#anyway happy friday i'm sad again

[zishuge]

What I didn't expect... was that he hated me so much. (1/2) Mysterious Lotus Casebook (2023)

[warmsol]

i miss makoa and elia so much but my motivation to story tell is at zeroooooo

[hooved]

i am literally unstoppable now that i have 109 yards of elastic string and a big box full of thousands of beads i haven't used in years

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Little Bit More

25/12: Promise & Phone Sex - Billy Washington Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m) A/N: this exists in the Every Little Bit universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

He always knew it was coming around, and yet he always hated it.

Her dad’s birthday was in between Christmas and New Year, that weird time where you don’t know what day it is, never seem to have enough food in and where you’re so disorientated in the post-Christmas haze that it’s like coming down from a sugar high.

It was the few times of year where she went away by herself, wanting to spare Billy from the absolute torture of being around her parents for a few days as she made excuse after excuse as to why they weren’t married yet.

Not that he minded, there was only so much of her mum Billy could take.

He’d seen her off at the train station, her duffel bag looking very much as big as her in the cutest way possible as she skipped off to the platform in her winter overcoat and scarf, the chill nipping at her cheeks.

It was only a few days. It was only a few days. He had to keep reminding himself. 

Billy sighed, tapping the remote control against his knee, only half-watching whatever terrible Friday night tele graced his flat. The pizza box was closed shut on the coffee table, having tried to cheer himself up with a takeaway.

His phone buzzed, and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his face, seeing her name in bright white letters on the face of it.

She'd promised to ring 9 o’clock on the dot, after all.

“Hiya, ya alright?” he answered, his voice sounding perkier already, his muscles relaxing once he heard her voice.

“Hey, you sound happy”, she replied low down the phone, and he could tell she was smiling by the way she said it.

“I am now,” he grinned, “just finished a 12 inch on my own.”

She groaned over the line, “Billy.”

“I'm joking, it's because I've heard your voice again.”

“Better,” she laughed breathily, “what you up to? Other than missing me, of course.”

He sighs, “Being a sad cunt, staying in with a beer watching whatever shite is on Channel 4.”

“Ooh dear,” she says unenthusiastically, “sounds dull, babe.”

Billy hummed in agreement, “What about you? What you up to?”

It was her turn to sigh, “fuck all, really. Mum and Dad went to go and see Mum's mate Jill, you know Jill don't you?”

“Yes, babe.”

“Yeah, well they left at five and are yet to be back. Convinced she's got them tied up in the basement.”

Billy laughed through his nose, “That actually sounds better than what she might actually be doing, chatting their bloody ears off.”

“Poor buggers, eh,” she laughed, “so I'm sat here on my tod.”

“What a shame you've got me to talk to then.”

He could hear her smile, “could be worse. You missing me?”

The alcohol had offered him a kind of confidence, and he sucked his teeth, holding back a grin, “You could say that. Missing something anyway.”

He heard her mischievous tone even over the crackle of the phone.

“Are you now?”

The line went quiet for a while, before a notification buzzed and Billy turned her on loudspeaker for a moment as he pulled his phone from his ear to check.

…has sent an image.

With one flick of his thumb, his jaw dropped, the depths of his gut becoming tight and hot by the picture she'd sent him. It was her figure reflected in a mirror, wearing clearly nothing but a large t-shirt (his, he noted) and pulling the spare fabric to one side to show her curves as well as her pebbled nipples beneath it.

“Jesus..”

She giggled over the phone, “is that a good ‘jesus’?”

“I-fuck, yes…”

Another one arrived, with her pulling up the hem of her shirt over her hips and expanse of her stomach, just beneath the shadow of her breasts.

“Christ, babe, what are you doing to me?”

She hummed, “sorry, you said you were missing me.”

Billy sighed looking at the photos, every now and then closing his eyes to will the feeling of her skin onto his fingertips, the warmth of her, the sounds she'd make for him. 

His breathing grew shallow as he reached into his jeans, wrapping one hand around his length, to softly pump himself, already half-hard since the moment the first picture arrived.

“Are you enjoying them?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Mmhm..” he murmured.

Another few arrived, in various stages. One where the shirt was fully over her breasts, one where she was wearing nothing at all leaning back to show her full naked torso, and one sat on the bed, the lines appearing where her hips met her thighs.

“Oh fuck…”

Over the phone, she could hear the clinking of his belt as he pleasured himself, “are you touching yourself, baby?”

He could only make a sound in confirmation, his throat closing as he fisted himself to the photos of her.

She sighed, as if her touching herself was expelling a deeply rooted desire, her hands sliding between her legs, the other holding the phone to her ear, “Mm…wish you were here…”

“-ffuck-me too, baby-”

His strained voice was enough to coax some slick between her fingers, using it to pleasure herself, laid back on the bed.

“are you on the sofa?...”

He swallowed, breathlessly replying, “yeah..”

“Do you remember before I left…” she started, and the memory nearly made Billy dizzy.

He was sat right where he is right now, legs apart to accommodate her kneeling there. She'd been annoyed that he was playing Xbox, and so, in an effort to make him lose his game, had knelt in front of him, pulled his sweatpants over his hips and eagerly took his length between her lips.

She'd gotten what she wanted. Before long, his controller was long forgotten and instead, his fingers were threaded through her hair, guiding her pace on him.

He can feel his stomach tightening at the memory of the sensation.

“Do you remember, baby?”

“Yes…”

“Hm..” she hummed, over the phone, while in her own bed began to hasten the pace of her self-pleasure.

"If I were there...do you know what I'd do?"

"What..." he breathed, his hold on his phone so tight without realising.

"I'd get up...off my knees...on top of you..." she muses, sighing at the feeling herself beginning to crest, "...maybe tease you a bit..."

"Fuck-no, baby, don't tease me-"

She let out a breathy laugh, "but why not? It's so much fun."

Her hips canted towards her own touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she held the phone loosely as the pressure tightened in her gut.

"What would you do, baby? If I was right there on top of you..."

His voice came strained, every stroke of his length in his fist drawing him close to fulfilment.

"I would - I'd fuckin' pull you down..."

She could tell he was close by the tone of his voice, and she bit back a smile, knowing he was much too far gone to even form a coherent thought.

"I'd let you fuck me...right there...be your little fuck toy..." She mused in a sort of whisper, "...you could cum inside me...as many times as you want, baby..."

Billy's lips parted, not even realising how his movements had become rapid, needy and quick.

"Oh fuck-"

On the other side she was close herself, and then she heard the prompt and pulled the phone away from her ear to see a request to switch to video call. She accepted without thinking and felt her gut twist at what she saw.

His jeans were pushed around his zipper barely, only enough to free his cock as he pumped it quickly. She was entranced as Billy pleasured himself in real time, her face growing warm at the effect she'd clearly had on him.

And then she heard it, a long shuddered whimper of her name, followed by, "Oh baby-"

She felt her thighs tremble as she came, warmth rushing beneath her hips and a tingling sensation rushing from her toes all the way up her spine, as Billy groaned deeply and spilled all over his fingers for her to see.

Her hand has slowed, overstimulation gnawing as she touched herself with Billy's languid thrusts into his hand continuing to pull a deep arousal from her.

Over the video she heard his laboured breaths, gulping for air.

When the video turned off she smiled tiredly and pulled her phone back to her ear, hearing his tired, exhausted voice.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed. She could imagine him, all spent and limp on the sofa, and the thought made her smirk and press her thighs together with want.

"Mm, you're telling me. Do you feel better now?" She asked demurely.

"Fuck you," he teased, "fuck, I can't wait for you to get back..."

She gave a short laugh, "Oh yeah? What you gonna do when I am?"

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd heard her, her brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted to ask him if he was still there.

But realistically, on the other end, a wide smile graced his face, his blue eyes all aglimmer with mischief.

And what he said had the power to shut her right up. Excitement made her stomach flip, wondering what version of Billy she seems to have unleashed. Gone was the shy, unconfident Billy she'd found. Her efforts in getting him to...unwind somewhat shocking even her.

"How did you put it, hm?" he laughed, with a smile so bright like he'd just opened a present, "My little fuck toy?"

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[1d1195]

Dolcezza III

Read the first part here: Dolcezza

Happy 2024 everybody 💕

This is more cuteness imo. A little bit of a sick-fic for those that enjoy that (@tiredinwinter, I'm looking at you 😉) These next two parts are just them learning more about each other and Harry desperately trying to care for her stubborn self. Hope you enjoy 💕

~7.8k words

Be gentle with her. The next message read. There was a pang of sadness that encapsulated his heart and made him wince. As if he would ever��could ever—treat her any way except gentle.

Please. Another ache coursed through him. A plead that no one should ever have to ask for on behalf of anyone.

She walked into the restaurant and noted how busy it was—even for a Friday. But it was odd because there were a lot of empty tables. Not lacking people, but lacking food.

The bar was empty, and she looked around noticing one poor waiter and the hostess running around like there was an earthquake. She frowned and headed to the bar anyway. Normally, she sat by herself and waited until she made eye contact with Harry. Once he made eye contact, he would surely start making food for her. As she approached the bar and took her seat, she realized Harry wasn’t anywhere near the window. It was weird. She knew he liked to get a glimpse of the people in the restaurant and enjoyed getting a view of all the activity. It was never more than five minutes between glimpses, and she would see his excited, smiling face in that space.

But several moments passed before she seriously considered just leaving—it was well beyond the regular five-minute interval. It was weird everything was so out of sorts. There was no bartender, no Harry, and no line of people on the sidewalk despite it being just before the dinner rush. It was obvious something was wrong, and she didn’t want to be in the way if whatever the issue was came from the kitchen.

She slipped her coat off anyway. For a moment she seriously considered just marching herself into the kitchen to see if Harry was alright. Then she realized how ridiculous it was to barge into a place that she did not work at, just to see if the handsome guy that made her eggplant and spaghetti each week was alright. She physically cringed at the idea and shook her head at the thought. How obsessive could she be? Even if Harry was that flirty with her—and would probably do the very same thing, the voice in her head reminded her—it wasn’t her place.

But she was genuinely worried. Usually, the staff had alerted Harry that his Principessa was here. Even though it made her blush and feel silly, she found it utterly sweet. As she tapped her fingers on the bar curiously waiting for way longer than she should have, part of her knew her patience stemmed from wanting to see Harry as much as he probably wanted to see her. It took a lot to admit that to herself as well because she tried not to make it a habit of falling for the first hot guy that literally swept her off her feet.

But she didn’t come in on Wednesday because she was extra busy with work that evening and felt exhausted. She ordered takeout and barely stuck her foot in the restaurant at the time. So other than stolen glances across the restaurant when she left on her errands where she managed to sneak a wave in at Harry across the busy expanse of the cozy restaurant. Harry also may have narrowly missed bumping into her again when he took the trash out last Sunday in hopes of doing just that. Therefore, it had been over a week since she had gotten to really see and chat with Harry as she usually did.

But after another ten minutes of waiting, she decided it was time to just leave. She realized how silly it was for her to be waiting around like that for just a chance of seeing Harry through the kitchen window. Eleanor would be the first one to tell her she should keep waiting. That this was completely normal for her best friend, and she shouldn’t feel guilty about exploring those feelings.

Of course, she chose not to acknowledge why she was feeling that way.

Fortunately, Niall walked by the window at that moment, a hand through his hair as he looked around the kitchen with worry and his gaze swept across the front of the restaurant. He caught her eye as she started to put her jacket back on to leave. “Oh, tesorino,” Niall sighed heavily and shook his head. “M’sorry. There’s no bar tonight,” he said.

She frowned, coming to that conclusion on her own. Maybe she would just order takeout and leave them once more—it would be Wednesday before they knew it and they would probably be back to normal by then. “Oh...that’s alright. I kind of figured. Everything alright?”

He shook his head. “No, honestly. It’s a disaster. Everyone is sick or already had the day off.” he admitted with a shake of his head. He looked distraught and she felt so guilty for even taking the time to chat with him for a moment when he very much looked like he had a hundred other things to attend to. “We think we’re just going to have to close.”

She frowned. “Oh... I’m sorry. Can I help?”

He snorted rubbing the back of his hair with a shake of his head. “Do you have waitressing and/or kitchen experience?” He rolled his eyes feeling hopeless and looking more frustrated by the second.

She smirked and slid out of her jacket once more, slipped it onto the back of the stool again, and hopped down from her seat. She hurried around the bar to the kitchen door and pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she greeted Niall face to face. “Three years in university,” she smiled sweetly.

