#does that ever happen to you like you’ll go through your unfinished stuff and some you barely like that you used to love and the ones you

[sourstars]

i’m looking through my drafts and my docs and i... hate them all

[gamma-squad]

The Ultimate Gamma Squad Fic Rec List

From Angst to Fluff to Reveals, fanfiction will make you cry :D

Adrinette

Double Blind Date -  Alya knows Ladybug and Chat Noir's identities, and now that they're finally in the same city at the same time, she is determined to get them to meet.

The Bravery of Adrien Agreste -  adrien ends up living on the streets for a while, it's extremely well written and has also adrien marrying marinette to emancipate from his father.  There's also a sequel, the Bravery of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, which the author is currently writing. 

Lovelace -  Convinced that he's unlovable, Adrien is quickly thrown for a loop when Marinette confesses her love for him out of the blue. An akumatization and reveal later, he changes his mind about being unlovable.

The Bravery of Marinette Dupain-Cheng -  After the defeat of Hawkmoth, Adrien and Marinette are strangers to each other, but somehow… married? - Sequel to The Bravery of Adrien Agreste

Soulmate Survey -  A brand new dating app hits the scene, giving you a percentage of how well you match with someone else. And it is taking the world, and certain teenagers, by storm.

Cats are Colorblind! - Reverse Crush AU - Ladynoir/Adrinette - Adrien is blind but he can... feel Marinette’s features? Which happen to be the same ones as Ladybugs (Reveal)

have the stars blotted out in a brilliant morse code - Fluffy Adrinette moments and reveal? beautiful

Strength - Crack/Fluff oneshot with a reveal

Marry That Girl -  Adrien finds Marinette’s plans for their wedding and just falls

League of Losers - Slightly Different Superhero AU with crack angst and fluff

You, Me & A Little Bit of the Future - future ladynoir asks adrinette to babysit and everythings cute

Practice Makes Purr-fect - Adrinette/Ladynoir + Reveal and kisses (all you need in life <3)

wish you were here - demon au, adrien is just really confused

The Moving Statue - AKDJSSD - Adrinette + Reveal

Operation Mega-Sleepover - Adrinette Sleepover Shenanigans

Butt Dial - Marinette butt dials Adrien and all his plans for a normal afternoon jumped out the window (Reveal)

The Wedding Plans of Marinette Dupain-Cheng - Adrien finds Marinette’s wedding guest list for their future wedding and he’s like ‘WHERE AM I?’ (boy you’re the groom)

Plagg Meets Marinette

i hope that fate will forgive us (for tempting the sea) - mermaid royalty au and arranged marriages - Felix x Bridgette and Adrinette - also the author is v nice <33

The Player and the Princess - Childhood friends turned enemies turned lovers <3

take me back- By marvelousmsmol

By Design - By marvelousmsmol (Still going!)

Graine de toi - By komorebirei (Still going? I’m not sure)

Smoulder - By midnightstarlightwrites (this is adorable and full of ships! Also, finished 36/36).

Lucky Us - By PrincessKitty1 (Sigh, it’s too cute! Finished 30/30).

Facades -   AU with dark!Adrien. Has even a short sequel (lovesquare but mainly centered around the two main ships)

 Kiss shy - By emsylcatac (This is a great one-shot!)

i don't have a latte but give me a shot - By marvelousmsmol (The one-shot, i wish was a series).

 Under Lock and Key - By EdenDaphne, Maerynn (the antics! Finish 10/10)

The Woman With Blue Eyes - By ghostgirl19 (One-shot!)

 Friends By Day, Enemies By Night - By Dristi5683 (This is 49/49, there’s also marichat and angst ladynoir)

A Bride for the Prince - by ChocoluckChipz (Totally_lucky) and TheNovelArtist

Penumbra - Adrienette hurt comfort, rated M for serious topics like implied noncon as a minor

keep me in your thoughts - adrienette soulmate au

Passionfruit- Adrienette soulmate au series with 3 parts

a chat in disneyland - pretty self explanatory, chat noir antics and slightly traumatized workers, everythings great

Finding Diamonds in the Rough -  A prince escaping the confines of his castle. A girl who saves a naive visitor. The connection built between these two of different worlds. Welcome to another Arabian night.

Out of Your Hair -  Adrien wants to support Kitty Section during their first large concert in the park, but dad says no. So of course there’s only one way this can go

Infatuation - Adrinette childhood enemies to ‘I hate you but i seriously want to kiss you’

Blindsided - Adrinette/Ladynoir - Ladybug gets hit by an akuma and goes blind but hey! Adrien/Chat Noir is literally the most amazing person ever and that helps (Reveal)

Just a Friendly Game Night -  The four teenagers arrange a game night at Marinette’s house. What could go wrong

Just Best Friends -  The sequel to ‘Just a Friendly Game Night’ where the teenagers deal with what went wrong

We’ve Got It Covered -  Marinette needs to create a concept album cover design for Jagged Stone, but when she can’t get anything, the stress builds…

Le Prix du Silence -   this is in French, by Etoile-lead-Sama, but it's so worth google translating! Especially her inverted umbrella scene where Marinette gives the umbrella back to Adrien because she wants to rid her feelings for him and in that moment he realises that he's in love with her…  *heartbreak* but it's all wonderful and her slow burn is exceptional

Shop, Bake, Eat... - Crack, mature humor and content

Having a Ball - Adrien and Marinette attend a Victorian ball without recognizing each other.

In Which Adrien Agreste Butt Dials Ladybug - Based on NY Special, what if Adrien kept the remote to the cat toy in his back pocket?

The Jacket - Marinette gives a black jacket to Adrien and he thinks she's figured him out. 

Stuck In A Bakery (With You) -  during the pandemic, Adrien gets stuck in the bakery with Marinette and family. 

MariChat:

Chat Got Your Back - Lila I don’t like you and neither does Chat

Burgundy and Blush -  Marinette needs a date for the dance, and Chat Noir is happy to help. But can the two teens in denial make it through the night without catching feelings?

The Trouble With Kissing Boys -  When an akuma handcuffs Chat Noir and Marinette together, true feelings are revealed… but only to get the cuffs off. Really

double jeu -  An injured Chat Noir leads to a frantic Marinette and frequent midnight visits neither of them had expected to get used to.

Lace or Leather - Sequel to Burgundy and Blush

Stand-In Journalist - MariChat being besties

spark - marichat dating app shenanigans

Forget-Me-Not  -  Marinette looses her memories a little bit (unfinished)

Jealousy - Onesided reveal and then it turns into a love confession and a reveal

When Duty and Desire Meet - By EdenDaphne, midnightstarlightwrites. (Still going! Its so romantic, the yellow rose hits me the most)

Selfless - By ghostgirl19 ( I wish this fic was still going but it’s not! It’s discontinued!! T~T)

The Cat, the Bell, and the Wardrobe (Malfunction) - ChocoluckChipz (Totally_lucky), Eizabet, KryallaOrchid, Maerynn, midnightstarlightwrites. (I know the embracement... It’s also a one-shot!)

The Wingman Visits - By NiuNiu. (This is completed with 16/16 and rated mature!).

I Won’t Hold You Back - THE BEST PROM FIC YOU’LL EVER READ. Adrien invites Mari to prom. In which Adrien Awkward Awkward Awkward Athanase  Agreste makes an appearance. 

