#could you not take 30 seconds to write like a dozen of your own just to say thanks

[enigmaticagentalice]

that feeling when someone goes through your entire back catalogue of fic for a pairing giving kudos to every single one and you’re like…I appreciate that you clearly enjoy my writing but for the love of god…would it kill you to leave…one single comment…on any of them…

[beeceit]

Leonardo, come down here, and put that back

You ever get too into the short character study you meant to leave in the tags of someone else's post and accidentally write a 1033 word one shot told in the second person about someone else's character meeting yours?

Haha me neither, anyways... here's my take on what I think it would be like for LDC Leo and POB Uncle Nardo to meet <3 Bonus points if you catch all the other peepaws referenced

@nani-nonny teehee

Out of all of the bizarre situations you’ve found yourself in over the course of your life, this ‘peepaw multiverse convention’ was certainly far up there. 

Dozens of alternates of yourself and your former brothers, even some Aprils (though not many) stand around chatting, recounting stories, showing off their little selves.

Most of them seem to get on fairly well, splitting into little groups like a highschool cafeteria.

Well, what you imagine a highschool cafeteria looks like, you’ve never been.

There’s the smart ones, the cool ones, the tired ones. And, inevitably, the class clowns.

Some booty shorts wearing jackass covered in stickers keeps chucking empty waterbottles and paper airplanes at your head. You can't tell if he genuinely doesn’t realize that you could kill him easily if you wanted or if he just doesn't care. 

He's wrapped around his own Mikey now, the weight that constantly dragged on his shoulders, on every Leonardo’s shoulders, almost vanished from that single touch. Lucky bastard.

You had your own Mikey once. You fucked that up, too. Pushed him away. Twisted yourself until you could scarcely be called brothers anymore. And still, after it all, in his desperate final act of life he tried to save you. Not only you, the stupid selfish blueprint that became you.

That useless arrogant child you once had been.

Everything you've been through, everything you've lost, it was all your own fault. It was his fault. You can see the cracks in the armor. The foundational flaws that will lead him down the path to becoming you. Distantly, you think maybe you could still save this world's version of your family if you just get rid of the common denominator.

You can't mistake this as justice, though. As a good deed. You don't want him dead as a precaution, you want him dead for revenge. You're selfish, self-righteous, focused. In him you can see the son you used to be. The part of you that was a brother, a friend, the part that has long since faded in your chest glows so brightly in him. But you must extinguish it. He deserves this. You both deserve this.

The new guy gives you a look that you don't understand. 

Oh, right.

You shake yourself out of the memory. Out of the corner you find your own counterpart engaged in a very one sided conversation with another young Leo, a feral looking one legged creature with the conversational skills of a busted up talking tom. Some part of you is glad he seems to be making friends. 

God, you felt old. And this place didn’t have nearly enough alcohol to even begin to process… that whole situation. You turn back to the new guy. It’s been a while since any of them got this close to you. Most of the other Leonardos herded their littler ones away from what had been deemed ‘naughty gay peepaw jail’, which is the stupidest name they could give your self-imposed little angsting corner, but maybe not inaccurate.

You finally identify the look the new one’s giving you. It’s pity.

Disgusting.

He's young. Too young to be here, you think, as if you could really be the judge of that. He's not even 30 yet, hasn't even reached 6 foot. Still has 2 arms. Ah well, for now, at least.

He's too happy.

Something in his scarf makes a chirping sound. 

The new guy, Nardo you’ve heard him called (And god, you used to be Nardo once upon a time), reaches in and pulls out a small creature, hardly bigger than an oreo. You’d almost have thought it was a strange rock if you hadn’t seen the little tail emerging from under his shell thumping against Nardo’s hand. Nardo chuckles and kisses his head with such tenderness.

“Bitty, buddy, you weren’t supposed to wake up from your nap just yet.” The tiny thing babbles indignantly but is quickly quieted when Nardo rubs a finger against his cheek and under his chin.

It’s disgustingly cute.

And disgustingly familiar.

You’ve seen the family photo album, seen the pictures of your own father (former father) snuggling up against an incomprehensibly small version of yourself the exact same way. You’ve seen a handful of Leonardos with children of their own, amalgamations of turtles and rabbits (why so many rabbits?) and humans and different sorts of turtles. 

That’s not just a Leonardo’s baby, that’s a baby Leonardo.

He was so helpless and small. Precious, fragile, innocent.

But he was still a Leonardo.

You had been like him once, before, you knew you had. How had such a sweet little creature become the murderer that ended the world? Nardo held Bitty out to you, cupping his hand to keep him securely held. You made eye contact with the child for less than an entire second before he chirped, frightened, and nuzzled back into Nardo’s palm, shaking.

Nardo frowned and pulled him back to his chest, stroking his shell with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, he’s never reacted to anyone like that before. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually, he’s just still tired.” He was afraid of you. Terrified. You hadn’t so much as said a word to him and the child saw right through you. Even an infant was able to see the blood on your hands. 

His wet afraid eyes matched your own counterpart’s scarily well. The chirps of fear and your own Leo’s screams overlapped. Would you have done the same thing if your counterpart were so small? You don’t think you would, but then again, at Nardo’s age you wouldn’t have thought you’d do a lot of the things you’ve done.

“Hey, uh, you okay? I gotta get the little guy somewhere a little quieter for a minute, but I can come back. I’m sure I won’t have any trouble finding someone to watch Bitty for me, I’ve already had to fend off at least eight kidnapping attempts this morning.” Nardo looked at you with concern, genuine concern, even after you scared his baby. He really was too young to be here. “Don’t worry about me, just go.”

“Oh, uh, alright. I’ll see you later?”

“Pray that you don’t.”

[vikings-til-valhalla]

One of my best friends felt stupid for being a slow reader. Having been there multiple times myself, and battling those types of thoughts on a daily basis for my whole life as well, I decided to write this to her:

You're not alone in that... In school, my teachers would all constantly say, "You should be able to read one page per minute!" Or something like that, it may have been 1 page per 30 seconds for all I remember. But it took me, regardless of the size, regardless of the number of words, minimum 2 minutes per page, sometimes even more. Taking any test that was timed and required me to read, I was panicked knowing I'd never finish the text in time to answer the questions. And that was often the case. I felt like a failure, stupid, and it was reflected in test scores. I'd get the answers right! But I didn't have the time to finish them all, and that's where I got penalized. However, when I took an untimed test for literacy comprehension, I was told I had a college reading level while in middle school. I didn't believe them. I was literally failing English classes left and right. Then, for college, there was another untimed test for the same thing. I scored so high that they literally did not have classes that could challenge me, and just threw me into the hardest English course they had even though I was determined to not need it. I aced those courses for 2 years straight with A+ in both, because rather than focusing on how fast someone can read and answer questions, it focused on how well you understood the texts as a whole. My one professor gave me 105% because she was so impressed. So all that to basically say, regardless of how slow you read, no matter how many times you have to reread the text to understand it fully, as long as you understand it that's what matters, and shows how intelligent you are. Schools pressure you to be fast at everything because in the working world, time and money are one in the same. You have to cut corners and make the top dollar or else corporations see you as a failure. And what is traditional schooling in America but a pipeline to the working capitalism world??

I've met dyslexic people who published bestselling books. I've heard of authors who failed all of K-12 schooling and published well known books by the dozen. And I myself am a very slow reader who struggled all through school, failed most every class for being slow enough that I couldn't finish any tests, but I've been given untimed tests and proved to be highly intelligent in every subject, several languages, countless forms of comprehension, and I published 2 books by the age of 23.

But I am VERY slow at all of that. It takes me hours at a time to solve a small math problem. It takes me weeks to read a children's book. I usually have to hear something twice or more to understand it, unless I have subtitles to read so I can back up what my mind processes hearing, with something visual.

It doesn't matter how slow or fast you are. Intelligence is intelligence regardless. Capitalism just makes it seem like speed is the end all be all of everything, because if you're slow, you're not doing it right/well enough, and you're not making enough profit for anyone to value you.

What's important to remember is to value yourself and what you've accomplished, no matter how long you took to do it, how many tries it took to succeed, or who approves of the things you achieved besides yourself. Your best is good enough, you are good enough, and your worth is not determined by production quotas of any sort in any capacity. Worth is inherent, and also built upon at your own pace by accomplishing things within your personal scope.

[readingwiththereids]

yanda! speaks: hi angels! i just wanted to come on here and say thank you for the overwhelming support i’ve gotten from everyone following cam&carm’s story. you’ve all made writing and posting on here a lot more enjoyable and i really appreciate it. this is the longest chapter i have written so far so i hope that it’s not too much. about 7 chapters left before we move on to season 2! lots of love and light! 🤎

masterlist

night rain ; chapter 5

2022

The dreadful sound of Camila’s alarm sounded through her bedroom as the clock read 3:30. Pushing off of her mattress, she silenced it and slugged towards the bathroom. Today was the day of La Fame’s annual gala, where the food magazine company would invite all of their employees and their respective partners to dress up, drink and have a good time. Considering that Camila had never dated anyone since getting pregnant with Emelia, she always went to the event alone, rather deciding to spend her time catering at least one small dessert for it as it kept her busy but didn’t take too much of a toll on her. This year was no different as she was making about 500 tiny lemon cheesecakes that her coworkers had previously commended her for when she brought them to a strategy session once.

“Te quiero, mamá. And don’t forget to take Emmy to daycare before work, okay?” She whispered into her sleeping mother’s ear before kissing both her and Emilia goodbye.

The sky was still dark and the air was brisk as she walked the short commute to the bakery where she worked part-time, dragging along all of her ingredients in a large garden cart. She had asked the owner, Penelope if she could use the kitchen that day to prepare for the gala as they were always closed on Fridays. However, when Cam walked into the shop, she was shocked to see that the lights were on. 

Walking further into the room, she saw a plump, older woman with black hair tied back to reveal the permanent scowl on her face. Pamela.

Pam wasn’t necessarily a worker at the place but she was always hanging around as Penelope’s sister-in-law that only ever got in the way. She’d watch Camila over her shoulder and even attempt to change recipes despite being reprimanded for it by every employee there. She’d try make her own recipes and give them to customers which always just resulted in bad reviews and mandatory refunds, she had no idea what she was doing. And yet she was here. Aggressively whisking something in a bowl and pacing around the kitchen that was covered in dozens of different ingredients that definitely would not taste good together. The kitchen’s workbenches were blanketed by multiple cookbooks, utensils and empty boxes, with nowhere for Cam to put her things.

“Uh, hey Pam. What are you doing here?”

“Baking, what do you think?” she replied with a certain irritation in her voice that told Camila that her recipe was already not going her way.

“Right, of course. It’s just, I already asked Penelope about a week ago if I could use the kitchen today to make something for an event I’m going to.”

“And that’s my problem, how?”

Camila was growing irritated. “It’s your problem because I booked this space and you’re hogging it with whatever disgusting potion you’re trying to concoct.”

“Excuse you? My brother pays for this building, so I will do as I please. Now you can grab your things and get out of my kitchen, young lady.”

The younger girl stood in shock for a second before turning around and walking out the backdoor, whispering curses under her breath.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You old piece of shit, fuck!” she huffed, kicking a dumpster in the alleyway which spread a sharp sting through her toe. “Ow, fuck!”

Camila didn’t know what to do. She had to make half a thousand stupid little cakes by six that evening and she had nowhere to do it. A thought crossed her mind and as much as she tried to push it away, it seemed like the best option and so she pulled out her phone from her back pocket. He probably didn’t even have the same number anymore and she doubted that he was awake but it didn’t hurt to try, right?

“Hello?”

Shockingly, she was greeted by an especially chipper and conscious voice.

“Hey! Carm, uh, I’m so sorry to call you so early.”

“It’s cool, are you…okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just, I know it’s short notice but is there any chance that I can use The Beef’s kitchen for a couple of hours today?”

“Yeah, actually, we’re not open today to cut down on labour hours, or at least I think that’s what Syd said. So, yeah you can come by. What do you need to do?”

“Make 500 mini cheesecakes by 6 PM.”

A beat.

“Do you need help?”

^^^^^^^^^

“So then she was like ‘My brother pays for this building, so I will do as I please.’ and actually kicked me out!”

“Are you kidding? Jesus, she sounds like a bitch.”

“She is, trust.” Camila laughed along with Carmy as they poured the cheesecake mixture into each of the tiny crusts. 

After their phone call, Carmen rushed to shower and meet Cam at the sandwich shop in thirty minutes. They had been baking together for hours, catching up and listening to each other’s playlists. Camila had felt a little weird though about not being able to tell him about the biggest aspect that had taken over her life since she last saw him in New York, motherhood. They had been cracking jokes and engaging in banter for the past couple of hours but the conversation always conveniently avoided the topic of why she left. Carmy knew that he should probably be madder at her, more hurt. After she left, he was broken for a long time and because of that, refused the possibility of ever being with someone again. But she was Camila, he knew she would have never done that without a good reason and that was enough for him.

A phone pinged from the counter.

“Sydney forgot her knives so she’s coming here to get them in a few, by the way.”

“Oh, great!” she smiled. “She seems like a nice girl, driven.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t exactly let up. Once she’s set her mind to something, it’s difficult to slow her down.”

“Yeah, she reminds me of you.” Cam chuckled, making eye contact with Carmy from across the workbench.

“Oh yeah?” he laughed.

“Yeah.” She finished her batch of cheesecakes and both of them moved to stack them in the oven before going back to clean up.

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice travelled from the front of house to the kitchen. 

“Chef, come in. We’re in here.”