The worry in Niall’s eyes turned to excitement and he jerked his head toward the rest of the kitchen. “Harry! The answer to our prayers has arrived,” he said with hope in his voice.

“Antonio s’here? He’s magically cured?” He sounded so upset and devoid of emotion.

She giggled. “Um... Not quite,” she answered.

There was a clatter of pans and utensils from behind the shelves and stainless steel dividing the kitchen into sections. Harry leaned down to get a view of the miracle he had been hoping for during the last hour of chaos.

Harry, despite being as worried as Niall was moments ago, took a moment to relieve himself of all stress. The adoration in his eyes made his eyelids droop low over his pupils and he smiled his beautiful, sweet, half smile which made her weak in the knees. “Hi, Principessa.”

Her cheeks warmed as always that beautiful rosy pink and she gave a small, awkward wave. “Hi, Harry.”

“Y’sure y’want t’help with this chaos?”

She nodded. “As long as it’s okay with Antonio and you guys, of course,” she grabbed an apron on the hook by the door and smiled. “Just...give me some orders and I’ll do my very best,” she promised tying the apron behind her back in a knot. She wasn’t wearing the best shoes for waitressing nor cooking but it had to be better than having Dolcezza closing on a Friday night.

Harry returned to his prep work and cooking. “No date y’have t’get to this Friday?” He asked quietly as she washed her hands. “Y’really don’t mind slumming it here?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat, grateful she was facing away from Harry while she cleaned her hands. “I’ve...sort of sworn off dating,” she shrugged. “Least for... for a while.”

He frowned. For obvious reasons, this thought saddened him. “Oh,” he mumbled.

She cleared her throat again and turned back to Harry as he stirred the sauces on the stove to keep them from sticking. Almost simultaneously, he was pulling meat from the oven, and somehow chopping onions without injuring himself and not dropping a bit. Niall had grabbed all the things Harry had dropped and tossed them in the dishwasher.

“Uh...” she felt like she needed to console him. Give him hope. Not that he needed it—honestly, if he asked her out, she was certain she would embarrass herself and say something like this is a dream come true. “It was sort of... Eleanor and I discussed it. Logically,” she shrugged. “My... my ex, kind of...” she shook her head. “I was very oblivious to how I was being treated,” she explained. “I thought I needed a break. Plus... being followed for a while? Eleanor is really weary of any guy in my life and without her around... she thinks I’m too trustworthy and—” Harry was staring. He was watching her so intently as she rambled and wanted to ask a thousand questions, but it took her a moment to notice his movements had paused. “I’m sorry. We have a full restaurant,” she smiled sadly. “I’ll... go make myself useful,” she hurried from the kitchen.

She rested her back on the wall outside the kitchen door and took a deep breath. Looking at the ceiling, she wondered why Harry did that to her. Every time they chatted, she revealed way more than acquaintances should and she couldn’t stop herself from spilling her guts to him.

Again, she ignored the implications as to why that was the case.

She caught sight of the other waiter and host. She told them she was helping, she would do her best, and please be patient. This statement was repeated to each customer she interacted with as well. Somehow, gratefully, only the kindest people were present in the restaurant that crazy night.

“She should work here all the time,” Antonio’s nephew was the other waiter—only in his first year of university and looking at her as if she really was a princess. Harry smirked knowing it was the effect she had on everyone she met.

He was glad he could watch from the window again periodically. Harry admired her gorgeous smile, the way her ponytail bounced with each step, and how the apron sinched at her waist so perfectly. Every smile she gave to each party was kinder than the next. She ensured every table she walked by had everything they needed and kindly thanked them for their patience. She was magical. He could see every man fall in love with her as she spoke. All the women complimented her pretty eye makeup and that she was so sweet to help. Regulars finally got the chance to inquire about her and she was just so very sweet—Dolcezza, had nothing on her. Every child that told her a joke, she giggled her heart out. She appreciated their kind patience and told them she was certain she could find a way to make chocolate milk.

Harry adored her from the kitchen.

*

Niall told Harry that he thought she was better than all their current waitstaff. Harry also thought she was better at dicing tomatoes than Niall was. Maybe even faster and better at peeling veggies than Harry was. It was truly a miracle having her there. With little staff and weakening morale, she arrived at exactly the right time. She was skillful, that was for sure. Harry was a bit in awe of her fluid movements as if she worked alongside him all these years.

“Do y’like cooking?” He asked as she helped plate the pasta dishes as Harry had shown her before sending them to the correct tables.

“I don’t mind it. I hate dishes. If I could boil water in a paper pot, I would,” she smiled making Harry burst with laughter. Her cheeks warmed at the sweet sound coming from his lips. “It detracts a lot from me wanting to cook.”

He nodded understandingly. “Y’probably don’t have the right pans,” he explained.

She smirked. “I think I’ve tried every kind of pot and pan there is. Nonstick, copper, stainless steel, ceramic. Nothing seems to work. Or I’m probably just not cooking right for it to work.”

He frowned. “Whatever y’do, don’t use the nonstick,” he said seriously. “That stuff can flake off and s’really bad for you.”

“Noted.”

They worked silently side by side. Niall whistled. “We should have Antonio hire her to peel all the veggies,” he said. “We’d take an hour off morning prep.”

She smiled. “I am in charge of all veggies and apple pie on major holidays and birthdays,” she explained. “Squash, potatoes, carrots, apple pie,” she shrugged. “Multiplied by five or six times a year, plus my regular cooking. I do think I’m a professional at peeling.”

Harry was unbelievably impressed with how quickly she did it. Not to toot his own horn, but she wasn’t a professional chef. Her skill was top notch. It was...well, he was already infatuated with her. This shouldn’t have been so surprising.

Harry didn’t think he could possibly fall any deeper or harder for her, but it wasn’t the case. He was mesmerized by her skill, her kindness, her willingness to help.

She pressed a hand on her stomach periodically and winced. After the third time, Harry frowned as he saw the tiniest crinkle in her forehead appear. “Don’t tell me y’catching whatever is going through Antonio’s house,” Harry frowned.

She smirked. “No... um... I did come in for dinner and... I’m,” she let out an awkward chuckle. “Just a little hungry.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he hurried to the oven and yanked the bread out with the rag he had laying on the counter. Harry nearly pulled the pan out of the oven with his bare hand once he realized the problem. “Principessa,” he said with a frown in his voice. “M’so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I should—”

“Here,” he cut the bread quickly ignoring the warmth. She imagined that would have burned anyone else’s skin. But Harry had told her that he lost most feeling in his fingertips within a year of starting his culinary career.

“Harry, really, I’m—”

“I’m not kidding, kitten. Please,” he said holding the bread out to her. She was about four inches deep in vegetable peels and covered in potato skins and carrot juice, but she didn’t stop peeling. But Harry knew she had a weakness for that garlic bread. “I’ll make y’eggplant as soon as we get a lull,” he promised his eyes so kind and gentle as he brought the bread closer to her lips. Leaving her with no choice, she opened and let Harry feed her while she continued peeling.

It was not the time, but it was like her own version of Lady and the Tramp. It was ridiculously romantic when it shouldn’t have been. It was garlic bread—very nearly the least aphroditic food of them all. His smile took her breath away. She tried not to think about the spaghetti scene from a children’s movie as much as possible because there wasn’t a world in which she was going to kiss Harry around a mouthful of garlic bread.

Even if she really wanted to.

*

There was never a lull, but they were working very efficiently. With little waitstaff and kitchen staff, and the help of the sweet angel bouncing from job to job as needed—especially when she caught one of the dishes inches from the hard counter after it had been misplaced onto the edge of the expo counter for the next person to check.

Harry was grateful to admire her from up close and was utterly relieved when the doors were finally closed, the last takeout order was handed off to the incoming customer, and the last ticket was completed.

Niall munched on the garlic bread Harry kept making for “everyone” to eat with the intention of making sure that she ate when she had a spare second. “We did it,” he said excitedly.

Harry smirked. “We’re closing the next time Antonio is sick.”

“You always say that,” Niall rolled his eyes.

It was true. Every time Antonio couldn’t make it to work it was a suggestion that was floated. But Harry hated the idea of disappointing his friend. They could handle it—Harry and Niall. This wasn’t the first time. But usually, they had more staff than they did tonight. It was the worst it had ever been, and it was the first time Harry considered truly disappointing Antonio (even if that wasn’t going to happen).

If it weren’t for the sweet, kind girl—

“Where’s Principessa?” Niall asked.

Harry frowned and headed by the window to see where she was. Her jacket was still on the stool at the bar, and he frowned. “Uh... I don’t know.”

“Weird she would just leave without saying goodbye.”

“Umm...she left her jacket—I don’t think—”

After a few moments there was a knock on the closed door and there she stood in the dark, holding two large pizza boxes with a smile. The host let her in, and she thanked him kindly as she headed to the bar to lay out the boxes. Harry smirked.

“I know this is your favorite after shift,” she said flipping the boxes open, filling the restaurant with the scent of pizza.

Harry smiled, feeling his stomach flutter knowing she remembered something he had said in passing. “Aw, Tesorino, you’re incredible,” Niall sighed. “Thank you. We would have been sunk without you tonight.”

She smiled. “I’m happy to help. Sorry I was a little slow with the—”

Everyone simultaneously shushed her making her giggle as she nibbled on her pizza.

Eventually, the three of them were left. Niall headed to the kitchen to start cleaning up. It was Harry’s turn; they both knew it. But now she and Harry were the only ones left, in front of the pizza and...

Well, Niall was the best friend and the best wingman that Harry ever had.

“Thank you, Principessa,” Harry said sincerely.

“It was really nothing. Least I could do after you helped with the move and the furniture—”

“Y’don’t owe me anything, kitten. Would have done that...” he shook his head. “M’jus’... glad I get t’be your friend.”

She smiled. “Well, still. As your friend, I would have done all this for you anyway.”

His heart felt so warm. He didn’t love the concept of friend; but getting a thread of her story earlier that evening, he would take it. If she wasn’t dating, then friendship would be more than enough. Being in her life in any capacity was enough.

“Y’must be the best friend of anyone y’meet,” Harry smirked. “If y’did all that for us,” he shook his head. “If Niall didn’t work here, he would never.”

“I heard that,” he called.

Harry ignored him. She shrugged with a gentle smile. “I like helping.”

“I see that.”

She pressed her lips together. “I have two siblings. Both are...well, they remind me of puppies. They have no idea what they are doing. Honestly, my parents don’t know what they’re doing half the time either. So, I had to do a lot of growing up really fast. It was extremely difficult for me to move out and let them live... without me. They miss me a lot, but part of me thinks they just miss me doing stuff for them. I get messages all day long about the home computer, where did we put the tax information from last year, did we get a gift for our grandma’s birthday, and—”

She stopped abruptly again. Like she realized she was talking and wasn’t supposed to be. Harry frowned waiting for her to continue. She bit into her pizza. Harry thought she would talk again, but she sipped from the glass of water he brought her when she brought the boxes in and made no point of continuing. “Is there more t’that? More y’wanted t’say?”

She shook her head and fibbed. She wanted to tell Harry everything. But it was simply too much. “No, it’s...” she sighed. “I’m just a little...” she trailed off and Harry wanted to know how she would finish that sentence.

“Perfect? Too kind? Unbelievably sweet?” He asked.

The restaurant’s main lights were off, just the glow from the kitchen filled the bar area. The lampposts outside filtered a golden glow across the main room but didn’t reach the far back of the bar. So, Harry couldn’t see the pink color of her cheeks that he loved so much. She released a soft laugh. “Well...no,” she shook her head. “I’m not perfect.”

“Notice y’didn’t say anything ‘bout the kindness or sweetness,” he murmured.

She laughed again. “You’re...” she sighed shaking her head. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“S’nothing I did. Y’were incredible,” he told her. “You... are incredible,” he added. They were silent, staring at each other, the sound of the dishwasher humming along with the sound of Niall spraying pots and pans through the window. Their faces were as close as they had ever been to one another. All she could think about was how her breath had to smell like the pound of garlic bread she had surely eaten tonight on top of the two slices of pizza she had just inhaled. Her feet were aching from not wearing the right shoes and running around the restaurant all evening.

But Harry was saying she was incredible, and she would have glued herself to that barstool if Harry stayed there all night. His gaze dropped to her lips briefly and she wanted to know what he tasted like so very badly. Did he wear chapstick? Did he taste like mint? Maybe not after eating pizza, but she would have tasted his cheesy breath if it meant she could lick into his mouth for a few minutes.