A Gamer’s Pride - No miraculous but they’re video game partners and they hate each other but they like each other and HHHHHHHH

Diamonds never leave you... men do! - Marinette the cop and Chat Noir the criminal (they’re dating <3)

Kiss and Dash -  It starts of when Marinette kisses Adrien on a dare and runs off but it really spirals out of control when Chat Noir takes revenge with his own kiss and dash. Do all people kiss the same way? Adrienette/Marichat/Ladynoir/Ladrien. - I THINK I ASCENDED WHILE READING THE FIRST CHAPTER

No Longer Running From -  After an Akuma attack, Marinette runs off in order to avoid Chat Noir, but she didn’t count on him being so willing to come after her.

Chat Blanc - Chat Blanc fights with reveals and Adrien being a good person even when akumatized

Worries - Chat is very concerned for the well-being of Marinette who he has noticed, decides to run into akuma battles in a very much not safe way

Rooftop Tears and Gentle Hugs [Vent] -  Marinette goes mute for a week, and everybody is worried. It seems only a concerned Chat is the one to finally reach her.

Tendencies - (series) lots of good writing starting out as marichat and then a reveal

Just Chatting -  Chat crashes onto Marinette's balcony and continues to visit. Marinette finds herself impulsively getting closer to him, and then everything goes to shit.

Reves de Noir et Blanc - LISTEN. MARICHAT HURT/COMFORT AFTER A NIGHTMARE MAKES ME FEEL CERTAIN THINGS

Physical Touch - Chat Noir, my amazing child, is touch starved. Marinette is happy to help with some cuddles

It’s Okay to Cry - THE SUMMARY ALONE GOT ME FEELING SOME STUFF LET MARINETTE SHOW EMOTION -  Marinette feels the burden of not letting her negative emotions show, since Ladybug cannot let herself be akumatized, no matter what. A cat is there to let her vent.

heartstrings - HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA - they frggin kiss and its dramatic and teenage drama and romace 

Crushed - Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.  (Reveal)

Every Heartbeat: A Marichat May 2021 Story:  -   Reeling from a brutally difficult day, Marinette finds her life becomes amazingly complicated after impulsively inviting Chat Noir to spend the evening with her. But when the suave feline begins to weave his way into her heart, she realizes rather quickly just how conflicted her feelings for her partner truly are.

A Roll of the Dice - AVERT YOUR EYES INNOCENT CHILDREN - mature (obviously) Alya gives Marinette an adult dice set and at night time, Chat Noir dares her to use it. 

tell me something i don’t know - the infamous marichat soulmate au by the beloved carpisuns

Trading (Momentary) Burdens - UM. YOU HAD ON RIGHT?? I AM SAD??- Ladybug gets hurt mid-fight and Chat has to turn into Misterbug to save her

Miraculous Dupont -  Marinette finds herself attacked by Chat Blanc, an akuma at the orders of Hawkmoth. But before the akuma can do any damage, she's saved by Chat Noir, a superhero who is fighting the akumas. Chat Noir senses something in her and takes her to the magical school he attends, Miraculous Dupont, where Master Fu, the head teacher, agrees that she has potential to be a Miraculous holder. So Marinette is thrown into a world of hidden identities, akuma fights and mysteries and ends up by discovering that this whole world wasn't that unknown to her to start with, that the boy behind the mask, of whom she desperately falls in love, wasn't a stranger from her too, and it's all connected to two lucky charms, a seal and a mysterious magical potion she (and her friends) should never have been exposed to...

Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright -  chat noir gives the tiger miraculous to marinette. I love her concept of the tiger miraculous, so cool!

Terror on La Seine - Villains weren't supposed to help when there are others in need. But can Hawk Moth truly stand aside and do nothing? Especially when a young woman he knows personally is in danger? TW: implied trafficking

Madness Within -  If you want slowburn, feral Chat Noir and dark themes this is a great place to start and I’m super excited for what’s to come. Very highly recommend

you came to me with gold and i mended the pieces -  Adrien gets into a really ugly argument with his father, and as a result the poor boy gets a slap right across the face. In a daze, he runs away from home, transforms, and decides to seek comfort in a really close friend of his.

I’ll Be Your (Wing)Man -  When Chat Noir finds Marinette sighing over her failed love life, he decides to help her get the boy of her dreams. Nothing can go wrong here. Absolutely nothing.

The Tendencies Series -  HIGHLY RECOMMEND and will sure to keep you busy for a while

LadyNoir:

A Summer Treat - LadyNoir Icecream date in Shanghai and lovestruck adrien

TKO - LadyNoir workouts and they KISS

Doctor, Doctor, Give me The News (Your Lips Is The Only Cure I Could Use) -   Plagg’s sick, Adrien’s in love, Shit Happens™ 

 Of Yellows, Pinks and Blues - New York Special LadyNoir but with ROSES 

Long Live - LadyNoir based on the song <3

Letters of Lovers - LadyNoir writing down all their feelings on letters BUT THEN AT THE END THEY READ IT + Reveal

A Bad Dream - Ladybug tells Chat about a ‘dream’ where he was Chat Blanc (spoiler alert: it wasn’t a dream)

The Bug and Cat Show - ADKLJSASD READ THIS

You’re My Sight - Adrien is blind but with the miraculous, he can see and this is very much a wonderful thing to happen to him. One day he tells Ladybug.

United - OMFG - ladynoir established relationship (+Reveal)

a nine-year-old - i havent met anyone that hasn’t read this fic but still (im still sorry emsy, i believed you were 9 with my entire heart 😭)

Death By Ladybug - Flirty Ladybug and Flustered Chat Noir

Chat Noir’s White French Man Hitlist For Feminist Purposes - (THIS HAS A PODFIC NOW)

Liquid Luck - LadyNoir Banter + Reveal

Symphony - Adrinette/LadyNoir + Reveal (with the best ending ever omg)

 The Miraculous Tweets of @luckylady and @chatnoir - Internet Shenanigans

Problems - ladynoir fluff

Only a beat a cat can hear - Ladybug tells Chat when he finds out about her blindness that she scared about him leaving her. He’s having none of this self deprecating stuff and reassures her that he loves her a lot and nothing changes that. 

M’Lady - THEIR LAST DAYS AS SUPERHEROES :’’’’))) (Reveal)

It was just a cheek kiss! - Ladybug slowly falling for Chat and them finally getting together (my friends thought I was getting murdered when I readthis. So many screams)

Discordant Sonata - EdenDaphne (Still going!)

like poles of a magnet - By maketea (8/8! It's finished!)

From the Ashes - By MiniMinou (Finish! Btw this is angst and mature rated)

Ladybug and Chat Noir's Guide to the Rooftops of Paris - PipTheMagnificent (One-shot!)

 in the dead of night, your eyes so green - this ones by miraculouslycool so you know its good 

 Day 7: Interview - Chat Noir being cute with kids

Misunderstanding - LadyNoir Identity Shenanigans <3

Not Kitten Around, Badylug - the road to reveal, integrating parts of S4, all in mobile texts. Sweet, funny. The kind of pick-me up you need after an angsty ep.