“We?” she questioned before seeing Camila grab a bunch of dirty bowls with the intent of going to wash them, but not before hugging the confused girl first.

“Hi, Syd. How have you been?”

“Hey, Cam. Good, how are you?” Her eyes bounced between Camila’s retreating figure and Carmy’s slightly red face as Sydney’s knowing smirk made him feel like he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“On edge, constantly. But surviving nonetheless.” Cam laughed before settling into her station at the sink. 

“So, what are you two doing? Alone?” She laughed in a hushed tone as Carmy’s face grew more red.

“What are you-what do you mean? I’m just helping her bake for a gala she’s going to later.” 

“Right.”

“Aren’t you here to get your knives, Chef?”

“You’re no fun, Chef.” 

“What up, lizards?” Richie’s voice boomed as we waltzed in through the backdoor. “Yo, where is everyone?” 

“Cousin, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here to work, cuz. What else?”

“Richie, we’re closed today,” Syd interjected.

“What?”

“It was in the email that I sent everyone.”

“I don’t check my email, Sydney. I’m not a fucking loser.”

“You sure?” Camila quipped, prompting Richie to turn around and finally notice her.

“Mini? What are you doing here?” he smiled while ruffling her curls, which made her turn to splash soapy water at him.

“Why do you call her ‘Mini’?” Sydney asked.

“‘Cause she’s like a carbon copy of Tina, but smaller. Mini Tina.” he shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world before turning to the girl in question. “But like actually, what’re you doin’ here?

“Carm was helping me make some cheesecakes for my work gala tonight.” she replied, turning back to the sink to get a particularly tough stain off of a spoon.

“Oh really?” Richie turned in the direction of Sydney and Carmen, mirroring the former’s smirk and wiggling his eyebrows.

“Alright, both of you, get the fuck out.” The latter finally spoke as he ushered the two out of the kitchen.

Carmy shoved the bag of knives from the counter into Sydney’s hands before shouting a bye and slamming the door in their faces and walking back into the kitchen, not before hearing a “They’re definitely gonna bone.” from behind it.

When he reentered, Camila had finished washing the dishes and moved to mopping the floors with a slight smirk on her face. Ignoring this, however, he cleared his throat and started to wipe down the counters. Just then, a song from Carmy’s playlist sounded from the speaker sitting on the shelf, ‘My Song’ by Labi Siffre.

Both of them froze up at this, pausing their actions immediately. At first glance, one could easily see the effect that this song had on them but what they wouldn’t know was the extent of how special to them it was. 

And I wonder

If you know what it means

To find your dreams come true

The melody had seen countless moments of Camila trying to teach Carmy to slow dance, half-naked in the living room.

And sometimes you don’t hear me

But you don’t have to be near me

To know that I’m singing

Trying each other’s new recipe ideas and laughing together when they failed.

This is my song

And nothing can make it die

And innocent showers filled with washing each other’s hair while mouthing the lyrics against one another’s lips.

That as long

As I live

I will sing my song for you

As the song ended, the two realised that their bodies had subconsciously forced them to face one another, and there they stood. Eyes locked from across the room and sad smiles pasted onto their faces. They stood there as such for a long time before finally being snapped out of it by the timer of the oven. As they both realised what just happened, they rushed to get the small desserts out of the oven without words before transferring each of them to cooling racks.

“So, uh,” Camila broke the silence first. “I was thinking. Since you were so helpful today, if you wanted to reap the benefits of that and maybe come with me to the gala? As my plus one.”

“I mean, I normally go to these things alone so I was just thinking I’d switch it up a bit.” she laughed nervously before looking up at Carmen, who had a completely dumbfounded look on his face but said nothing.

“God, never mind, I’m sorry. That was stupid-”

[Wait, Cam. No, that’s not what I-]

[-and weird, I’m sorry. Of course, you don’t want to, I-]

[-just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because-]

[-don’t know what I was thinking. I just-]

“Camila!”

The curly-haired woman swiftly stopped rambling.

“I would love to go with you.”

“Really?” she asked as a smile spread across her face.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Actually, it starts at seven but I have to be there a little earlier so I’ll pick you up at 6:15?”

“Yeah.” he smiled shyly.

“Cool.”

^^^^^^^^^

Camila smoothed out her dress as she stared at herself in the mirror. She donned a strapless, pastel green dress with floral embroidery that seeped from the top of the dress, topped with gold jewellery. Her hair was clipped up into an elegant bun on top of her head and a few curls were left out to frame her face. She felt beautiful, desirable even. There was nothing necessarily promiscuous about her appearance, other than the high slit of the skirt, but for the first time in a while, Camila actually felt attractive. After having Emilia, her body expectedly went through many changes and it took her a while to recover a healthy relationship with her figure and now here she was. Not just glancing at her form to avoid scrutinising it too much but actually looking at it. She felt proud.

Her phone pinged from her bed as she moved to read it.

[Camila]

Do you even have a suit, Berzatto?

Read

[Carmy]

I can’t believe you would even ask me that.

(I just borrowed one from Chi-Chi)

The brown-skinned girl laughed at this before hearing a small voice from below her.

“Wow! Mama, you look so pretty!” Emelia giggled as she looked up at her mother in awe. 

“Awh,” Camila fawned, picking the toddler up. “Thank you, princess. You’re so sweet.” 

“Oh, cariño. You look beautiful.” Tina said from the doorway. Quickly, the younger woman noticed the tears in her mother’s eyes. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mija. It’s just that your father would be so proud of you. He was always dreaming big for your future, he would have loved to see you now. Practically running one of the biggest magazines in the world, still finding time to stay with your passions, and raising the most extraordinary, gentle child that I have ever met. This is what he wanted for you, Camila. All he wanted was for you to be happy like this.”

Malik Dominic Ivy was thirty-two when he died in a drunk driving accident. He died just a month before Camila was born which meant that she never got to meet her father. This fact also meant that Tina had to take on the responsibility of raising a newborn while simultaneously grieving the love of her life. Expectedly, this caused some strain between Cam and her mother during her childhood rooted in the latter’s trauma, before she finally grew to understand how difficult and painful it must have been for the older woman to have to take care of a baby that reminded her so deeply of the man she had recently lost.

Camila’s main knowledge of her father stemmed from the stories that her mother would tell her, of romantic dates, funny incidents and more. It was through them that she felt as if she understood her dad and how much she meant to him. Even before she had developed a heartbeat, she was all he thought about. What she would achieve, how she would grow, how she would love, he thought of it all. When Camila thought about her own daughter, her mind would often shift to Malik. She would frequently doubt the decisions she made regarding Emilia’s relationship with Carmen. Was it really fair for her to keep the child from him when she knew what it was like to be robbed of time with her own dad? The first time she had that thought, she concluded that it wasn’t and picked up the phone to search him up and call. However, when she saw that Carmy had recently received an award for his work, it stopped her in her tracks. She remembered why she couldn’t do that to him and put down the phone. Even so, the entire thought broke her heart.

Cam brought her free hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes as she cried softly in her mother’s arms. 

“I’m so sorry that you never got to meet him, mi corazón. Sé que no es justo, lo siento.” 

[I know that it isn’t fair, I’m sorry]

The young girl pulled back after collecting herself to see that the small child in her arms had also begun to tear up.

“Bear, what’s wrong?”

“You guys were crying and it made me sad.” Emmy said, beginning to cry more while attempting to dry her mother’s tears. 

“Aw, hun.” Camila mumbled into her hair after kissing it.

Tina took the toddler from Cam’s arms before speaking. “I’ll make sure that she’s okay. Finish getting ready and fix your makeup.”

“Have a great time, Camila,” she continued. “And tell Jeff to have you back by 11.” 

As the two walked out of Camila’s room, she heard Emmy’s voice ask her grandmother a question.

“Who’s Jeff?”

yanda! speaks (again): gang, now i know i said we'd be back to regular programming but i'll probably only be able to post 3 more chapters this week and then i'll be offline for a couple of days on a team building retreat. i'll try do a little double update for y'all when i'm back, though. i'll also be taking a small break before i start writing season two but i already have some pretty big ideas for that one so don't give up on me! alright, love you!

🏷️ list: @rexorangecouny @louderfortheback @janoskiansecondsofdirection @thatonedogwithablog @kravitzwhore @iiheartbowie @doodlebob-mp3

[theresnoturningback]

YEAR 1, SUMMER - PROLOGUE

A/N So it begins. My goal is pretty ambitious. I've compiled my ideas and headcanons into five years. Farmer still hasn't got a name. Once she does, I'll start a new file to play while I'm not writing or doing grown-up stuff like working, blegh.

If you like my writing, consider reblogging it. It would help a lot for my motivation and considering it's five years I need to cover, I'll be needing a lot of it.

If you don't like it, consider being kind? It's been years and I am aware I'm rusty. If it weren't for @apocalypsebi I'd be still struggling with some important details.

Anyways, anything you guys need, my askbox is open. Thanks for reading!

She could clearly remember her grandpa’s faint words as if they had spoken two weeks ago:

“There will come a day when you feel crushed with the burden of modern life…and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness”

Sadly for her, that day had already come. A sense of dread would open her tired eyes every weekday just before 7 am. She’d pour herself a cup of instant coffee, drink half of it and jump in the shower. There were days when she’d just remain there for a couple of minutes longer, just to let the warm water jumpstart her brain. Regret would soon follow that moment of calm. She’d hurriedly get dressed, reminding herself shorter showers were crucial if she wanted to keep her job.

No matter how hard she tried to get there on time, she always managed to be late for work. There’s always something. Traffic, blackouts, accidents, stupid people. She was so sick of stupid people, herself included.

“One more mess-up and you’re gone. Did you understand me well enough? Gone!” Her boss had screamed that morning after she arrived ten minutes late because the bus driver started arguing with another passenger and she had to make a run for it.

“Fuck,” She muttered to herself as she plopped down on her squeaky desk chair, “I don’t deserve this, if I have to be here for 30 more years, I swear I’ll kill myself.”

She covered her head with her arms. The constant humming of the old fluorescent tube light above her was like an annoying swarm of flies. She needed to get out of there somehow. She missed the sun, the wind in her face and the peaceful chirping of the birds on top of the trees. The constant clickity-clack of dozens of computer keyboards were her only soundtrack during the workday, since music was reserved for their resting moments and even then, music there consisted of a set of Joja jingles playing on repeat. Grandpa wanted to help her when she felt like that. The envelope he had given her was somewhere in her desk drawer. She opened it and looked around, hoping she hadn’t lost it. After digging for a few seconds, she finally found it among the trash and office supplies.

“If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So, I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.”

To think he went through the same was a depressing realization, but it made her feel less alone, somehow. Yes, she was feeling crushed under trivial tasks, performance reports and her own colleagues’ low morale that only added up to the poisonous work ambiance. Little did she know that reading the next sentence would completely change her life.

“I’ve enclosed the deed to that place…my pride and joy.” She took a moment to take a look at the deeds to her grandpa’s old farm, remembering a couple of summers from her childhood. Her dad would take her to see the jellyfish, and she had some vague memory of her and some other kids playing hide and seek in the forest one day and looking for bugs and frogs the other. She smiled to herself, still not fully understanding what this truly meant for her near future.

“This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my girl. Good luck. Love, Grandpa”

Immediately, her smile turned into a chuckle that carried an amount of joy and freedom she hadn’t felt in months. Years, even.

She didn’t even think about it. She got up from her seat, pulled up a smaller envelope that contained her resignation letter and placed it on her desk. Then, she took the keyboard and smashed it against the screen with all her strength. Not once, not twice, but as many times as it took all the keys to fly away as she repeated her new mantra.

“FUCK. YOU.JOJA.YOU.DON’T.OWN.ME.ANY.MORE”

“What do you think you’re doing?” The voice of her horrible boss resounded behind her, but that wasn’t enough to startle her anymore. She quickly shoved the envelope against him

“I think I’m quitting and I’m never coming back to this rathole.” She replied with a smile so wide it made her cheeks hurt. She quickly took all her belongings and darted out of the building to prepare everything for her new life.

That night she couldn’t sleep at all. Hundreds of anxiety-driven thoughts wouldn’t let her. They’d race around her mind, making her heart beat fast and her stomachache.

Oh fuck, I made a terrible mistake…What if the farm doesn’t exist anymore? Or what if the deed is so old it’s no longer valid somehow. What if other people are currently living there? I can’t get my job back, not the way I quit. The sole thought of going back to sitting through one of those three-hour long meetings was enough to put her mind to work on a more positive headspace.

Suppose the farm is still there. Let’s be optimistic about that bit for a sec—Then what? What can I do with it…? Grandpa used to have cows and sell milk and cheese whenever he could, it didn’t look so hard. Maybe I could do that…But I have no idea how to take care of a cow, maybe I should start with something smaller. Chickens? But what if it dies because I forgot to feed it? No, the guilt would kill me right after… I get it! What if…we start with planting something? She took out a small notebook and jotted down some ideas. For example, if I forget to water a blueberry plant and it dies, it’s not that tragic…as opposed to an animal…and definitely cheaper.

After scribbling some additional ideas for making money and a quick packing checklist, she could finally close her eyes and jump from daydreaming to having hopeful dreams of her new life in Stardew Valley.

Right before completely falling asleep, she whispered a small prayer.