“Did you two fall asleep out there?” Niall called.

She jolted away from Harry, no doubt the color pink he wanted to paint his apartment walls with on her cheeks once more. She released an awkward little laugh and sipped her water again. He was still the best friend he ever had, but Harry was demoting Niall to the worst wingman in the history of the world.

Effective immediately.

*

Harry was slowly losing his mind. If he didn’t see her soon, he was going to go certifiably insane. He brought trash out the back-alley way more often—Niall swore he took an empty bag on one of his trips out back. He went to the front of the restaurant way more than he needed to only to see her car untouched and unmoved. He prayed Amazon delivered a box to outside her entryway, so he had an excuse to run it up the steps to her door.

Yes, he wanted to see her. Yes, he was a little... too in love with her for his own good; so quickly and wholly. But really, truly, he just wanted to know she was okay. The thought of someone following her hadn’t really left his mind since Eleanor told him. El was so clearly worried about her friend that anytime he didn’t see her for longer than a day, he thought something went wrong.

He should have just headed up on his own to see she was okay. He should have gotten her number. Honestly, he thought about messaging her through Instagram or finding Eleanor just to keep his distance without seeming obsessive himself. Some of his actions could be considered creepy in the right light. But Harry believed he was different.

But when he did see her, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t being crazy. He would ask her outright if he was bothering her or making her uncomfortable. It was the last thing he wanted. She was wonderful and it would definitely break his heart, but he didn’t want her to think he was just as bad as the creepy person following her.

Part of him thought he was overthinking. They were friends. She said so herself. Eleanor was an excellent judge of character, too. Surely, she would let her know that Harry wasn’t acting normally. While Harry stirred the soup pot and chopped veggies, he thought of all things that were angelically her. His mind wandering to their almost-kiss and how she was always half opening up to him.

“Oh no!” Niall practically sang, interrupting Harry’s thoughts of soft lips and pink cheeks. Harry shook his head of his daydreaming and looked toward him briefly to see what the issue was that had him frowning. He assumed it was just Niall’s normal dramatics. They were out of fresh parsley, or his favorite knife was dull. But right as he glanced away, he saw Niall’s lips pull into a smirk. His eyes danced with delight as he hurried over to Harry. He didn’t have a choice but to look at him as he turned from his current duties to twist fettucine onto the dish with the carving fork. He glanced at Niall unsurely. Like he somehow knew he wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Our sweet Principessa is sick!” He said holding the order slip and waving it in the air like a little flag.

Harry felt a pang of worry course through him like he was the one who felt sick. It made his stomach churn at the thought she wasn’t doing well. Not seeing her since Sunday, when she asked for soup and quietly retreated to her place without so much as a wave of hello.

Harry should have known she wasn’t feeling well. It seemed so obvious now, and he wished he had thought of it sooner. “Give m’that,” he grumbled snagging it from his friend. He placed the fork on the counter and stepped away from Niall’s taunting laughter. Harry read the slip seeing her standard meal along with a paragraph of special instructions.

It’s me upstairs. I’m sick. Can you please bring me the AMAZING minestrone soup? I don’t want pasta but my head hurts. I couldn’t figure out where the soup was without getting the pasta. Garlic bread if you can. It’s my favorite :( Just leave it outside the door. I don’t want to get anyone sick.

Harry thought he was going to be sick just reading it. The poor angel. “Antonio,” he said showing him the slip after reading it twice. Her little frowny face was breaking his heart. “Do you have the key?”

“Harry,” he shook his head with an eye roll. “I’m not letting you into her apartment.”

“I jus’ want t’help her,” he frowned as he voiced his protest.

“If she wants help, she’ll ask,” he said.

But Harry knew that was exactly what wouldn’t happen. He could feel the frown deepening on his face as he started preparing extra soup for her and making fresh garlic bread.

Finally, after several moments of brainstorming, he called Mitch. “D’you happen t’have Eleanor’s number?” He asked his phone while putting the pasta that she didn’t even want into a container anyway. She could eat it when she felt better. He thought asking for her number would follow his thought process of borderline creepy. Eleanor was a good middle step.

“Uh... Yeah... everything alright?”

“Yeah, uh... her friend who lives upstairs... she’s sick,” Harry really didn’t want to explain all the nitty gritty details to Mitch. Not right now. Maybe when they had time to sit and talk about the angel he found to rent above his place of work. He wanted to take care of the pretty, sweet, ill love that was, apparently, in agony upstairs. “Can y’send it t’me, please?”

Within seconds he had Eleanor’s contact info. He hung up on Mitch and hoped that Eleanor would answer on a Friday night. “Hello, this is Eleanor,” she said curiously into the phone. Harry should have given his number to her when she visited a few weeks ago—especially after her request to keep an eye on her best friend for emergencies.

“Hi, Eleanor, s’Harry. Got y’number from Mitch.”

“Oh! Hi Harry! I should have given you my number myself. Is everything alright?” Her voice sounded a little strained and Harry felt bad for worrying her immediately.

“Oh, um... Yeah... nothing... nothing too serious. S’jus’ she put an order in here at the restaurant. Sounds like she’s really under the weather. Can hardly lift her head. D’you think it would be alright t’let myself t’make sure she’s alright? Don’t want t’overstep... y’know her best.”

“Oh Harry, please, please, please do that,” she said excitedly, without hesitation. The relief flooded Harry. He couldn’t be creepy when she so readily offered him to head up to her place. “I didn’t know she wasn’t feeling well... she was editing an article for me earlier,” there was frown in her voice. “I’m going to kill her when she’s better.”

Harry chuckled. “Are y’sure she won’t mind?”

“No... not... you’re fine,” Eleanor sounded very sure. “I swear to God I could strangle her family, her ex-boyfriend, and every friend she’s ever had. She is such a giver and it’s not even her fault,” Eleanor sounded so grumpy. Harry was glad she had Eleanor. More than glad. But it had to be hard to be away from her. “Will you tell me if she needs anything? I’ll have Louis bring it over.”

“Er... I can keep an eye on her... if y’want. M’right here, y’know.”

“Oh, but Harry you’re working,” she said. “I would be... I wouldn’t be her best friend if I didn’t say she wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Clearly, his adoration for the pretty girl wasn’t as obvious to her best friend as he hoped it was. “S’okay. Er... I would prefer I help her... s’not a bother either,” he assured her. “M’worried ‘bout her.”

She made a clucking noise. “Aw,” he could hear the slight hesitation in her nonresponse. They passed the dinner rush as it was nearly nine at night. Now it was the late-night dinners and after dinner drinks and apps crowd that was heading to the restaurant. Niall and company could handle whatever was thrown their way. Plus, Antonio would be there for at least another hour. It would be easy for him to head upstairs. Part of him wondered if she had possibly waited till this time because maybe she knew that Harry would be willing to come deliver her food. “El, her food is going t’be another minute. Could y’call her...? Then, text me if she would really hate it,” he suggested.

“Okay, that’s a good idea,” she sounded surer about the plan he outlined. Eleanor released a deep sigh. “Harry... If I didn’t think she would bite my head off, I would tell you to barge in. I want you to know that.”

He smiled, relief filling him. He didn’t want to come off as creepy by any means. He adored the pretty girl that he ran into each day. All he wanted was to help take care of her. “Thanks, El.”

Harry was packaging all her food carefully in a bag. Waited a few extra minutes, minding some of the appetizer orders while he gazed at his phone with anxiety coursing through him. He would have to have Niall deliver it if Eleanor told him not to go in. The thought of his poor Principessa sad, sick, and in pain had him feeling nearly as terrible as he imagined how she felt. If he couldn’t help, he would just feel worse and wouldn’t be able to leave outside her door without so much as making sure she was alright.

Please, see yourself in. She said the door is unlocked... don’t ask me why. That makes me so stressed out. It took some convincing that you weren’t bothered. So maybe remind her of that. His phone read. He sighed with relief.

Thank you, Eleanor xxx

Harry...

The typing dots disappeared and then reappeared. Harry watched anxiously once more. It felt like he was about to be in trouble, which made no sense, but this was her best friend. She had to like him or there was no future that he could possibly think about.

Be gentle with her. The next message read. There was a pang of sadness that encapsulated his heart and made him wince. As if he would ever—could ever—treat her any way except gentle.

Please. Another ache coursed through him. A plead that no one should ever have to ask for on behalf of anyone.

She’s my best friend in the whole world and no one treats her the way she deserves.

Harry felt his heart swell and ache with the need to wrap her in a blanket and protect her from everyone and everything.

I will, Eleanor. I promise.

He really hoped Eleanor knew how much he meant it.

*

Harry gave a wave to Niall and Antonio and headed around the corner to the entryway on the side of the building. It took every bit of restraint in Harry to walk slowly up the steps so as not to spill her soup. All he wanted was to teleport to the top.

If she was up to snuff, maybe she would have heard the creak of the floorboard outside her place. Maybe she did hear but was too weak to acknowledge it. But Harry knocked, and waited a minute just in case she was well enough to answer the door. After no response, he cracked the door open. “Principessa?” He called gently. There was hardly any sound coming from inside...just the hum of the heating ducts. He had been in her apartment several times to help with anchoring her furniture and with Leo, but this seemed personal and as much as he wanted to burst in there and scoop her in his arms, he really did wish she could invite him in herself. “Kitten, angel? M’gonna come in. Brought y’soup and garlic bread,” he spoke softly in case she could hear him. The last thing her aching head needed was someone shouting. He closed the door with a soft click.

“Hmm...” she hummed. Harry realized the lump on the sofa was hers and not a pile of blankets and pillows. “Harry?” She asked. Her voice could hardly get his name out. Harry frowned.

“Hey Principessa,” he cooed and put the food on her coffee table. He crouched in front of her and pulled the blanket carefully away from her face. Her hair covered her eyes and cheeks like a cobweb. She was adorable, even if she wasn’t feeling well. Harry gently pushed her hair away from her eyes so he could see her. However, her eyes remained shut. “Heard y’weren’t feeling well,” his face was pinched in concern. A pucker between his brows, lips pursed as he scanned her.

“Mm...” she answered with a grunt in response.

“Let’s get some food in you, yeah?” His voice was gentle. “Can I help y’sit up?”

The blankets around her were radiating heat. It might be hotter than the soup he brought. The poor thing. She was in a T-shirt and pair of joggers. “M’cold,” she whispered, her throat sounded scratchy.

His frown deepened. “M’sorry, Principessa. Have y’had some medicine?” He asked pressing his hand against her forehead not liking the heat that came off her skin.

She shook her head just once. “I don’t have any... I gave it to someone at work. Their kid was sick,” she explained. “She’s a single mom—”

“I get it,” he didn’t want her to talk longer than she needed. The story wrote itself. She was too kind and generous for her own good.

“I guess m’too sick to get any,” she frowned her eyes welling with tears. “M’head really hurts,” she whispered.

“Oh, kitten,” he pouted. “Why didn’t y’call me?”

“S’just a bad cold. I didn’t want to bother any—”

He sighed in frustration. He closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay, okay,” he whispered, running his hand down his face. He would complain to her about that at another time. When she was able to comprehend that she wasn’t a bother. That he would have dropped everything to help her. “M’gonna go get y’some at the store—”

“Please don’t leave,” she sniffled, her hands gripping his forearm. Harry turned to look at her as she rubbed her thumb on his skin almost unknowingly. The tears clung to her lower lash line, and they wobbled as she sniffed. If she cried, Harry would be done for.

Well, there was no way he could dream of leaving her side, now.

But he was worried about her head and her throat. He didn’t want her to get worse—especially if it wasn’t just a cold and they would need to get medical attention at some point. He would gladly carry her down the steps, but he imagined it would be hard to carry Leo up and down the steps—a full grown person would prove a lot more difficult. He removed her hands from his arm so he could cup her face and brush his thumbs below her eyes to get rid of the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks. Her skin was warm, but he noticed she leaned into his hold ever so slightly. His heart pounded with how much adoration he had for her. Sick and all. “Principessa, we gotta get y’some medicine,” he reminded her—even if he didn’t want to leave, medicine was going to be needed for her to get better from the look of her. She shook her head.

“Don’t leave me,” she repeated with another sniffle nearly severing his heart in half. “Please,” the quiet sound of her begging nearly broke his heart. Poor thing. Harry could feel his resolve crumbling from her distress.