Two Seconds -  perfect for a light morning read.

i think it’s time i told you (im a fan of your universe) - LadyNoir (AND THEY GET MARRIED)

It’s Not PDA If You’re Just Friends - They’re just friends! Friends can kiss each others shoulders and spin each other around, right?

I Guess That Makes Us Even - Chat Noir dying = REALLY SAD LADYBUG AND COMFORT - its by buggchat so you already know its simply superior

Red Strings and Markers - Soulmate AU my beloved

little kitty on the rood, wearing his lady’s boxers - Adrien in Ladybug boxers, Marinette in the pool with her pjamas, Adrien uses his one braincell and realizes some pretty shocking things (Reveal)

dont let me die alone - okay so you may get a lil sad but you know

Return to Base - LadyNoir laser tag baby, Adrienette laser tag with LadyNoir dynamic, reveal

The Ladyblog Comment Section - they like to annoy alya in the comments. and flirt. but they dont realize the last part yet

Irreplaceable -  Adrien is insecure. Marinette doesn't let anyone talk bad about her partner.

Where are you Chat Noir? -  As the final battle unfolds to their defeat, Hawkmoth and Mayura use plan b and withdraw in a 'Sentiworld', a parallel reality created with an Amok. What's worse, they drag Chat Noir with them. What's even worse, Ladybug can't say goodbye, or I love you. Guilty and desperate, what will she be ready to sacrifice to get her partner back? (Rated R for mature content)

Kitty Chat Kisses -  Give Chat more kisses please, this was so sweet and cute and sad and just...someone give Chat some hugs and kisses and tell him he did a good job

i’ll marry you - Chat Noir talks to his sleepy girlfriend about their future.

Upon the Eiffel Tower, They Reveal it All. -  Chat Noir spots Ladybug heading towards the Eiffel tower without telling him, and when he checks on her, finds out more than he thought he would.

Two Hundred and Fifty Four -  aspik angst :’)

Ladrien:

bang bang - KISSES

whose woods these are (I think I know) - FIRST OF ALL, its a cinderella au and its MAGNIFICENT - Four years after his future turns to cinders, Adrien is a servant in the house he was meant to inherit. Disowned by his father and abused by his stepmother, his days are filled with drudgery until he meets a masked huntress in the forest behind his father's chateau.As his friendship with Ladybug turns to first love, he dreams of a future spent at her side.Then, on the eve of the Princess's masquerade, he meets his guardian—and is granted a wish.

The Tell-Tale Kiss - Adrien gets discouraged when Ladybug turns down Paris’ favorite cat every time. But what if Paris’ favorite model asks her?

The Cat and His Daffodils -  I adore Hanahaki AU’s and this was one was really good and wonderfully angsty.

Post/One Sided Reveal: 

Serendipitous Fate -  With Hawkmoth growing stronger, Chat Noir and Ladybug need to practice. And get teammates. And grow stronger together. Which means learning each other’s identity, no matter the risks. Unfinished, but worth it. Also, there is some smut near the end, but the author warns the reader on the exact chapter and it is very skippable

switch it up - Adrien uses the Ladybug miraculous and everyone simps even harder

Remember That Time When... - Marinette is ready to enjoy her wedding anniversary with her wondrful husband. Except when she wakes up, she’s not going to be able to celebrate her anniversary. In fact, she’s seventeen again.

Divide By Infinity - Post-Reveal Adrinette being adorable and looking at LadyNoir moments

Bad Day - Adrien finds out Marinette’s Ladybug on the toilet and everything just does downhill from there

Get Agrekt - Post Reveal + Drunk Adrien my beloved

Under The Stars - PROPOSAL

Do You Hear That, Love? - Post-Reveal angst and babies

Side Effects of Paw-esome Merch: Model Chokes on Air - Post Reveal Marinette making my poor boy adrien consciously try not to die by wearing Chat Noir merch

Serotonin Boosts - ADRIEN LOVES HIS GIRLFRIEND OKAY?

When the Wedding Bells Toll - Post Reveal Adrinette pretend to date to get free food at a wedding (ha ha guess who fell in love againnnn)

All You Had to Do Was Stay - first of all, OOF - Marinette and Adrien reveal their identities and he panics and Marinette, three years later, sees him again for Alya’s wedding with the urge to both kiss him and punch him in the face

Adrinette April Day 23: Sunset - CUTE FLUFFY PEOPLE (its by sketchy-panda)

Forget-Me-Not - written way before oblivio but basically, oblivio

The Wall Between Us -  Lukanette, Adrigami, Alya finding out, lovesquare reveal, Adrien finding out Gabe is Hawkmoth, then theres Adrinette being in love and MarcNath walking in them making out. Its a whole vibe. Two Seconds was written in response to this :D

Mari Me - CHRISTMAS PROPOSALS AND CHILDREN ARE BEAUTIFUL OKAY?

Trolling Alya -  After Adrien and Marinette reveal their identities to each other, instead of going right into dating, they agree to just be friends and take their time. Alya is not having it.

The Biological Imperative - excellent explicit story with an interesting concept about tikki being able to freeze the power of all miraculouses in her box in case of marinette's pregnancy. Adrienette of course. 

The Closest Thing to Love - god i love a good fake dating story - post reveal Aged Up - adrien decides that the best way to gain independence from his dad was to get married. To who you ask? Of course its his lady, Marinette Dupain Cheng. Nothing could go wrong! They’re just friends after all.

Not A Ship But Hella good Stories

Papa Bear -  In which Tom is the one to figure out Adrien’s home life is putting him in danger and helps Adrien escape.

Nooroo Uses a Swear Word -  He really, really does. But he has a very good reason, so... let's hear him out, shall we? Crackfic, one-shot.

Move to Safety - Sort of a longer take on the ‘ Adrien runs away and seeks shelter with the Dupain-Chengs’. Involves the final battle and Adrien knowing Gabe is Hawkmoth. 

I Know, Kid - Plagg has a very important conversation with his holder when they return home after defeating Guiltrip.

Chat Noir is My Science Teacher - When Mattheu Magan witnesses his chemistry teacher, Adrien Dupain-Cheng, transform into his favorite superhero Chat Noir, he becomes the Monkey Miraculous holder Monkid, going on adventures and learning what it means to be a hero alongside under his new meow-ntor. (OC, Adventure, Aged-up - Yall ive only known Mattheu for like, a month BUT I LOVE HIM WITH ALL MY HEART)

Won’t Tell a Soul - Nino finds out that Marinette is Ladybug and keeps the secret. Kind of. 

Motherfucking Superheroes - Directly following the events of the season 3 finale, Alya Cesaire decides to create a groupchat with all the known Miraculous holders, which sets off an investigation into Ladybug’s identity. (Crack, Groupchat/Text fic)

My Boy - Gabriel creates a sentimonster copy of himself to free himself from unimportant matters, but he didn’t expect it to become more human than himself. (Angst, Mentions of torture)

The Malicious Pavilin - Evil gay Emilie is a whole ass mood

Never Sing At Home - Based on that ‘hey, bad news and good news. Bad news, Hawkmoth knows my identity, good news, I know his!’ prompt on tumblr

Bite off more than you can chew and you’ll choke - Lila gets exposed fics my beloved

ouef, ouch, owie - Chat and Rena plan some Aspik-related shenanigans to cover up Chat’s secret identity when Ladybug decides to have all the Miraculous heroes train together. (Crack)

What the Cat Dragged In - MCU Crossover

the last day on earth - Chat Blanc angst is top-tier

Air Miraculous - Miraculous but with Basketball and Shoes

how the strings intertwine - MDC Fic - UNFINISHED BUT AMAZING

Nine Lives - Hurt/Comfort, Adrien Centric

In Good Hands -  in which Ladybug tells Chat Noir about her new confidant and Chat chooses his own.