“Please, Grandpa, help me finally make something good of myself”

[claudiajcregg]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by both @mihrsuri and @unseenacademic 💜💜💜 Thank you so much! I actually wrote up most of the answers the day I was tagged, and then forgot to post them. For over 10 days, probably. Me bad.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 23! (One of them is a 'collection' of short ficlets, and has 6 chapters. So 28 stories in 23 works so far. Probably about to be more stories in still 23 works.)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 156,597 words. For now.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Just TWW. Who knows in the future!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

They have about 35% of my total kudos, but the first two are ~21% alone. (The first one is the only fic that has over 100 kudos. Then again, any of them getting above 30 is a miracle.)

maybe everything's just turning out how it should be (Big Block of Cheese 2008; CJ & Josh. Posted Feb 2021) [121]

say it's here where our pieces fall in place (Vignettes, 1998-2008. Posted Jan 2022.) [66]

just your smile lit a sixty-watt bulb in my house that was darkened for days (Thanksgiving 2006. Posted Dec 2022.) [55]

nobody knows how to get back home (Missing scene from ITSOTG. Posted April 2023) (wait what. top 4?!) [50]

we could be the way forward and I know I'll pay for it (B4A Campaign Fic, spring 1998. Posted May 2021) [47]

5. Do you respond to comments?

YES. I don't take them for granted, and I like interacting with my readers. Sharing is nerve-wracking and makes me feel so exposed, so any comment makes it worth it. I like to thank peeps for their time! As of late, it's taking me weeks to get back to comments for Brain/spoons reasons (and because I try to do so in order, though not always). I sometimes feel bad I have fallen behind on leaving my own comments, so replying to what I get makes me feel bad. I love getting the rare, long, thoughtful comments, because I love seeing what people pick up on (had to restrain myself from commenting on everything), so if that one's up next… It'll delay everything. I have a harder time letting go of those.

I know replying or not is a hot topic, and I fall on the side of 'whatever the author does is fine' (I see them as being voluntary gifts to the author, kinda, but I understand why some authors can't or won't reply! Especially those who get dozens.). It does feel weird(ly demoralizing) when you see that yours is one of a couple of comments they haven't replied to, though. (Selfishly, as someone who tries to write medium-long comments, lack of anything can sting. It's irrational, it's not what I'm after, but it'd be nice to know whether that hour plus of my time was worth it. It's not transactional and I hate that c4c idea or whatever. Just. weird feelings.)

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

As we've established in previous similar memes (lol, I think I've answered these questions before), my fics don't really have angsty endings! For the most part. I think I said don't want you to go but I'll be okay then, and I can still buy that/definitely popped into my brain. I think some of my late S7 fics have an ominous feel to them, with some references/buildup to the angsty parts of IM, but I wouldn't call them angsty endings.

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

Um. The opposite is true! still you never took your hand from mine was my first thought, but I feel like oh, and I will be with you to feel the California sun is pretty darn happy. I could have picked almost any of them and I could make a case for them!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I luckily do not. I have gotten a couple of comments that have messed with my brain, and made me second-guess things, but they were not hate.

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

Yes, but not regularly and not that well. It's usually short, mild scenes at most, but I did challenge myself to write a more explicit one last summer, especially after I got those 'one bed' tropes in the Wheel but didn't go there in the 500-word limit. Streets say it's hot. IDK. I also wrote a smutty continuation to the exchange fic. Best if we forget parts of that one happened. I also started writing one that would be in my S5 pregnancy universe but 🤐

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

I don't. But this question confirms to me I have answered this before because I know I've joked about how TV has already done that for me, lmao. See: Bones/Sleepy Hollow.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? (I had to track down this question because it wasn't anywhere.) I don't think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! I'm having déjà vu here. I know I have answered this before: I could do it myself! But I have a feeling it wouldn't be as easy as one might think, but I'd be honored.

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

I don't think so…? If I have, it was years ago, in my forum/LJ days. I've been trying to make it happen for a while now, but who knows if it'll ever happen. WE HAVE IDEAS. We want to make it happen. (Wink wink, nudge nudge. You know who.)

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Spaceships are so cool. Atlantis was the first space shuttle I saw in person (and also the one I've seen the most) and it and its exhibit are awesome. I'm only missing Discovery out of the four space shuttles, because I didn't go to the second National Air and Space Museum location in Virginia back in 2015. And once the new exhibit center is completed, I'd love to see Endeavour again.

(In all seriousness, I don't have one. Booth and Brennan will forever and always hold a special place in my heart, but I love CJ and Danny so much, writing for them, their journey. Pls don't make me pick.)

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

I am a big 'never say never' person, because I end up picking stuff up (and maybe rewriting it to fit my current style/ability) if I remember an idea… But I'm guessing many of them won't get finished. Probably some of those that are deep in my notes app or on the drive.

16. What are your writing strengths? I (try to) dig into the emotion of a scene as best as I can.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Everything else? I know it sounds like an excuse (at least to my ears), but writing in your second language is hard. I know my writing sounds limited because of it – my descriptions will never be as evocative as I wish they were, my dialogue won't be there. I am not the most imaginative person, either.

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

If it makes sense, and won't take the reader out of the story, go for it! (A few words, or a line or two, might work if there's appropriate context.)

But also, as a non-native speaker, I'll always recommend using pals who might be fluent in that language and checking with them! I know that, throughout my many years in fandom, I've read quick things in Spanish within English fics that weren't entirely correct in the context they were being used (i.e. character's fluency, smaller details), and they took me out for a second. (I know, I know – pot, meet kettle. If anyone has read an unedited story of mine, they've found me making up English phrases.)

19. First fandom you wrote for? Bones. In Spanish. (I also think I wrote some ficlets in English that are probably hidden in some random LJ comm I created for my writing. They're probably 14-15 years old.)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I honestly cannot pick! And maybe it's yet to come. But basically, if I've gone through the embarrassment of having someone edit/beta a fic and catch all the avoidable mistakes, it's because it genuinely has something I like about it and that I think others will like, too. (Perceived quality aside.)

Off the top of my head, and out of the posted fics (obvious recency bias, sorry). I have a story for all 23… Also, let's consider I've mostly not read them since they were posted so I might be off. (Would love to hear what everyone's favorite is, if you've read any and are reading this!) Obviously, that top 5 by kudos has great ones. There's a reason

don't want you to go but I'll be okay: I just remember finishing it and knowing it was something special. Felt like many things coming together. I wanted to write angstier, a break from the endgame of the IM AU I've yet to post, and I think it works. I had had that quote as inspo for a while, and I think the trip to Berlin put it back on my mind. (The first haunted by the notion draft is from around this time, too!)

your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep: the structure is likely a tad repetitive, maybe (but also, the point of 3+1s, sort of?) but I love writing in that s7 period, and there should be more fic with the press corps. I think the stuff I wrote while editing (which included an overhaul of the +1) is even better than what was there.

oh, and I will be with you to feel the California sun: recency bias, yes. I love a good early Cali story, and even if this was nowhere the story I sat down to write originally, I love how it turned out. It's silly but fun, and so sunny.

still you never took your hand from mine: I will always have all the soft spots for my memoir stories, even if two of them have yet to be posted. This one doubled its size a year and a half after “finishing” it because I realized what it was missing. It's sappy, probably unrealistic re: the publishing industry, but damn it if it's not one of those that have made me cry while editing them.

we could be the way forward and I know I'll pay for it: I had to include an oldie but goodie from my first year, and this one is so special to me. (Along with BBC 2008, which I also absolutely adore. That was the fic I always wanted to post. Hilarious it was third. But it's also my most popular fic by a huge margin.) Seeing it recommended on Tumblr? God. I love campaign stories and all their potential. I love that I took a random line from some unposted story and it evolved into this fic.

nobody knows how to get back home: I almost added the most recent one because of how fun it was to write (or, as I mentioned above, Big Block of Cheese) but I like how bittersweet this missing scene one is. I find CJ's internal struggle so interesting to explore, and this is one of her most vulnerable moments. I also wanted to see a hug so badly.

[ageless-aislynn]

I got this comment on "The Price" (Killer Frost!Caitlin Snow x Hunter Zolomon, The Flash) (suuuuuuuper NSFW) and it just made me all

(In case it's hard to read, it says: "I have no idea who these characters are, but it doesn't matter. This was delightful and I definitely get the gist of the story ;)")

I'm not entirely sure that, in my entire time or writing fic, that I've had anybody who didn't already know the fandom read something of mine.

And I realized this had hit near to something that has made me really insecure about my writing for, oh, 30 years or so. *shrugs in old* Way back when, I sold a handful of stories to a couple of actual print anthologies and magazines. I was over the moon when the first book came out. I could go in a bookstore and pick up a book on the shelf and my (writer's) name was in it!

I was so excited, I bought half a dozen copies, signed them like a fool, and gave them to various friends and family. I knew none of them read what I wrote back then (action fantasy) but I'd read for years about writers who had people tell them, "Oh, I don't read this type of story but I LOVED yours!" At the very least, I thought people would want to check it out (for free) since it was mine. And I signed it! Like a fool!

Most of them gave me their books back. The ONE single comment I got about the story itself has lived in my head ever since: "So when are you going to write something that's good?"

They thought I was essentially writing trash on purpose because it apparently sold for some reason.

My poor little fragile story, written earnestly with love, my very first published piece, was just trash. If that had been true, it would've hurt a lot less. That actually hurt more than the time I was up for an award and had somebody tell me they felt like they had lost IQ points reading my story because that first one came from somebody who actually knew and loved me. But my writing was garbage to them. Something I was (hopefully, in their opinion) just churning out to get a little bit of money.

You know, I don't blame them for that, reading something in a genre you don't like or aren't familiar with often doesn't read like "good" writing. You don't know the lingo or the beats or can see what was well or cleverly done within the usual structure of that genre. Just like a lot of people won't watch vids for fandoms they don't know but if they do, they won't get the references because they don't know the characters, plots and show itself. It's okay. Nothing wrong with that. Also nothing wrong with reading something and legit thinking it sucks, not because you don't know the genre but because you just don't like it.

I just wish that hadn't gotten in my head so young. I eventually stopped trying to sell my fiction, stopped writing completely for 6 years. That fool who thought somebody would want a signed copy of the book she had a story in... She had joy in her writing, even if it wasn't good.

I've struggled to find that joy again and I hate that I can love something I wrote, then a lack of comments or kudos or hits can take me back to that feeling, as the joy drains to embarrassment. "When are you going to write something that's good?" Well, apparently not today.

I always wanted to write, always thought I'd keep trying until I one day would publish a novel, then a second, then onward. I gave up on that idea. Why would anybody pay for a book that nobody even wanted for free, right?

Writing fanfic was my way of still getting to write but lack of engagement makes it hard for me to keep motivated. It's nobody's fault but my own. These stupid insecurities I've carried for so long, that lingering feeling of embarrassment (nothing like signing your bag of garbage and handing it to someone as if they've even want it!)... I don't know how to get rid of them. Or at least to get them out of the way so that I can just enjoy writing again, with no expectations. Just write it and if I like it, then it doesn't matter if it gets no response.

I don't know. If you're still reading this, I wish I had some inspiring ending to put here, so if you struggle with something like this, it would leave you feeling uplifted and inspired.

This whole introspective thing kicked off with that anon comment, so I guess I'll end with this: if you ever wonder if your comment would matter, yes, it does. I don't know if that anon would ever read this post, but I wish they would know that, with that comment, it was like they'd reached back in time to younger!me, standing their holding their stupid book that had been handed back to me for the nth time. It was like somebody said the one thing I was hoping that somebody would:

I don't usually read this but I enjoyed it. It made me feel something. Thanks for sharing it.

Younger!me would've been really happy to hear that. 💖

[teebarnes]

Welcome Back, Sarge. | Bucky Barnes x Reader

| Word Count: 1.1k

| Summary: For Bucky Barnes, coming home after a big mission always required snuggling up to you.

| Warning(s): Fluff, Tik Tok, idk... just me writing too much fluffy content.

A/N: Thanks for reeeading, I hope you enjoy this one :) I've written too much of Bucky Barnes *sigh* 😏, Requests will be opening soon!

All likes, comments and reblogs are always super duper appreciated :)

Chuckling down the halls of the Avengers towers, you make your way to your quarters after training for a few hours. Bucky had been away on a mission with Steve and a few others, so you were stuck in the compound with nothing to do.

You had done nothing today; no missions and nothing fun happening on your agenda. All your friends were out doing their own thing, and you did not want to sit through another one of Tony's rants about how nano-tech was the new trend of the century. You weren't chained to the compound. You were free to do what you'd like; however, you felt more comfortable leaving with someone by your side and that someone was usually Bucky.

Like most days, when you were bored out of your mind with nothing better to do, you'd scroll through Tik Tok, the app that everyone is on these days. It had become your new addiction when you were left to babysit the Queen's boy one day. He and his friend MJ introduced you to Tik Tok; it is safe to say you spent most of your life on that app.

Usually, you and Bucky would cozy up after you had finished your nightly routines and watch a few until ungodly hours of the morning. The whole reason you'd sleep in Bucky's room most of the nights, because nobody could hear the pair of your laughter after watching another cringe teenage Tok. Maybe even creating a few of those with Bucky because you thought it would be funny.

Walking into your quarters, you blindly walk in, throwing your boxing straps onto your couch; you hear a tiny meow in front of you. You look down from your phone; a bright smile forms on your face when you see Alpine brushing up against your legs. "Oh! Alpine," you chuckle, throwing your phone onto your bed. You kneel down, gently picking up the pure white fur ball giving her a cuddle which she thoroughly enjoyed. "How'd you get in here" you giggled, walking to your bed so she could snuggle up against your pillows.

