you dont wanna be tagged anymore pls lmk !

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

a few ! but also I had a lot more mutuals that I unfollowed bc antisemitism that were pretty popular accounts. 

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I haven't had a crush since 2013 lmao but lowkey yes, on a few <3

Last song you listened to?

45 by bleachers ! psyched for his new albummmm.

What’s your phone background/lockscreen?

a collage my friend made me that matches my phone case, it’s cute but a bit cringy and I'm never getting rid of it. 

tagging @pointeful @smores100 @labelma @kosher-catboy @officialhannahmontana @malka-nediva @moodyyehudi @afterafternoons  @gfbucky and of course anyone who sees this and likes talking about themself as much as I do lmao 

[smearsyd]

Day Again | Sehun | Part Two

Kim Haru knows loss. She knows what it means to miss someone, to find out what isolation looks like in the flesh. These things, she expects them and she patiently waits for the day she may wake up and greet them as griefs of the past.

What she does not expect, is the same grief reflected back in another’s face. She doesn’t expect to find solace through this person either, nor does she expect to cherish her days with him, rather than wait them away.

characters:

+ oh sehun (exo), you as kim haru (because names are important)

what to expect:

+ christmas + friends to lovers + fluff and romance

warnings:

+ mentions of death, grief + sensitive topics

length:

+ five parts + 30k plus total

read it here: (updating… stay tuned)

+ masterlist + part one + part two + part three 

author’s note:

+ this chapter was very sweet to write, i hope you enjoy ☀️

if you want to be tagged, please reply to the masterlist!

Thanks for dinner last Sunday… I can’t remember if I said that when I was with you so I thought I would message 1:21 AM

Wow I just realized how late it is, I hope these don’t wake you! 1:22 AM

Give me a call when you feel like it… I am here if you need me 1:24 AM

Sleep well, Haru-ya 1:30 AM

I clung the phone to my chest, a yawn creeping through the small smile that had worked its way onto my lips. I had forgotten that I had saved his name as Sehunnie Oppa~ in my contacts with two hearts following, but it was a pleasant surprise to wake up to, nonetheless. It feels like just yesterday that I had been gifted this phone for my sixteenth birthday; Sehun’s number was the first one to go in— right after my brother, of course.

We used to stay up late messaging one another in a three-way group chat that consisted mostly of me sending outrageous photos of myself that I knew would only be used as collateral damage in the future. I sent them anyway, though, just so I could get equally outrageous photos of the boys back. Never once did they fail in making the next worse than the last, nor at making me laugh until I felt like my head would explode or I might pee myself.

The morning light was peeking in through the soft, white curtains and basking the room in its warm yellow tones. The window across my bed has always faced perfectly to the rising sun, not too bright to be a nuisance, but not too soft that I couldn’t enjoy it. I realized with a pang against my chest that this would most likely be the last time I am able to see it; the last time I can stare at these walls and the small nuances that have grown into the roots of this house.

My height inscribed on the closet door of the pantry, as if he had written it only days ago; the small dent in the living room wall from the one time a Wii Remote was chucked across the room; Haru and Oppa written in permanent marker in the bathroom (I had gotten in quite the trouble for that one); everything that made this house so familiar, so filled with memories, I would be leaving behind.

A big part of me was in-denial that I would allow myself to walk away from what this house offers me— all the memories that are not just mine to remember. The even bigger part of me, however, knows that it’s time to make new memories and I can’t do that if I am being suffocated by that in which lost its heartbeat long ago. I know Sehun was right too, Oppa would want me to be happy and he would want me to do what’s best for me, even if it is hard or uncomfortable in the beginning. In the reverse of feeling, he still gives me strength as if he has been here, guiding me along the whole way.

Sehun too, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

           A week? Is that how long it’s been since I last saw him? Even from the short time he was with me, the warming comfort of his arms seemed to have engrained themselves in my memory. That smile too, was it always so bright? I can’t remember anymore, but those feelings he leaves me with, they haven’t changed.

I miss him.

I clicked my phone on, the time stamp reading 8:49 AM— it’s almost nine. Is that too early to call? My finger hovered over his contact in anticipation and I felt as if I were suddenly blooming petals in a sea of butterflies.

What if he is sleeping still? And if I wake him?  

I shook the nervousness from my mind with a calming breath. He told me to call, so why wouldn’t I? I hit the green dial button and waited as the tone rang quietly in the background, placing the phone delicately to my ear. Two long, infinitely long rings passed and somewhere in the middle of them I had curled under the plush comforter, rising it to cover my mouth as if I was a child embarrassed about calling their cru—

“Hello?”

I snapped up, the comforter floating down around me as I quickly whispered back, “Did I wake you?”

Sehun’s breathing halted for only a moment, a light chuckle gracing my ears as it passed. I found that my shoulders relaxed from the soothing sound. “No good morning Oppa? Not even a simple hello?”

I grumbled on the outside, but a wave of heat attacked the rounds of my cheeks, nonetheless. I played it off the best I could.

“Pshhh, who says that anymore? Just answer the question.”

He seemed content with my answer, an audible snort being heard through the phone. “Haru-ya, sleep alludes me even now…” He hummed like a sigh that spoke of giving up— I understood the notion all too well.

I can almost picture the small smile that would be sitting on the bend of his lips, his hand curled around the edge of the phone. I wonder what he has been doing. “Did you get my texts? It’s been awhile since we messaged last.”

I hummed into the phone, fiddling with a loose string of my blanket that was somehow more interesting than it was a second ago. “I read them when I woke up… You know you don’t have to thank me for that kind of stuff.” Another moment of silence passed, but I could feel his steady presence as he listened, as if he knew I called for more than to say that.

“Sehunnie,” I murmured against a gulp of hesitance, “I signed the lease on the new house. I am moving out this weekend.”

It was with this that his breath hitched, stopping completely for a second, or maybe even two, before finally going back to normal. And when he spoke, his voice became somewhat gravely, like perhaps he had been sleeping and was just hiding it up to this point. The thought dipped me in a honey-like feeling of sweetness.

“And you’re alright?”

The question was simple, the answer though? I’m still trying to figure it out myself. “Maybe. I know that it will be hard to leave, but I feel ready, I think.” I settled on what felt safe, what I knew he could understand. “I just have to worry about packing all of this stuff up now. And in two days at that.” My voice filled with slight humor and a short chuckle fell from my lips, but when he didn’t laugh too, I knew he had seen through me.

“You’re packing by yourself?” He questioned, dropping the heavy questions I knew he itched to ask; I was grateful, for I didn’t know how much of that I could handle before deciding it wasn’t worth it. “That seems like a lot to take on with just you.”

“Girls can get things done too, you know.” I grumbled into the phone as a desperate distraction, my eyes burning from the softness of his voice and the pressure of trying to always hold everything in. “It won’t be too hard, just might take me a few more days that a manly tree hauling guy like you.”

Sehun snorted, again, and for a second, it sounded so relieved that whatever tension that had been slowly encroaching into us was banished just as easily as it was formed. “Yah, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do I?” I teased, pretending not to let on— in which he let out a small groan that I could practically feel in my own chest. I had to hold in indulging giggle from spilling out through the phone. “Go on, repent your sins. Did getting a degree make you feel superior to women?”

Sehun’s groan was even louder this time. “Right, because getting a degree in basically trees makes me feel so confident.”

“Oh wow, so what you’re saying is that Environmental Science isn’t manly enough for you now?”

“Forget it, I’m hanging up.”

“Have a good day Oppa~” I teased, catching the tail end of playfully frustrated chuckles. Then the line went quiet and I was alone once more. The room, though, felt somehow lighter than it did before, as if the house had absorbed some of our laughter and distributed it throughout the space.

I fell back onto the bed and took in the curves of the ceiling, the peaceful silence of the empty rooms, and all of the memories that lived in it. Then I breathed it out.

It’s time.

…

“Finished!” I exclaimed in satisfaction, wrapping the box up tightly and moving it to the side. Five hours later and I have finished… just the kitchen? An exasperated groan escaped my mouth as I took in the whole house that was completely and utterly, untouched.

I slumped against the cooled material of the kitchen counter and rested my eyes shut. A part of me knew that I was only dragging my feet because the kitchen was the only space that wasn’t a danger. In here, it was filled with me. The pots and pans were ones I had bought. The pantry was food that suited my taste. The dishes were only ones I had eaten out of.

The rest of the house, though, was ridden with him— maybe even more so than me. His blanket lay untouched on the back of the couch as a lingering scent. His favorite book was resting, eyes closed, on the coffee table half unread where he had decided to start it once more. The walls formed a skin of pictures he had taken, and he had hung up.

He was everywhere I turned, buried in this house as a sunken display of time’s cruel expression. I was nothing more than encroaching in a mausoleum that was once breathing and ours, rather than mine or his. Uprooting myself, felt like uprooting him.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I waited.

It was then that the doorbell rang.

I jumped what felt like three feet in the air out of pure surprise, a gush of goosebumps raising the delicate hairs on my arms and neck to a standstill.

“Okay,” I muttered. “I hear you.”

I took a calming breath and collected my shaking fingers as I made my way over to the front door, squeezing through a few boxes on the way. The curtains were cool against my touch, and as I pulled them back, four familiar faces greeted me as if time itself had restarted.

My head, or maybe that was my heart, felt as if it were spinning in excitement, my hands not fast enough to open the latches and throw the thin barrier open between us. And then the door was open, and I was jumping into the gentle embrace of the closest boy towards me.  

“Yixing!” A shocked exclamation spewed from my mouth as he caught me mid Surprise! Strong arms twirled me around like a cashed-in year old hug and something in me felt like I was ten again and being doted on by my brother’s older, handsome friends.

“Your reaction was priceless!” He chuckled with that endearing dimpled smile, setting me down and immediately coming to cup my face between his big palms. “Haru-ya, it’s been too long. When did you get so cute?”

A flurry of emotions ran through me and I felt tears threatening to spill over. “Every time you looked away,” I joked, my voice thick as a single tear fell down my face.

Yixing sent me a small, sympathetic smile, but before he could respond, a playful gasp was heard from behind him and he was suddenly pushed aside. Minseok’s widened, panicking eyes filled my vision as he wiped my tear away, pulling me into his chest with protective arms.

“Oppa,” the tears didn’t seem to stop, even when I willed them too. Minseok still smelled like brewed coffee beans and his usually wispy black hair was freshly cut.

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He kept me close, his hands soothing against my back. “You can be mad at Oppa for not visiting, but you can’t cry. Your brother would kill us if he knew we made you cry.”

I pulled back, nodding slightly as he brushed my tears away. “I am mad at you,” I huffed like he was the best remedy for a poor sight, his sly lips curling on the ends as he took in my best attempt to be cute.