How Nino Waged War with Gabriel Agreste - By ChocolateXMyMouth (Still going!)

The Inappropriate Touching Talk -  this is another pure crack. Gabriel finds out that Adrien "touches inappropriately" Marinette and decides to have "the talk" (or rather have someone else have the talk with him)

Broken - Cop AU with lots of angst :D

Informant - miracuclass group chat au with identity shenanigans 

Lucky Fox Paradox - Marinette gives succeeds in giving Alya the ladybug miraculous. And regrets it. Enter, the fox miraculous.

“I have plan” - based on the ‘Ladybug joins the fight as multimous and she and rena rouge won’t let adrien leave to transform and its just crack’

Sting -  Chat Noir mysteriously vanished, and as much as Ladybug hates it, she can’t do her job alone. Which is why she decides to give Adrien to bee miraculous until her partner returns!

Accidental Dates - The four friends make a group chat to plan game nights. Some people tend to take it further

Leave for Mendeleiev -  Marinette is in Mendeleiev’s class instead of Bustier’s, meaning new friends and different relationships

Ridiculous, Utterly Ridiculous - rejected one time too many, Chat Noir ends in tears on someone's balcony. No, not Marinette's. Chloé's. And no, it doesn't end with an adrikloe (or how it's called). Chloé actually ends up being a good friend (*insert ohhhh of surprise*)

I’ll Handle This - Adrien accepts a deal with Plagg for the black kwami to resolve his problems. And Plagg succeeds. 

let’s get covered in flames and play some games with the smoke -  1920s enemies to lovers soulmates au that makes me want to jump off a building in a good way

Ruffled -  Harry Potter AU

Passionfruit -  Adrienette soulmate au series with 3 parts

Repetition -  One day adrien stumbles upon hawkmoth’s lair. In response, Gabe wipes his memory and is done with it. until it happens again, and again, and again…

Bite Me. -  Vampire!Alya one-shot. Really good world-building in this one chapter alone!

“I have a plan.” -  Really funny one-shot where Marinette’s idea of going in as Multimouse doesn’t exactly pan out how she wanted it to.

Back to Us -  After a reveal so shocking it rocks the core of Paris itself, the villain Hawk Moth is finally defeated...at a great personal cost to heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. With the city safe, they go their separate ways, returning to the lives they were forced to put on hold since receiving their Miraculous.

Free Falling - Fantastic story with amazing and well written themes that I really just adored reading. Beautifully written and wonderful plot/story

Other Ships (outside of Love Square):

The Worst and Best Thing - GabeNath, drama and angst with a happy ending

Operation Lovebirds -  DJWifi - Alya and Nino try and get Adrien and Marinette together, and get more than they thought they would

Phase Eight - Sequel to Operaton Lovebirds -  Three years after the failure of Operation Lovebirds, Alya and Nino’s relationship is tested when Alya comes across a startling secret.

Cola Date - DJWifi -  When Alya finds herself on a date with the wrong guy she searches for unconventional help to get her out of this. Luckily, the cute waiter doesn't mind to help her out with a favor.

Soundless - Lukadrien - Luka has the Ladybug Miraculous and can pretty much tell who’s Chat Noir

Hotdogs and Icecream - Lukagami - Luka and Kagami hanging out while Adrinette are being in love during the NY Special

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[whirlybirbs]

          (  this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan​ from this beautiful set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

       (   PREVIOUSLY   |    AO3    |    MASTERLIST   |   NEXT  )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

                                      ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.  

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

[darthwheezely]

with you - f.w.

summary: based on the song ‘with you’ from ghost the musical

warnings: y’all this is a dead!fred fic strap in i’m so sorry :,), anger/resentment, a shit ton of death mentions

a/n: i love you, Freckles.

i picked up your shirts this morning

i don’t know why

i don’t know why

The bedroom hadn’t been touched since May 2, 1998. A slew of clothes strewn about the room. A broken painting. A faint memory of him holding you. You didn’t know what was more messy, what happened to him or the world he left you with.

You started to clean.

every place we ever walked and everywhere we talked

i miss you

you never leave my mind

so much of you is left

behind…

Diagon Alley in September was a fever dream. It always was, children and their parents hopping from place to place to collect school supplies, teenagers wandering aimlessly to meet up with friends, go on dates, etc.

Diagon Alley in September was Fred’s favorite time of year.

You watched him at the shop light up and bounce about like a beach ball the moment a child asked for assistance, or even just carrying in an inventory box.

Fred would be frequently exhausted at the end of the day, but demand to take you out to the Cauldron for fish n chips, or buy you a butter beer (or four) or take you to Eeylops. You always agreed.

“One day we’ll be doing this for our own kids, Y/N,” he said softly, looking at the storefront for Wizard Wheezes, the tall animatronic lifting a rabbit from his hat slowing down for the night, even in the healthy chaos of Diagon Alley.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hated Diagon Alley in September.

you

took my days

with you

took my nights

with you

You had never really lived after Fred.

How does a person live after watching their person get crushed under a wall?

How does a person live after they run to said wall and scream, cry, beg for mercy from some being up in heaven for this to be a nightmare?

How does a person live after trying to push a wall far too heavy for force and being carried away by another while they cried so hard they lost air?

How were you supposed to live after Fred?

those unfinished conversations we used to have

still speak to me

“Y/N?” He shouted over the enveloping noise, spells and curses being fired so hard you’d think the ceiling would cave in.

“Fred, this isn’t a really good time-“ you yelled back.

“When we make it out of this-“

when he makes it out of this

“-I’m building us that nursery you hear me?”

No one built the nursery.

all this wishful thinking gets me nowhere

i can’t stay

though my heart is broken

it keeps breaking every day…

Sometimes, on a good day, you’d get the boom box out of the closet. You always tell yourself you’ll never touch it again, but there you are, touching it again.

That mixtape he made you will get fed through the muggle machine, and then it will spit out the song Crazy by Aerosmith.

“Come on, love, get up-“

“Fred, we’ve been assembling this bed frame we can’t just give up on it-“

“Say you’re leavin’ on a seven thirty and you’re head in’ out to Hoooooll-ay-wOOood - come on Y/N, bum up and get groovin’ with me!”

You two would dance until you were kissing and then he’d hold you standing up because to Fred Weasley, there was nothing on this planet but you.

You didn’t get through the whole song this time.

you

took my hopes

with you

took my dreams

with you

Kingsley Shacklebolt had left a message on the phone:

“Hey Y/N…I’m sorry to call you on a Monday night of all days - just busy lines everywhere else. I’m um…I’m really sorry but we um…we can’t have you as an Auror right now. We don’t want to ah - speed up your…your process right now. We know you’ve had a - hard - time recently and that job’ll only make it worse. Call me back if you want and maybe we can get you back in at Magical Accidents, they’ve got an opening. Alright. Well. See you, Y/N.”

i keep thinkin that you’ll be callin

everyone says that it’s all in my head

and i can’t accept it yet

You could’ve sworn you heard him.