“Okay, kitten. Okay,” he sighed rubbing his forehead trying to think of something else. “Let’s get some soup in you,” he sat beside her upright figure. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief that Harry wasn’t going to leave. He frowned at how vulnerable she seemed. But worse how much he liked it. The sweet girl was never like this with Harry. It was nice to see her just giving in to how she felt.

Harry pulled the lid from the container of soup. The steam coming off it was just what her sore throat and achy body needed, he was sure of it. He let the soup cool down for a moment on the table while he wrapped a blanket around her shivering frame. She seemed so fragile.

“I don’t feel good,” she reminded him, as if he could forget.

“I know, Principessa. M’sorry,” he grabbed his phone to text Eleanor between bites that it would be really helpful if Louis should come by and bring her some medicine.

He’ll be by in twenty. Eleanor’s response was immediate.

Harry grabbed the soup and blew on the spoonful he scooped up before bringing the spoon and container toward her to prevent a spill. “Here y’go, kitten,” he murmured. She opened her mouth and didn’t even mind when it burned her tongue ever so slightly.

The warmth felt so good on her sore throat and felt like it was healing her achy body. “Never been this sick,” she told him sadly. “I usually can keep doing—”

“Jus’ relax, Principessa. M’here,” he interrupted giving her another spoonful of soup. “S’okay t’need someone,” he reminded her. “S’okay t’ask...me if y’need help. I’d... do anything for you.”

It wasn’t fair that someone like Harry was so pretty, so nice.

She wasn’t sure she knew how to be taken care of; the fact Harry was literally spoon-feeding her soup nearly hurt her chest and made her feel like such a burden. Harry was missing work to tend to her. It was just a bad cold. She could handle it.

Maybe if she had medicine she could. But she felt useless right now.

If she could let her guard down to even herself, she might have been able to admit that Harry taking care of her felt... so good. He was so gentle with her and kept feeding her soup with the softest of smiles. His eyes were so kind, and it felt like he was feeding her a spoonful of sweetness directly from his heart each time he placed the mouthful on her tongue.

“I don’t even think my mom ever did this for me,” she murmured. Harry frowned, taking away the gentleness that she was so enamored with the moment she saw it. She wanted it back. “Thank you,” she whispered hurriedly. He smiled again, making her feel better about the moment she just ruined. “It’s really nice, Harry,” she whispered. He put the soup aside and trailed his fingers through her hair. He took the hair tie off her wrist and carefully pulled it back to it was out of her face allowing some air to touch the back of her head. “I know this isn’t my best look,” she managed.

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Still think y’beautiful,” he mumbled smoothing her hair down in its ponytail. He grabbed the soup again and brought another spoonful to her lips.

“Think you need your eyes checked,” she murmured.

He smiled and shook his head. “M’gonna crack this shell of yours, Principessa. S’all I can think ‘bout.”

“Cracking my shell?”

“No. Jus’ you.”

She sighed. She knew her face was blushing, but it was probably impossible to tell with the warmth in her cheeks from her illness. She nuzzled into her blanket more.

She was vaguely aware of a knock on her door, Louis appeared with a smirk and dropped a bag of medicine on the coffee table. Harry headed to her kitchen, placed the other container of soup, pasta, and such into her fridge. Louis sat on her coffee table and chatted with her. “Y’okay, love?” He asked.

She nodded. “Thank you. Sorry I bother—”

“Stop,” he shook his head, and his voice was so much firmer than Eleanor’s. It actually stopped her sentence. Harry would have to remember that for later. “I wish you told me earlier,” he leaned over pressing a kiss the top of her head. Harry was immensely jealous but tried to brush that feeling away because he was merely her friend and he had pecked her cheek the other week without so much as asking. “Only have a few more weeks of taking care of you, you know,” he reminded her.

She frowned. Eleanor and Louis would be in their new town. Maybe she should have just moved with them. “Yeah...”

“I’ll have to pass my duties off to Harry,” he winked in Harry’s direction. Harry smiled.

“Mmm...” she hummed. That was a good point. If she moved, there would be no Harry. Maybe ignorance was bliss, but she thought she would miss knowing someone like him.

He brought a glass of water back to her and read the description of the five different medicines Louis had laid out on the table, finding which one would be most suitable for her right now. “Jus’ gonna use the restroom,” Harry said quietly and left the pair for a moment.

“You like him?” Louis asked her quietly.

She nodded. “A lot,” she admitted.

“He’s nice,” Louis nodded in agreement. “El likes him a lot,” he smiled.

Her head was still aching, and she really didn’t have much mental capacity to talk about how much she liked Harry. But even though she felt utterly sick and looked pretty uncomfortable, Louis could see how much she liked him. She shrugged. “I don’t... I don’t know, Lou.”

He shrugged. “Just get better first,” he winked. “I’m going to see myself out. Feel better. And seriously, let me know if you need something else,” he looked at her pointedly. “You’re not a bother,” his tone was heavy, and she felt herself blushing.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Thank Harry,” he winked again as he closed the door behind him.

Harry returned within seconds after Louis’ departure. He sat beside her again. “Y’okay, Principessa?”

“M’sorry for bother—”

He cupped her face again and gazed at her tired, sickly written eyes. Her voice died in her throat. “You,” his voice was so quiet, so soft, “could never bother me, Principessa,” he whispered. She felt like her achy body had turned to mush. It should have been illegal for someone to look at her like that, to make her feel like this. Especially while she was sick. “Okay?” He asked.

It still didn’t feel okay, and she was a bit delirious from her aching head and achy body. But she nodded once and swallowed trying not to let the emotion bubble too far out of her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“I really like you, kitten,” he skimmed his thumbs across her cheeks in unison. She felt so delicate. Harry was treating her like she was glass. She had never felt like this. She was obviously sick, and she was sickly in love with Harry too. She didn’t want to do this right now when she wasn’t feeling well. Her mouth frozen and voice unable to speak. Poor Harry mistook her silence for unreciprocated feelings. “M’sorry, I know y’not feeling well,” he dropped his hands from her face. “Shouldn’t do this right now,” he chuckled awkwardly.

Her face felt cold without his hands caressing her cheeks and she missed it. Even though she knew she shouldn’t really feel that way. She frowned and looked at him as he sat back on her couch stiffly. She felt horrible, he felt rejected. Like it was possible to reject someone as kind as Harry. She pulled a pillow from behind her and dropped it on his lap. Her head followed the pillow, and she curled up half on the couch, half over his thigh. She faced his stomach, covered with a shirt that smelled like garlic and tomato sauce. There were specks of flour from fresh pasta. She could tell he didn’t know what to do with his hands, they hovered by his sides trying not to touch her.  

“I-I really like you too, Harry,” she whispered softly.

He sighed with relief making her smile. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” one hand landed on her hip and the other stroked a space of her hair against her scalp. It felt magical and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was sick and felt sad or if she would have felt this way if Harry was here while she was well and touched her anyway. Harry brought her blanket back on top of her, making her feel suddenly exhausted from being awake for the last hour. “M’sleepy,” she mumbled.

“Go t’sleep, Principessa,” he hummed gently.

“You can turn on the TV or move me if you get bored and need to leave or som—”

“Go t’sleep, kitten,” he repeated ignoring her completely and cutting her off entirely. She closed her tired eyes and within moments she was out cold. Harry still touching her hair.

Reaching right into her chest for heart and touching her there too.

--

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[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry for the delay in this chapter, i fell asleep early last friday and then woke up at like 2AM and felt like watching Barbie instead. anyway, here it is.

masterlist

your wicked smile it says it all mixed with my sad and cynical

Y/N couldn't have followed the nurse faster the moment they told her Sadie was out of the operation room. She couldn't wait to be next to her, to see her. She already didn't like the idea that she hadn't been able to see hr before surgery so now all she wanted to do was not leave her sight. She was led by the nurse into the room they'd assigned Sadie. Once she got to the room, Sadie was already awake, looking at the TV in her room which was showing some cartoon that Y/N was certain Sadie was confused by, judging by her pouting and fiddling of the sheets.

      - Hi baby. - Y/N said as she got closer to Sadie. The red head turned around, smiling once she saw her. - What are you watching huh?

The 2-year old looked at her with glazed eyes, still under the effects of anaesthesia and other medications before shrugging. Y/N smiled, kissing her cheek and nose before grabbing the remote and logging into Disney so she could put on some Bluey for Sadie to watch. Her pout soon disappeared as the familiar blue heeler showed up on screen. Y/N straightened the sheets around her, trying to fluff up the pillow only to find it to be flatter than a pancake.

      - Hello, hello. - Bucky walked through the door carrying the toy box to place it next to the bed. - How are you, Sisi? Hm? You gave daddy a very big fright.

      - Sorry. - Sadie stared at the TV, more interested on the TV show. Bucky scanned through the box before starting to place her favourite plushies around her.

      - You got quite a tough one, Sergeant. - Doctor Tinsdale walked into the room, holding a medical board. - Surgery went well and unless something happens, you can take your daughter home. In 2 to 4 weeks, she'll be good as new.

      - Thank you. - Bucky shook the doctor's hand. - I really appreciate your help, Dr. Tinsdale.

      - Anytime, Sergeant. I'm very glad to have met your daughter and your wife.

Y/N looked up from the bed where she was with Sadie. Should she correct him? She wasn't Bucky's wife but if she said she wasn't maybe Dr. Tinsdale would put two and two together and realise that Sadie was not Y/N's daughter but instead his own daughter's daughter.

      - I'm really happy you finally settled down. - Dr. Tinsdale said, making the situation as equally awkward for Bucky. - Always thought you and my Anna would end up marrying but it doesn't look like you've done bad for yourself.

      - Yeah ... well ... - Bucky scratched the back of his neck. - Thank you once again.

      - I'll leave you three alone.

The door closed and the silence in the room couldn't be any louder. Y/N got to trying to fluff up the pillow again, going nowhere. What's the point in paying a really expensive health insurance if the hospital will only provide crepe thin pillows?

      - You're gonna be sued by that pillow if you continue to beat the heck out of it. - he chuckled, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, cuddling Sadie next to her.

      - Don't say the h word in front of Sadie. - she gave up on the pillow. - I'm gonna go to the gift shop and see if I can buy Sadie a better pillow.

      - Y/N, just rest. - Bucky put his hand on her waist to stop her from getting up. - You've been panicking over everything for the past hours. Just sit here with me and Sadie.

      - But she needs a pi ...

      - I'll tell Steve to bring hers from home when he comes to visit. - he took his phone out of his pocket to text Steve. - By the way ... who did you call? Chris?

      - You're obsessed with Chris. - she rolled her eyes, tucking Sadie in and moving her hair away from her face. - If I didn't know better I'd say you're in love with him.

      - You know, Anna showed up while you were asleep.

      - Really? - Y/N fiddled with the bedding, looking at the TV and now the very interesting episode of Bluey. More interesting than Bucky and his relentless teasing. - Nice chat?

      - It's just funny you see because I didn't call her and Steve said he didn't call her.

      - Maybe Dr. Tinsdale called her. After all you two used to ... you know ... do things.

      - Why would he call her? He thinks you're my wife and Sadie's mum so why don't you cut the lying and admit to calling Anna?

Y/N bite her lip, kissing the side of Sadie's head before telling her she would be right back. Last thing she wanted was to fight in front of Sadie, for all that Sadie knew she and Bucky only talked nice and it was all sunshine and rainbows. Bucky followed her, arms crossed. He didn't know where to find himself if angry or if super angry. How come Steve and Y/N wanted to keep playing peace makers?

      - What's with you starting a discussion in front of Sadie?

      - What's with me? What's with you? You called my kid's mother without my consent?

      - It's not like I fucked her, Bucky, you big drama queen. I called her because you were upset about her not being here.

      - You crossed a line. - he pointed at her but she looked at him unbothered. - It's my kid's mother, the most awful woman in the world.

      - I think that's an overstatement and you were upset, I wanted you to be happy. Besides, she birthed the kid, it's her right to know if she's ok or not.

      - Oh you need me to be happy?

      - I don't need you to happy! I just wanted to make you ... have you be happy. You were stressed!

      - God, you're such a little ... such a goddamn little ...

      - Bitch? - Y/N interrupted him and the colour drained from Bucky's face.

      - I didn't say that. - he raised his hands in defense. - I didn't say that.