I shook my head and pushed him aside, feeling like my composure was somehow sliding back in place. That was until I took in the steady gaze of Kyungsoo. His head was turned slightly to the side and the most calming smile was titling his lips up on the corners. My eyes started to water again, and his already round ones became even more rounded.

“No,” he half-threatened. “I’ll walk away right now and not come back for another year if you start again.”

I straightened right away, saluting him as if he were my captain. He let out an endearing grunt before his guard fell away, taking a step forward to wrap me in a hug that was as equally as tight and protective as the two before him.

I eyed Sehun standing shortly behind us, his stormy eyes gazing at the four of us before landing quietly on me. I mouthed a messy thank you, a swell of appreciation filling my heart as he merely shrugged his shoulders before looking down at his feet.

“I can’t believe you are all here,” I gaped, gazing between the four boys, men really, who I had always looked up to. It’s been a year since I have seen all of their faces, and even then, it wasn’t a day that I wanted to remember clearly. The feelings, rather, was what stayed.

“Well,” Minseok quirked his eyebrow at Sehun, “someone practically begged us to come over. And how could I refuse a visit to see you?” A small smirk took over his face as we filed through the front door. I pretended to gag, turning my nose up at him. The boys broke out into a hearty laughter and before Minseok could defend himself, Yixing was smacking his back with a resonating pop.

“The best part is that we bought pizza and plenty of boxes!” Yixing gushed. “Oh, and beer too!”

Sehun lugged all of the food and drinks he bought onto the kitchen counter and the boys instantly dug in as if they were in their own home, which in a way, is true considering how much time they spent here with Sehun and Oppa growing up. A pang went through my heart as I watched them laughing casually and kidding around with one another like they always had.

A space was missing, an important puzzle piece to the picture of five that had been reduced down to a portrait of four, but they managed. Somehow, it seemed that they had all consumed a little of him inside of themselves.

I could see his look of quiet, but kidding, judgement for all of the stupid remarks they would make blooming into Kyungsoo’s eyes. His bright smile and goofy, overly loud laugh morphing into Yixing’s own. His snarky remarks and mischievous antics bubbling out of Minseok. And then in Sehun, it seemed that they had always been one in the same. But when Sehun looks at me, sometimes it feels like he was gifted all the love my brother had, to keep for himself in his heart. Together, I could feel him alive again, living alongside them and laughing like he had never left us.

At some point, Yixing had turned music on and the house filled with their singing and the upbeat pop that seemed to fit their personalities so well. Without a word to me, they started to put boxes together and pack up the things I was not strong enough to.

I watched his name get written on a few boxes by Kyungsoo, everyone stopping briefly to glance before Yixing made some silly joke and then the blanket was folded neatly in there, along with the book and his other items I had failed to put up. With every box they closed tightly shut and placed by the door, the house seemed to sigh in relief.

The air was clearer, and the music was brighter.

The day had somehow escaped us, and all the beer magically disappeared, but we worked hard enough to actually pack everything up into neat boxes in the living room. All except for one room.

Kyungsoo sighed. His face, like everyone else, was flowered red and puffy from the beer. We had been messing around for some time, dancing to the music and reheating cold pizza as if we had finished the job. I think we all knew what we were doing, but it seemed like Kyungsoo was the only one with enough courage to say it.

“We do have to go in there at some point.”

Yixing looked down at his feet, clearing his throat. Minseok too, who was casually hugging me from behind and getting dirty looks from Sehun, pulled me a little closer to him. I knew that it couldn’t be avoided; I didn’t want to avoid it. But there was something unspeakable, a wall of silence, per say, that stood like a translucent barrier of water around his door. That space, for so many reasons, was something I cut myself off to a long time ago to soften the blow of his absence. I could handle the nuances of the house, but his room, that was a different kind of weight that sunk into your skin and pulled the air from your lungs.

Sehun’s stormy gaze fell upon me with a shade of tender grey— his way of asking a question. I nodded silently and then he was opening the door and the barrier was washing away. All of us stood a little taller and the music disappeared from the background as we slowly made our way inside.

It was just as I remembered it, untouched and so, so filled with him. The bed wasn’t made, and the closet was open with a fresh pair of clothes sitting on the edge of his desk as if he was planning on changing into them the next morning.

I felt stuck in place, my body numb as I stared at the bed in trepidation. It was deadly silent then, and even when Yixing sniffed, reaching up to brush his face, I paid no attention. There seemed to be a valley between where I stood and the spot where he last rested, the space growing with every second we stood. My ears were ringing, and my chest was burning right down the center, and I no longer felt that I was breathing or that I even needed to.

Why?

Why did you have to go?

Where did you go?

Where things too hard?

The void I had been staring into became filled then and warm hands enveloped my frozen ones in their own. Sehun. Sehun radiated a yellow orange that penetrated the overbearing black, his bright dawn blotting out what had become blurry and guided me back into focus.

I peeled my eyes from the bed as if they had been stuck to a string of tacky glue, to finally land them on those brooding eyes of his. They drew me in and breathed me out.

“We can do this,” he whispered like a promise, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand. “Remember, one day at a time, like you said.

“Just tell me what to do, and well do it together.”

I swallowed it all down and found myself at the top, nodding, nodding to all four of them which had been waiting for my approval. I stepped aside and watched as one by one they entered on their own and swallowed it down too.

Kyungsoo let out a long sigh that had everyone looking at him. He seemed to be doing that quite often today. I tilted my head in question.

“You know…” he started around a small, slowly building heart-shaped smile and nostalgic, wandering eyes. “He would think we are being so stupid right now.”

Yixing picked up Oppa’s guitar and brushed the thin layer of dust that had settled on its strings. “You’re right,” he added. “He would probably say something to the extent of you dumbasses are really going to hesitantly walk in here when every other time you would barge in and fuck everything up!?” He impersonated, his hands going around in circles just like he used to do.

His remark cut the tension in half and all of us let out small chuckles of our own. “You guys really did used to fuck everything up,” I remarked, leaning against the door frame with a shake to my head.

Minseok’s lips thinned as he tried to stop himself from laughing. “Remember when we broke his bed on accident?”

“First of all, there was no ‘we’ in that and secondly, on accident?” Kyungsoo asked in exasperation. “If I recall correctly, which I am positive I am, you were the one who said, ‘I wonder how mad he would get if we broke his bed,’ and then proceeded to catapult yourself onto his already creaky bed until it literally broke in the middle.”

“Look—” Minseok started with that don’t disrespect your Hyung voice, “you can’t talk to me like that.”

Kyungsoo snorted and somehow, we all ended up evolved in laughter. The amusement rang through us and coated the walls in orange and yellow. Maybe we were only laughing to fill the gaping hole, or maybe we truly were happy. Happy to be in here, happy to breath in here after so long.

The boys began packing up the individual things they wanted to hold on to. I let Yixing, who would always come over and make up random songs with Oppa, take his guitar and collection of vintage albums home.

I let Minseok, who Oppa always called to ask what book to read next, sift through his over spilling collection for the ones he always secretly wanted.

I let Kyungsoo, who never failed to buy Oppa a journal so he could figure out his crazy ass mind, take them all back home to read through, or simply have— even the ones that were mere doodles and torn up grocery lists.

I didn’t ask Sehun what he wanted, though. I knew that would be too hard of a question, for I knew he wanted everything, anything, to hold onto. Instead, I squeezed his hand and we entered the room together. We gravitated apart, but that was only natural.

For the next few hours, we cleared his room into five piles. What was left, I had to let go of.

At some point, Kyungsoo had changed into one of Oppa’s old t-shirts and Yixing had passed out on his bed, his mouth gaping open in a picturesque look. Everyone was yawning and on the brink of exhaustion, but we had gotten it done and that was a feat in of itself.

We helped move their boxes into Minseok’s car before Kyungsoo hauled a half asleep and definitely unhelping Yixing into the car, only waking slightly to promise that he would come over when I set my new house up.

“Thanks for everything, I suppose.”

I breathed out into the cool sky, smiling lightly at Minseok and Kyungsoo as they leaned against the car. “You have to visit me every once in a while, okay? No more of this prolonged exile.”

Soo nodded in agreement, pulling me in for a tight hug that was mixed in the comfort of his own presence, but also my brothers. I squeezed him tightly before muttering a lingering goodbye and watching him get in the car.

“Minseokie Oppa,” I whined, not wanting him to leave. He was the only person who could make me act so childish, but sometimes I was thankful for that and I think he was too.

“Aw pumpkin, I know.” He embraced me in his arms, patting my messy hair down. “Oppa loves you and if you ever need anything, you know I am only a phone call away. Although,” he quirked his eyes behind me as he pulled back to whisper in my ear, “I think you’re in good hands.”

He gave me a quick peck on the forehead before stepping into the car.

I somehow ended up leaning against Sehun’s chest as we waved goodbye to the trio, my frame fitting perfectly in his. It wasn’t until they were completely out of sight that we slowly made our way back inside.

We fell down onto the couch in a huff, looking around at the emptied, unrecognizable space before coming to rest our eyes upon one another. Our heads were barely apart and although I felt only moments from falling into what I hoped would be a pleasant dream, those stormy eyes almost willed me to stay just as we are, gazing, truly looking.  

“Thank you,” I murmured, coming a little closer to his warmth. “Thank you for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for these things,” he repeated my line from this morning, an upward bend gracing his lips. His hand came up and pushed a lock of hair from my cheek, twisting it lightly around his finger before tucking it away. “I’m here for you, just like I know you are for me. So, when you need help, or you just want someone to talk to, come to me.”

“Only if you come to me too.” I set my stare straight and he took a long breath through his nose, his eyes falling for a second before coming back to mine in a lingering gaze. He always seemed to convey so much in those eyes. He’s not so strong on the inside, I know that even if he wishes I didn’t, but when he looks at me with that light grey of vulnerability, I swear I melt out and into him.

His eyes speak, even when he won’t.

My body moved before I did, naturally pulling him into me as if we had always meant for things to be this way, for it to feel this way with one another. His head sunk into my shoulder and my arms went around his torso, binding us together like satin and silk. I imagine that he was tired of pretending to be okay when his heartbeat slowed to reach the pace of mine, as if conscious that we shared even the deepest of locked away secrets.

I shut my eyes and rested against him until nothing else existed. Not the house, or our friends, not even our bodies, maybe not even our minds. We simply existed, heartbeat and heartbeat.

That was enough.

It felt like a lifetime had passed when I was lifted lightly into his arms and carried away. He set me in the plush bed and brushed a delicate kiss against my forehead. Half asleep, I grabbed his slim fingers in mine.

“Stay.”