"Here you are", you smiled, putting Alpine on your bed. Her eyes gleaming at you as you continuously patted her. "Your dad isn't going to be very happy when he finds out you're in my room" you winked at Alpine, who softly meowed. "That's alright, I'll defend you", you chuckle, giving the small cat a kiss on the head. "All alright, keep my spot warm for me? I'll be right back" you gave Alpine another pat before walking off to take a shower.

Sometime later, you came out in fresh clothes feeling nice and rejuvenated. You smile, seeing Alpine softly sleep on top of your duvets. Grabbing your phone, you take a few photos of her before hopping into the bed. Alpine notices and scoots closer to sleep on top of your chest, "Alright, since Buck isn't here, I guess you'll be my Tik Tok watching partner tonight" you smiled, opening up the app.

Dozens of scrolls later and multiple giggling fits, your eyes were on the verge of closing, and the yawns were nearly constant. It was almost 11pm, and here you were watching 30-second videos with a cat. Your eyes dozed in and out, fighting with yourself to stay awake just to see Bucky, but unfortunately, the tiredness consumed you. Your phone softly fell from your hand to the side of you, hands supporting Alpine in a cuddle as you both slept underneath the blanket.

~

The quinjet lands and every dis-embarks, half of them ready to sleep in their own beds and others prepared to eat like there was no tomorrow. On the other hand, Bucky was excited to see you and Alpine; he'd missed you both dearly. Making his way to his quarters, he freshens himself up with a shower; before heading to dinner, he backtracks, realising that Alpine wasn't in his room.

A confused expression paves his face before walking out and down to the kitchen, "Hey have you guys seen Alpine?" Bucky looks at everyone; everyone at the table shakes their head. It wasn't unlike Alpine to be roaming around the compound at night, but she'd always be back in Bucky's room by midnight. Taking his plate of food Wanda had made for him, he slowly made his way around the floor, trying to find Alpine.

"Alp?" He looked in her usual spots.

"Alpine?" He softly called before stuffing his mouth with some food.

A slow panic starts to set in, which causes Bucky to hulk down his food as he searched for Alpine. Sam comes around the corner, walking towards his room.

"Hey, Sam! Have you seen Alpine?" Bucky asked. Sam started to laugh "have you asked y/n?" He questioned, and a light bulb went off in Bucky's head. Of course. He ran up down to your quarters, softly knocking on your door.

There was no answer; he opened the door quietly to see you fast asleep. He smiled, watching the peaceful rise and fall of your breaths. He walked in, closing the door, before hearing a slight purr. The closer he came, the louder the familiar purrs became. Watching over you, he saw as Alpine slept in your arms peacefully. With a small laugh through his nose, he grabbed his phone to take a quick photo of the two of you. Taking his slippers off, he opens up the duvet and slides in behind you. Trapping your waist in a warm, soft hug. Bucky sets a kiss on your head.

A soft meow alludes to Bucky, "Hey Alp. Was lookin' for ya." He smiled; Alpine softly made her way out of the sheets and took the spot on your soft couch. A slight groan escaped your mouth as your turn around, facing Bucky. "Hey, pretty girl", Bucky whispered, you were now half-asleep. "Welcome back, Sarge", you mumbled, scooting your body closer to Bucky. "M'back missed you too much. Plus, you stole my cat," he lightly chuckled, "didn't… she found her way into my room" you tiredly spoke, cuddling your beefy boyfriend.

Bucky squinted at Alpine, mouthing traitor to his own cat. "I heard that", you whispered with a smile before kissing Bucky's chin. "I know you did". Bucky cuddled you a bit closed to himself. It felt good to be back home with you in his arms. Yawning, Bucky slowly let sleep consume him. Something he had been looking forward to doing since he went off on his week-long mission.

"Goodnight, love you, Buck", you mumbled.

"Mmm I love you too y/n", he mumbled back with a smile, kissing your forehead. The two of you fell asleep snuggled up to each other.

Feel free to message me if you would like to be removed from my taglist <33

Tagging: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @livstilinski @morganwilliams @natyvwe @hiddlespiddles-blog @iwannabekilledtwice @leyannrae @honeybuckybarnes @bbl32 @in-my-body-bag @capsiclecevanss @instabull

Future Fics Taglist: @fairityretro @natyvwe @avengerbitch @elizabeth228 @aprilpari

Mistakes are my own, please do not repost, copy or translate my fics; all writing is my own.

<33

[doubleleoenergy]

Cool for the Summer

Even if they judge, fuck it, I'll do the time. I just wanna have some fun with you.

Pairing: parentsbestfriend!Steve Rogers x fem!reader x parentsbestfriend!Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, use of pet names (princess), mommy kink, daddy kink, mentions of alcohol, y/n is 18, slight size kink, threesome.

Words: 2700 (I’m so sorry, I got carried away)

Summary: One pair of drunken kisses turned to much more. Now at the biggest pool party, y/n is ready for a hot girl summer.

Notes: This is my submission for @agentofbarnes​‘s The Agency’s Writing Challenge. I chose to write for dadsbestfriends/momsbestfriend au, secret relationship, and Steve Rogers + Natasha Romanoff. This is the type of sandwich I’d love to be between. I apologize for being such a whore with this.

“Y/N, can you please grab the two bags of ice from the ice chest in the garage? We need to fill up the other coolers before we add the drinks.”

“Yes mom!” Y/N cried out to her mother, tossing a large flamingo floatie into their pool before heading towards the garage. It was their annual Summer pool party, the biggest party of the season for y/n’s parents. Her parents invited all their friends and family, including everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Y/N’s mother and father were both agents with S.H.I.E.L.D. and had been working with the Avengers team closely for years. She remembered visiting the tower when she was nine, a picture of her visit still hanging proudly in her bedroom. It had been years since she personally went to visit, but many of the team members visited her parents often. 

That included her super-secret lovers Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. 

It happened by complete chance last July. Her parents were on a mission for three weeks, leaving y/n alone to take care of their two dogs and to watch over the house. Of course, her parents were nervous to leave their eighteen-year-old daughter home alone for that long, asking many of their colleagues to stop in occasionally to check in on her. The Friday of their second week gone, y/n had gotten wine drunk, having snuck a bottle of her parents' expensive chardonnay from their wine cellar.

She was halfway through the bottle when they came, Steve and Natasha. They found her dancing to some pop song in the living room, her right hand holding up the bottle of wine to her lips. Steve and Natasha had grabbed the bottle from her hand, but not before she kissed them both; Steve first for a rough kiss and Nat last for a soft one.

Y/N didn’t remember anything the next day, but Steve and Nat showed up again to remind her. About 30 minutes after they had explained what happened the night before Y/N ended up with Nat’s head between her thighs and Steve’s cock in her mouth.

They had spent the next week before her parents came home together. Then afterwards, Steve and Nat told y/n that they had to keep what they had a secret, that no one would understand. They had all hung out a few times before y/n went off to college and then a few times during her college years when she was home on break.

The last time y/n saw Nat and Steve was during her Spring Break, two months ago, and she couldn’t wait to see them at the party. She had worn her skimpiest pink striped bikini for the occasion, ready to show off her hot-girl-summer body.

Y/N lifted one bag of ice on each shoulder, carrying it into the backyard and starting to fill the coolers while her father packed them with an assortment of beer, seltzers, soda, and water. “Honey, are you excited to see everyone now that you’re back from summer break?” Her father asked, wiping a few beads of sweat off his brow.

“Yeah, some more than others.” She muttered, shrugging her shoulders. After fixing up the coolers with her father, y/n helped her parents set out the snacks, decorate the backyard, and bring out the large speakers to play music.

It was already one o’clock when guests started to arrive, parking along their circle drive as well as up and down their street. Y/N was instructed by her father to wait by the back gate and greet the guests as they came in, giving each guest a cheap lei that her mom had ordered from Party City. 

Guest after guest, dozens of lei’s later, she spotted them. Nat and Steve drove together, of course, and they looked as striking as always. Nat was dressed in a blood red string bikini top, her cutoff shorts hanging off her hips as she walked. Steve looked incredibly toned in a white t-shirt that clung to his muscles, a pair of red board shorts hugging his thighs to match Nat’s bikini top.

Y/N’s eyes met both their gazes, her figure standing up straighter to accentuate her breasts. Nat and Steve’s eyes trailed up and down her body, Steve’s cock stirring in his shorts.

“Aloha Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff.” She purred; her voice sickly sweet like candy.

“It’s nice to see you again, y/n.” Steve mentioned casually, a large grin spreading across his features. The pair bent forward to receive their lei’s, y/n’s fingers trailing a little longer on each of their neck’s, her nails sending shivers down their spines.

“There’s plenty of drinks and food, and the pool is perfectly chilled. I might take a dip myself.” Y/N gave them a seductive wink before gesturing them in the gate so that she could continue to greet the guests.

Two hours in and the pool party was raging. Y/N’s parents mingled about with the guests, hopping from group to group. As the party continued, Steve and Nat’s eyes followed y/n as she spoke with guests, handed out drinks, and refilled the snacks on the picnic table. They watched the way her ass bounced in her bikini bottoms, how her hips swayed to the music as she danced with a group of friends, and the way her body looked soaking wet as she stepped out of the pool.

She knew what she was doing, trying to rile them up so they’d crack during the party. There were so many guests, what were the chances of anyone even noticing them if they went missing for a while? Y/N needed Steve and Natasha, bad, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get them.

Her body was still dripping wet from the pool, her hair caressing her face. She sauntered across the backyard to one of the coolers, digging her nimble fingers under the ice until she found what she was looking for. Pulling off the wrapper she revealed a red, white, and blue bomb pop, how fitting. Y/N met Steve’s gaze, sashaying her hips back and forth as she stalked towards them.

“Hi Captain, enjoying the view?” She questioned, tilting her head to look up at him. He had about a foot or more on her, making her crane her neck to meet his ocean blue eyes.

“I know I have. What about you, Nat?” He tilted his head to the left, eyes landing on Natasha.

“Definitely. What’cha got there, pretty girl?”

“Just a bomb pop. It’s so hot out, I needed to cool off.” Her lips finally meet the popsicle, engulfing the tip and swirling her tongue around it, a devilish look flashing in her eyes. Natasha clenches her thighs together, thinking of how good it would feel to have the woman’s lips between them.

Y/N teases the popsicle against her lips, pushing it deeper until she gags lightly, her gaze locked with Steve’s own as she does. The same noise she usually made around his cock, he almost pushed her to her knees right then and there. She pulled the popsicle out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the tip.

“You sure you don’t want some?” That was the last straw for Natasha, pulling the stick out of y/n’s hands before tossing the popsicle into the grass beside them. Natasha leans in close, her breath tickling y/n’s ear.

“Go to your room and wait on the bed. Now.” She commanded, pulling away from y/n and changing her expression as to not draw any attention to the throuple. Y/N nodded her head, her own expression flashing with excitement as she moved across the lawn and headed inside her home.

Her bedroom was up on the second floor, away from all the chaos downstairs. Only a few of the guests lingered inside, walking in and out of the first-floor bathroom, some leaning against the kitchen counter in conversation.

Y/N slipped silently up the steps, tiptoeing to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, stealing a quick glance at herself in the mirror. Her hair was slightly wild from her dip in the pool, her body glistening with a mix of sweat and pool water. Y/N walked over to the bed, her head resting against a pillow, her legs bent and open, waiting for her lovers to arrive.

Steve and Natasha made their way into the house ten minutes later, conversing politely with the few guests who still lingered inside, waiting until they walked out towards the rest of the attendees before making their way up the wooden staircase. Steve is the first to make it to the door, opening it and smiling at the sight of y/n splayed out before them.

“My my, princess. You sure know how to rile us both up. Couldn’t even behave until the end of the party you’re that desperate?” Steve tosses his shirt to the floor after Nat shuts and locks the door behind them, the redhead following suit as she started to undress as well.

“She just loves to tease, but she’ll pay for it now.” Nat stalked over to the bed, getting on her knees beside the edge and gesturing y/n with her fingers to join her. Steve stepped out of his board shorts last, his thick cock bouncing against his chest as he moved over to where Natasha was kneeling beside the bed, y/n getting on her knees beside her, still dressed in her bikini.

“Nat, baby, how about you help our princess undress while she keeps her mouth busy on my cock.” He commanded, stroking his length in his right hand. Natasha nodded her head, moving behind y/n and pulling at the string of her bikini top, letting it unravel and slide forward off her chest. 

Steve stepped forward, his cock slapping gently against y/n’s cheek. “Go on princess.” Y/N swallows thickly, the size of his cock always surprising her, no matter how many times she saw it. Her hand reached up to stroke his length, her tongue swirling around the tip, eliciting a groan from Steve’s lips.

Natasha busied herself by reaching over y/n’s back to knead and pinch at her perky breasts, y/n’s eyes fluttering shut as she took Steve’s cock into her mouth, her hand moving down to fondle with his balls. She bobbed her head back and forth, grinding her still clothed core against her carpet.

“Aw Steve look, our princess is getting needy.” Nat took a fistful of y/n’s hair into her hand, ripping her off Steve’s cock and tilting her back to make eye contact with her. “You know what to do, a pretty princess like you has to ask for what she wants.”

Y/N whined, bucking her hips up to draw attention to her bikini bottoms. “Please mommy, please touch my pussy.”

Nat hummed in response, releasing her hand from y/n’s hair, pushing her in the direction towards Steve’s cock once again. Y/N wastes no time, opening her mouth and looking up at Steve, her long eyelashes batting coyly. “Daddy, will you fuck my mouth while mommy plays with my pussy?” She asked sweetly.

Steve almost came immediately from her statement, his thumb sweeping lovingly across her lips before his hand moved to grip at her hair, looping it around his hand to lock her in place before sliding her mouth forward and back onto his cock.