You felt him in the shop (when George could force you to go.)

You saw him in every laugh and giggle little Dominique made.

Fred was everywhere and nowhere. It confused you, rage swelling in your chest like a hot air balloon only awaiting gas to take flight.

You had yelled. Told him going on that mission was selfish when you’d both been too risky for the Order as is.

“You can push me away all you want, Y/N-“

“Fred, stop-“

“No you need to listen to me for once in your life and it’s that i’m not going anywhere, I’m going to do that damn Seven Potters mission and I am coming home to you, do you hear me?”

You looked at him.

“I am always coming home, Y/N.”

“What a good joke, Fred, but where’s the punchline?”

i can’t comprehend this

and pretend that i don’t care

any place i wanna be

i wanna see you there…

“Hi, Freddie,” you hoarsely called to the barren-ness of the house.

“I hate sleeping here, did you know that? I feel way too close to telling myself that we’re okay, that I’m okay, kinda dumb isn’t it?”

No one answered.

“‘S alright, you always did hate the serious stuff. I’m just heading out to Gin and Harry’s for the night okay? I promise I’ll come back tomorrow. Will you be here?”

No one answered. You smiled, tears falling on your lips.

“That’s okay, I understand.”

You choked out a laugh and shrugged. “I love you! Have a good night, sweetheart.”

You shut the door.

you

took my life

with you

took my world

with you…

•••

taglist! @lumosandnoxwriting @billyhxrgrove @wandsandwheezes @harrysweasleys @fredweasleyisart @luvfrommars @luvshack @babyjordy @jillys-feral-fandoms @vibraniumwing @vixen @goddessofdawns @sagittarius-flowerchild @sinfulweasley @animprxperworld @daedreamss @lilypad-55449 @i-love-scott-mccall @omghufflepuff @vivianweasley @wh0reforthemarauders @amrtxntias @sunrisefairy @theorangedrummer @loony-loopy-lupinn @band--psycho @melmalone

[kindahoping4forever]

When The Sun Came Up, You Were Looking At Me (Prologue) // Ashton Irwin

It really cannot be overstated how excited @cal-puddies​ and I are for you all to finally start reading this fic!! I searched our chat and we actually came up with the skeleton idea for this sequel only TWO DAYS after Remember When We Couldn’t Take The Heat was posted LAST APRIL and we started seriously writing in SEPTEMBER. This is a long time coming. We hope you love it as much as we do and thank you again for encouraging us to continue this story!

Don’t forget we’re alternating chapters so the story continues tomorrow over on Cass’s blog. And of course, you can find links to everything as it’s posted in the masterlist linked below! 

Warnings: Tension, both dramatic and sexual. Mild angst. Meddling but well-meaning friends. The first smut-free work Cass and I have ever written together (don’t worry, we more than make up for it the rest of the series lmao)

Word Count: 3455

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Series Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

The traffic light changes to green and you turn down Luke and Sierra’s street. You roll your eyes at the quickening of your pulse as you think about the party tonight; you’d give anything to skip it but you know Michael and Crystal really want you there and you can’t not show up for them. 

You feel your nerves settle a bit as you step out of the car and see Sierra waiting at the door for you, happy to have you over to get ready together. She grins wide and pulls you into a warm hug, Luke quickly coming over to engulf you as well. Their excited greetings overlap as they literally smother you with affection and you can’t help but laugh at the fuss they’re making.

“You always disappear for too long,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. 

“Just needed some space,” you say with a shrug. 

“You broke up with Ash, not us,” Sierra reminds you, squeezing your arm. 

“I know, I know,” you nod with a weak smile. 

Luke grabs the bag with your dress in it and takes it to their room while you and Sierra get a drink. “Thank god you’re letting me pre-game,” you joke. 

“How are you feeling about everything?” She asks as you head back with her. 

“Just doin’ my best to be OK,” you admit, without even thinking about Luke overhearing. “It was like… close to an entire year of my life you know? I know it doesn’t seem like much... I just wasn’t ready, you know? And I’m definitely not ready for tonight.” 

Sierra sits on the bed, listening as you sit at her vanity, absentmindedly looking over the beauty products on it.  “It was such an intense relationship, it makes sense you’re not over it yet, babe,” she points out gently.

“I should be over it, though, it was ridiculous. Our whole relationship was based on a foundation of fighting until we fucked to forget why we fought… it didn’t work, we never really communicated about anything.” 

“Well. You already know I’m not a fan of how the breakup went down,” she shakes her head, plugging in the curling iron you’ve been gesturing wildly with. “It’s been a couple months now, you guys still haven’t even texted?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Please, we are the king and queen of Stubborn Town, I haven’t seen or heard from that man since I got the last of my stuff from his place,” you shrug. “I guess it still just feels… unfinished. I hate that.”

“I mean, it feels unfinished because you guys left it that way,” she says matter of factly. “You both decided you were done and then just… were? When you love someone, walking away like that doesn’t work.”

“I never said I loved him,” you glare at her through the mirror.

She settles behind you and starts sectioning off your hair. “Never said you didn’t either,” she teases.

Before you know it, 45 minutes have passed and Luke is at the door warning that he’s about to call the Uber; you’re deep into your girl talk catch-up and the knock on the door causes you both to burst into shrieks and giggles, scurrying around the room to finish getting ready.

Miraculously, you get yourselves together in time and as you stand in front of the house waiting for the car to arrive, Luke nudges you gently. “Ash is coming from a meeting on the other side of town, so you’ve got time to relax, he won’t be there for a while,” he reassures you. “And if you feel like you need to leave, let us know and we’ll come up with a reason to swoop you outta there.”

You put your arms around him and squeeze. “I’ve missed you too,” you say with a smile.

Luke tells you and Sierra how nice you both look as he ushers you inside the party. They both watch you scan the room, relaxing once you see Ashton hasn't arrived and then you all break off, making the rounds. 

You greet a few people but end up hanging off to the side, keeping an eye on the door, nervously half-paying attention to anyone who happens to approach you. 

You immediately tense when he enters. Luke moves to welcome him while Sierra comes to you, trying to be a silent support; her babysitting goes from feeling comforting to coddling very quickly and you urge her to go back to mingling. 

You try not to stare but you can’t help it, you haven’t seen him in so long. Even before you were together, when you hated him, it was hard not to be drawn to him. He just has that kind of presence. 

Luke hasn’t left his side since he walked in, chatting away, but you don’t think anything of it. That is, until everyone seems to be finding their place at the various tables and you’re still awkwardly standing to the side. You would typically sit with Luke and Sierra but they’ve made themselves cozy at a table with Ashton and Calum. 

You head for the bar and before you can order, someone comes up beside you. You ignore them until you hear the soft “Hey” fall from his lips, in that lush, slightly accented voice you missed more than you’d care to admit. 

You turn, fully taking him in for the first time tonight; his hair is different than the last time you saw him and he really seems to be feeling himself in his black pants and the lace button-up you used to make fun of. “Hi,” you respond, so quiet that Ash has to lean in to be sure he heard you. 

“Grab your drink and come sit with us,” he says, waving encouragingly. 