And then he was holding me once more, shaping me like molten shatters of the sky to fit into the dawn of his side.

“Always.”

thank you for reading

please like and reblog if you enjoyed :)

please remember:

+ do not plagiarize

+ suggestions are open

visit the masterlist

come chat with me

find me on asianfanfics

[blackmissfrizzle]

On or Off

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: PLEASE DO AN ANGEL X READER WITH THE PROMPT ‘rings on or off baby’ CAUSE ITS A VISUAL I NEED💛💛 Requested by: @cocotheclown 

Warnings: Smut and language

A/N: Look at me finishing a request and its under 1000 words! Anyways don’t be afraid to send in any requests. Prompt in bold.

Gif credit: @angels-reyes​

You and your girls pulled up to the driveway, just to see Angel’s motorcycle parked on the other side.

“You sure you want us to stay for more drinks? We know its been awhile since you’ve seen your man. He’ll probably wanna break you off as soon as you walk through the door.” Kory wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Waving her off, you jumped out the car. “Girl, its fine. I didn’t expect him back so early. Plus, the waiting makes the sex that more explosive.”

The house was dim except for one light. It was shining on Angel as he sat in his chair in the corner with one leg crossed over the other and smoking a cigarette.

“Uh, girl we’ll catch you later.” The ladies retreated out the door soon as they saw Angel’s pissed off face. “Glad to see you’re back in town. See you later, Angel!” Addie yelled, closing the door, silently praying for her friend’s walls.

Angel smiled and waved goodbye to your friends, but once that door closed his scowl returned.

“What crawled up your ass?” You straddled his lap. “Bad run?” A kiss to his cheek. “Mad you came home to an empty house?” Another kiss to his other cheek.

Still he had not spoken one word since you stepped foot in the house. You didn’t have time for one of Angel’s mood swings, so you moved to get up, but Angel held you there.

“Where you’ve been, querida?” He exhaled the smoke to the side to ensure you didn’t get the full force of it.

“To a party.” The nervousness slightly crept up in your voice. There was no way he could know; he was on the road the whole time.

Angel leaned up to pull out his phone. “This party,” he asked, playing a video for you. It was you in the wet t-shirt contest. Louie was spraying the water hose on you and even from the video you could see the pervy looks you were getting.

“Okay, I know it looks bad, but I can explain.” You stumbled over your words as soon as the video ended.

Angel quirked an eyebrow at you. “Really? Because it seems simple to me. First, you went to a Dogwood party without me and then you made the smart decision to get in a wet t-shirt contest.”

“But I never been in one.” You blurted out, senselessly hoping he would see reason.

He scoffed, already pulling your jeans down. When you had to bend down to undo your shoes, Angel took a small bite of your ass cheek.

“Panties too,” he ordered taking another drag of his cigarette. You resisted smacking your lips and complied. You laid across his lap, prepared for your punishment.

“Rings on or off, baby?” His voice a little bit raspier than usual because of the cigarette, sent shivers down your spine.

“On.” Spankings may have hurt more with the rings, but they weren’t as long.

Angel was pleased with your choice. The sooner he gets the punishment over, the sooner he gets to be inside of you.

“Look at you taking this like a good girl.” His fingers slid into your core so far that you could feel the coolness of his rings. “Fucking wet ass pussy. This shit turns you on, mi dulce?”

“Yes, Angel. Just please fuck me already!”

“Nah, I’m not done yet.” Angel sat you upright, positioning you between one of his thighs. “Ride me til you soak my fucking leg,”

Slowly, you rock your hips back and forth until Angel smacked your ass and told you to go faster.

“Please, baby. I’m sorry, please put that fat cock inside me,” you desperately cried out.

Angel squeezed your neck, his cold rings contrasting his warm hands against your skin. “This is not a democracy, sweetheart. This is a dictatorship. Now make yourself cum on my thigh or I’ll edge you all fucking night long.”

You continued to do as your told out of fear of no release, while Angel pulls down your tank top along with your bra with his teeth. He latched his mouth around your nipple harshly sucking and biting it.

“Shit! I’m cu- I’m cumming!” Wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, you rode out your high.

Angel held you as he stood up. “Now you can get all this dick and there ain’t not tapping out, mami.” He carried you to the bedroom and made good on that promise.

Tags: @briannab1234​ @starrynite7114​ @marvelmaree​ @thickemadame​ @chaneajoyyy​ @sparklemichele​ @mrsamaroevans​ @titty-teetee​

[johnshelbysgirl]

Honey Don’t Feed Me... PT. 3

Part Two

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters, setting, etc. are the property of their respective owners. All original work is my own.

a/n: Been awhile I know, the world’s collectively going through it and I feel it. But I haven't given up on this story so, Enjoy!

warnings: none.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!) : @xxdearlybeloved @woahitslucyylu​

    ‘Sorry love, I got held up.’   

The ticking of the clock pounded in her eardrums. The ink scribbled messily on the page made her eyes weary. She was trying to focus on organizing Polly’s diary but for every few words she wrote, her mind kept replaying running into John at the Tailors. 

Ella’s eyes widened like saucers, after days of no sightings he appears here of all places. John stood tall in a nicely fitted suit, with a blue vest matching his bright eyes; one slightly hidden behind his cap that was tilted precariously on his head.     

‘You alright?’ he asked, smirk still intact. 

Ella felt her skin prickle at the sight of it.

He’s caught her off guard once she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a second time.    

‘Yes,’ she coughed, ‘I’m just waiting.’

Clara hadn’t been gone long and was surely going to have a fit when she saw them together. 

He tilted his head to the side, ‘On what?’ 

‘My friend,’ quickly looking over his shoulder for Clara. 

‘This friend getting a suit too?’

It was an innocent enough question; Afterall they were at a Tailors, but it sounded odd on his lips. Almost strained even. She focused back on him, though his face showed nothing his shoulders were hunched over and his hand was clenched tight in his pocket creating a crease in the lines.    

“No, she prefers wearing dresses.’ 

A dazzling smile crossed John's face and seeing him relax emboldened her. ‘I’m also waiting for you.’        

He raised his eyebrows, ‘Is that right?’ 

‘Uh-huh,’ she nodded, ‘to explain yourself.’ 

‘What have I got to explain myself for gorgeous?’ 

Ella tried her best to keep from smiling but felt her lips rising at the corners in protest. She quickly looked down to compose herself and pulled an imaginary string from her skirt. 

‘Well for all your big talk, this is the first I’ve seen you.’ 

He grinned from ear to ear, ‘Did you miss me?’ 

She smacked her lips, ‘You see, that’s not an explanation I here, is it?’ 

‘You don’t let up do you?’    

‘I’m just picking up on the slack.’    

‘Well,’ he shrugged, ‘I think I’m off to a good start.’    

‘Oh, really?’ she laughed, ‘And why is that?’ 

John stepped close and whispered, ‘I saw you smile.’ 

Chills ran up her spine as the words tickled in her ear. 

‘I count that as a win in my books, don’t you?’ 

She’d never admit it. 

Ella knew she shouldn’t want to be around him, but she’d be lying if she said that a small part of her wasn’t hoping for him to find her and that she secretly enjoyed the fact that she had his attention; for however long it lasts. So why should she not enjoy it?   

A tight voice called out, ‘Ella?’ 

Startled at the sound of her name being called, Ella unintentionally stepped away from John. She turned and faced a blonde girl probably no older than her she was.    

‘You’re Ella, right?’    

‘Yeah, that’s me.’ 

‘Clara’s helping Mr. Martin finish up some measurements, so she asked me to tell you that she’ll see you tomorrow.’

Relief flooded over Ella’s body and she thanked the girl for the message. Once she left, ‘I should go, Polly’s probably wondering where I am.’ 

‘I can walk you back,’ he offered, ‘just got to pay first.’ 

Ella was about to say yes when a realization struck her. Her cousin was outside waiting for her, she’d almost completely forgotten about him. 

‘No, it’s okay,’ shaking her head, ‘besides I don’t want to be a bother.’ 

He leaned forward and caught her gaze, ‘You can bother me as much as you like.’ 

A grin slowly spread across her face and this time Ella didn’t try hiding it. 

‘It’s alright, really,’ she said sadly, ‘Jeremiah’s waiting for me anyway.’ 

Ella glanced outside to see Jeremiah’s back towards the window, a cloud of smoke from his cigarette circled him. When she turned back to John, his jaw was clenched, and his face was flushed.    

‘Are you okay?’ 

His lips were pressed tight into a thin line, ‘I’m fine.’ 

Ella glanced at him sideways.    

‘Have a nice walk,’ he muttered. 

Before she could say goodbye, John briskly walked away from her; Leaving her stunned.

Ella closed the diary shut and dropped the pen to massage her temples. She had left the Tailors even more rattled by John Shelby than she was before and it was still wearing at her. The creaking sound of the back-office door opening and Polly’s voice made her straighten up. 

“Now add a few drops before you get into the tub and you should be fine.”    

“Thank you, Ms. Shelby.”    

“Of course.”

The last customer of the night left the shop and shortly after Ella went behind them to lock the door. She was on her way to finishing closing when Polly’s voice stopped her.    

“Leave it,” she said, looking over papers. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”    

“Are you sure Ms. Shelby?” 

She stopped and looked her dead in her eye, “What have I said?” 

Ella grimaced, “To call you Polly.”    

“That’s right,” she resumed, “now go and enjoy the rest of your night.”

Her plans lacked their appeal now, she’d rather stay at home than run into John and his ever-changing mood. Clara would be disappointed, but she’d understand if she told her she wanted to spend time with her mum. She has been a bit lonely since her father passed.    

Ella glanced outside and sighed, “I’ll probably just end up at home, maybe read a book.”     

“Something wrong dear?” 

Polly looked at her with keen eyes. Eyes that could see into people’s souls.    

“Nothing,” looking away, “it’s nothing.” 

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Alright then.” She reached under the counter and found the spare deck of tarot cards that Ella used to practice.    

“Oh, please don’t,” Ella groaned.    

“If you won’t tell me I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

She did want to talk to someone about John, Clara wouldn’t understand, and Jeremiah was Jeremiah. When she first asked him about him hanging out with Tommy and the rest of the blinders, he teased her about becoming one of their groupies. And of course, her mum was completely out of the question, she may be desperate, but she wasn’t going to talk about John with his aunt for Christ's sake. 

Seeing no way out of it, Ella dragged her feet over to Polly. She’s never had a reading before, but she’s seen Polly do plenty of them that she didn’t need any instruction from her. Instinctively she chose the deck that resonated with her. Then shuffled and cut them before handing them back to her. 

Polly raised her eyebrows before taking them, “Someone’s been paying attention.” 