Steve started to fuck her face slowly while Natasha moved her hand down to undo the strings of y/n’s bottoms, pulling them out from underneath her before she tossed them across the room. Her hands caress y/n’s hips as Steve moves in and out of her mouth, faster this time. Y/N’s saliva dripped from her mouth and onto the carpet as Natasha snaked her hand down to y/n’s folds, her fingers immediately covered in her slick.

Nat dipped one of her perfectly manicured fingers into her heat, y/n humming around Steve’s cock in response. She continued to work her finger in and out before adding another finger, Natasha’s lips trailing wet kisses down her neck.

“So wet, princess. You want your daddy to fuck your tight cunt?” Nat purred, adding a third finger into her soaking hole. Y/N couldn’t answer, her mouth stuffed full of Steve’s cock, her nose touching his pelvic bone. He held her down, y/n sputtering as tears welled in her eyes, watching her face turn red before he pulled her off abruptly, her body collapsing back against Natasha’s.

Y/N gasped for air, her saliva dripping from her mouth down her chin and bare breasts. Natasha’s fingers sped up inside y/n, her orgasm building fast. “Mommy, may I cum please?” She mewled, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

“Yes princess, cum now. Daddy’s waiting to fuck you.” Her orgasm ripped through her, her walls tightening around Natasha’s fingers as she fucked her through the pleasure. Slowly, her breathing slowed down again, and Natasha removed her fingers from her core. Nat opened her pouty lips, licking y/n’s slick off her fingers happily. “You taste so good, our pretty girl. Now I want you to get on the bed on all fours for daddy.”

Y/N followed the instructions, crawling up onto the bed and getting on her hands and knees, arching her back and sticking up her plump ass. Steve’s hand was soft against her ass cheek, fondling it in his hand as he rubbed his cock against her folds with his other hand. He braced one hand against her back, sliding his cock in slowly, savoring the feeling of her tight cunt swallowing him.

“Always so tight, princess. The prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that right, mommy?” Steve moved his cock slowly back out of her pussy before slamming in fast, causing y/n to fall forward as she cried out in pleasure.

“It is the prettiest.” Nat agreed, moving onto the bed until her thighs opened, her pussy on full display. She scooted her body until her thighs were on either side of y/n’s head, gripping her chin and pulling her head up to look at her. “Put that pretty mouth to use and make mommy cum.” She instructed, y/n’s tongue sticking out to lick a strip up to Natasha’s clit.

Natasha rested her weight on her elbows, watching y/n swirl her tongue around her clit, moaning at the sight. Steve continued to fuck into y/n, pushing her face deeper into Natasha’s pussy. His cock rocked fast into her, y/n humming with her face against Nat’s cunt.

“That’s it, princess. Let daddy fuck you into mommy’s pussy. You keep that up and you’re going to make me cum on your pretty tongue.” Natasha’s eyes met Steve. “You look so good daddy, so hot when you’re fucking our princess.”

Steve’s breathing was ragged, his hips slapping rapidly against y/n. “Cum on her tongue, mommy. Give our princess your sweet nectar.” Natasha bucked her pussy against her face, hitting her orgasm as y/n licked up all of Nat’s juices that flowed from her. Y/N continued to lap at Natasha, working her through her orgasm as she came on Steve’s cock, her walls clenching around him.

“Fuck, that’s it princess, make a mess on daddy’s cock. Gonna fill this pussy up princess, you deserve it for how happy you made mommy.” Steve thrust twice more before his hips stilled against her ass, groaning as he coated her walls with his cum. He stayed glued to her, pressing soft kisses to her spine as he relaxed his body, finally pulling out of her. His cock was wet with y/n’s cum, her pussy dripping their mixed cum onto the sheets.

“Did so good princess, let’s let mommy clean this up.” On cue, Natasha moved to take Steve’s place behind her, licking at her cunt to indulge in their mixed juices. Y/N’s body relaxed into the bed, letting Natasha clean her up.

Eventually, Natasha finished licking, pulling off to collapse next to y/n, her body spent as well from their escapades. Steve moved beside y/n, laying his head back against the pillow. 

“My beautiful girls, I love you both so much. Best pool party I’ve ever attended.”

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 4)

platonic! mori ougai x f!reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

author’s note: it’s port mafia time! ages are still one year younger than canon

also!! my 100 followers event still has 7 5 4 3  2  1 spot open for requests!! go check out this post for more info!! i’d like to get the whole prompt list done early so i have time to write them! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021)

another doctor? oh wait, another doctor and his daughter

as you expected, ranpo and fukuzawa have not let you go easy after what had happened a couple days prior (3 days ago to be exact)

one of them, or more often than not, the two of them would go visit the bakery at least twice a day

once in the morning right before opening, and the second time right before closing

if they could, they would visit around lunch time, but that was usually yosano

tbh you were thankful that yosano hasn’t been as overbearing as the other two but you knew she probably wanted to give you a break because holy shit are they extremely over protective

currently, it was the fourth day of being watched by the two eldest ada members, but there were no said ada members with you at the moment

and boy were you overjoyed

turns out, the ada has an important escort job for a government official or smth, and on top of that, fukuzawa has a bunch of meetings to attend

even ranpo has his hands full with a couple of difficult murder cases across the country

you’re lowkey, no highkey, worried bc you learned literally 3 days ago that ranpo doesn’t know how to ride the train 😀😀

you were worried abt them, there’s no question, but on the inside you were a bit relieved to which ranpo called you out on it immediately 

that led to the two of you going at each other’s throats for nearly half an hour

let’s just say fukuzawa scolded the two fo you for a while

going back to the present, it was around one pm and you had just finished sending a text message to both fukuzawa and ranpo (cause they insisted) when a little blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a red dress matching with a red bow in her hair and red shoes walked in

she immediately went to the glass case to look at the desserts displayed

as she looked around, you watched her at the corner of your eyes and a with a smile as you wiped down one of the tables

after wiping down the table, you quickly went to go wash your hands and you walked over and stood next to her

you bent slightly and smiled bigger as she stared at one of the treats in the glass

“is that the one you want?”

she nodded without looking away from the glass

you giggled before going to the back and placing the one she wanted on the plate and held it out to her

the blonde was honestly so confused bc one, no adult supervision, and two, there was no tell tale way to know that she had money

to you, she was an open book so when she looked at you, her face immediately read “but i have no money, or a parent...??”

you simply patted her head and pushed along to one of the nearby tables and pulled a chair for her

you did not regret anything when you saw the look on her face when you told her that it was on the house

“name’s elise!” “i’m (y/n)!”

:D

you sat with her for a while continuing to give her sweets she reminded you of ranpo in all honestly and talking abt random things

she mostly complained abt a “rintarou” though

speaking of which, when a man in a doctor’s coat came through the door near screaming “elise-chan! elise-chan!” you figured that was probably the rintarou she was complaining abt

you smiled as you watched the two interact

“elise-chan why would just disappear like that?!”

“i wanted to see rintarou cry”

“so mean!”

...their behavior was questionable but endearing ig

“rintarou” suddenly turned to you, thanking you for “taking care of his daughter bc she’s always getting into trouble”

*cue angry noises and face from elise*

he introduced himself as a “local neighborhood doctor”

you smelled bullshit but didn’t say anything bc he has been kind to you so far

he asked you how he could repay you and you were thinking that you can actually win something bc you’re not refusing an ada member oh you poor oblivious child but you were appalled when elise answered for you

it went like this

“is there anything i can repay you with for taking care of my dear elise-chan? perhaps paying for all the sweets she has eaten?”

“oh no! don’t worry abt that, it’s nothing! it was a pleasure getting to know—”

“let’s buy out all of her food!”

h u h

you knew she enjoyed your pastries and stuff but like w h a t

you inwardly sigh in relief when the doctor agreed with you that “that’s a bit much elise-chan” and you were thanking every deity out there when suddenly

she threw a temper tantrum

you watched in confusion and slight horror at the 180 of the sweet little girl you were talking to like 10 minutes ago

her guardian panicked slightly and tried to get her to calm down but ahaha no that didn’t happen

“WAHH rintarou!! but i want it!! (y/n)’s food is the best i’ve ever had!!”

“b-but elise-chan, we can’t just buy—”

“i’ll wear all the dresses i’ve ever rejected and more if we buy it out right now and keep buying sweets here forever”

“...deal”

your eyes twitch at the “innocent” smiles the two gave you after their “talk”

fast forward literally 5 minutes and you’ve already flipped the close sign on your door with note (saying you’re sold out) and you’re all over the place running around behind the counter trying to fit everything into boxes as the two are sitting on a nearby table lightly chatting

about 20-25, nearly 30 minutes later you finishing packing everything in the glass case

it was a lot

we’re literally talking about tiered cakes and dozens of batches of cookies, cupcakes, literally everything and anything

when the two notice you’re done they get up meet you by the register

“a-ano, you really don’t have to buy all of this...the total is going to be quite large...”

“no worries!”

honestly at this point, you kind of missed the chaotic calls from ranpo that happened like every half hour

you thought you were done being surprised for the day but next thing you know men in suits come into Sakura’s and begin to load the boxes into a black car

dealing with the detectives was already starting to be a handful and now you have to deal whoever the hell these two people where

quite frankly, you were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this

like-

who buys out a whole bakery?!

and who has the money to buy out a whole bakery?!

what kind of job could you possibly have?!

was this guy really just a doctor?!

right before the two leave you call out to them

“a-ah wait! i don’t think i ever caught your name!”

the two blink at you before eyeing each other

“mori ougai” 😄😄

you started smelling bad shits again 

>:/

it was a weird feeling

you felt something off but at the same time, you weren’t really afraid 

and with that the two left

you were already tired from this whole thing but you now get the rest of the day off

so i guess something worked out in your favor

until the next fricking day

again, ranpo and fukuzawa canceled out on you

you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not

and as soon as you thought you were going to have a normal business day, guess who walked through the doors

yeah that’s right

“the local neighborhood doctor” and his daughter

you froze before eyeing them with suspicion

if mori was amused, he didn’t show it, only giving you a smile

elise immediately left his side and practically leaped onto you making you cut yourself with the knife you were holding

well shit now you’re bleeding

it was only 7:15 in the morning; you had literally just opened

you were cursing every deity out there

you quickly grab a nearby and press it against your wound and scrambled around looking for the first aid kit you had nearby

“oh? (y/n)-kun are you bleeding?”

“(y/n) i’m sorry!”

“a-ah, no worries elise-chan”

you really need to stop spacing out bc next thing you know, the sign on your door is flipped to close again (along with the same note from yesterday explaining you’re sold out taped on the door) and you’re sitting at a table with elise in your lap and mori wrapping your hand in a bandage

“tsk tsk (y/n)-kun you need to be more careful...but it is elise-chan’s fault”

“die rintarou!”

“but no worries! it’s not that deep so you don’t need stitches”

“thank you, mori-san, but can i ask why you and elise-chan are here again? not that i mind...”

whether or not you were lying is up to you

“oh we’re here to buy out your stock again!”

“wait what-”

the fuck???

did they not just buy everything yesterday???

frozen, you stare at the man in front if you with said man giving you another “innocent” smile

this little shit

wait till you meet dazai

but i guess that’s why the sign on the door is flipped to close bc you don’t even remember flipping it yourself or taping the note from yesterday to the door

you spent the next half hour trying to convince the two over some tea (your signature one of course) that “no you don’t need to or should buy everything i have, you’re going to deprive the rest of my customers”

cough cough ranpo

like the day before, you were losing this argument

can you just never win?

as you were losing the argument (obviously) you realized that you don’t even know why they want to buy everything again

“mori-san, why do the two of you even want to buy everything in the first place?”

“ah it was elise-chan’s request of course! but i do admit, after trying some of your sweets myself, i grew quite attached! so did the rest of my subordinates after my precious elise-chan made them try it, not like they could refuse her or me; i am their boss after all (y/n)-kun.”

*cue confusion*

“subordinates? wait are those the guys from yesterday?? aren’t you a doctor...?”

“ah ex-doctor actually, i’m the leader of the port mafia”

...

“ah (y/n)-kun that’s quite the coughing fit you have going on, do you need water?”

if it wasn’t obvious, you choked on your tea and had quite the coughing fit; you were wheezing and everything making elise leave you lap and settling for dangling over mori’s shoulders

“...you’re kidding”

“im afraid im not”

this man confuses the hell out of you??

like-

w h y would he just say that, to you of all people

but it explains the bad shits you were smelling/feeling yesterday

“are you afraid?”

“being completely honest with you, mori-san, not really”

“and why is that?”

you simply shrug not really knowing the answer

you aren’t lying, you just aren’t

maybe bc yesterday, he seemed more like a doting parent than the boss of the most criminal organization of yokohama

yes, you’ve heard the rumors, obviously, but just saying, if the port mafia wanted to hurt you, you’d probably be dead in a ditch by now

and they haven’t really been a bother to you, they were more like background characters in your life

well

until yesterday of course

mori simply raises an eyebrow and a smile seemingly okay with your very vague answer

“why did you tell me that mori-san?”

the man only smiles a bit wider at you and this time, you’re the one raising an eyebrow

“just a feeling” 

yeah you were starting to smell bad shits again

“and besides! elise-chan seems quite fond of you (y/n)-kun! i wasn’t planning on doing anything to you in the first place, but even if i wanted to, i don’t think i could! i wouldn’t want to upset my dearest cute elise-chan”

“die rintarou!”