      - Now you listen to me. - she stabbed his chest with her finger, taking a step forward as he took a step backward. - I will not apologise for telling the kid's mother that she's in the hospital. I will not apologise for telling her because if something happened, we might need her. I will not apologise, you hear me? If that makes me a bitch then be it. You wanna fire me? Fine.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something but instead just mumbled sorry before going back to his daughter's room. He thought he needed Anna to be here and she had been here so why wasn't he happy? Y/N stayed outside, she took a deep breathe. Had she crossed the line? Maybe, but she wanted him happy. She dragged her hands down her hair, holding them to the side of her face, closing her eyes.

      - Wow, you told him. - a voice made her snap her eyes open. A woman, an elegant woman, made her way towards her. - The rival companies ought to hire you.

      - I'm sorry, who are you?

      - I'm Anna. Anna Tinsdale. - she extended her hand towards her but Y/N only stared at her hand. - I wanted to meet you, well, meet you while you're awake. You did tell me you'd kill me if I didn't come to see Bucky.

      - Y/N. - she shook her hand slowly. - I ... I should get back inside before Sadie ...

      - Is she ok? Sadie? - Anna asked, a clear look of concern across her face.

Y/N felt a tang on her stomach, before giving her a sympathetic smile. She put her hand on Anna's back and guided her far from the room. Last thing that she wanted was for Bucky, Sadie or even Dr. Tinsdale to see Anna. Instead, the two walked to the waiting room and sat on the green chairs against the wall.

      - He doesn't tell me anything and just because I don't want to be her mother doesn't mean I don't worry. I mean, she came out of me for fucks sake. - she looked up. - I know you hate me.

      - I don't. I don't like you but I don't hate you either.

      - Me and James, we were friends and more than that for so long and I know that we'll never gonna get that but he just hates me now.

      - He doesn't hate you. - Y/N sighed. - He's just upset and you didn't do things the best way. I don't think Bucky actually hates anything.

Anna looked at Y/N before giving her a smile.

      - I'm glad she has you. - she held Y/N's hand, letting go before getting up. - Thank you for that. I'm glad she has you.

      - It'll get better. Give it time.

      - Not for me, but for you ... well, you'll see.

(...)

Sadie was a trooper. She'd come back home and was behaving as if she hadn't had surgery, mostly staying either in her room or in the living room whenever she got tired of the room. Y/N was cutting vegetables in the kitchen to make soup when the bell rang. She looked down at the RING camera screen on the kitchen seeing Chris. Fuck, she'd completely forgotten about Chris. She buzzed him in, before cleaning up her hands and opening the door. Chris stood there, wearing a long coat and a no doubt designer scarf while holding a bouquet of daisies.

      - Chris, hi.

      - Hey, Y/N. - he handed her the daisies. - How are you? I haven't heard from you in a while.

      - Oh you know ... - Y/N walked to the kitchen to grab a vase to put the flowers in. - Sadie got back from the hospital and I've been looking after her.

      - What about her father? Bucky hasn't left the company.

      - Bucky has work to do while I'm waiting for my supervisors to give me the final feedback on my thesis draft. - she looked at him, not wanting to get into a discussion which loomed over them. - Besides, Bucky usually takes her from 5 PM onwards.

      - So, you are free from 5PM?

      - Most days yes. - she leaned against the counter - Listen I'm sorry about not speaking to you for the past days, Sadie just got back from the hospital and I don't wanna leave her alone.

      - If you're free from 5PM, I could take you to dinner.

      - Chris ... - she sighed.

      - Doesn't have to be too far. Heck, we could go to the tapas place around the corner so you won't be too far from Sadie.

She found herself at a crossroads. She either said yes and avoided a discussion or she said no and the two would go round 4 on how Y/N spends most of her time with Sadie rather than living her own life. Right now, she preferred the first option.

      - Okay.

      - I'll pick you up.

(...)

Bucky came home and Sadie was wrapped in one of her quilted blankets, staring at the screen while Bluey played. How she hadn't gotten bored of it was still a surprise for him. He put his coat on the hanger and went to the couch, kissing the top of her head before starting to tickle her making her giggle.

      - What are you up to, bug? - he asked, straightening the blanket. - Still making a report on Bluey?

      - No.

      - No? Is this for fun then? - he leaned against the couch as Sadie cuddled against his side. - How are you today, bug? Any pain?

      - No.

      - Good. Where is Y/N? Have you banished her?

      - I'm here. - Y/N came down the stairs, holding a pair of heels in one hand and trying to put on her earrings with the other. - I'm here.

And here she was. Maybe she had decided to adopt a more formal style around the house, parading around in a black cocktail dress and an updo.

      - New dress?

      - No. - Y/N said, moving around to tidy up some of the rubbish that had started to accumulate in the living room. - Chris is coming to pick me up for dinner.

      - God, you're still going out with him. - he got up to follow Y/N to the kitchen. - You don't even like the guy.

      - Yes, I do. He brought flowers.

      - That would mean he likes you, not the other way around. Just admit it, he's boring and you don't like him.

      - I'll remember that once he's balls deep inside of me tonight.

      - Can't go that deep. - he chuckled. - You're just being stubborn. Or you're people pleasing. Either way, you don't really like him.

      - And you would know that because?

      - Because you've been dodging the guy since Sadie got to the hospital. Heck, you've been even using me as an excuse not to see him.

      - Is that all? I'm too tired to put up with you. - she threw her shoes to the ground to step onto them.

      - Why are you forcing this? So he's bad in bed, find someone who isn't.

      - He's not bad in bed.

      - Y/N, I know when a woman is satisfied in bed. I pride myself in it.

      - Oh yes because you are Bucky Barnes, lord of everything with tits.

      - You're a scholarly woman, don't use that sort of language.

      - Fine, mammary glands. - she rolled her eyes. - What makes you think that you're the only guy who's good in bed? I'll have you know that Chris is a gentleman.

      - So he cries in bed.

      - Why are we still discussing my sex life?

      - Fine. If it's not your sex life, then what is it? He is very boring but I thought maybe the two of you could discuss Columbia or something.

      - We're seeing each other, Bucky. But of course you wouldn't know about that since your idea of seeing someone is fucking their brains out.

Bucky cocked his head to the side, eyeing her up and down before walking up to her and leaning down to whisper in her ear.

      - Why? Are you jealous?

      - Urgh. - she pushed him away. - Sadie needs to go to bed by 7, Bucky. Not 9, or she'll be a little demon.

      - I would say have fun but we both know that won't happen. Maybe you should take a book not to bother yourself too much with him.

      - Maybe you should butt out of my life!

(...)

How dare he continue with this chatter? Y/N liked Chris. He was nice, he was perfectly nice. Sure, did he have anything else they conversed with other than Columbia? Usually no and his theories on modern psychology vastly diverted from hers. Yet, she was a scholar, a future member of the postdoctoral community and as such she had to accept different perceptions of theory. Moreover, who was Bucky Barnes to dish out relationship advise? The only woman she had thought had potential to be his girlfriend had been thrown aside by Bucky because, according to him, she had a weird attachment to her ex girlfriend. So, how come a man who hadn't dated a woman in probably more than 20 years had to weigh in on her relationship? Heck, he didn't even date the woman who was the mother of his child.

She looked at Chris as he continued to thrust into her. She wasn't entirely sure how long this had been going on but she did know she had checked her watch once. Was Bucky right? Was Chris boring in bed? No. No, this was just him doing what he does best, manipulating people into believing his words. Besides, what gave him the right to decide who was good or not in bed? Like, c'mon, he was attractive sure but not all attractive men are good in bed. Yet again, she had heard whispers and she had to admit he had one of those voices that dripped with lust and sin every time he used it in a whisper.

She thought about it, thought about how it would be to have him whisper dirty something in someone's ear in that accent of his. How his chapped lips would kiss down from her ear down to her neck in a prolongation of a tease, his hand skilfully toying with her clit. Now that was a man who wouldn't be a gentleman in the bedroom, he was barely one outside of it. He'd be the type to grab your hips and thrust into you without warning, moving like an animal until his everlasting stamina ran out. He'd be the type to grunt and moan against your ear.

      - James. - oh fuck. Chris starred at Y/N for a while, trying to compute what she had just said. He knew what she had just said.

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

      - What was that?

      - What was what? - maybe playing dumb would work. After all, it worked in old romantic movies. Maybe she could say she meant Thames yet who would moan over a river in the middle of less than exciting sex.

      - You moaned someone else's name.

      - Did I? - she hated herself. She hated to play the fool but she wasn't about to admit she was fantasising, wait, no, not fantasising, she wasn't fantasising about anyone, she was merely theorising about what sex with Bucky Barnes would be. Theory, not practice, not truth. - Shit, I'm sorry, I don't know where my head is.

      - I'll say. - Chris slipped out of her, pulling the comforter over the two of them. - You really need to quit that job. Your head hasn't been in the right place for the past month.

Thank god he hadn't connected the dots. That would be an awkward conversation.

      - I'm not gonna quit my job. I like my job.

      - That's not your job, Y/N. C'mon, you're gonna have a PhD in no time and then you'll actually have to go in the real world and get a real job.

      - What is that supposed to mean, Christopher?

      - Barnes has you playing housewife. Face it, you look after his kid, you cook, you do laundry. You're basically his wife without the sex. It's a waste of your potential.

      - So you're saying being a housewife is a waste of potential?

      - That's not what I meant. I'm saying you could do more than adhere to traditional stereotypes of your gender just so you can make a paycheck.

      - Just so I can make a pay check? Christopher, while you may have been born with a goddamn gold spoon in your mouth, I wasn't. Do you know how expensive rent is in New York? You think I could afford even to breathe here solely on my stipend? No! That job you think is so below me is the only reason why I have a roof over my head and don't have to worry if my monthly stipend will cover my expenses or if my manager will mind me skipping a day of work to focus on my studies. Besides, I'll be damned if I'll take feminist theories from a trust fund man baby. - she got out of bed, grabbing her shoes and her dress.

      - C'mon, Y/N, I'm just trying to help you. I want you to be able to do what you enjoy. You're telling me looking after a two year old is what you envision as career?

      - I have career ambitions. I know where I'm going, I don't need your help.

      - You don't even know if you're passing your PhD viva. - he said which made Y/N snap her head to look at him. - Maybe if you spent more time at school instead of being at Barnes even beckoning call, you'll have more certainty is what I mean.

      - Fuck you, Christopher!

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @chipilerendi @kandis-mom @belennasif @fedeffy @abitofblues

[alrightbuckaroo]

Happy Friday, my loves! It's been a minute since I've seen this tag game go around and it's been even longer since I participated. Seems like the perfect time to change that. As always, please feel free to use this as a jumping off point for all the wonderful words that have been written. Don't stop with just this list!

Take my hand, take my whole life, too by @heartstringsduet

With each wrinkle, each scar, each crease, each spot, their rings, their hands tell the stories of their lives together.

throw me on a hurricane (i'll ride it to the coast) by ArsenicInYourPudding

This is, in fact, TK's first rodeo. Carlos is lucky that he's there anyway.

Protect me by Karaxuno

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” TK asks, struggling for a second to find the words for what he wants to say, “Space to grow?” “With you, I’d take a closet.” Carlos teases, his fingers dancing away from his shirt sleeve and instead tracing up and down the line of TK’s jaw. “Been there, done that, let’s find a house.” TK grins, unable to stop the little laugh that bubbles in his chest. Or, post-S2-fire TK and Carlos look for a place together, and house shopping has its ups and downs.

Among my stillness was a pounding heart by @tailoredshirt

TK took a deep breath. “I think we need to talk about what happened last fall. With the loft.” Carlos’s brain was skipping around from one feeling to the next like a pinball. “With…when we broke up?” “Yeah.” “You…want to talk about the breakup,” Carlos said slowly. “While I’m proposing to you.” TK squeezed his hands. “Yes. Please.”

I hold onto the night you looked me in the eye and told me you loved me by @irispurpurea

"I have lost everything!" TK roars, and it feels so good. "Isn't that the whole point?" Or: It's the beginning of Season 4, and TK and Carlos are broken up again.

The Light of Our Life by @carlos-in-glasses

After an awkward conversation, Carlos buys TK a bearded dragon and fears it may be a parting gift (Coda for 4x12)

See Me (All of Me) by @bonheur-cafe

A fractured heart and a plea to be seen. Otherwise known as: the apology from his mom that Carlos never got, but deserves.