She smiled down at her feet and Polly laid out the cards in front of her and studied them before showing her the first one. The card showed a group of people with weapons in a struggle, in small script at the bottom Ella could see the name, the five of wands. 

“You’re doubting yourself, concerned with other people’s opinions. Let people think what they want and do what will make you happiest.”

Ella leaned against the counter and rested her check in her palm, dubious look on her face. 

“Eh,” waving her hand dismissively, “it’s not my fault the cards can tell too.’ 

She snickered softly behind her hand while Polly moved hers to the next one. A picture of a man and a woman holding out cups, floating above them were two entwined serpents and a lion’s head with wings at the top.    

“Ah the two of cups,” waggling her eyebrows, “you’re interested in someone.” 

Her snickering stopped as dread entered her body. There was no way she could’ve known about her and John. 

There wasn’t anything to know.    

“Don’t fret darling,” squeezing her arm, “he’s interested too, give him an honest chance and it could grow into something more.” 

After how he left things yesterday, she couldn’t be more wrong. When they moved on to the final card without any further comments, she was content that Polly knew nothing and let herself relax; focusing on an image of a bearded man on a throne holding an orb in one hand and the other holding a cross with an oval loop on top. 

“The emperor,” Polly spat, “You must step into your power, otherwise you’ll be stepped on.” 

“Easy,” Ella scoffed. 

“This world was not made for women and its draining,” nodding her head, “And I suspect that its harder on black and mixed-raced women like yourself.” Placing the card down. “But when the time comes,” she continued, “don’t let that stop you because you deserve to become the brilliant woman you’re meant to be.”

Ella found out early on that people never say what they mean, but Polly never minced words and she admired that about her. 

“Thanks, Pol,” she smiled shyly. 

“Anytime dear,” eyes shining, “now go on and have fun!” slapping her palm on the counter. 

After exchanging goodbyes with Polly, she headed home. Pushing down her fear at the uncertainties and mentally preparing for the night ahead. Focusing on the opportunity she had instead. John Shelby owed her an explanation and she was going to get it.

Part Four

[merigreenleaf]

Unexpected Inspiration Location: The Place of Shadow

Etri reached out to grab them as they ran past, catching Adair’s shoulder and Blythe’s wrist. Between the span of one breath and another, they were in the place outside of time that Etri considered a secondary, if lonely, home.

His friends were justifiably disoriented. Adair stumbled as he stepped closer to Blythe, whose eyes narrowed as she sought out the potential threat that had brought them here. In a voice barely above a whisper, but which reached Etri's ears in a place so empty, Adair asked, “Where are we?"

Etri had been equally fearful on his first trip here. It had been an accident, a touch to one of the elemental traps in his home temple that he noticed all too late. It had banished him as though he himself were a shadow and he might still be caught here if not for an unusually curious and friendly elemental leading him back. Over the years he had learned that he could cross back and forth at will, with no danger so long as he took care to leave precisely at the time he had arrived. That had taken some calculations and experimentation. His friends would be safe if they remained with him, and since the shadows hadn't noticed them yet, Etri took a moment to pull a timer from his bag. With luck, they'd be able to return before they had left and miss the guards entirely.

As the grains of sand began to fall, Etri walked over to join them. “I apologize for not first gaining your permission. I took the opportunity before anyone could see you vanish from the street.”

Adair spun around with a grin on his face. “Etch! You brought us here! I'm so glad you're here. Where is here?”

Etri glanced down at the small hourglass to hide the smile that came so easily around Adair. He used this opportunity to better calculate how much time remained before they could again cross. “To my knowledge, there is no name for it. I have only thought of it as the 'place of shadow.' Please, we must get through the city soon. We cannot stay here long.”

“Why not?” Blythe asked as they hurried through the eerily silent streets. "Not that I want to stay. What's with this place, anyway? I know there were more buildings here before. Addy dragged me into a bakery I know was on that corner."

Adair waved his arms vaguely to the left. "And over there was the greenhouse we were in for like an hour."

If the two were back to teasing each other, it meant that they felt safe. Their trust in him made Etri's head swim just as surely as his friends must have felt moments ago. “This place is but a reflection of the real world and time does not flow as we perceive it. If we are not careful, we could be caught here for a century or return into the past. As for your second question, it is because temporary objects do not exist here.”

“What, like ice sculptures?”

Adair's comment made Etri chuckle, but Blythe was less amused. “Sheesh. You've been hanging around Sol too long. Think, art-boy. He probably means like people. Plants. The traffic we're not getting run over by."

Adair recovered before Etri could further explain. "I had noticed the lack of squash, which makes this better than the hour I spent hanging out with the vegetables."

Blythe groaned. "Etch, do us a favor and get us out of here. I don't think I can deal with a century of his bad jokes."

-An excerpt from Colorweaver (book 1) switched to Etri’s POV

[Facts about the Place of Shadow below!]

-As far as Etri knows, he's the only living human who has visited, besides the friends he brings later. He's never heard anyone else talk about it or found any records of anyone else visiting. The creatures from this place that are capable of communicating with humans have never revealed that this is where they come from. For instance, the priest/esses in Montglace who summon shadow elementals know that they're coming from somewhere, but have no idea what this somewhere is. -The place of shadow isn't as creepy as you might expect, despite it being the home of ghosts and shadows. It's simply an empty and grey monochrome. Since it's only borderline real and there is no weather, the sky will always be dull, vacant grey, with no stars or planets to be seen. The air is breathable, but it's stuffy and you probably wouldn't be comfortable breathing it for long. -This is because it isn't so much a world of its own as a reflection of the main world. The only things you'll find in this place are things that have existed in the main world for an extended period of time. This means geographical features, such as hills, mountains, and caves, but nothing like trees or plant life because nothing living exists there. In Etri's experience, rivers and lakes have been empty or missing. There may be oceans, but if so, he hasn't explored far enough to know. -Towns and cities are ghost towns, but not in a dilapidated, creepy way. Only the oldest buildings and architecture echo over; these are all empty inside but otherwise solid and in new condition. The buildings are never furnished because anything that can be moved around counts as temporary. -On the flip side of this, if a building has been recently torn down in the real world, its mirror will still be standing until it eventually begins to fade away. You're also unlikely to find ruins here-- old buildings will begin to vanish rather than fall apart. -Nothing lives here because nothing native to that place is technically alive. This doesn't mean the place is unpopulated, though! One type of elemental that exists here are shades, which are echos of strong memories and emotions from the main world, vague blurs without much sentience. -Once in awhile Etri will run into a ghost, which are usually the spirits of those who possessed magic and were killed in a way that didn't fully dissipate this power. Usually, these don’t remember who they once were, and they vary in intelligence and communication skills based on how long they’ve been ghosts, how strong their magic was to start, and how they were killed/ended up as ghosts. Some can move around and cross to the human world if they choose to, but many are echoes not much stronger than the shades. -The creatures I often refer to as shadows are the most common type of elemental here. These are the ones capable of communication (via telepathy/feelings) and their intelligence level is somewhere around that of a smart dog. These can go wherever they wish but are easily controlled or summoned by certain humans. Shadows are mostly intangible when in the human world and are generally mistaken for a normal shadow if they're noticed at all. On their home world, and to any human with the magic to see them properly, they look like a plume of smoke. -Through trial and error, Etri has worked out how to calculate time passing in the main world while he's here in the place of shadow. Time doesn't flow linearly; instead it ebbs back and forth, almost like waves. Sometimes the waves are strong and will make "time" rush, meaning that you could step back outside into the far past or the far future. Sometimes it's weaker and almost no time has passed at all in the main world. Hourglasses are the only timekeeper he's found that work because gravity functions here even if time-- and watches-- do not. Between the hourglasses and carefully observing the waves, he can predict when he'll step back out again. The shadows and ghosts have less restriction than he does because Etri is human and has a chronological mindset at navigating this. The elementals can just pop out anywhen, but to be fair, they don't really understand what "now" is. Time has no meaning for them.

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

@homesteadchronicles stumped me good this week for a theme of "magic" since I used the recent "craftsmanship" theme to talk about the art magic in my series (you can find that here) and I've talked a bunch recently about the shadow and light magics that my Montglacian characters have. (Etri, Sol, Rosalie, and Camille.) Then I saw he had mentioned elemental planes and bingo! There are multiple worlds and planets in my series besides the main world, but the only one that comes up in my current trilogy is this one.

Tagging my series list! Let me know if you want on or off the list, it’s all good. And as always, please add me to any writing tag lists you have, whether you’re on my list or not. I love reading about writeblr projects. :)

@homesteadchronicles @ageekyreader @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @oceanwriter @desperatlytryingtowriteabook @muffindragon227 @theguildedtypewriter @toboldlywrite @wchwriter @dreameronthewind @shadow-maker @pen-for-sword @loopyhoopywrites @emptymanuscript @madmoonink @perringwrites @megan-cutler @elliot-orion @thatwriternamedvolk @indecentpause @writer-on-time @ravenpuffwriter @siarven @musicismymoirail @lady-redshield-writes @bluemartlet @reeseweston @worldbuildingwren @hiddswritingrefs @cay--scribbles @focusdumbass @enasroterfaden @missrobinswritings @joshuaorrizonte @zofiehelen @kainablue @kalis-scribbles @inspirited-goddess @nightmares-and-fireflies

[bittysvalentines]

You Can’t Hear My Soul

From: @eatallofthepumpkinthings

To: @corgiberus

Rating: T

Tags: Soulmate AU, Angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of loneliness, mentions of defamation of character, mentions of paparazzi being rude, OC, ASL/RSL/Sign language, NHL Chowder, NHL Whiskey, Open Ended, mentions of Zimbits

Note: Sorry I can't write fluff! I hope you like it anyways.

Alexei wakes up groggy. The night before he'd tried to stay up until midnight, his heart racing with anticipation, yet he'd fallen asleep at some point. As soon as he is awake enough to realize why he's so groggy, his heart starts running again and his face splits with a grin. Immediately he feels for that space in his head where the connection to his soul mate should exist. When he finds it, nestled just behind his eyes, his heart sinks.

There is wind blowing past his ears and he knows he won't be able to hear his soulmate. He'd hoped that they'd fall into that small statistical chance and have the same birth date. He knew it was unrealistic, but he still had hoped to hear his soulmate. He often stayed up at night wondering if their voice would be airy and melodic or deep in soothing. Would they be Russian like him, or would they be foreign and the translation weird and distressing. Of course, it wouldn't matter if his soulmate was foreign, living half way across the world even – but it would be so much easier if they were Russian. If they were, then the likelihood of them being close by would be higher. They could be together sooner.

His daydreaming didn't matter now. The connection was open. He could tell his soulmate all about himself and maybe they'd come and find him before their 18th birthday. Even if they didn't come and find him – he had to stop himself . There were only 24 hours in the day and he'd already wasted several sleeping.