“that’s mean elise-chan!”

your eyes began to twitch in slight annoyance

cause istg the duality of this man—

this strange strange man

oh dearest you haven’t even met dazai yet

after that has been said and done, somehow you found yourself in front of stores being dragged by elise

how did you end up there you ask? i don’t know either so there’s nothing we can do abt that

eventually, you found yourself holding a bunch of shopping bags full of dresses and clothes of the sort

some of it your size and the others elise’s

...

“mori-san?”

“yes (y/n)-kun?”

“why do i have bags of clothing that are fit for me rather than elise?”

“oh that’s because elise refused to go without you and if you didn’t get anything!”

yeah

that makes perfect sense, of course

you could see why elise kept on complaining abt this guy

the two of you actually bonded over making fun of him

you have n o fear

actually, maybe just a little

the three of you were out for basically the entire day and you were exhausted

cause holy shit there was a lot of money wasted, shopping bags obtained, and walking involved

it was around 5 pm when the three of you were making it back to Sakura’s

along the way you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with mori

even if he was a questionable person to be having a pleasant conversation with, you enjoyed it nonetheless

you hoped that it makes it harder to get rid of you if he ever changed his mind but we don’t talk abt that

anywho

when the three of you arrived, you immediately dumped all the bags you were holding and went straight to work packaging everything for “the local neighborhood doctor”

before they left, mori agreed to not buy out all of your stock except for some occasions but instead settled ordering massive batches of a little bit of everything every few days

how that’s not the same as buying everything you won’t ever know

you were standing outside Sakura’s watching the two get into the car that had arrived when suddenly, mori turned to you

“ah (y/n)-kun, i know that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this, it wouldn’t be like you to, but just a reminder, it would probably be in your best interest not to let anything slip to anyone okay? we wouldn’t want any enemies using you against the port mafia. so take care of yourself hm? see you next time”

and bippity boppity boo just like that, they were gone

how that man managed to get your personality down in just like 10 hours you don’t want to know

and that’s basically the story of how you started making more food/bake goods to sell

true to his word, every few days, or sometimes consecutive days, mori called you and made a large order

and i mean large

on those days, someone from the port mafia would pick it up and then you get paid

thankfully, by increasing the amount of food you made, you always had enough to put out on display and to sell even after the large order

before doing that, on those days you didn’t have a large stock, someone by the name of edogawa ranpo would weep at your feet

he will deny this; after all, great detectives don’t do weeping

or so he says

and speaking of the detective, you never did tell him what had transpired the two days he and fukuzawa were absent on checking on you

but tbh, i even think ranpo could’ve deduct this one

you didn’t tell him bc you were afraid, no of course not that’s ridiculous mori, in elise’s words, was a loser

you didn’t tell him bc you knew he and fukuzawa would flip the fuck out

and that would be a major inconvenience to you

you didn’t see the point in telling them anyway

so whatever, it’s like it’ll be important

and if ranpo and fukuzawa noticed the abundant of bags near the door leading up to the staircase when they visited you at the end of the day they didn’t say anything

jk

of course one of them said smth

“ne (n/n)-chan since when did you like to buy a bunch of things; waste of money if you could just be using that money to make more food so you wouldn’t sell out right away and have food to feed me”

your eyes twitched

he could’ve worded that a little better but whatever

it is ranpo-san after all

“i just got carried away since i closed up early; you know it isn’t often i get to go shopping”

and if he smelled your bullshit he didn’t say anything

for real this time

that slightly concerns you ngl

anyways

let’s just say quite a few heads were turned when they saw their boss leading a bunch of lower level subordinates carrying many light pink boxes of different sizes to his office for the second time

oh and just another thing

*whispers* he was lying when elise made his other subordinates eat your food; they kept it all to themselves”

was that a ruse to help lead the revelation of his real occupation who knows

“(y/n)-kun is a very interesting person don’t you think so elise-chan?”

“quiet. i’m eating cake.”

“that’s so mean elise-chan!”

<<previous // next >>

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[icefire149]

30! Deancas, its cold so cas insists on a scarf instead of his tie

Char I'm so sorry this took a million years to write. Work and life kept me extremely busy, and then this lovely fic kept going in a different direction (which seems like a theme in every prompt I tackled). I really hope you enjoy this one, and have a lovely day :D

#30 - I love you mumbled into a scarf

Dean had his head buried so deep in thought about the impala’s winter maintenance that he almost missed the familiar foot steps breezing past in the garage. His eyebrows pressed together as he pulled his head out of the car. “Cas, buddy, where are you going?”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, and turned on his heels. “Oh, Dean.” His gaze nervously glanced around the garage. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you okay?” Dean leaned against the side of the impala now, and crossed his arms. “You look kinda spooked.”

Cas’ gaze flitted around the car. “Do you happen to have Jack with you?”

“Nah,” Dean answered, scratching the back of his neck. “He went on a grocery run with Sam about a half hour ago.”

“Oh,” Cas exhaled, and visibly relaxed some. “That’s good. He’ll enjoy that greatly.”

“Did you need him?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

Dean walked around the car and stopped closer to Cas. “I’m gonna need more than that. What’s up?”

“I need to go Christmas shopping.”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean blinked. “Are….are we celebrating Christmas this year?”

“I’d like to,” Castiel confessed. “I know you and Sam have your own traditions and this is your home, but I’d like to give Jack his first Christmas since….last year he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.” The word tumbled out of Dean’s mouth. He was going to need time to process every verbal hit Cas pummeled him with. In a daze, he pointed at the impala with his thumb. “Do you want a ride?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Cas answered genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He was still sorting Cas’ words when he found himself opening the impala’s door.

The angel slid into the front passenger seat, and they were off in the direction of the nearest shopping mall. It wasn’t until they hit their second red light that something finally clicked into place in his brain. “Is that why you tend to disappear around the holidays?” Turning, he kept his eyes on Cas long enough to see the twist in his expression.

“Maintaining customs, holiday traditions in this case are incredibly important to humans. I didn’t want to overstep or interfere.”

“You do realize I leave probably a dozen voice mails the closer it gets to Christmas, right?”

“Yeah, it’s quite irritating having my phone going off so often when I’m trying not to take from your time with Sam.”

“Cas,” Dean said exasperatedly. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but the blaring honk of the car behind him momentarily cut off his train of thought. When traffic settled so did Dean, “I already get enough of Sammy, and I’m sure he’s more than sick of me too, especially around the holidays.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah, I’ve been wanting you to join us….since forever. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pained tone in his voice that startled Dean down to his core. He shivered involuntarily. Glancing over at Cas, he saw that the angel had his eyes glued out the window. It bothered Dean not being able to pin down what was bothering Cas. It felt like so much more was hidden in that apology.

Turning back to the road, Dean reached a hand out blindly until it connected with the sleeve of Cas’ coat. “There’s nothing to be that upset about, your heart was in the right place.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it, but spoke with a note of levity. “And how many times do I gotta tell you that the bunker is your home too?”

“Once more, perhaps?”

Dean could feel the constriction in his chest loosen at the faint smile he could hear in Cas’ voice. He shook his head. “Giving Jack a real first Christmas is a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it months ago.”

“I think we’ve all been a bit too preoccupied.”

“Yeah.” Dean withdrew his hand and turned the car down the nearest exit. “You’re not wrong.” Basically since Jack was born they’ve been non-stop busy. The past few months in particular were miserable, for all of them.

“I know things aren’t one hundred percent safe with Michael still out there,” Cas started. “But I’m glad that you’ll be home for Christmas. I fear I would’ve ruined Jack’s holiday if you weren’t here.”

“Nah,” Dean argued, feeling his eyebrows pinch together. “My presence shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“Dean.” He could feel the angel’s stare sliding under his skin. “I left Jack with Sam so I could chase every whisper, blade, bullet, and trap that might lead to you. And from what I’ve gathered, Sam did much of the same passing Jack off on whoever was willing to keep an eye on him. That wasn’t fair to him, and I’m not proud of my behavior.”

“Hey,” Dean tried cutting through Cas’ frustration with himself. “You had no idea what Sam was gonna do.”

“Jack was never meant to be Sam’s responsibility. I-”

“You did the best you could at the time.” Cas didn’t answer, and Dean couldn’t risk taking his eyes off of traffic in that moment. “I mean it, and besides we’re well past that tunnel now. And we’re gonna give Jack a real Christmas.”

“Thank you.”

Dean hummed in response, and spotted what he was looking for: the sign for the mall. “Don’t tell Sammy, but-” He glanced at Cas’ curious expression. “since we found the bunker, I’ve always wanted to make it look like Christmas threw up all over the place.”

And to Dean’s genuine surprise, Cas laughed. It was happy and light, and when Dean turned for a heartbeat, the image of Cas with his head tilted back was branded into his memory. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “After growing up watching every Christmas special imaginable as a replacement for actually celebrating the holiday normally...I think it’s like making up for lost time if we go overboard.”

Another hearty laugh rocked Cas. “Makes logical sense to me.”

“Besides the kid will get a massive kick out of it.”

“I hope so,” Cas muttered, as the car came to a stop in the parking space.

“Oh trust me, he will,” Dean said throwing an arm behind the back of his seat and turning to face the angel. “Soooo….where to first?”

Cas observed their surroundings before letting his stare rest on Dean. “I’m not sure.”

“Well we can just check out whichever store is closest and work our way around. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled softly.

Dean’s hand rested on the door handle, but the movement next to him made him pause. He watched Cas dig a hand into his jacket pockets until he pulled out a long, dark blue scarf. “Traded the tie out for a new accessory?”

The angel snapped his hands to his chest in order to hold the scarf tightly. “It’s new,” he said defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dean grinned. “Did you go out of your way to buy something the same exact shade as your favorite tie?”

Cas’ eyes trailed down to the fabric between his fingers. “Maybe,” he answered after a short, meditative pause.

“It’s nice,” Dean said pushing his door open. “I was wondering where the tie was today.” He got out of the car and Cas quickly followed him on the other side.

Cas hooked the scarf behind his neck. “It felt redundant.” His expression quickly twisted in frustration as his hands failed to wrap the scarf in a way that would be comfortable.

“Need some help, buddy?”

The angel’s gaze pierced him like a knife, but that didn’t stop Dean from circling around the impala to stop directly in front of Cas. He held his hands out. “Just let….”

Cas’ hands fell to his sides, and the frustration slowly smoothed out of his face. His gaze locked onto Dean’s.

“-me help.” Dean started wrapping the scarf properly so Cas could duck the lower half of his face out of the chilly, winter air whenever he wanted.

There was something magnetic in Cas’ demeanor. As it circled and grew in his eyes, it filled Dean with a soft warmth that drew him a step closer. His skin burned, but on his brother’s life he couldn’t remember in that moment why he would normally never let himself get this close.

Dean could feel the puffs of Cas’ breath caressing his face, sending goosebumps across every inch of his skin. Despite this, he reached forward and finished laying and puffing the scarf up.

The apples of the angel’s cheek’s appeared pinker when Dean’s gaze slid up from the blue fabric that was still caught between his fingers. Cas’ bottom lip twitched for a second, and then he sunk his face into the scarf.

Thoughts slid back into Dean’s head. Louder than ever. The tips of his fingers clung a little tighter to the scarf. This feeling wasn’t new. Everything that had to do with Castiel, it was like a Gordian Knot. There was too much to sort and untangle. The fragile thing they had was too important to him to destroy completely. The solution was simple and staring him in the face, but he’d been teetering on that decision for a decade now.

Before he could move, a simple vibration resounded up his fingertips. And before Dean could ask what the angel had said, Cas broke the moment.

His hands slowly and shakily unhooked Dean’s grip, lowering them. The scarf slid down Cas’ face as he momentarily glanced around the parking lot. Dean quickly forgot about the brief indescribable look in the angel’s stare, when a glimpse of Cas’ teeth caught his eye.

The tension eased in Cas’ shoulders. He released Dean’s hands with a widening smile. “Let’s go. I’m not sure what would be suitable for a Christmas tree. Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, losing himself in this new moment. “We’ll have to go elsewhere and grab your truck, but I have several ideas.”

The prompt was from this list. I'm not expecting any more prompts from this one, but if there's one you really want me to try please ask! (and specify the prompt list).

[letarasstuff]

Panic, Love and Take Out

Summary: Midterms are hard on all of us, even on a genuis’ daughter

Warnings: Angst, but it’s a fluffy end, I promise 🥺, panic attack, mentions of school (lets admit, we all got  trauma from school), stress, language (I think there’s one swear word?)

Word count: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨

_______________________________-

“When you get home, you do your calculus homework first. Then you write this essay for history. After that you have to solve the problems from your chemistry class. Wait. It would be better if I do it after calculus”, (Y/N) talks to herself on her way home.

Midterms are around the door and the teachers think giving their students 30 hours worth of homework is the best way to help them study. Sadly they don’t see that it gives them nothing but stress pimples.

“I’m home!” she calls into the apartment while hanging up her coat. Like it occurs in 90% of all cases the teenager is greeted with silence. Her father has yet to come home.

After a little snack (a granola bar and an apple from the kitchen counter) she goes up into her room starting on her homework.

It’s not like all the things she does are due tomorrow or anytime soon. (Y/N) likes to get a head start on her work. So time won’t come and bite her in the end, because she procrastinated too much.

Though this attitude is something everyone envies her for, the downsides of it are just straight up destructive.

Since the amount of assignments doesn’t seem to shrink (Y/N) is constantly worrying about it. She can’t help it. It keeps her awake at night to know what she has to do and it bugs her that she lays awake and does nothing to help the situation.