“Uh… that’s OK. I might leave,” you shrug. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your ridiculous suggestion. “No you won’t. First of all, I know you came with Luke and Sierra and they’re not leaving. Second of all, you’d never let Crystal and Mike down like that. Just come sit,” he insists, gently tugging on the hem of your dress. 

You melt a little inside. This was one of the reasons you liked him so much, he was always so confident that he knew you so well. But it’s also one of the reasons why you fought and he drove you crazy. 

“Fine,” you sigh with a slight smile. He waits for you to order your drink, also making you crazy, like he can’t trust you’ll do as you say.

“There you are!” Sierra smiles as you take the seat across the table from her and Luke. Sitting between Calum and Ashton is a spot you were very familiar being in; they’d constantly lean over you to share a joke and then one of them would fill you in afterwards if you were lucky. Your heart breaks a little when you realize that's not likely to happen now. 

You make small talk with Cal for a bit; you’ve missed his pinchable cheeks and his sweet laugh. You’d spent plenty of time with him when you were with Ashton but hadn’t really kept in touch since the split. He asks you about work and both he and Ash pay close attention as you chat about your job.

Sierra keeps a close eye on the two of you and notices how quickly you get reacquainted. The way Ash naturally rests his arm on the back of your chair. How when he started getting animated with a story, you knowingly shifted all the drinks over until he was finished. How he won’t let himself laugh at his own joke until he checks to make sure you’re laughing first. The hair toss you subconsciously give whenever he does make you laugh.

Later on, she catches him at the refreshment table serving your favorite dessert onto his plate even though it’s something he notoriously doesn’t like. She walks alongside him as he heads back. “You hate that,” she smirks, pointing at the offending dish.

“Oh. Right,” he says, realizing the old habit he just indulged. “She’ll eat it,” he shrugs, quickening his step to avoid any follow-up questions. 

Crystal makes the rounds to thank everyone for coming and stops Sierra with a hug; they chat for a minute but Crystal notices she seems distracted and eventually follows her gaze over to your table. Cal’s deeply invested on his phone, leaving you and Ash chatting by yourselves.

Crystal lightly snorts and leans in to her friend. “What’s old is new again, I guess,” she cups her manicured hand over her mouth to disguise her words. “You think they’ll leave together? I was shocked when she told me they haven’t hooked up even once since they split.”

Sierra shakes her head firmly. “They’re both too stubborn to admit they want even that from each other,” she rolls her eyes. “You should’ve seen how nervous she was to come here tonight.”

“Oh, Ash too,” Crystal whispers. “Ever since we planned this, Michael must’ve gotten at least 5 texts from him casually trying to find out if she was coming.”

Sierra sips her drink, never taking her eyes off your table. “It ended so badly, I can’t get over how comfortable they are with each other… there’s still just so much love there.”

Crystal shrugs. “Well god bless them but think of how long it took them to actually get together,” she points out. “I wouldn’t hold my breath for them to figure out that they called it off too soon.” 

You make light conversation with Ashton, trying to ignore the girls’ gabfest you see out of the corner of your eye; they were both supportive but clearly distraught when you told them about the breakup so you know they’ve got to be eating this up. 

Calum announces he’s stepping away for a cigarette and you and Ash pick at your plates in silence for a few minutes, suddenly feeling the weight of having to interact without a buffer. Finally, he offers up a quiet, “You’ve been good?”

You answer perhaps a little too quickly, nod perhaps a little too vigorously, eager to mask any implication of hurt feelings. “Yep. Busy. But good.”

He fiddles with the tablecloth. “You know... I meant to call sometime but it never felt right and then things got crazy with the band…”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “I didn’t check in either. Didn’t think you’d answer,” you laugh weakly.

He smiles and you hate how warm you feel at the sight. “Why did I always assume you were a ‘fuck that guy, delete his number as soon as you’re out the door’ kind of ex?”

Your heart sinks and you’re not sure why; it takes you a moment to realize it’s because this is the first time you’ve actually thought of yourself as “his ex.” You steady yourself. “Usually am. Decided to be mature on this one. You’re still at the top of my contacts. Listed under ‘Asshole,’ obviously,” you giggle.

“Ah, my favorite of your pet names,” he laughs along with you.

You talk for a few more minutes until Crystal makes her way over; Ash slips away while the two of you catch up and shortly after, you get a text from Luke asking if you’re ready to go. Your eyes scan the room though you aren’t sure what exactly you’re searching for, because you’re totally fine leaving without saying goodbye to Ashton. 

You're quiet on the ride back to Sierra and Luke’s and while you collect your things from their bedroom, she gently checks in.

“See, tonight wasn’t so bad,” she muses. 

“No, it was OK. Good to see everyone,” you shrug. “...Ash looks healthy.” 

“He looks good,” Sierra says pointedly. You say nothing. 

“You sure you’re good to drive?” Luke asks, coming into the room and sitting next to his girlfriend on the bed. “You know you’re always welcome to stay here.” 

“I’m fine, Luke,” you chuckle. You turn and hug them both. “I love you both, I’ll text when I’m home.” They respond by kissing the top of your head and you chuckle fondly as you leave. 

“They seemed OK tonight,” Luke mentions while they get ready for bed.

“They were more than OK, those stubborn kids couldn’t have been more into each other,” Sierra rants. “I think they really miss it, they just won’t admit it.”

“Oh, Ash definitely misses her. I swear, he talked about her less when they were together,” he jokes. Sierra raises an eyebrow, which Luke takes as encouragement to continue rambling about everything Ash had told him. “He knows they fought a lot but he even misses that... he’s been saying he’s glad he never told her he loved her, though. Things would’ve been a lot harder. Messier. I dunno, he’s always asking about her.”

You get home and drop your bag right inside the door with a huge, exhausted sigh and pull out your phone to text Luke and Sierra before heading to your room. You throw open the closet and it only takes you a couple seconds to spot what you’re looking for: that hoodie that Ash left behind and you never bothered to return. 

You stare at it for a beat and then leave to wash your face and brush your teeth; you already know what you’re about to do but you still try to talk yourself out of it. Back in the bedroom, you reluctantly grab the hoodie off of its hanger, change into it and climb into bed. You hold the sleeves to your face and breathe Ashton in; long, deep breaths, letting his smell fill your nostrils. You’ve done this more times than you’d care to admit these past few months; you miss him here, in your space. You curl in a ball and drift off, taking comfort in his scent surrounding you. 

You’re woken up early by your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You see it’s Sierra and pick it up, groaning, making sure she can hear it. “S?”

“Hey babe… can we lunch?” She bubbles. 

“You couldn’t have texted?”

“Sorry, Sunshine, just wanted to hear your lovely voice… and get a definite answer out of you. 1 o’clock, don’t be late!” She sing-songs, hanging up. 

You check your notifications and your heart sinks, not seeing anything from Ashton. You weren’t sure why you thought you would. You curl up and go back to sleep for a while. 

Sierra knows you well enough to guess you fell back asleep without setting an alarm and she starts blowing you up around noon. You text that you’ll see her soon and you start getting ready. You use the most fragrant soap you can find for your shower, ensuring the smell of Ashton's cologne doesn't linger on your skin.