Make Me Laugh 'till I Die, I Stand Beside You With Pride by @lemonlyman-dotcom

A coda to the ending scene of 4x06. TK has a moment of insecurity; Carlos reassures him and, in the quiet safety of their bed, confesses an insecurity of his own.

tried and true blue by @reyesstrand

"She knows," Owen says, his eyes almost too sincere for TK to handle. He clamps his molars together and just stares at his father, because if he lets himself think too hard about all the ways his mom is still here, somehow, he'll probably burst into tears. Owen gives him a sad smile. "She does, TK. She used to talk about when you'd get married all the time." There's a pause, and TK curls his fingers tighter around his mug, letting everything simmer between them. "When I got married," TK quietly repeats. "Not if?"

and because there's a new chapter on the way, I'm going to recommend my shameless collection of smut, something to give each other (things are about to get so casual)

No pressure tagging everyone above and:

@captain-gillian, @carlos-tk, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @basilsunrise, @butchreyes

@nancys-braids, @never-blooms, @mikibwrites, @lightningboltreader, @herefortarlos

@honeybee-taskforce, @guardian-angle22, @freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @strandnreyes

@sheholdsthemoon, @actual-sleeping-beauty, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcomehometk, @reasonandfaithinharmony

@welcometololaland, @eclectic-sassycoweyes, @rmd-writes, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @theghostofashton

@orchidscript, @paperstorm, @emsprovisions, and of course here's an open tag for anyone who just wants to share!!

[lily-alphonse]

Rarepair Sam/Shane joja dorks

I love Sam and Shane. If they dont have a ship name Im calling them Sunnyside (for nonenglish speakers, “sunnyside up” is a way to cook eggs without flipping, so its both a reference to eggs and the sun)

Toxic or nontoxic, I love it. Give me the daddy issues angst. Give me the power imbalance. But also could be sweet! Shane learns to love life again by seeing it through Sam’s eyes. If I was actually going to write it I think I might lean more toxic, I love leaning into Shane’s worst traits (wonder why there are no Shane fics on my main account hmm?)

BUT with these asks Ive been making them all sweet and shit so let me try to think of something for that. I’ll make the age gap like 7 years (23/30 maybe?).

(Future Lily here: I got carried away with this one, it's now an official ficlet that I'll be posting to AO3 too lol)

They’ve been friendly enough as coworkers for a while. Sometimes Shane will even humor him by engaging him in conversation at work. He actually doesn’t seem like a bad guy. Funny even, if you like a deadpan sort of humor. But he’s closed off anywhere else. On Friday nights Sam watches over the pool table as Shane gets so drunk he stumbles home.

He worries about him. Despite Shane’s reputation around town as someone to steer clear of, Sam cares about everyone. And he knows he’s one of the few people Shane will talk to at all.

Things seem to get worse with his drinking. He’s calling out at work more. Coming in late.

Sam starts to come out at night to watch and make sure he gets home okay. He’s usually up when the saloon closes anyway. On nights where Shane’s stumbling badly, Sam goes out into the cold and follows him just in case. You never know with alcohol poisoning. He’s seen it at a party once and never wants to see it again.

But he will if he has to.

One bad winter night he’s following Shane as he does, when they round the corner and he just disappears on the other side. Sam looks around, it’s exceptionally dark on this path into the forest. He’s considering turning the flashlight app on on his phone when he suddenly gets pinned against the nearest barren tree.

“Why the fuck are you following me?” Shane hisses, the alcohol thick on his breath.

“Shane what the fuck!” His heart is racing. Has Shane ever been this close to him before?

“No, you what the fuck! Answer me!”

“I’m just worried!”

Shane groans angrily and lets him go. “Perfect! Of course you’re fucking worried. Let me just add you to the Yoba-damned list of people to disappoint then. No- just don’t okay? Do me a favor and don’t.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. Despite being a big guy, he doesn’t like confrontation. Never has. He just wants people to be happy.

But Shane seems to want an answer. He’s still standing there, huffing cloudy breaths into the night and staring.

So Sam meekly says what he is thinking. “I just want everyone to be happy.”

An explosive sound comes out of Shane that has Sam flinching, certainly the beginning of a rant, but then he stops as suddenly as he started. He deflates. When his voice comes out next it is weak and broken.

“Of course you do, Sam.” He sighs, and it sounds so sad Sam almost wishes he was angry again. “But maybe some people aren’t built to be happy.”

Sam steps closer to him, just wanting to see into his eyes again in the near darkness. “I don’t believe that,” Sam whispers, Shane looking up to meet his eyes again. “I don’t think you really believe that either.”

“No, you’re right… I think I was happy once. But that might be even worse. If I had never been happy this might hurt less.”

Shane’s eyes are glassy. He’s close enough to hug and Sam is tempted to, but resists. “What happened, Shane?”

“So much. Too much,” he gives a sharp, sort of rueful chuckle as he looks away. But his body stays close. Maybe its the cold that keeps him close, but his cheeks are flushed with heat. "You know I'm turning thirty soon?"

Sam bites his lip, tempted to make a joke. When Shane meets his eyes again though, he can't help it. "Actin' real sixteen to be thirty," he mumbles with a smirk.

Shane elbows him but laughs. "Shut the fuck up. Idiot."

"I'm right though."

"So am I."

"Yeah, I can be an idiot and also right."

Shane laughs again and shakes his head. "Yeah."

"So that's what's got you like this then? That you're turning thirty?"

Shane bites at the inside of his cheek. "Just puts things into perspective, I guess."

Sam nods, though he doesn't really understand. He looks up into the night sky as the silence stretches, eyes hopping from star to star. "D'you think I'll get like that when I'm thirty?"

Shane scoffs, so Sam looks down at him again. "Hard to imagine you ever being anything but nauseatingly positive."

Sam's smile widens. "I'll try and take that as a compliment."

"Course you would," he grumbles. After a moment of silence he speaks again. "Sam?"

"Hm."

"I don't actually want you to stop, by the way."

"I know." Sam leans forward and opens his arms, half-expecting to be pushed away. But Shane hugs him. He leans his head on Shane's and murmurs, "I won't."

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@doggobrie you weren't alone on this one!

[romana-after-dark]

Roman's 1000 follower fundraiser game!

Hello friends!!!

I am so happy to see I have 1200 followers! Thank you so much everyone who got me here, old followers from when I first wrote The Wrong Way, to new followers with my Logan Howlett era, to everyone that know me from my main and followed me to dark fics! Words cannot express how much yall mean to me and how much the support I've gotten through the hard things means.

I want to do a celebration, but something that won't overwhelm me. I'm switching work stuff around, however, so I should have more time and be less exhausted and sad.

So I’m doing a fundraiser game!

The charity: I will be donating to my favorite charity, Smile Train. when I was 6, I saw an add for Smile Train and asked my mom if I could donate. My mom said we didn't have enough money to both donate, and do the yearly church fair, so I had to choose. Of course, I was 6 so I chose going to the fair. And I felt bad about that every since. So, my go to has always been Smile Train for charities ever since. When I was in middle school I saved every allowance for a year and did some extra chores to save enough for a whole surgery! Now, I'm not that ambitious this time bc I am in fact, poor. But I can set aside some for the needy. I considered doing Palestinian Children's Relief Fund, but I found out Smile Train actually partners with them so it works!

How it works: So, As y'all've probably noticed, I love music so much, that almost every title of a fic is either a song title or a song lyric. Sometimes I say it, sometimes I don't.

THROUGHOUT THE END OF NOVEMBER!

Look though my masterlist here or on my main, @romanarose. Find at least one fic titled after a song.

Send an ask with UP TO 5 Song title/fic title connections. No More. This is to allow everyone a chance, and to no overwhelm me.

One title = 100 words. You find 3 song titles? you get a 300 word blurb. find 5? 500! 500 is the limit.

If you send a fic title that has already been pointed out in an ask from another person, sorry, it'd not counted! (Unless I'm really feeling the writing). Send 4 titles but 2 have been used already? You get 200 words!

Send me what you want. it doesn't have to be dark! I'll make an exception. Characters I'll write for bellow!

For every fic title/ song reference, I will donate $1 to Smile Train! The more songs we can find, the more money they get (without overdoing my bank account. However Nov has extra friday which means more pay for me.) Questions you may have: "What if someone else said the fic title, but it was published and I didn't see it, or it's still sitting in your asks because you are always super fucking slow at doing these ROMAN" Yeah you're right I'm always slow at these. I guess you're SOL, buddy. If it's already sitting in my asks, I won't commit to adding it to your word count. BUT if my creative juices are flowing, I may have mercy

"What if all of my song titles I found have been used already?"

Well, frankly, I'll probably write you something still! I'm not mean.

"What if you didn't use a song title, but we find a song with it anyway?"

Well, that's up to my discretion. If it's a song I know that may have influenced the title subliminally I might count it! But if it wasn't in intentional thing, no guarantees. But Again, I'll be flexible.

"How are we supposed to know what goes on in your weird little old man head."

Uhhhhhhhhh bestie I dont even know what's happening in there!!!! Just have fun with it. See if you recognize songs or lines. It's okay

"What about chapters?"

Great Q, voice in my head! Since most fics I don't have chapter titles, I'll allow it! If I have a bonus chapter, or a chapter i just wanted to title and its a song, go ahead! Only exception is Rooms on Fire. Sorry, but i'm pretty clear those are intentionally all songs. It's too easy.

"$1 is per fic title is awful cheap."

Bestie my checkings over drafted today!!! I got it covered and figured out, this is just a little something I wanna do with LITTLE extra money but I still have debt I gotta work on it's tough out here!!!

Any more questions send them in! YOU HAVE UNTIL DECEMBER 1ST WHICH IS WHEN DEAD DOVE DECEMBER STARTS AGAIN!

Logan Howlett

any Triple Frontier boys sans Tom

Moon Boys

Wade Wilson

Kylo Ren

Scott Summers

Remy Lebeau (but not dark for him I can't see it. Will allow dark reader though!)

Tommy Miller

Javier Pena

Han Solo (no non con, maybe dub con)

Steve Murphy

And yes, I've said I'm done with Joel but I will allow for Joel this time because it's for charity and he pulls people in.

and although I've never written them, I'll write for the Bikeriders Cal, Benny, or Johnny but no non con. I'll play wit dub con, and dark reader

I will also write canon character x canon character, so if you want some Scogan or Johnny x Benny or FishBen, Im in! If a pairing is something I feel just doesn't lend itself to the scenario you give me, I might tweek it. Everything is up to my discretion!

I will also write crossovers!

And I will write any of my oc's and anything in universe. So fen, if you wanna read you and Lorenzo go crazy! If you want a blurb shipping Scott and Dolly in OGS, just ask!

Open to it all

This is my little celebration my rules and discretion, but I want this to be overall fun!!! Just a good ole time! Don't take it too seriously, and we'll raise money in the mean time!

[asleepyy]

Hello! I just did yet another reread of your comic, so here's a list of random things I love about it!! Sorry if this is a bit uuuhhhh MUCH but I just love your comic a lot, and want to share some of that love, and this seemed like the best way to go about that. So:

-The way Azazel's wings are so fluffy and Jophiel's are so sleek! Your stylization of them is so pretty.

-How you draw Azazel's hands always folded as if in prayer, or fiddling...even though the rest of him is often so still. Very true to Aziraphale, of course, but also fitting of an owl - still and always observing. But still, something that betrays that vigilance.

-Jophiel's honest-to-someone mullet in Mesopotamia. I love him so much. His little curls give me life.

-How Jophiel is always moving, angling his head in funny ways, pulling absurd expressions! He's so fun and mobile, which is just perfect to contrast our very sad and stationary owl.

-just a second being overwhelmed again at the fact that Azazel risked and gave up everything for Jophiel and continues to do so after Falling for him I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine this is fine.

-The way they are so in character in this!! I love reverse AUs but it's very hard to keep them in character in them. You do so flawlessly, to the point that as I find myself trying to imagine future story beats, I struggle to because I just see them acting the way they do in the canon. Stellar writing.

-Jophiel's wink in Mesopotamia. This deserves its own point in this list. As does Azazel finally getting to look happy in the frame after, even if it doesn't last...oh sweet owl...

-Azazel tugging on Jophiel's abaya in Golgatha...completely unnecessary to get his attention, didn't need to pull him closer or anything, but it's like the fiddling of his hands wasn't soothing enough and he needed to reach out in this moment of fear for Jophiel, always asking questions.

-The return of Jophiel's mullet in Heaven! Hell yeah

-help you draw Muriel SO cute.

-Azazel's "I've personally witnessed an Angel become an owl" PLEASE it's so devastating yet so funny

-Every time we get a little frame of just Jophiel's eyes reacting with sorrow and anger at moments when it's so, so clear Azazel was never meant to Fall. His eyes are SO expressive. I don't think your future sunglasses are gonna hide the fact that you're constantly glaring at god my guy.