“HI! I'M ALEXEI!” He shouts into the connection. His cheeks heat. Why am I shouting? I'm going to sound desperate. he thinks.

He tries to reign himself in, but he knows its going to be difficult. “Uh sorry for shouting. I'm just really excited to talk to you. I've been dreaming about this day for a long time. I can't hear you now. But I'm sure in no time I will be able to hear you. We will talk non-stop on your birthday. I just know it.”

He stays up until midnight telling his soulmate everything about his life.

********************

Months pass and Alexei's hopes fade. He throws himself into his hockey career again. His father is right, if he's going to transition to the NHL he should do it now. He's been working with agents and talking to teams. By the end of the regular NHL season he's secured his spot with Falconers.

********************

Nervousness sits in the pit of his stomach everyday. Without any games to play, he refocuses his energy into learning English. It's profoundly frustrating. After a particularly disastrous lesson, he decides to take out his feelings the only way he knows how – on the ice. He's laces up and heads onto the iced over pond behind his family home.

Who knows when I'll get to do this again, he sulks.

He's skating laps, pushing himself as fast as he can. Suddenly he's tripping over himself. There are words flashing behind his eyes. As he falls forward, he becomes aware that the room where his connection lives is open and the wind rushing past his ears is just from the fall.

“Hello, can you hear me?”

“Are you awake? I hope I'm not waking you.”

“I'm really excited to talk with you Alexei.”

As he catches his breath and tries to push up off his knees, his mind is racing. After a few minutes he realizes he hasn't said anything back and he probably should do that.

“OH, HELLO... Hi. Uh... Happy birthday!” He replies awkwardly.

“Thank you! I'm so happy to finally talk to you.”

Alexei is excited but he is so very confused.

“Why can't I hear you?” he asks.

“WHAT?” his soulmate replies.

“It's like I'm seeing your words. I... I don't hear them. Is there something wrong?” Is he sick? He's heard that colds can sometimes mess up these conversations. Or maybe it's because of his concussion. He hopes that that isn't the case. Concussions have all sorts of long term affects, and in his line of work, its likely he'll have another if not more.

Suddenly he feels a door close. He frantically feels behind his eyes for that space where his soulmate just was but its gone. The void is overwhelming and he's back on his knees. What just happened?

********************

Alexei's 19th birthday couldn't come sooner. He's managed to stay up all night this time. Midnight finds him sitting up straight as a board, staring out the window of his senior teammate's guest bedroom. The city lights are stunning. He feels the connection open and he's speaking as fast as he can. Every question that's swirled in his head for the last few months spews out of him. He gets silence in reply and in just a few minutes the door is slammed closed, the connection lost. He cries himself to sleep.

********************

When he decides to put his mind to something, Alexei always manages to see it through. Going into the NHL, learning English, making friends with his teammates, becoming rookie of the month – he set his mind to those things and he did them. He makes his mind up to be as positive as he can about his soulmate. He may not know why they've hung up on him, why they've not talked to him, why they haven't tried to find him, but he knows he can't control what they do. He can only control himself.

With his mind set on positive, when his soulmate's birthday comes back around, he keeps it casual and light. He talks about his life. He talks about hockey. He talks about his teammates and friends. Every birthday flies by like this. His soulmate never speaks, but the connection stops closing right away.

********************

A few years go by. The Falconers win the cup. But his soulmate never talks to him.

********************

There is a movie playing on the plane. It was a tough game against the Capitals and every muscle in Tater's body is beat. He thinks that the movie is a romantic comedy, but he isn't really sure. The actors all seem to be mumbling or talking too fast. Lulling his head to the side, he asks Poots to translate again for the 5th time.

“Dude, Aren't you paying attention?”

“Yes, I'm just very tired.” He gives him his best puppy dog eyes.

Poots smiles. Tater sees a light go off in Poots head and suddenly Poots is climbing over him and stumbling towards the front of the bus.

“Hey who has the remote.”  Someone produces the remote up front. Tater watches Poots struggle with it. Eventually Snowy gets up, rather reluctantly, and helps Poots with whatever he was doing.

When Poots returns, Tater turns back to the movie and is amazed. There are words steaming at the bottom of the screen, highlighted in black, and in Russian.

“Now I don't have to translate.” Poots says victoriously. Tater nodes dumbly. This is what my soulmate's voice looked like.

********************

Its been awhile since he's thought this much about his soulmate when it wasn't his or their birthdays. Stewing on this new information is easy. Making any sense of it, that isn't easy. He tries to Google for some answers but he must not be using the right search words because none of the search results make much sense to him. Once again he finds himself wondering if there is something wrong with him.

After a couple of weeks, he decides to talk about it. He trusts his friends, and the old guys have worldly experience. Maybe one of his teammates will know something that can help.

He's hanging out with the guys, having a few beers when he musters up the courage to bring it up. They're all silent for a few minutes. It unnerves Tater. Am I the only one this has ever happened to?

“Maybe they speak a different language?” Poots says.

“If they speak a different language he should just hear them in Russian. That doesn't explain why he sees the words and not hears them” Snowy refutes.

“Oh right”

“Ive never really heard of anything like this before” Marty says. A couple guys nod in agreement.

“Maybe they're sick all the time?”

Thirdy brings up, “I read a story once that a guy started hearing his soulmate's voice in a whole different language than either of them knew and it turned out he had a tumor.”

“I just had a scan when I had that minor concussion” Tater replies exasperatedly.

“Maybe they're deaf?” Jack offers.

“What?” Everyone turns to Jack.

“I read a book on historical figures with disabilities and it explained that many deaf people and their soulmate's see each others thoughts.” That makes sense.

He goes home and googles some more.

********************

On his next birthday he tries to casually slip in “Are you deaf?”

It doesn't come off casual. Thankfully his soulmate responds.

“Yes”. Then the connection drops.

********************

His family and friends start to worry about him as the years go by. Its not uncommon for people in their early 20s to be single or dating around. But when you're close to 30, people notice. His parents set him up with a Russian National figure skater. She's nice enough but they don't last long with their mismatched schedules and distance between them. He hooks up regularly with a goon on the Bruins for almost two years before he gets traded to the Lightning and meets his soulmate.

On home game nights, when his teammates head home to their soulmates, he returns to his empty apartment. The silence is overwhelming. When he feels like the loneliness will crush him, he turns on ASL and RSL tutorials and clumsily signs along.

********************

It's the off season. Usually he tries not to schedule anything on his soulmate's birthday. But admittedly he's starting to give up hope. When Jack invites him to his summer home for a cookout and a friendly game of hockey with friends, he accepts. Its made easier by B's promises of pie and jam. He's pretty excited until he gets there and is slammed with regret.

Milling about and taking pictures are several PR people from the Sharks,  the Aces, the Baby Penguins, the Belleville Senators, and of course the Falconers.

“Sorry guys, I was just so excited.” He overhears Chowder saying. A few Samwell alumni and Falconers are huddled around Chowder and the keg.

“It's alright Chowder. This is good PR.” Whiskey assures him aloofly.

“Yeah and its not like they are staying the whole party – right?” Poots asks.

They all shrug.

Tater makes his rounds. He gives crushing hugs to his teammates, the wellies, and the players from other teams that he has grown to care about. He shuffles in and out of the house. He helps Bitty keep the tables full – and subsequently helps to empty them of their contents. He plays games on the living room's Nintendo Switch, pongs it up with the Pong Master, and gives piggyback rides to the various little ones. He's enjoying himself, but he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched.

He's pouring himself another beer when he glances up and catches the stare of a Shark's photographer from across the room. The guy is lean, with broad shoulders, and flaming red curls. He's also wearing a serious expression aimed right at Tater. His unnerving blue eyes bore into Tater and suddenly Tater feels very self conscious. He trains his eyes on his cup as he takes a drink. When he looks back up, the photographer's face is buried by his curls. The guy is looking down at his camera. Tater is suddenly filled with the fear that he'd just had his picture taken. For years tabloids have tried to make him out to be a heavy drinker. It wasn't true and he didn't need a photo of him chugging a beer to stoke those flames.

He makes his way across the room and stops a few feet from the photographer. “Hey” he says lamely. He was upset a moment ago but now up close, with the man's pale face turned towards him, he can make out the freckles on his nose. He always had a weak spot for freckles.

He was hoping the guy would at least say hello back. Instead it seemed like Tater had returned the favor and unnerved the guy. His eyes were wide and frantically searching around the room, looking everywhere but at Tater. Finally they seemed to settle on something behind Tater. Turning Tater sees Chowder and his soulmate chatting with another couple.

“Uh, hey Chowder” Chowder turned to Tater and Tater pointed his thumb at the photographer. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out movement behind him, but by the time he had turned back to the photographer the movement had stopped and Chowder had materialized between them.

Then Chowder started introducing them and signing.

“Hey Tater, this is Cody. He's one of our team photographers. Cody this is Alexei Mashkov.”

“Nice to meet you” Cody signed. He offered a handshake.

Tater shook his hand, then he signed back “Its nice to meet you too”

“Oh you know sign language?” Chowder asks exuberantly.

“Yeah, a little” Tater replied sheepishly.

Cody's expression relaxs somewhat, but he still looks apprehensive.

“How do you know sign language?” he asks.

Surprisingly without hesitation Tater responds “I learned it for my soulmate.”

He regrets it almost immediately. He had almost managed to forget that it was his soulmate's birthday. It felt like he just dropped himself in an ice bath. Cody looked about how Tater felt.

Chowder doesn't pick up on the tension.

“Is your soulmate deaf?” He asks.

“Yeah”

“I didn't know that! Are they here with you? I don't think you've ever introduced us! I know Caitlin would love to meet them too!”

“Well I haven't met them myself so.”

“Oh”

Tater wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

“I'm sorry” Cody signed. His face looks pained, like he felt what Alexei was feeling.

Chowder offers an escape. “We should probably get padded up for the game. I think I overheard a couple guys talking about starting it soon.”

Tater was about to agree, when Cody cuts in. “Wait, can I get a picture of you both before you're all sweaty.”

Tater chuckles at that. “Sure”

Cody maneuvers them to stand beside some of the Zimmerman's tall houseplants and underneath one of the living room's skylights. Tater is a bit disappointed when Cody takes a few steps away to take their picture. Up close he could see the sun bouncing off of Cody's curls. He even got to see his eyes light up when he joked that Chowder and himself should pose like a falcon and a shark respectively. He's still smiling when he aims the camera. Tater is smiling too.

Cody raises his hand and counts down from 5.  With the click of the camera shutter Tater sees words flash behind his eyes.

“Wow he really is a sweetheart isn't he.”