You walk into your usual lunch place and easily spot Sierra on the patio. "Drinks are on their way," she shares as you take your seat.

You chat breezily about the party: how good the food was, how Michael's DJ setup was so much more elaborate than at the last party you attended, how much you loved what Crystal had worn. You wonder out loud if Cal had gone home with the girl he'd been making eyes at all night and Sierra seizes the opportunity to steer the conversation to her topic of choice.

"Speaking of making eyes," she takes a prolonged sip from her glass. "Things seemed a little intense with Ash last night."

You give her a tight-lipped smile, determined not to give her anything she can blow out of proportion. "I told you it was fine. Easier than I expected in a lot of ways, harder in others."

She places her hand on your arm from across the table. "I looked over a few times and saw him with his arm over your chair, you watching him talk… it was like we were back at that resort again," she says wistfully.

You evaluate her face for a moment. Since she's one of your best friends, you're used to being lovingly annoyed with her meddling in your life but sometimes you forget that it comes from a place of genuine love and concern for you. "Regardless of how things turned out, I'll always be grateful you forced me to stay on that trip," you smile. "That was some once in a lifetime kind of shit."

"From what I heard down the hall, sure sounded like it," she teases, grinning as you playfully shoo her hand off your arm. "That anniversary's coming up quick, isn't it?"

"Next week," you blurt, wincing at how quickly you answer.

"We'll have to think of something fun to do together," she declares carefully. "Not that you need it, but just in case you don't want to be alone."

This time you reach over and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry I haven't been around like I used to, S. I just… needed time," you admit. "It's still hard. Most of the time, actually. But being around you and Lu again feels good. I think I need the support more than I realized."

"Babe," she pouts. "We were there for you before Ash, during Ash and we want to be there for you post-Ash. We love you."

You feel better than you thought you would as you head back to your car. Being honest with Sierra - and yourself - was easier than you expected. You briefly think about texting Ash - nothing major, something chill like "fun catching up last night" - but think better of it.

Sierra gets to her car and immediately texts Crystal, who requested an update when she heard you were getting lunch. She suggests asking Cal’s perspective to get the full picture of where Ash is at, so Sierra calls him on the drive home. 

“Hey Sweet Boy!” She greets him. 

“Sierra!” She can hear the grin on his face at the nickname. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you how Ash is. I mean, I know what Luke tells me but I feel like he gives you more,” she explains. 

“How do you mean? You saw him last night?” 

“How has he been since the breakup?” She emphasizes. 

“Oh… OH!! Oh! What are you planning? Please tell me you’re doing something, he’s making me crazy. I don’t know what came over him last night,” Cal babbles. 

“I think Luke had a hand in that,” Sierra admits with a sigh. “She came over to get ready with me and I think he probably shared some things he shouldn’t have. You know how he is.”

“What’s in that beautiful brain of yours?” Cal murmurs, letting out an excited little laugh. Out of everyone, he tends to enjoy Sierra’s plans like this the most, especially when they aren’t directed toward him. 

“I don’t know yet… I feel like we just need to get them talking alone again like they were last night, remind them what was there...” she muses. She talks through a few ideas with Calum and he’s on board for any of them.

By the time she gets home, Sierra is raring to go; she practically runs up the stairs to ask Luke for his help.

“Hey hun!” He greets her with a smile when she raps on the door to his studio. He moves the guitar off his lap, silently inviting her to come lay on the couch while they talk. “How was lunch, how’s our girl?”

She fills him in on everything: your mood, your conversation and the consulting she’s been doing among the friend group. Luke seems interested but about halfway through becomes engrossed in his phone and Sierra sits up, irritated. “Babe, you asked, are you even listening?”

He briefly looks concerned and then grins. “Sorry, just distracted by Ash blowing up the group chat, asking if anyone wants to go away next week so he doesn’t have to deal with their anniversary,” he proudly holds up his phone.

Her jaw drops at the opportunity that’s fallen at their feet. “What if…” She starts furiously typing into her phone. “Yes… that house you guys stayed at when you were planning the last album is free.”

“Palm Springs? OK, so…” Luke trails off, trying to follow her logic.

“Band retreat for the boys. Self-care trip for the girls,” she answers, shooting off texts to Crystal, Mike and Cal. 

“That house really isn’t big enough for all of us,” he comments, still lost.

She finally looks up at him, smiling widely. “It’s a good thing they’ll be the only ones going, then.”

————-

Taglist is breaking the links in the post and I currently do not have the brainpower to figure out the problem lol. We’ll try again tomorrow but in the meantime, if you aren’t notified, you can always check the masterlist which will be updated everyday!

@mymindwide​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​ @pxrxmoore​​ @loveroflrh​​ @ghostofmashton​​ @sexgodashton​​ @feliznavidaddycal​​  

@castaway-cashton​​ @ashtonlftv​​ @cashtonasfuck​​ @megz1985​​  @angelicfluffs​​ @findingliam-o​​ @youngbloodchild​​  @irwinsbetch​​ @everyscarisahealingplace​​

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@trix-arent-for-kids​ @uh-huhh-honey​ @tobefalling​ @aladyofalbion​ @likehuhdude​

@curlycalums​​​  @cxddlyash​​​  

@fedorable-killjoys​​​  @iamcalumswhore​​​   @i-like-5sos​​​  

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@crazyforcal​​   @neso-k​​   @deliciouslydisturbed365​​  @blxndeprincess

[skaylanphear]

Hi there! Do you have any advice on improving traction towards a fanwork/fic? I love writing—and it's not for notoriety by any means—but having validation and feedback also feels nice (I hope that's not conceited). What would you recommend to someone without a large audience/follower base? I do "advertise" on tumblr when my work is written/updated on AO3. How did your journey start? Thank you!

This is an interesting question and I doubt most people are going to like the answers, but here we go:

So, first and foremost, you need to be realistic about why you're creating in the first place. If you're doing work in a fandom that is older, where content has stopped coming out, or that is simply smaller, you're not going to get much engagement, period. There will, of course, be activity in these fandoms, but it will be far less and the people involved—while they may view your work—will be less likely to comment/spread it around simply because there's not much going on. So if you're creating in that sort of environment (which can be a really good environment if you're looking for something chill with no pressure), then you have to be prepared for low engagement, even if the people you do meet and who are willing to talk about your work are more regularly in your sphere. You can probably make better/closer friends in these sorts of fandoms, if you're willing to try.

But, on the other end of this, if you're coming into a huge fandom late, it's also going to be harder to wade through the massive following to get your stuff out there. For example, in both the Miraculous and Sk8 fandom, I started work pretty early on, when the shows were still gaining traction, and so my "name" as a creator gained traction parallel to that growth, as opposed to when I started writing in the Voltron fandom. With Voltron, I came in super late and so what few fics I had that did gain traction took a lot longer to get there because people already had their fav content creators in the fandom, etc. It's not impossible to get popular in this situation—far from it—but it does take longer.