“One down, only two left”, she mutters, putting her folder for calc away. It’s nearing dinner time, but (Y/N) doesn’t even dream about taking a break.

In her hyper focused state she doesn’t notice three important things:

1. The ever increasing clicking of her ball point pen

2. Her faster shaking leg

3. The front door opening and closing

“Honey, I’m home!” Spencer shouts. The absence of an answer makes his eyebrows furrow. His daughter should be home by now. Her shoes and jacket are neatly on the rack, indicating she must be there. Whenever he announces his arrival she is there to greet him.

“Hey honey, what are you doing there?” he asks, entering her room. The doctor stands in the doorway to take the picture in:

(Y/N) is bent over several notebooks. Textbooks litter the floor and an empty mug stands out between dozens of colored pens on her desk.

“Hi dad. Just getting some homework done. How was work?” She tries to make small talk, but it’s obvious that her focus lays elsewhere.

“It was fine, just a paper work day. When did you take a break? I was thinking about ordering dinner tonight. We could try this new chinese place Morgan recommended. We also can catch up on the newest episodes of Doctor Who. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good, but I have to get this done. Maybe I can join you later” (Y/N) excuses herself.

“Are you sure? It won’t hurt you to take a little time off. Actually your brain needs breaks between every 30 and 90 minutes in between study sessions. So I advise you to take one in order to avoid frustration because of exhaustion”, Spencer tries to convince her.

But the problem is that (Y/N) is her father’s daughter and can be as stubborn and ambitious as he is.

“I know that, dad. I promise it won’t take any longer until I’m finished. Just go ahead and order and begin watching.”

Defeated, the profiler leaves her room. He knows there is nothing he can do for now except for waiting. (Y/N) needs to come to him on her own.

But if she is honest with herself, she isn’t anywhere near being done. Her chemistry work takes longer than originally thought and her whole schedule is in delay. This only adds up on her already high amount of stress. The coffee she drank earlier to stay alert and awake doesn’t help the situation either.

What feels like only minutes later, which is actually half an hour, Spencer reappears in her doorway with a box of take out in his hands.

“Hey (Y/N), the food is here. Do you wanna join me on the sofa?” He asks gingerly. As her father he knows that it won’t take much now to make her explode. But this is exactly what happens.

“No dad, I don’t want to join you. Can’t you see that I’m busy? Not everybody has an IQ of 187 and just needs to read something once and can recite it like a damn robot. Now can you leave me alone for god’s sake?!”

Throughout her angry rant (Y/N) looks at her father with rueful eyes. He always knows that her outbursts, which are extremely rare for a teenager, are never meant to hurt him. It’s just the stress getting to her.

“Ok, honey. Just keep in mind where you can find me. I Love you and don’t overwork yourself.” He quickly closes the door. Spencer stood eye to eye with the worst scum on the planet, but his angry teenage daughter never fails to scare him at least a bit. So he tries to give her all the room she needs to get a clear head again.

(Y/N) on the other hand can’t feel any worse. Not only is she super antsy and stressed, now she also feels bad going off on her dad just like this. She knows he only wants to help her and she really is grateful for that, but in situations like this it’s difficult for her to keep her calm.

As the girl continues to write her essay, she realizes her father is right. Of course she is, she herself knows all the facts and stats there are about studying. Still she chooses to ignore them until it’s too late.

The longer she tries to form coherent sentences the trickier it gets. Which only frustrates her further, which only stresses her more.

“I’m so useless. I can’t even write about a subject I’m really interested in. I’m so dumb, god it hurts,” (Y/N) mumbles to herself. She can’t stop her train of thoughts from getting darker, all the stress now catching up to her mind.

In her state she loses the grip on her pen, letting it fall on the paper and splattering little droplets of ink. Her breath begins to get uneven, unfortunately a familiar feeling for (Y/N). At least she knows what to do.

The girl scrambles into the living room, where Spencer sits on the sofa like he told her earlier.

With shaking legs and a panic filled mind she looks at him, her eyes wide open. “D-dad. I-i-i” she doesn’t need to elaborate further. Not that she would be able to.

Sadly Spencer is experienced with the situation. He is quick to put her down in a chair, pressing her head between her legs. He draws with one hand circles on her back, the other is clenched in hers.

“Shh, (Y/N). Breath we me. We go in for six seconds, hold it for seven and let it go for eight. We can do it together” the doctor instructs her.

They do it until (Y/N)’s breathing is back under her control. She straightens her back again, still holding her dad’s hand in a deadbolt grip.

“I’m so-”

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for. What about we eat dinner and after that we do something repetitive. You really like doing these friendship bracelets, don’t you? I thought about it when I was shopping a few days ago and bought thread. Maybe you can teach me?”

At that his daughter begins to smile agreeing to the plan.

Not long after this, the small family sits next to each other. Old reruns of Doctor Who play in the background. Under softly told instructions Spencer ties his first bracelet. He knows that it is something little children do, but the repetitive pattern of movements help (Y/N) to calm fully down before she crashes down in exhaustion.

Like said before, it wasn’t her first panic attack. But she gets better.

“You know, you can always talk to me. I know school is stressing you out right now. But never forget, that your health, physically and mentally, is more important than any number on a piece of paper. And I will love you forever, nothing will ever change that”, he says after a time of silence. (Y/N) sighs.

“I know. It’s just, I want to do good. I want you to be proud of me”, she confesses. It’s hard for her to open up, but now seems like the perfect moment.

“I’m already proud of you. Hell, you could paint a pile of poop golden and I would be the proudest parent out there. Your accomplishments don’t define you as a human. They don’t determine your worth or are an indicator of your skills and knowledge. I love you, no matter what you do. I will always support you. I just want you to be happy and healthy.”

“Thanks dad. I love you too. Even though you are sometimes a real pain with your ‘know it better’ attitude”, she jokes and puts her head on her father’s shoulder. He slings his arm around her shoulders, making her snuggle into him further.

So the father and daughter sit there blissfully, basking in each other’s presence.

[consensualpredator3rd]

I had a girl do a write up post of our encounter for the subreddit where we met.

You can read her post here:

****

My first CNC- Success

Hey folks, I’m here to share my success story of my first CNC which took place on the 29th. If you’ve seen my previous posts, you know I have some experience with being taken and wanting to be taken.

I received a dozens messages from guys who wanted to rape me mercilessly, at a certain point my brain just shut off after answering about 3/4 guys. Well, one of the messages I received came from u/consensualpredator. No offense guys, but when you message me with names like james0994 I just can’t take it seriously. At any rate, I browsed his profile and seen myself he’s legit. And just like that, I found my predator.

Fast forward to the night of, I met him at a location we agreed to and waited. I arrived at 8, 30 minutes late since my Lyft canceled on me. He came out of his car shortly after and my first thought was “wow, he’s huge”, he has quite a tall stature compared to my 5”1 self. We entered our room and had some small talk, I sat in the bed while he brought in duffel bags (I wonder what’s in them?); he mentioned being a laid back guy but sometimes he just flips like a switch. “Right.” I say. I feel the fear settling in.

There was a brief moment of silence, and his switch flipped. He grabbed me by the ankles and proceeded to tear my clothes off. There was no time to think about my next moves, I was his now. He is going to rape me. First I’m undressed, slapped across the face, had a gag placed in my mouth and brought to my knees. He grabs me firmly by the hair and puts my mouth to use. I choke and gag, drooling all over my chin, and finally making it’s way to my breasts. This goes on for a few minutes, but I remain in my knees like a good girl as I’m being slapped, gagged and drooling like a mindless slut.

Next I’m forced back onto the bed, a little part of me hopes things will be easy. No, I was silly to believe such a thing.

“Hands and arms under your body”. I comply. He shuffles around the room door a second a removes a studded paddle. There was a lapse between the “oh shit” feeling and the paddle making one of the most painful contacts my ass has ever felt. My screaming, crying and begging wasn’t enough (yes, I cried real tears of pain which would soon be tears of fear). My ass was spanked with a few more objects before he decided he was going to use my next hole. My pussy. Not so bad right? Typically not, but if you know anything about u/consensualpredator then you know he will be using your holes for as long and however he pleases. After alternating between my mouth and cunt for nearly an hour, that only leaves one hole left. My ass of course, which has only been fucked once before previously. This is where my tears of fear really kicked in, something about this sadistic man assfucking me brought me to tears. But of course, this only encouraged him more.

“Where do you think I’m going to put my cock next?”

I answer, “my ass sir.” Tears are still coming down my face, I hear a bottle of lube being squeezed. More tears ensue.

“Please” I beg, “don’t.” But he doesn’t answer, he is already lubing my asshole and now, his dick.

“Here, hold this.” he passes me a little camera, “Put it to your face, this is my favorite part.” I hold it nervously, and make a last ditch effort to convince him not to take my ass. “And what do you think no and stop mean to me?”

It meant nothing, I was recording my own screams, tears, and pleading. “I love to see you cry.” He taunts. There was nothing I did that could to stop him, I was pinned under his weight as he took me for a few minutes. I couldn’t drop my hands to stop recording. There are consequences for that, and with u/consensualpredator, the punishments come swift. I try my best to record myself enduring this, I do mess up a few times and am slapped for my sloppy recording job. I don’t remember how long he was in my ass, but obviously it was far longer than I liked.

Eventually he stops, but it’s no relief and I’m spanked with more objects, and choked until I pass out. And yes, soon my pussy is put to work again. “You thought I was done? I’ve got you for hours.” u/consensualpredator will wear your holes completely out and force you to lookin his eyes as you suffer from being endlessly fucked into exhaustion for hours. You really to know the difference between being fucked hard and long until you beg (anyone can do that) and being fucked by u/consensualpredator? Forced intimacy. The slimy feeling you get from being under the weight of a grunting, sweating man who won’t stop forcing his lips on yours and looking into your eyes like you’re his personal sex slave. Either way, you’ll be begging.

You can try to look away from his pitiless eyes, but he’ll soon bring you back to reality when he yanks those pretty little locks and forces you to look into his face, “look at me, I want to watch you suffer.”

You will look, because have no choice. You will just lay there, under his weight being fucked like a blow up doll while he basks in your pain. You will be smothered with forceful kisses, gasping to breath between your defeated grunts and his eager tongue in your mouth. You may get a break to breathe, but only when he stops to spit in your mouth. It’s not the feeling of violence with this, rather feeling of being completely violated.

Well to wrap things up, he used my all of my hole multiple times. This time I just stopped crying because what’s the fucking point with this guy?

And at the end of I all I just curled up into a fetal position to reign it in. But don’t worry, I wasn’t made to cuddle myself the whole time ;) I also had the privilege of being waterboarded at the end which was very pleasurable experience. I also figured out one of his weakness which I won’t share cause I’m an angel and all that lol. I ended up leaving at 3am bruised and blissed out, earlier than usual for him since he typically keeps his victims until the hotel kicks them out. Anyways I could definitely say u/consensualpredator definitely knows how to give you the feelings of helplessness, and most important, make you cry, scream, and beg for mercy.

[merakiaes]

The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo​

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list. 

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want. 

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one. 

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week. 

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.  

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked. 

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him. 

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment. 

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​

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[literaryfic]

singer!cha-young & violonist!vincenzo au pt.1

don’t ask me why. i have no answer for you okay.

cha-young starts her career when she’s 5, appearing in a yogurt commercial. she’s not exactly a cute child, but she’s enthusiastic and disciplined.

her dad, the retired leader of a rock band who had a few hit songs in the 80s, is the one who introduces her to music.

she learns the piano & the guitar and takes singing lesson. her childhood is guided by auditions and music classes.

when she’s 12, a big agency contacts her and she signs a trainee contract with them. her dad is against it, but her mom and her win him over. she’ll be careful, they’ll look after her.

she starts training after school everyday, on the weekends too. she’s not really good at dance and she gets in trouble a lot but she’s the best singer in her age group, which makes up for it.

time passes by and the company starts to ask her to lose weight. her dance teacher comments on how big her thighs are. she’s asked if she ever thought about a nose job, or an eye surgery. those things happen a lot, and if she wants a sit at the big table, she’ll need to make some decisions.

her parents disagree, of course, but then her mother falls ill. she has to stop working and money becomes scarce. cha-young doesn’t want to bother them with her insignificant issues and so she starts a diet without any of them noticing. she needs to be thinner, maybe she’ll win a scholarship and her dad won’t need to work two jobs anymore.

her dad comes home drunk most nights, as if the sight of her mother made him sick. she was dying and her husband couldn’t even look at her anymore. cha-young doesn’t know who she hates more: her dad or herself for wishing she could escape home the same way he did every night.

her mom dies when she’s 15 and she stops taking lessons. she quits the company after a while too. she wins a scholarship for a good arts high school, known to hone musical talents. she meets new friends there, ones who don’t care about her proportions or her eyelids, and she’s happy in school.

her dad and her starts to argue more and more, until they stop talking. she fills the silence in her empty house with the music she writes.

after she graduates high school, she works two jobs to pay her way through college. all of her spare time is used composing, writing lyrics, singing. she posts covers on YouTube and she starts to gain some followers.

it’s not enough to make money but an independent label that’s been on the rise notices her. she signs with them after reading the contract carefully, when she’s 19. she choses her stage name, NOVA.

her first album is out by the time she’s 20 and she starts appearing on tv. her second album at 23 is her big break. her first hit song “Alone With You”, an upbeat tune contrasted by sad lyrics, stays on top of the charts for weeks, owing her the nickname of “monster rookie”.

people soon start to discover her easy-going, bubbly yet blunt personality and she starts going on more variety shows.