Tater's heart jumps and flutters wildly. He watches Cody's face transform from embarrassment to terror, flaming red cheeks turning to ghostly white. They both stand still, staring at each other.

Finally, Tater asks “It's you isn't it.”

“Yes”

[iamanartichoke]

Why do you feel that way about fandom? (In regards to your latest reblog)

Ah, I’m not sure if I know how to explain it, but I’ll try. (This got long, so I’m really sorry.)

The thing is, I first got into the Loki fandom early in 2018, so I’m coming up on about two years of being active here. That first year was so fun and exciting; I was elated to be able to discuss my Loki theories and meta with like-minded people, and I was so happy (and surprised!) at the attention my fic was getting.

I was also still at a point where I believed IW was going to blow our minds, so there was that extra kind of thrill of suspense (and a bit of fear but, when you believe in the MCU and haven’t yet lost faith in its writers/directors, the fear is surface-level and adds to the thrill - there’s not really the accompanying dread and despair). 

IW was a crushing blow to that, of course, but even though we were all devastated, we were all devastated as a fandom. We were still in it together; we had one another to vent to and cry with and share fic with. “Loki is alive bc reasons” became kind of an unwritten rule in most post-IW fics; we all agreed that Loki deserved better. 

In 2019, two things happened: one, I was underemployed and dragging my feet on finding better employment due to my mental health, which ruined my life for a little while. I had to move back in with my parents, which (I love them and am grateful they were willing to support me, but) was a toxic environment. I was too depressed to indulge in my escapism the same way (fic and fandom) and my progress on my stories slowed way down. I’ve never quite been able to get back the momentum I had when writing Sanctuary, but that’s another issue. 

The second thing that happened was, obviously, Endgame came out and whatever theories and hopes the fandom was collectively holding onto about Loki were crushed. Not only that, but the portrayal of Thor seemed to amplify the divide in the fandom between the pro/anti Ragnarok argument. 

It seems, to me, that what was a series of battles or skirmishes only became an all-out war after Endgame. That’s only my perception, of course, but I do feel that the latter part of 2019 saw the divide grow larger and larger. Everyone had opinions on what the “correct” portrayal of Thor was, and how it related to Loki, and whether fanon Thor and Loki’s relationship was founded in canon or not. Everyone was defensive of their own point of view; bullying and name-calling and anon hate became more widespread. 

Again, this is just my observation. Those who’ve been on the front lines since Ragnarok came out probably have a much different perspective; I’m only talking about what I observed bc it directly impacts how I feel about fandom these days. 

So here we are in 2020; like I said, I’ve been here about two years. I haven’t rewatched any of the Thor movies in ages (although @delyth88 and I are talking about it), because they make me so sad and also so angry. Sad for what we had, angry for what could have been. So much wasted potential. Loki’s horrific end hangs over everything, as does Thor’s radical character change, and I don’t have the same excited outlook about the characters and the meta potential anymore. 

Not having watched the movies in a long time, along with that feeling of “ugh” around them, impacts me creatively bc I’m not actively feeding my writing inspiration. For me, fanfic writing comes from being so full of feels about the source material that I just can’t get enough and I need more. I draw my inspiration from things like watching Loki’s facial expressions, catching subtle moments between Thor and Loki, analyzing the way they speak, thinking about the story choices happening, and so on, and so on. 

My source of inspiration has dried up, in other words, which has made it hard for me to keep a good writing momentum going. I was feeling great when I rewrote Sea, and then my inspiration kind of plummeted again - this time, bc I felt that I did such a good job rewriting and the response was so positive, I didn’t know if I could finish the rest of the story as well. Like I was already setting up the second half to fail, bc it would be much more “rough draft” than the first - revised and polished, yes, but not gone over with a fine-toothed comb the way the first part was. 

The truth is, I carry a lot of stress and anxiety around my writing. I am always incredibly anxious that no one actually likes my fic, that no one is reading my fic, that people think it’s stupid or pointless, that my quirky humorous touches are ooc, that my plotlines are convoluted and boring and my sex scenes awkward and non-existent. 

I’m having trouble with the Valki relationship bc I haven’t watched Ragnarok in so long, I’ve forgotten how much chemistry was between them and how it made me feel. I’ve forgotten why I chose to pair them up in this ‘verse in the first place. And I worry about that, too - that the people who read my stories for the Valki are walking away unsatisfied. 

So that’s where I am with fic writing - slow and steady, still trying to find my footing, still secretly assuming what I write is shit.

This is on top of feeling more and more isolated on tumblr, mostly because of the aforementioned tensions and overall negativity that’s erupted in the fandom. I have been unfollowed and blocked by people who were once mutuals; I have been blocked by people I’ve never spoken to before. 

There’s so much stress surrounding the things I post now - I’m constantly thinking, have I worded this correctly to convey my meaning without shitting on someone else’s opinion? Is this post going to be the one that makes this or that mutual unfollow me? Am I tagging correctly so my pro Ragnarok mutuals don’t see my criticism, and vice versa? Can I still post pictures of Chris Hemsworth, who is possibly the only man in the world I am definitely attracted to, which is a shame bc I agree that he’s kind of a douche now? But he’s so beautiful, but I have to disclaim that it’s just his face I’m attracted to? If I reblog this post about Loki that I think is hilarious, but is also founded on the flat stabby villain characterization, will I alienate my anti friends? Does it imply I don’t understand or appreciate Loki and that, by reblogging the thing, I’m endorsing a shitty characterization? 

And so on. It makes scrolling my dashboard uncomfortable and un-fun, bc I end up saving tons of posts to my drafts without reblogging them, and after awhile I am not enjoying myself, so I stop scrolling. 

But this means I miss tons of mutuals’ posts, and I was trying to check individual blogs for awhile but I kept falling further behind, and there were more and more posts I’d missed, and I’d get overwhelmed and then feel like they probably hated me anyway at this point for being a shit mutual, so I might as well just keep lurking on the dash for ten minutes and call it a day. 

On top of that, I haven’t read fic in awhile bc of this mindset, so I haven’t commented, and then when I don’t get comments it’s like, well, maybe the story’s not shitty but no one’s reading it bc what do I expect when I’m not reading theirs? You’re not special, Charlotte. 

The worst part about all of this is that none of it should diminish (and hasn’t diminished!) my love of Loki as a character. I am excited about the series, but I am also very anxious about it - about the story not being good, yes, but also about the inevitably divide that will further split the fandom. 

No matter how the story goes, someone’s going to be upset. You can’t please everyone, and trying only makes for worse storytelling. So the wank will continue. 

But I love Loki. I love everything about him. I am interested in writing about him and reading about him and thinking about him. I am invested in him and always will be. It’s just that, right now, I’m kind of falling further and further out of fandom and I find I have less to say. 

And so I either have to wait it out, or work on my own mindset, or keep on keeping on. I just don’t know how long that will take or if I’m even liked enough here to try to bother. 

tl;dr: Fandom has made me cynical and jaded, and it has dampened not my love of Loki, but my love of interacting with the Loki fandom.

(I know you didn’t ask for this hot garbage pile of my feelings, anon, so I’m sorry.) 

[therangersmistress]

My first go at this thing called writing.

Ok, so, I’ve been reading fanfiction for probably too long considering my age (what can you do?) and I’ve finally decided to try writing my own. I apologise if it’s terrible, but I really enjoyed this. I could’ve written more, and it ends kind of abruptly I know, but I’m dead tired and kind of anxious to get this out there before I keep going with it. Let me know what you think, and if anyone wants to send me asks, please do! :-) 

Characters: Bill Skarsgård/Female Reader 

---

You hadn’t planned on coming. Your main concern when the invitation arrived had been more how much time had managed to pass without you realising than anything else. Ten years. Ten whole years since you graduated, since you left this town for good, left him. And now you’d somehow been roped into going home, all for a little high school reunion. Who even goes to those anymore? Well, you supposed, apparently fools like you.

When you were younger, you’d had this silly notion that one day, when you’d see everyone again, you’d be that woman.

The beautiful woman, with the amazing career and committed partner–the one you see in films. But that wasn’t your reality. Sure, you had a decent job. Your boss was a bit of a dick and the hours could prove tedious but it was something, and it put a cosy roof over your head. You had friends, family you loved, you’d grown into yourself. No longer were you the gangly, coltish looking girl in too-short trousers, a fact of which the men in your life were aware. You just couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something was missing, nor could you admit to the small part of you that whispered it was him.

As you trudged hesitantly up the path to your alma mater, the redbrick entrance looming over you like a warning, all you could do was curse your friend for forcing you into this. 

It had taken some heavy bribery, and not a small amount of guilt tripping, but eventually you’d caved when faced with the sad, concerned-eyes of your closest friend. It was a look you’d been getting a lot lately. 

Supposedly this trip would be good for you, bring closure. Yet you weren’t so sure. As you stopped at the foot of the entrance’ steps, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep puff of air. This was it. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. The gnawing pit of anxiety you’d felt in the months since you received your invite was almost worse than the sudden realisation that you couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t you breathe! It wasn’t like he would even come to this. No, surely not. Not with who he is now. And the rest in there, well, it’s not that you particularly disliked them, although sure there are a few arseholes you’d rather not see again, it’s just that you’d tried so hard to put this town behind you after everything that had happened, to move on, that being here felt like rubbing salt into your already deep wounds. 

You also really didn’t want to see Paulina fucking Engberg’s smug face say “I told-you-so”.

You were jolted out of your impending hysteria by the sound of partygoers. Looking around, you realised the noise had come from inside. Going off of the full carpark, the night air otherwise still and quiet, you assumed you must be the last person to arrive. 

“Fuck. I’m late. OK... Stop stalling. You can do this. I’m almost certain he won’t be in there but even if he is, you can fucking do this.”

You took one last moment of peace before the mayhem, straightening out your midi dress, before glaring at the garish blue and yellow banner ahead and marching inside. 

Welcome back indeed.

The first thing you noticed was the music. 

Why is it that every DJ at every prom, wedding, and apparently high school reunion, plays the same god-awful pop music? 

Hovering by the doors to the gym, you glanced around as subtly as you could for any familiar faces, namely one in particular. With your third pan around the room you decided it was all clear and made a swift beeline for the drinks table. You weren’t above accepting help where given, and this kind of night called for it. With a hefty swig of champagne in you, and a careful eye on the crowd, you ambled over to the main table, spotting a stack of labels and pens placed out. Scribbling down your name, you couldn’t quite swallow the chuckle at the irony of having to remind people who you are, at an event that’s sole purpose is to reminisce in shared memories. 