-I really love the way you draw Jophiel's nose, it's gorgeous!

-Jophiel. Calls. Him. Angel. Need to lie down

-Seriously, I should've anticipated it, and I didn't, that's on me, but my HEART was not READY and I'm obsessed with this scene and its implications. The way Jophiel, deep down, doesn't even see Azazel as a demon ("you were an angel once" "that was a long time ago"). How pleased and adorable Azazel is at being referred to thusly (the little hair poofs!!!). The care they have long held for each other, in its unique and strange manifestations, revealing itself as a tangible burgeoning affection.

-Jophiel's declaration on the most recent page to protect Azazel, having no freaking clue that he's frankly 4500 years late to the game. Glad to have you here, your demon friend has been protecting YOU since before time was invented! Woo...but seriously, such a powerful and touching moment all around.

Anyway, I know this is ridiculously long, but goodness knows long comments on my GO fics always make ME very happy, so I figured you wouldn't mind. ;) I eagerly anticipate every update and bit of art, and when you make this comic into physical form, I will be camping out front of the pre-orders like it's a Black Friday sale. Tent and all. And snacks.

Take care!

🥹🥹😭😭 THANK YOU!!! This is super super sweet thank you for taking ur time to do this!!! I think I’d create the first physical copy when we finish season one of the show in the story, and then if interest is still high, a second physical copy for when we tackle season 2!

[palmviolet]

hi!!

would you mind sharing your top steddie fics??

looking for great recs

hi! i'm ashamed to admit that i haven't read any steddie in... months. maybe a year. as a result i haven't got anything recent to recommend — but here are some of the ones i enjoyed anyway. if you want any more, my ao3 bookmarks are public!

matches burn after the other - limerental (5k)

It's ten years later. Steve's a hospice nurse. Eddie's got the virus. It's kind of weird and sad and strange and inevitable. Or something. And not as sad as it sounds.

Weakened Like Achilles, with You Always at My Heels - HMSLusitania (53k)

The graduating classes of 1985 and 1986 invite YOU back to West Hawkins! Welcome reception Friday, May 24th at 7:30pm. School and town tour to follow on Saturday morning. Memorial service Sunday. If you are a graduate of the class of 1985 and need driving directions to West Hawkins, please RSVP * Due to current government restrictions, we are not currently able to offer a site visit to the Hawkins Exclusion Zone Steve Harrington goes home for his ten (well, eleven) year reunion with a nagging secret that's slowly ruining his life. In the ten years between, he finds the family he always wanted and, unfortunately, the person he wanted to share it with.

windowsill - lagardère (laurore), MissAntlers (13k)

“It’s about finding what you’re invested in,” Ms Kelley had said. “It will help with the process of recovery. You need to find it, and nurture it.” Whatever Ms Kelley meant, surely it wasn’t this: using Lucas’ binoculars to spy on Steve Harrington as he climbs out the window of the Munson trailer. (recovering in the aftermath of Vecna's attack, Max is stuck at home. Somehow, spying on Eddie Munson has become her number 1 hobby.)

let's do the time (loop) again - alchemystique (34k)

“Did you, uh… did you sing to me, once?” Eddie asks, sitting on the hood of Steve’s car and staring up at the sky so he doesn’t have to pretend he isn’t desperate for everything promised in the eyes that haven’t left Eddie since Eddie woke up in that hospital bed. It’s just – Time loops, and the King of Hawkins High going back over and over and over again just to stop Eddie Munson from dying, and – “Fuck,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t remember, but there’s a song that won’t leave his head, and the voice is soft and warm just like the way Steve smiles at him and – “I didn’t think you remembered any of it.” --- Eddie died in a time loop a hundred times and all Steve got was this tee-shirt.

You're the Driver, You're the Road - stereobone (8k)

Eddie meant it when he said once he graduated, he was getting the hell out of Hawkins. He just didn't realize that Steve was going to keep showing up.

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it's you - @greatunironic (34k)

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

Waiting Room - @kissmejusttokiss (55k)

Sometimes, Eddie thinks they should have left him in the Upside Down. But people are happy that he’s alive. Or, at least, that’s what they keep telling him. Dustin follows him around like letting Eddie out of his sight will bring about the second coming of hell. Constantly asking if he’s OK, never taking yes for an answer. The other kids do the same, lingering and worrying, but with a softer approach. Robin calls him every day and he gets used to her impromptu visits even if sometimes he doesn’t manage to get a word in edgewise. And Steve… Steve is an enigma wrapped in an atrociously good-looking riddle. Eddie navigates the aftermath of surviving the final battle and tries his best not to lose the only good thing to ever happen to him. (Even if that means making a deal with the devil.) sequel to 'i can't save us, my Atlantis'

sir stephen strider finds his suzie - @lesbianrobin (5k)

Dustin watches Eddie's face as everyone else giggles. He's retained his typical intimidating smirk for much of this encounter, but as Steve stumbles through his fictional seduction, Eddie's eyes soften. His smirk slowly turns to a small grin. “Didn't Wizard Romeo and Juliet both die?” he asks, in that same low, grumbly voice he always loves to use for big scary bad guys. The effect is jarring. “Well, yes, but… they loved each other first,” Steve says, oddly sincere. “I think love is worth the risk. Wouldn't you agree? And then, uh, I'm gonna take off my helmet and, like—” Steve tosses his hair, shaking it out dramatically and running a hand through it afterward to fix any wayward strands. "Ew,” Mike says. Nancy presses a hand over her mouth, but it does nothing to hide her smile. Usually, this is the point where Eddie would make them all roll initiative. Dustin has his D20 ready. But Eddie smiles. Eddie fucking smiles, and not in that maniacal way he does before siccing something horrific on them, he fucking beams, and says, "You're gonna scrape your neck on his mace doing that, just so you know."

[writingforshtsandgiggles]

It'll be an ordinary Friday night/early Saturday morning and suddenly I'll be feeling the most gut wrenching, Victorian mourning, begging, pleading, sadness.

What do you mean, "Orpheus, are you listening? I'm right here, (we're all right here), and I will be 'til the end (til the end), and the coldest night of the coldest year comes right before the spring." how can you write that and expect me to be normal about it. I actually can't explain the hole in my chest, or the sickness in my heart. and then to go on and casually write, "Orpheus, you are not alone, I'm right behind you, (we're all behind you), and I have been all along. And the darkest hour of the darkest night comes right before- "

AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN SICK TO MY MOUTH, SICK TO MY STOMACH, SICK TO MY HEART AND MY TEETH AND MY BONES, ugly crying, five year old lump in my throat, toddler tears,

And I think I only really got Road To Hell (Reprise) today because I was listening to it on loop (I went to see the show yesterday, it left me sobbing) "But we sing it anyway," THAT LINE IS SO BEAUTIFUL. To have the ending of the show, be the beginning. "to know how it ends and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time..." And it's that constant hope, that perhaps he won't turn around, in some retelling, in any retelling. That in some version somewhere, they are happy, and there is that hope. And the music is so lovely. So lovely.

In tears rn but writing this out did make me feel better.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Hiii, miss me?

Now you want to kiss me (or have to? Wasn't there a song like that?)

This month my blog turned two years old. I got the notification in my email. Last year I made an entire celebration post by publishing the funniest/ridiculous asks I got. There were good times back then. Still. Not so much afterwards.

I wasn't the nicest presence in the last few months leading to me abandoning the blog. And I wasn't too discreet about it. Although there was more to it, a lot more. But I'll get there.

First things first. Why am I here when on the 24th of March I dramatically declared that I'm leaving forever? Well, that was a very emotionally-charged post and the result of a few factors. I'm not entirely proud of how I made my exit, but it's also a true reflection of my personality so there's no point in making excuses. Nevertheless, I will explain as much as I can (I still care about privacy, just like before).

On that Friday, I woke up excited. I took a day off from work (yes...I know), I listened to Face, watched the music video. All good. But I was also dreading a bit having to come here because I knew there was this expectation of me to come up with some thought-provoking analysis, say something smart and all that. I was exhausted on all levels, emotionally and intellectually. I had also promised to leave after the promotions were over, somewhere in the middle of April (who would have thought it would last 9 days? Not me), but the plans changed. Not to drag it too much, but on that day I also officially announced to some concerned parties that I'm changing career paths. You know, just something I thought I'd be doing until the day I die and I've been working towards for at least 10 years. No big deal. I was planning on doing it anyway, but actually saying the words and make it real is a different story. I felt extatic, full of adrenaline, so happy with my decision and at that moment, it felt the right time to close BMT. It was somehow directly connected. I made the blog as an escape and now I got the opportunity to turn the page over. It was perfect. Best day ever. I clicked post, I logged out, and then I sat. And after a while, the reality of my decisions hit me in the face. And I felt sad and empty because what the hell am I doing now and what is my identity? I closed my blog too which was my main hobby. And so followed some difficult days. And then it got better. And then bad again. And so on, because it's a roller coaster.

The thing is, I can change my interests, but I can't stop myself from being opinionated. And getting excited. And wanting to talk about it. And share all that on a public platform with some strangers that are interested in what I have to say. Or they used to. It's who I am.

This blog won't remain Bangtan Media Thoughts because I want more than that. I will rebrand this page. I could start fresh with a new blog, but this is still my space and I know some people were interested in reading about other things as well from me, not just BTS. I hope I can built something from that.

The blog won't reflect only a specific niche of interests, but everything that I like in terms of pop culture. From movies, music, fashion, gossip, you name it. Including Kpop. And if I feel the need to rant about Hybe after talking about Ryan Gosling's Ken, I will. Same about JM, JK or whoever I feel like it. If there is a good advice that I got in the last few months, is to adapt and not force myself to abandon something completely. Because it's not as easy as it sounds. And to be honest, it was easier to give up smoking than completely lose interest in kpop. It's a habit. Perhaps this new blog will reflect the way I try to deal with that. A bit more honestly, a little less discourse, certainly less essays because I don't have them in me at the moment. But never say never. This blog will be all me, not just BMT.

I will change the name and url 24h after I post this. This will be an opportunity for all my followers to decide if they want to stay or they are not interested in the new direction. Feel free to do as you please. I welcome new people and greet the old ones who didn't hit unfollow for some reason.

It will go like this:

Bangtan Media Thoughts > Reflections in a Critical Eye

New theme, new profile photo, new beginnings.

All the old posts will still be here. I don't plan on deleting anything. They are all a product of me and my brain and they have their place. I'll probably pin some new posts these days that have to do with the rebranding. It will be like a construction site, but it will be worth it.

One last thing though. After I abruptly left, I received some DMs. I saw them back then. I do feel sorry about those who wanted to check in with me or with whom I used to talk regularly. But I do hope that some of the things I said today will explain my behavior. I also won't start communicating again like that, at least for now. I always felt a bit pressured and I'm not the best at maintaining conversations in private. If that changes, I'll make that clear.

That's it for now. I'm excited. I feel like writing again so here's to another chapter.