she’s loved and she’s found her sound, profound lyrics with innovative instrumentals, she plays with genres and concepts often, keeping her image fresh.

at 30, she’s one of the biggest South Korean solo act. she tours the world, sells album, holds events for her fans, travels. she doesn’t have to think about money anymore. she lives in a luxurious apartment in the centre of Seoul.

she’s learned that not everyone is going to love her. she’s used to dealing with virulent anti-fans, stalkers and paparazzi.

she has everything her 15 year old self dreamt of, an amazing career and devoted fans, a name people recognise and a wardrobe bigger than their previous living room. yet, she can’t seem to fill the emptiness inside of her.

she calls her dad once a year, for the new year. he still lives in their old house, refusing to move into the one she bought just for him. he teaches guitar to kids at the community center in their neighbourhood. her anger doesn’t seem to fade with the years.

she almost looses everything when her assistant, jung jun woo, leaks the fact that she’s had an abortion after she rejects him.

she’d been dating an actor a few years ago, and they had had an accident. she’d noticed too late that she missed her period since it was irregular and had to get an abortion. she didn’t think any of it now, there’s nothing wrong with a woman making this choice and she wasn’t ready to become a mother. she’d never once regretted it in the past.

however, South Korea’s entertainment industry was not a kind one, and a news like that would destroy her clean, quirky girl-next-door image she’d built over the years. and it did.

she’d never expected jun woo to betray her. he was part of her management team, one of her assistants. he’d always been cute if not a little clingy.

he’d confessed his feelings for her a few weeks back, claiming that he knew they were made for each other and that he would do everything for her and she’d laughed in his face. she hadn’t meant to sound mean or insensitive, she had thought it was a prank he was pulling on her.

turns out it wasn’t, and he had leaked this “abortion gate” to dispatch to get get back at her.

her label had released a vague statement, about “a difficult time in her life”, urging people to stop looking into “her private medical history”.

trashy tabloids and online blogs had had a field day. some people even started a petition to remove her from the industry. the news quickly turned into a social discourse when feminist orgs stood up for her. everyone was talking about it, some claiming she was a slut, others turning her into a symbol for women’s rights.

she felt like neither, it had been too long since she’d gotten some to qualify as a slut, and her label would have never let her discuss politics publicly.

she’d lost dozens of endorsements and deals and had officially decided to “focus on her health away from the spotlight” for a while (another statement from her label)

officially on her first hiatus ever, cha-young was lost. every time she tried to write, nothing came out. it would’ve been the perfect time to work on a new album but it seemed nothing worked in her favour as of late.

it’s 6 am when her father calls her. the last she’d heard of him was when the scandal broke out and he’d sent a vague supportive message to which she had responded “thanks, dad”. it was unusual for him to call, especially so early (or late).

she picks up the phone the second times he calls. “hello?” “hello, do you know the owner of this phone?” the man on the other side of the line is definitely not her father and he sounds rather annoyed. “yes, i’m this person’s daughter.” “great, can you come pick him up from my hotel room?” “your hotel room? is he okay?” “he should be. we drank too much and i have to vacate the room before 8. can you come or not?” “yes.” “I’ll text you the address from his phone.” is the last thing he says before hanging up. what a rude man.

why was her father drunk in hotel room with this rude stranger and why was she the one having to pick him up?

she doesn’t want to wake up her manager at this hour, and so she decides to go on her own. the hotel isn’t too far, a mere 15 minute drive, and soon enough she’s knocking on the door of a very expensive hotel suit, definitely not what one of her father’s friends could afford. who the hell was this guy?

she definitely did not expect Vincenzo Cassano, renowned world class violinist, to be the one opening the door.

[rpgsandbox]

Part homage, all farce, the AWFULLY CHEERFUL ENGINE! is an irreverent, affectionate parody of pop-culture tropes and a love-letter to 80s roleplaying games in a new, modern comic-book sized format! It’s a wacky roleplaying game of action comedy!

       Hardcover collector's omnibus, softcover rules and adventures, blank ID cards, monster cards, hero role cards, VTT tokens

Are you a fan of the Ghostbusters RPG from the 1980s? Danger Mouse or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Bill & Ted or Rick & Morty? Back to the Future, Indiana Jones, Dracula, or sci-fi adventures on the final frontier? Do you enjoy chortling at TV tropes or chuckling at pop-culture parodies? Then the Awfully Cheerful Engine! is here for you!

ACE! is brought to you by Russ 'Morrus' Morrissey (EN World, WOIN, Judge Dredd & The Worlds of 2000 AD), Dave Chapman (Doctor Who, Star Trek Adventures), and Marc Langworthy (Hellboy, Judge Dredd & The Worlds of 2000 AD). With a foreword by Sandy Petersen, co-author of the Ghostbusters RPG!

ACE! is designed for everybody! From talking animals to pulp heroes to eldritch horrors, kids and adults alike will find adventures to love with the Awfully Cheerful Engine!

This tabletop roleplaying game, which we’re calling ACE! with an exclamation point, is one of fast, cinematic, action comedy. To play you need a handful of six-sided dice, a pen, and some paper. Each player plays one Hero, except for one player who takes the role of the Director.

Think of ACE! as an irreverent, fun-packed movie. You might play as ghost hunters in New York City, a band of plucky galactic guardians, vampire slayers, or soldiers of fortune in the Los Angeles underground. Heck, you might even be cartoon animals. Good grief!

This is a multi-dimensional, time-hopping, genre-mashing, pan-galactic portal into any type of adventure you can imagine! Want to play in a fantasy world full of elves and orcs? Crew a starship as it explores the galaxy? Hunt vampires in Victorian London? Play as animal detectives, robot cowboys, wizards, ninjas, or time traveling bounty hunters?

The only limit is your imagination, and the requirement that you have fun.

This Kickstarter is for the full five-book set.

What? Five books, you say? Fear not -- they're pretty small books! They include the core rules, and four hilarious genre-hopping adventures. Each book is about 30 pages long. Except for one which is longer, but we wrote 'BUMPER SIZE ISSUE' on the front of that, so it's OK. If you’ve ever held a comic-book in your hand, the Awfully Cheerful Engine! will feel very familiar!

The core rulebook is just 30 pages in a bright, colorful comic-book sized format. We even gave it an issue number, like a comic-book! After that, each 'issue' is a standalone adventure, designed for one-shots or short campaigns with new characters each time. One week you might be fighting ghosts on the streets of Manhattan, and the next you might be exploring the frontiers of space in your trusty starship!

You don't have to play them all, or in order. The standalone format means you can fit them in whenever and however you feel like it. GM can't make your regular game? Go bust some ghosts instead! Pickup game at a convention? Investigate the strange goings-on in a small American town in the 1980s. Running a livestream? Board a starship and fight the Kulkan Empire! Play one of them, some of them, or all of them! It's up to you!

                Are they comics? Or are they RPGs? (They're RPGs)

ACE #1: Introducing the Awfully Cheerful Engine! With a foreword by Ghostbusters RPG author Sandy Petersen, this book tells you the rules, how to create your Heroes, and gives you a bunch of Extras (NPCs & monsters) to use. By Russ Morrissey.

ACE #2: Spirits of Manhattan. Strap on your Anti-Plasm Particle Thrower, grab your Electromagnetic Field Detector, and jump into your Ghostmobile. New York City needs your help! By Dave Chapman and Russ Morrissey.

ACE #3: Montana Drones & The Raiders of the Cutty Sark. At the request of Army Intelligence, Montana Drones and her team travel the globe in search of lost or hidden artefacts, often exploring dangerous sites and racing against hostile enemy agents to keep the objects of their quests from falling into the wrong hands. Striking locations, exciting chases, dangerous enemies and monotonous classroom lectures await! By Marc Langworthy.

ACE #4: Strange Science. Welcome to Wilden Falls, your average American town in the heart of the country. Surrounded by trees, nature, and there’s a wonderful waterfall that brings the tourists. It’s a quaint little town. Until weird things start happening at the local research facility, people go missing, and there’s a sudden influx of fitness nuts in the town. That’s before we get to the time travel, bodysnatching, and portals to other dimensions. Maybe ‘strange’ isn’t strong enough a word for it! By Dave Chapman.

ACE #5: Beam Me Up! These are the voyages of the starship FSS Brazen. Its continuing mission: to recklessly go where plenty of people have probably been before… and hope a major interstellar incident isn’t sparked in the process. In this highly illogical adventure for the ACE! roleplaying game, you’ll explore frontiers you never thought you had. By Marc Langworthy.

We give you four adventures to start with, and we have plans for more, but there's also a free compatibility license so anybody can write and publish material powered by the Awfully Cheerful Engine!

Hardy Hobbit. Teenage Samurai. Cheerful Stuntman. Clumsy Vampire. Squeamish Ghost. Who knew you could say so much in just two words? The possibilities are endless.

It’s not just Awfully Cheerful! It’s fast and fun, too!

You won’t get bogged down in endless rules and character sheets that look like tax forms. Your ACE! ID Card contains everything you need to know, and it’s only about the size of a credit card! But don’t try to spend it. It’s not a real credit card. Honestly, we tried, and it didn't end well.

You can download blank ID cards from our website. Don’t worry, there’s a printer-friendly black-and-white version too!

Making your Hero takes about five minutes. And that includes a coffee break.

You can choose from an array of talking animals, alien and fantasy species, and occupations from a bunch of genres. Play a cat, a crow, or a turtle. An alien, an elf, a robot, or a vampire. A knight, a pirate, or a wizard. An astronaut, a burglar, a reporter, or a spy. The core book has dozens of Roles to get you started with, and each adventure book introduces more!

Even better, you can already use our online character builder and make a character in about 30 seconds! It's so quick! Give it a try! And if you felt like sharing your Hero on Twitter with the hashtag #awfullycheerful and a link to this page, well, we'd be most awfully grateful!

                                       Build your Hero online!

Alternatively, each adventure comes with its own selection of pre-generated characters. If you don't want to make your own characters, you can simply use those - perfect for one-shots or new players!

Download the pre-gens for all four adventures from the official website!

In A.C.E! each Hero (that's you!) has a Role. Your Role gives you a special ability only you can use. Here's a quick look at some of the Roles you can play!

Talking animals like Ape, Cat, Crow, Dog, Kangaroo, and Turtle.

Species like Alien, Dwarf, Elf, Ghost, Goblin, Golem, Hobbit, Monster, Ogre, Robot, Vampire, and Werewolf.

Fantasy roles like Alchemist, Assassin, Barbarian, Cleric, Druid, Knight, Ninja, Outlaw, Pirate, Ranger, Samurai, Slayer, and Wizard.

Occupations like Actor, Archeologist, Astronaut, Athlete, Bounty Hunter, Boxer, Burglar, Chef, Con Artist, Cowboy, Detective, Doctor, Engineer, Gambler, Gangster, Hacker, Hermit, Inventor, Musician, Pilot, Priest, Professor, Reporter, Scientist, Smuggler, Soldier, Spy, Student, and Stuntman.

Even a couple of superheroes like Speedster and Vigilante!

Yep, you can play a Ghost. You don’t take damage unless its from a holy source or some special sci-fi ecto-gadget. But you also can’t pick things up. So there’s that.

Each of the adventures adds some more Roles (or recommends some old ones)!

Spirits of Manhattan adds Ghost, Demonologist, Doctor, Engineer, Exorcist, Inventor, Priest, Professor, Scientist, and Student.

Raiders of the Cutty Sark adds Botanist, Double-Agent, Socialite, and Witch.

Strange Science adds Brain, Cheerleader, Outsider, Protector, Radio Presenter, and Tycoon.

Beam Me Up adds Captain, Chief Engineer, Comms, Hologram, Gunner, Counsellor, and Pilot.

ACE! is a pretty fast, light game. If you played 1986's Ghostbusters RPG, you'll see the influence immediately.

Stats! The AWFULLY CHEERFUL ENGINE! is a d6 dice pool system*. You have four Stats -- Smarts, Moves, Style, and Brawn. If you have a Moves score of 3, you roll three six-sided dice when you try to jump a motorcycle over a ravine. If you roll high enough, you succeed. It's pretty simple!

Focuses! For each Stat you also have a Focus. For Smarts it might be a science, or chess, or history. For Style it might be bluffing, singing, or fashion, and for Brawn it might be brawling or swimming. You can choose from plenty of focuses. Foci. Focuses. Whatever.  Anyway, if the thing you're trying to do relates to a Focus, you get to roll an extra two dice.

Trait! You choose a trait, like Angry or Cheerful or Rebellious or Despondent. This, combined with your Role, makes you a Gullible Vampire, a Brave Turtle, or a Squeamish Scientist.

Karma! Finally, you have a bunch of Karma points. These can be spent for extra dice or to absorb damage from attacks, and they're recovered by using your trait.

*Fun fact -- did you know that 1986's Ghostbusters RPG, by Sandy Petersen, Lynn Willis and Greg Stafford, was the first ever dice pool RPG? Also Sandy Petersen has written an awesome foreword for the AWFULLY CHEERFUL ENGINE!

What, I hear you ask, is a CALAMITY DIE?

The Calamity Die is how you find out that your friends really aren't your friends. You see, when you make a roll, one of those dice is a different color, and is called the Calamity Die. And if your roll fails, and also the Calamity Die rolls a 1, your so-called 'friends' decide what happens to you. It won't kill you or anything, but...

Well, we'll leave that thought with you.

                             Nooooo! And it was all going so well!

Kickstarter campaign ends: Fri, June 18 2021 10:00 PM BST

Website: [Awfully Cheerful Engine] [EN Publishing] [facebook] [twitter]