Sighing, you resigned yourself to at least attempting conversation with someone, deciding to stick it out for a couple of hours out of courtesy and then getting the hell out of here. You had a lovely bed awaiting you in a hotel downtown after all, and you figured you’d treat yourself to some room service and perhaps a drink or two more as a reward for showing.

After several intensely awkward introductions with old classmates and teachers, you had the uncomfortable realisation that almost everyone here had a plus one but you. You knew you should have brought someone, but after the third friend had denied availability you’d decided that perhaps it would be best to come alone anyway, just in case he did show. Better to keep that train wreck from as fewer eyes as possible. 

As the person before you (Megan was it? No Maxine. Perhaps these name tags were good for something) finished their long boasting account of their marriage and how many children they had (“Oh do you want to see a picture? Here. Aren’t they so sweet? You know we always thought you and...”), you could stomach it no longer.

Whipping out your phone (thank god for dresses with pockets), you excused yourself, claiming you needed to make a call, then bolted towards the back door–but not before snatching two flutes of champagne from a startled waiter. Just the quiet of the closed hallway was enough to calm you somewhat as you breathed deeply in and out. 

Feeling more relaxed, you decided to head home, your fluffy down comforter calling you, when from the corner of your eye you spotted an old display case shucked up against the wall. Curious, you found a collection of framed photos from across the years. Placing your drinks to the side, you leaned in for a closer look. Basketball, volleyball, football, it was all there. And at the very back, one you hadn’t seen in years. In the middle of a group of boys, he stood. Impossibly tall, impossibly beautiful, even then. With his floppy hair and his big earnest eyes, not to mention that smile, he was the picture of youth. And he was yours. 

Not anymore, you thought.

So focused on your reminiscing, you didn’t notice until you caught those same eyes in the reflective glass, that you were no longer alone. Your breath caught in your chest, as you choked out the name you hadn’t spoken aloud in years.

“Bill?” 

“I thought I’d find you somewhere around here.”

He leaned down towards you, his breath ghosting over your ear forcing you to shudder. 

You stumbled around, heart racing, almost smacking right into his chest before he caught you, his large warm hand stretched over your shoulder. “Woah, easy there”, he chuckled.

God, you forgot what his presence did to you. 

You weren’t a hugely tall woman by any means, but it was still a rare occurrence that a man could truly make you feel small. And did he get even more attractive? 

As your eyes drifted from his slicked back hair to his sharp angular jaw, his slightly receding hairline that reminded you fondly of his father, you thought he might’ve. The years had certainly done him well, even the faint lines pinching the corner of his eyes suited him. 

“Bill”, his name the only thing you seemed capable of saying. 

Your mind felt like it had dropped through your throat and into your stomach. It was like being parched, like missing something for so long that when it’s right there in front of you again, you can’t believe it.

“Hello sweetheart. It’s been awhile.”

Some awful sound halfway between a scoff and a snort found its way out of your mouth before you could stop it. Blushing, you tried to recover from your mortification.

“Just a bit, yeah.”  

“How’ve you been?” he asked, as he stared at you as intensely as he did ten years ago. 

Bill had this way of making you feel like you were the only thing that mattered when he looked at you. It was those Swedish values of his, or maybe just those huge bug eyes you used to tease him for.  

“Umm”, you stumbled nervously. You’d prepared yourself mentally for this moment, knowing it was a possibility, yet everything you’d thought you would say had left you. 

“I’ve been good thanks, works been good, everything’s umm good. And you?” 

Oh god. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“Everything’s good here too”, he said with no little amount of amusement at your loss for words. It had never been a problem when you were younger. If you remembered right, it was quite the opposite, Bill finding many a creative way to silence your constant talking.   

Great, so not the time to think about that perfect, fucking full mouth of his.

Ripping your mind back to the present, you realised you’d been staring precisely where your thoughts were for some time now, Bill’s expression far too warm and kind for your comfort. 

He had no right to look at you like that. Not after all this time. 

Realising he still had his hand on you, thumb softly rubbing your upper arm, you staggered away, searching for those cursed drinks of yours.

Sculling down the rest of the champagne, back faced to him, you scrambled for something to say. 

“So, I hear the acting is going well?”

Bill, still so modest, looked down, “it is, thank you. I’ve just finished filming actually, so I’m happy to be home for a bit.” 

He paused. “Are you here for long?”

As you went to deny, you couldn’t help but be shocked by the hope you could see in his eyes, hesitant as it was. 

You didn’t want to think too much on it, hope was a dangerous thing after all, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. That treacherous part of you that had held onto his memory all these years roared in agreement. It was getting harder and harder to quieten it these days and this just might break your resolve. 

“I’m not sure yet, I hadn’t planned to stay past tonight, but I suppose it could be nice to see the town again.”

Smiling, he walked over to you, every step giving you a better look at his tall frame. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, legs for absolute days. That suit must cost a fucking fortune, you thought. 

He snatched the second glass from the table, gulping it down, his Adam’s apple throbbing so enticingly, you wanted to suck your own mark onto it. Licking a drop of champagne off the corner of his lip, he smirked, “I’m so glad”. 

Shit, you thought. You don’t know if this is the closure she meant. 

---

Awesome people I’d kill to have read this:

@lihikainanea

@dreamtherapy

@ill-skillsgard

@skrsgardspams

@elisabethwise

@bae-roman

@inkblotgalaxies

[caps-lockdown]

Operation: Man Flu

Alright guys here it is the first part of my new series! I thought of this awhile ago but my life has been absolutely bonkers lately and I didn’t have a chance to get started on it til now! I hope ya’ll enjoy this insane and (hopefully funny) romp I’ve come up with.

Tagging @kaytizzle and @cuffski for now, let me know in the comments if you would like to be tagged for future parts!

Summary: As a hacker nobody agent of S.H.I.E.L.D you get roped into what might possibly be your worst nightmare come to life. Will you survive the long weekend? Will you have a chance to get closer to a certain reserved Captain during this extremely stressful (and hilarious) situation?

Pairings: Steve x Shield Agent Female Reader!

Words: 3,397

Ratings/Warnings: I’m going to put hard R here for the whole thing because there’s going to be cussing, mentions of sickness, alcohol consumption, physical fights, mental breakdowns. Jealousy, love triangles (sort of), angst, drama, and lots of crude humor. Just strap in.

Also no Beta so my mistakes are my only thing to claim, I don’t own any characters either, with the exception of the reader, a doctor, and some random characters here and there.

It is in Y/N (Your Name) L/N (Last Name) format. Enjoy!

 Part One

“Y/N I need more water!”

“Y/N my eyes hurt!”

“Y/N can you tell Bucky and Tony to shut the hell up? I’m trying to sleep off this headache!”

“Shut up Wilson!”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, nostrils flaring, you released a slow and irritated breath. The shouting was coming from the makeshift quarantine section in the Tower. Never in a million years would you be able to guess that this was going to be your job at some point. In fact, you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you that at some point in your life you would be stuck in Stark Tower taking care of a bunch of sick and over dramatic man children. This was supposed to be your weekend in. You were supposed to be comfy and cozy surrounded by happy things, not a bunch of sick cry babies. You were so getting a raise when all of this was over.

You looked to the ceiling praying to anyone upstairs for just a small moment of peace. The moment of peace could come in the form of a giant mallet to knock all of the whiny men in the next room unconscious. Perhaps a dart gun with Nyquil loaded ammunition? Anything to help you cope with being stuck with this lot of ill idiots for the next 48 hours. Why of all people did it have to be you? You were not someone that saw The Avengers in close quarters, you were sort of work friends, but you never thought your friendship would be put to the test quite like this. Who were they to ask this of you anyway? It’s not like you have any medical experience. Hell you get squeamish just thinking about blood. You rarely got sick. You cried watching Grey’s anatomy for cripes’ sake! You must have been cursed by some otherworldly power. Loki was messing with you. That had to be it. You were sure that had to be the reason behind this cruel and unusual punishment.

“Y/N BUCKY KEEPS STARING AT ME!”

“Well you keep sounding like you’re gonna puke Stark! And if you puke I puke! So don’t puke!”

“Damn I need a drink.” You uttered before squaring your shoulders and heading back into the fray. When did it all go to hell in a hand basket?

~~Friday Morning~~

0600

The crisp early autumn air made its way into your room from your half opened window. The birds chirping slowly woke you from your slumber as your eyes opened to take in the leaves changing colors on the trees outside. The smell of coffee starting to brew at your small desk invaded your senses and you smiled out to the rising sun in a good mood.

Your alarm clock went off which caused you to scream and nearly throw it out the window, groaning as you heard the rumble of the Quinjet touching down a few floors up. So much for a quiet, easy day. They were back early.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you hastily threw on your uniform and secured your hair up, reaching for your travel mug to hold your life juice as you sloshed it into the container and headed out the door.

Life hadn’t always been this fast paced for you. You were never a morning person, and even though it had been years that you have been with S.H.I.E.L.D, these caffeine fuelled mornings were something that never got easier with time. Being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D just wasn’t a picnic for you most days, but you certainly had it better than some of the others in your line of work. You weren’t one of the people willing to put their life on the line out in the field. In fact it was the complete opposite. You were behind the scenes, knee deep in technology. Hacking files, constantly bypassing security, you name it. You never had to leave the comfort of your own country. It was hard work, but it was also your calling. It had been since you were a teenager in high school. It was a habit that got you caught several times breaking into the school security systems, changing when the bell would ring so you and your friends could get out a few minutes early. Especially during Geometry with Miss. Wilkins.

You had been given a scholarship to New York City College of Technology after you graduated high school and you packed your bags and moved from your small town in Ohio to the beautiful state of New York. After graduating in record time with high marks you were recruited by Agent Coulson to join S.H.I.E.L.D. You accepted without any hesitation (Along with constant reassurance to your always worried mother that you would not actually be in the field. Ever.)

After a few years, and more importantly the battle of New York, Nick Fury created a small unit specifically trained to work alongside The Avengers. It was truly amazing getting to move into the Tower, always being there in case of emergencies. Which there often were plenty of. You were under the command of Agent Keaton, your unit possessing a mere ten agents total. No one knew who you were, or what you did, except The Avengers and a small number of others. You were shadows, able to breach the toughest security, get what you needed, and get out without a trace. Or in most cases, get Earth’s Mightiest Heroes into places they previously didn’t have access to. Everyone called you “The Ghosts of Stark Tower”. The hours were sometimes long, missions often stressful, but it suited you just fine. One of the many upsides was knowing that you were making a difference in this messed up world.

The down side was these way too early mornings. At least it was Friday and you could look forward to the three day holiday weekend ahead of you. It was Labor Day weekend which meant that after today you wouldn’t have to return to work until the following Tuesday, unless an earth shattering catastrophe happened. Trudging your way down the hallways your mind drifted to the future that awaited you at 1800 hours. All you had planned was a giant fort of blankets and pillows to call sanctuary as you caught up on the six books that sat unloved in a box by your bed. They were feeling extremely neglected since you had gotten most of them as birthday gifts, which had been some time ago now.