My inbox is open and will be, just as usual. No more messages to BMT, but you can call me M. Like in the Bond movies 😉

[toomuchracket]

omg d word matty coming back from like an event to urs (maybe a bit after the angst/age gap sitch) and he’s a bit drunk tbh and he’s just mumbling about how he’s so scared of fucking it up with u. like he’s still lowkey worried he’s messed it up completely after pulling the whole ghosting u thing and ur just there reassuring him for the millionth time n running ur hands thru his hair whilst he sits between ur legs like a sad lil puppy lols (I’m a sucker for post angst comfort frrrr)

ok, you're actually dating at this point - not quite at the l word stage, but you've done weekends away together and you have drawers and wardrobe space for your clothes/a set of toiletries and skincare and a toothbrush in each other's houses... basically, it's getting serious. and, crucially, you're both really fucking happy! anyway, matty gets an invite for a london fashion week event one friday night, him and george going to some dinner then menswear collection show and drinks reception thing afterward, and he's popped into the office on his way just to say hi to you before you go home for the night (and to get an ego boost from you telling him how hot he looks lol). you fix his tie for him, and matty's a bit mopey like "wish you were coming with me, babe. far less fun without you"; you kiss him softly like "nahhhh, go out and have some fun, it'll be good. and if you wanna pop round to mine after it, feel free - i'm in the whole night, so just show up whenever you're done, and you can tell me all about it". he smiles, agrees, then kisses you goodbye and dashes off because he's running late lol. and like, fair enough, the dinner is nice and the show is good and it's lovely to spend time with george and catch up with some people he hasn't seen in ages, but the whole time matty keeps thinking about how he's out on a friday night while you're at home, which makes him think about the angsty moment/almost breakup he instigated a few months ago, and all of a sudden he's wracked with guilt over how he treated you that weekend and starting to panic about the fact he's out and you're not and going into a little spiral about potentially being a hypocrite and fucking up your relationship again (which is the last thing he wants to do). he stays at the afterparty for an hour before the need to see you becomes unbearable, but drinks as if he was there for double that time - when you open your door, wet-haired and wearing his grey santa cruz hoodie and smiling when you see him, matty's tipsy and a little bit melancholy. you usher him in and give him a hug, which he reciprocates with a "missed you, sweetheart. how's your evening been?", and you're like "it's been nice, actually. had a bit of a pamper, opened some wine, watched the west wing. nowhere near as fun as your night, i'm sure lol. was it good?"; matty smiles and says "was ok. clothes were good. food was nice. but your night sounds better. you cool if i crash it, baby?", and you're like "mhmm. go get changed and i'll get us some wine", and matty obliges. when he heads back into your living room, you open your arms and he slots between them on the couch, and the two of you watch josh and donna banter for a bit before matty speaks - he's like "baby, we're ok, right?", looking up at you, and you're like "i think so. why? am i doing something wrong?", a little bit nervy. matty kisses your hand like "no, no, darling, i just...", and he pauses before quietly continuing "i'm just worried that i am, s'all. fucked up big-time when i ghosted you and tried to end it a few months back, and i'm just scared, i guess, that i'll fuck it again somehow. wanna be good for you, be enough. nah, actually, not enough - wanna be right for you, the best i can be, and i'm scared i'm not". you wrap your arms around matty and kiss the top of his head like "oh, baby, please don't worry like that. we're good, we really are. that was just a little blip", and matty's like "really?" - you softly card your fingers through his hair, which makes him hum contentedly and close his eyes, as you say "really. we're good. great, even. you're the best i could ever want, all i could ever need. and if you messed up, you'd hear about it from me immediately lol". matty giggles at that like "oh, i know i would. s'one of the things i like most about you, sweetheart. your hugging ability is also up there, tbh", and you smile like "speaking of... wanna watch the rest of this episode doing some of that in my bed instead of down here?", and matty's like "absolutely". yeah, it's very sweet <3

[formula-fun]

hi there, let me walk you throught the last few days of my life

saw a list of history recommendations here on tumblr last Friday, saw the series if I had words there and thought "well let's give it a shot!"

started reading Friday night, got obsessed with it, couldn't stop, finished max's part Sunday, a little after the race.

got sad it ended and then VERY happy when I remember about the other part!!

started reading Sunday afternoon, got obsessed with it, couldn't stop, finished charles' part five minutes ago

All of this to day, I AM IN LOVE WITH YOUR WORK 😭😭😭

like WTH IS SOO GOOD

the construction, the order of the events, seeing everything fall into place after reading both parts, max learning to grow older and softer, charles understanding his feelings and letting himself have nice things, their mom's, the packs, the I love yous, oh my GOD 😭😭

broke my heart when I reached the end because I could keep read more and more and more of those two maybe forever??

definitely interest in a sequel or spin off or any little crumb showing just a peek of them again

again, amazing work, absolutely brilliant all around (and I was always laughing at your notes hahaha)

sending love !!

😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank youuuuuu i literally cannot tell you how much i love this, hhh. I DO NOT HAVE WORDS

this fic is truly my child, i put so much time and attention into it and i love the way it turned out so much <33 ive never allowed myself to just take my time on something and keep scrapping it over and over until it was exactly how i wanted it, but i'm so glad i did! it makes me really happy that other people appreciate the care that went into it and appreciate the way everything falls into place. i promise it was HEADACHE inducing at times to write two different stories about the same event but it was also really really fun

and thank you abt notes ahhahsahs i do NOT put as much effort into my notes. i usually write my notes at the last second after editing for like 3 hrs straight and just roll on vibes, so im glad you enjoy that <33

dfkjdfksd i'm running low on crumbs but you can have this!! it's from a version of the final chapter in which jos DID tell the press about the miscarriage

Max wakes him up with a kiss at the base of his neck, and then one on his mouth that lingers sweetly. His hands are hesitant on Charles’ waist, his touch light and skittish, which Charles always hates. Charles tells him so, and Max lets out a husky laugh.

“You want more?” he asks, his tone still hesitant even when his eyes are dancing. It makes Charles roll his own eyes, and then roll him; pin him down into the mattress by his wrists and bite at his jaw.

“I want you to touch me like you mean it,” he mutters into his skin.

Max’s wrists flex beneath his grip, muscles coiled and ready to fight. His mouth is curved when Charles kisses it, but he bites Charles’ lip anyway.

“Mean what?” Max whispers against his mouth when they part.

That I’m yours, Charles thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He can’t say it. He can’t really admit to something like that, yet; can’t allow himself to, even if he already knows it’s halfway true. He wants to mean it when he says it, and Max—Max hasn’t chosen him yet.

“That you want me,” Charles says instead. He brushes his nose against Max’s jawline; against his pulse point; follows the line of his throat down to the spot where his mark would go and lets his breath dance over it. Max’s chest goes stone still beneath his own.

Charles ducks forward and brushes a chaste kiss there, as softly as he can. Max shivers beneath him, his eyelids fluttering shut. His tendons shift under Charles’ palms as his hands clench into loose fists.

“Do you—”

In a blink they’re rolling over, Max pressing him down, one hand at the small of his back and the other beneath his knee. Max kisses him hard.

“Like I couldn’t,” Max hisses against his mouth when they part. “What kind of question is that?”

Charles just quirks an eyebrow. “Show me,” he says simply.

For a while, he’s able to forget about it all.

Of course it only lasts as long for it takes the two of them to shower, get dressed and part ways; as soon as he arrives in the paddock he’s swarmed. It’s not the fans—they’re not allowed back here today—or even that people are yelling questions. People know not to try; not when paddock passes can get revoked and fines can be given.

They don’t do anything so stupid, but it doesn’t matter. The scrutiny is just as bad; two dozen cameras following his every move as if waiting for him to do something.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he ducks into the Ferrari hospitality. Andrea slips in after him, and he’s kind enough not to say anything about the way Charles is morosely stuffing biscuits from the coffee bar into his mouth.

“I called your pack off,” he tells Charles, making himself an espresso. He almost manages to look disinterested while he does it.

Charles just raises his eyebrows. “Did you?”

“Well, Pierre did. They didn’t really listen to me.” He dumps two sugars into his coffee, stirring a little aggressively, and then rolls his eyes at the look Charles is giving him. “Oh, leave me alone. It’s been a stressful morning. How are you doing?”

Charles shrugs. “We knew this was going to happen,” he points out.

“Yeah, I know. That wasn’t really my question.”

“I’m,” Charles starts, then looks down at his biscuit; the crescent bite taken out of it. “It’s fine. I don’t think it has fully hit me yet.”

Andrea purses his lips. He nods. “Fred said they’re not allowed to ask any questions about it in the presser. You’re with Pierre, Alex, Oscar and George, so even if someone tries something, you won’t be alone. It was the best we could do.”

“Max?” Charles asks, in spite of himself.

Andrea’s lips somehow purse even harder. “The FIA was strongly advised to give him a week off.”

“But not me.”

“You wouldn’t want a week off.”

Charles hums. That’s true.

“Besides,” Andrea adds in an undertone, “I know you will want to set an example that this is not to be discussed in the paddock. It’s not Fred’s decision, obviously, but…”

“But you don’t trust Max to be able to do the same,” Charles finishes for him.

“I trust him,” Andrea argues. “I trust him to say what we’re all thinking, which is that this is stupid and everyone should fuck off. I just also know that will only make things worse.”

Charles tilts his head, conceding the point. He breaks a crumb off his biscuit; pushes it past his lips.

“Is he alright?” Andrea asks after a beat, his voice quiet. “After last night?”

Andrea had been the one to check on them when they hadn’t reemerged from the bedroom suite, only to find them curled up on the bed, Max having finally passed out. Charles had kissed his forehead before slipping out to join the media strategy session; had pulled the duvet over him as he went. He’d called room service after everyone had finally left, coaxing Max into eating comfort food in bed with him, some meaningless travel show playing in the background, giving Max’s red-rimmed eyes somewhere to drift when they refused to meet Charles’ own.

“He’s fine,” Charles mutters, then scrubs at his hair. “Or he will be fine. I don’t know. He has this stupid idea that he has to be the strong one all the time. He doesn’t feel like he should need me when I am the one who everyone is talking about, and when he thinks it is all his fault.”

“Why does he think that?” Andrea asks.

“Because Jos was the only one who could have told them. Nobody else knew. And Max was the one who told Jos.”

Andrea chews that over, sipping his coffee.

“I don’t know why it matters,” Charles adds. “It is out now. It doesn’t matter how it got out.”

“You could always sue Jos,” Andrea muses. “Defamation or whatever.”

“It’s not worth it.”

“Isn’t it?”

Charles shrugs. Maybe it would give him some sense of satisfaction; probably not. “It would just give the media more to talk about,” he says. “It would make Max feel worse. I would gain nothing. It was going to come out eventually anyway,” he adds. “It was always a matter of time, wasn’t it?”

Andrea grimaces. “It’s hard to say,” he admits, “but these things tend to not stay secrets for long.”

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol 6

Howdy friends! Happy Friday and happy Fic Rec Day!

Here's everything I read this week and my silly little thoughts about them.

As always you can find The Spreadsheet here

Recs below the cut :)

June - a Joel series by @atinylittlepain

-> The writing in this is just... absolutely beautiful. I love the story that's being set up here and I love the way it's being told. This is definitely one to keep an eye on. Fell in love immediately. Warning, though, this one is probably gonna hurt a little.

Heat - an Ezra one shot by @ezrasversion

This fic had me in javi p, smoking a cigarette, hand pressed into forehead era. It was hot. Ezra talking dirty is just... top fucking tier man.

PMAMC 2023 - (almost) all the boys got pegged and I made a masterlist! Fics by @wannab-urs, @jksprincess10, @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @serenaxpedro, and @atinylittlepain

-> All the major boys except Marcus Pike (coming soon), Dave York (coming soon), and Jack Daniels (unclaimed) get the rides of their lives! We pegged all of them... so if that's your thing, click the link for enough to keep you fed for weeks

Catalyst - a Joel/Frankie series @ezrasbirdie

-> I think I'm in my "I want two guys to rail me while also being into each other" era, but anyway... this was so fucking hot. I loved all the little details and story bits in there. Made it feel like a believable situation, which is not alway the case with Pedro boy on Pedro Boy action lol.

Shots - a Jack series by @julesonrecord

-> Uh... oh my god??? I love the rewrite of the ending (I like when authors keep Whiskey's actions but change that terrible ending ugh). I am so fucking into the plot of this story. I am riveted. I cannot wait for more. What is he doing? What's gonna happen? AH. Oh and it wouldn't be a certified Gin Fic Rec if I didn't tell you that the smut is delicious. Riding that line between explicit description and fucking poetry. You really uh... feel it... you know?

Hokaanir Riduurok - a Din one shot by @proxima-writes

-> Din with tattoos... shirtless,,, marrying you... then fucking while totally blissed out on some crazy mando wine... If I need to say more there's something wrong with you. This is everything.

put your lips close to mine a Joel one shot by @swiftispunk

-> A gorgeous follow up to her other masseuse!reader x Joel fic. I think I could read about Pedro boys getting or giving massages forever. It will literally never get old. All the luscious fuckin descriptions of his body.... PLEASE. And who doesn't love a happy ending?

buried - a Jack series by @something-tofightfor

I love this story so much I think I could recite it from memory. Jack is literal perfection in every way in this. I love a sad broken man who slowly learns to love again YESSSSS. The plot? immaculate. The smut? worth the god damn wait.

Speechless - an Ezra one shot by @sneetsnootyoit

-> Someone finally learned how to shut Ezra up... all it took was a good dickin down lmao. (AMAB Reader, sorry if you didn't get into fandom through a gay ship like me and this isn't your thing).

------------ things i read months ago and never recced -------------

Grays - a Frankie series by @fuckyeahdindjarin

Starstruck - a Dieter series by @ezrasbirdie

Possession - a Din one shot @prolix-yuy

Sin Without Limits a Javi P one shot by @jake-g-lockley

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

Happy reading, dear friends <3