Stepping into the elevator you let out a wistful sigh as it began to climb the few floors leading to the floor that held the landing pad for the Quinjet. Smiling to yourself as you day dreamed about being nestled in a blanket cocoon and not seeing a soul for 72 hours, you couldn’t stop in time and ran smack into Sam Wilson as you exited the elevator and took a sharp turn. His back of toned muscles acted as a wall as it threw you backwards and onto the floor with a loud and ungraceful oomfph.

“Shit. Sorry Y/N. My head isn’t on straight today.” He offered a hand to help you up which you gladly took, pulling yourself up and pretending to brush yourself off.

“It’s fine Sam. Ya miss Bucky that much?”

“Ha. Ha. Ya I missed him like a hole in the head.” You snickered as the two of you made your way down the hall together.

Sam Wilson and you went way back. Back to before you were working (usually) with the Avengers. Back when you were just starting out and he wasn’t cleared for all the “fun” missions, as he called it. Those were the days when you trained together, ate together. Hell you even shared a bed together. It was only once, and nothing romantic happened, but you two only got closer because of it. You didn’t know where you would be without him in your life. He always seemed to know what to say to make you feel better after a hard day, and he always had you laughing. It usually bummed you out when he went along for missions, so you were extra thankful he opted to stay behind this past week when they announced a new mission would take place. It had been nice spending time with each other outside of work hours, catching up, shooting the breeze.

He was one of the only people here that seemed to see you for everything that you were. With the exception of today of course.

“Any issues with the mission? Why are they back two days early?”

Sam raised an eyebrow as you reached the double doors that lead outside to the landing pad.

“Now how did you know they were supposed to be back in two days? That was classified information L/N.” You quickly shot your eyes to the ground, releasing a heavy sigh.

“I…I may have hacked into the mission details…”

The look Sam gave you made you bite your lower lip in embarrassment before he merely shook his head in response.

“Damn Y/N, you should have come with a warning label. If you missed Steve that much you could have just called him.” You swatted his arm as he pushed the door open for you, the fresh air hitting you in the face and causing your eyes to water.

Sam had known about your small crush on Steve Rogers, otherwise known to many as Captain America, since the first time you had met the larger than life super soldier. He pegged you as a giddy school girl from the gate and you found yourself threatening his life on a weekly basis to keep his mouth shut about the whole thing. Steve and you had a professional work related friendship, nothing more. It’s not like what you and Sam had, and you had come to accept that it never would be that. Or more, no matter how often you caught yourself thinking about it.

“Why would I miss Steve Rogers when Sam Wilson has been here to keep me company?” You batted your eyelashes at him, causing the man to chuckle as you neared the group of fellow agents that were gathered around the jet.

“Nice try slick, but I’m still telling Tony you broke into the mission files. Again.”

You pouted at him but he only clicked his tongue at you.

“I swear Tony just needs to give you a raise already and put you in charge of that tech stuff here. His old ass mind is clearly slipping.”

“You suck Wilson. I was only worried.”

“Worried ol’ Blue eyes was gonna take a dirt nap? Come on Y/N,  he’s stronger than that.”

“Actually I was worried for Tony and his,” you made air quotations “Old ass mind”

You and Sam’s laughter was quickly silenced as the jet ramp lowered and you watched Steve Rogers exit, a deathly pale Tony leaning on him as they disembarked.

“Shit. He looks worse than normal. Pepper is gonna pitch a fit when she sees him.” Sam remarked, the team headed towards you.

Your eyes couldn’t help but dance across the Team’s faces. They all looked beat. Thor and Bruce seemed deep in conversation, their hushed voices angrily biting at each other. Clint kept quiet, focusing his vision forward and not looking at anyone. You noticed Nat and Wanda were missing, only for a moment before you realized they were on a separate mission elsewhere. They were slated to come back sometime next week.

Your vision drifted over to Tony, taking in his sickly appearance. The color was drained from his face, the area around his eyes dark and his body too weak to walk very far. Bucky walked to his left, his worried expression evident as they neared you and Sam through the crowd.

You quickly snapped your line of sight to Captain Rogers, your pulse picking up just a little at the sight of him. His uniform was still in really good shape considering how ragged he was looking. Apparently he had forgotten his razor or something because his facial hair had grown a considerable amount since they had been gone. His strong jaw was set tightly, his lips in a thin line while his large intimidating frame effortlessly helped the injured billionaire along.

“Why do I have a feeling my weekend plans just got cancelled?” You grumbled, clearing a path for the Captain as the rest of the team followed behind him, none of them sparing you a look. You were used to it by now.

“Wilson, debrief. Now.” Rogers’ voice boomed with authority and you couldn’t help but grimace in Wilson’s direction.

“Sorry Sam, tough luck.”

“L/N you too.”

Jumping at the acknowledgement you cast a worried glance to Sam who merely shrugged before picking up his pace to catch up to the group headed into the building. That could not be good at all. You followed after him, struggling to keep your mind calm with all the questions currently swimming in it. It didn’t take you long to reach the small conference room, paramedics cutting off your journey about halfway to take Tony into the medical bay to run tests.

You quickly took a seat next to Sam, everyone at the table looking to Steve for answers you were fairly certain he didn’t have. It didn’t mean you couldn’t admire his tall, gorgeous body though as he stood in front of all of you. Nope, you’d drink in the sight of him any day and any time you could. It wasn’t illegal to look after all, even if most of the time he saw right through you. Just like a ghost.

“Look L/N, I’m going to give you the extremely short version,” Steve started, blue eyes staring into yours and you could only bring yourself to nod. His voice was hard, short, he was clearly on edge with worry.

“Might as well shorten it even more Rogers, L/N here already hacked the mission files. She knows the mission.”

You could only give Sam a “What the hell?” look, trying not to let the disappointed sigh that came from Steve’s lips sink into your stomach like a boulder of guilt.

“As much as I want to be angry with you L/N, I need to know how much you know. It might help speed things up so we can get to work faster.”

All eyes seemed to shift to you as you began to fidget with the edge of the table, training your eyes to stay focused on the smooth wood surface as you recalled the details you briefly scanned last week.

“You were all sent to Tal-q’eiek to retrieve an energy source for another planet…Mon…mon something..who’s current environmental health is unstable. The planet’s self defense measures made most of the planet toxic to keep predators from other neighboring worlds away.” You started, looking up at the people around the table as they all nodded in agreement.

“ You were made special suits and would split up into teams to search the planet for the energy source. You were sent out of your element considering Danvers was unavailable to join you, as well as Quill and his team being currently MIA as well.” Taking a deep breath you couldn’t help but notice the smallest of smiles on Steve’s face as you finished divulging what you knew.

“Correct L/W, I’m always impressed by your sharp memory.” Steve complimented you and you had to grasp the chair to make sure you wouldn’t fall out of it. It was the first and so far only time Captain Rogers had made a positive comment in your direction. Usually he was far too busy to pay you or any of the other Ghosts of Stark Tower any mind. Not that you could blame him. If you were being honest, you didn’t even think he knew your first name for the first two years you worked together.

“So based on your knowledge, what conclusion can you come to on your own?” Thor pried, your gaze moving to catch his.

“ My assumption is that Tony was simply  in the wrong place at the wrong time and managed to inhale some of the toxic air of the planet, and that’s why you had to come back early. Because he’s showing symptoms of a sickness and you didn’t know what to do.”

“Two for two L/W, well done.”You felt a swell of undeserving pride at Steve’s words, wondering if this was to be your Christmas gift or something. Two compliments in one day? Within minutes of each other? You most certainly weren’t complaining but it did make you a bit nervous, especially when those beautiful blue eyes weren’t leaving yours.

“So now what? We just wait for the doctors to come back and tell us Tony is going to be ok?” Sam’s voice broke you out of your trance, Steve clearing his throat and Thor nodding in agreement.

“Unfortunate, but until we know more there isn’t anything to be done.” The other blonde’s deep voice boomed and you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

“I don’t understand why I was needed here…” You trailed off, Bruce chuckling at your statement causing you to blush with embarrassment.

“You never know when we may need a Ghost on our side Y/N.” Bucky smiled at you, giving you a small wink.

“Yea besides,” Clint continued, “We actually like you. You’re not some stuck up, loud mouthed, cocky know it all like some of the others.”

“You shouldn’t talk about Tony like that, after all he’s the one sick right now.”

Your comment earned you a chorus of laughter.

“I’m gonna put that in Stark’s Christmas card this year.” Sam got out in between laughs, patting you on the back.

“That’s my Y/N, always one with the fast quips.”

His statement caused you to beam in response, allowing yourself to be grabbed in a small side hug. The expression on Steve’s face was a bit puzzling to you as you looked at him, but no sooner had it appeared, it was gone.

What seemed to be hours passed, but your eyes shot up at the sound of one of the doctors on standby walking into the conference room, her HASMAT suit creating a hideous scratching noise against the floor as she moved. You recognized her as Doctor Kelly Hooper, she had been working for Stark for years. She was a short and stout woman, with dark blonde hair that was always up in a tight bun on top of her head.

“What’s the diagnosis Doctor?” Clint tried, his voice humorless despite the poor attempt at a joke.

“Firstly, you should know that Mister Stark is going to be alright.”

The entire table collectively sighed in relief at the Doctor’s news, a huge weight seemingly being lifted off of everyone’s shoulders. You and Tony didn’t always see eye to eye on things, but you still respected the hell out him, and definitely didn’t want him dying anytime soon.

“However, there is some bad news.” The older woman continued, turning her attention to Steve.

“He’s going to be sick the next forty eight to seventy two hours, and will need constant care. He’s going to experience the worst equivalent of the flu we’ve seen in years. Fever, vomiting, dehydration, chills, extreme pain, and maybe even hallucinations. What’s also troublesome is we don’t have the proper staff to take care of him, as most of the day and night crew have left for holiday, and we can’t risk taking him to a hospital where it might spread.”

“Got it, can it get any worse than babysitting a sick Tony?” Bucky groaned out, his head hitting the table.

“Actually it can Mister Barnes. I’m afraid the illness he has contracted from the foreign planet is very peculiar in the fact that it only seems to attack beings with the combination of XY chromosomes.”

“Doc, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Bucky suddenly looked up at Doctor Hooper, who had now locked eyes with the winter solider before nodding her head.

“That’s right Mister Barnes, any male who has come within contact with Mister Stark within the last twenty four hours has a seventy five to eighty five percent chance of falling ill as well.”