You'll also benefit from having finished works early on in a fandom's lifespan, at least with writing. This is because there's less competition for views and so more people will be filtered to your work, initially. This means that you have a better chance of getting those comments and kudos. Having a finished work increases this engagement because people look for finished works before works in progress. Generally, the length of a fic doesn't matter much for popularity, so long as it's DONE. When I was writing in the ML fandom, quite a few of my earlier fics were shorter, and they compete in popularity with my longer fics, because people care more about having a finished story, not a long story. That's why when it came to Only Practice Makes Perfect in the Sk8 fandom, I worked hard to get that shit done, because it was the most popular story I had in the fandom and I decided—like an idiot—to make it a long fic. Which, yeah, means people probably love it/remember it more in the long run, but if I hadn't finished it in 2 to 3 months, I'd have lost considerable traction as far as making a name within the fandom.

This leads into one of the most important points, if not THE MOST IMPORTANT point in gaining an audience—consistency. If you do want to be a successful creator, you Have To Be Consistent. This is the most difficult hurdle for all creators, and it is oftentimes impossible to make happen. If you want to aim for professionalism, which a lot of fandom creators don't care about (which is fine), then consistency is how you get there. Nobody wants to read a fic or follow an artist who doesn't stick to creating what they start (RIP all my unfinished works and the people who left me as a result, LOL). Using my most recent works as an example, I very, very, very consistently updated Only Practice Makes Perfect multiple times a week. To the point where people got comfortable expecting it, which is the key variable here. When people become comfortable that you will regularly create content, they not only stick around, but will be more interactive with you and your work. Nobody likes the disappointment of getting involved with a work only for that work to rarely get updates. Most people don't have the attention span to care. I'll admit, if I read a fic that's not finished and the writer takes one week to update, then one week, then THREE weeks, I probably will, like, forget about it. That's just life.

The best thing you can do is schedule. And again, this is the HARDEST thing to do, because it holds the creator to a deadline. Most people who create in fandoms don't want that kind of pressure—and that's fine. I go back and forth on when I have scheduled releases and when I don't, depending on what I'm aiming to do. But if you to retain your audience, telling them that you will update a work regularly on such and such a day and such and such a time, it creates something for them to remember. If they're invested in your work, they will think, "oh, it's Friday, that means such and such is coming out with something new." But, with that in mind, you also have to commit to a schedule that people will remain invested in. Which basically means you can't put things out more than a week away from each other, unless you're really, really famous, lol. If I told people I was going to go on a two week update schedule, I would lose most of my audience. But a week is long enough for people to both still remember and anticipate. That's just how the scheduling of the world works. And if you're an artist that's working on a big project, then you have to share progress, or pieces of what you're doing on a regular basis. That's what generates "buzz" and keeps you relevant. And, yeah, that's a really hard schedule to commit to, because it's a lot of work. BUT this consistency is where you see people being successful. Popular youtubers may not have gained their popularity by being consistent, but most sure do retain it that way. And again, there are outlying exceptions, but they generally ARE exceptions.

Speaking of hard work, here's probably the second hardest thing to accomplish—you have to be prolific. Especially as a writer. You have to write A LOT if you want to gain an audience. And yeah, that means you have to work, a lot. I love my work, so I enjoy that "grind," and I also have developed a lot of strategies to work around writer's block and every other obstacle that tends to catch people up. I work in a very professional manner—I do outlines, and drafts, and plan. I do a lot of stuff that people who do this kind of thing for fun can't be bothered with (and that's fine), but that's because I find it to be what works best in creating an efficient environment. I'm also very, very NOT lazy, lol. I was raised in an environment where you have to work for everything that you want. My parents didn't buy me my first computer, or snowboard, or what have you. We were tight on money and if I wanted something, they couldn't help me—I had to get that shit on my own. And I also grew up on a farm, where hard work was a staple of how you did things. You did things the right way, even if it was the hard way. You can't cut corners and it's the same with this. If you want it, you have to actually do the work, that's it. Some people get lucky with popularity, most don't. Most famous actors didn't become well-known off their first efforts, they had to keep trying and keep working and then they have to continue to do that to stay relevant. So if that doesn't sound great to you, then you might want to not focus on your audience and just create because you enjoy it, lol. Sometimes that's what I do too, when I don't wanna deal with the pressure.

Moving on, here's another point that nobody is going to like. Simply put, you also have to be good at what you do. I think some people don't realize that I've been writing fic for over fifteen years. I currently have nearly 2 millions words worth of fics on AO3 and that doesn't include a majority of the stuff I've ever written. I practice A LOT. I write every day. And I'll tell ya, when I started out in middle school, my stuff was not good. But I worked hard, I ignored the hate, and I kept going. That is the only way you will ever get better at anything. There's no quick way to become a better writer, or artist. And a vast majority of people are only going to pay attention to your stuff if it's quality work. Getting to that point is a process, on top of then creating stuff that fits into popular molds. Not only am I good at what I do (and I don't care how arrogant that sounds—I've worked my ass off), but when it comes to fandoms, I rarely write "rare pairs" and "crack ships." Generally, if it's popular, that's where I am. That makes a big difference and I honestly don't have sympathy for people who write rare pairs and such and then complain about lack of engagement. You knew what you were getting into (it's mostly the Miraculous fandom that gave me this bitterness). If you're not writing what people WANT to read, then your audience is simply going to be smaller. And that audience doesn't owe you their attention, no matter how frustrating it is or how good your work is. I could be the best writer in the world, but if I'm writing RekixCherry fic, I have nobody to blame but myself when nobody reads it. BUT if that's your passion, and writing a certain unpopular thing makes you happy, then, again, you need to not be concerned with traction and your audience.

The last point I'll make is that it matters HOW you present yourself online. A good chunk of the well-known creators in any fandom are, simply put, older people. And those that aren't, and are able to connect with those older creators, have generally created a bubble around themselves of maturity and, like, of being nice, lol. A lot of creators are skittish these days, and if you're an asshole (anti) or fight a lot over stupid shit, you may get a bigger audience, but you will isolate yourself from other creators. And this is important because oftentimes it is your exposure to other creators that will get your work circulating. The reason I got popular in the ML fandom? I wrote a short angst fic and a really popular artist shared it/talked about it and the rest was history. But if I'd had a habit of being an asshole, probably wouldn't have happened. And, granted, I'm not saying don't voice your opinions, but if you're loud all the time, it does turn people off. Especially creators because they are oftentimes the ones being attacked. They don't want to pull more of that negative bullshit into their lives. I'll admit, when I was in the ML fandom, I was down for a fight, but then that's what people came to expect, and it probably did turn others off, and then when I didn't fight, or didn't think the way my audience thought I should, it, again, turned people off. It's really not worth it unless being that type of person IS your platform.

So, that's all the advice I can give, I suppose. And even if you do all this stuff, that still doesn't mean you're going to be popular. At the end of the day, the thing that I stick to is this—I do what I want, I love what I do, and I work hard. If I'm in a position to worry about all that other stuff, then sure, I do, but otherwise… There's no easy way to become popular and, quite frankly, it's better to just "live" working hard and being a decent person than it is to focus on all this bullshit. I've created a working environment where I function within these "points" quite naturally, so it's not something I think about (except for schedules, lol). Sometimes I get popular in fandoms, sometimes I don't. At the end of the day, it comes down to how much work you're willing to do, because you will always be giving more than you are getting back, so you have to at least enjoy what you're doing.

Seriously, just do it because you love it. And if the pressure of everything above is something you don't love (I like a good, high pressure situation, lol), then don't do it that way—it's not worth the grief.

[ladykissingfish]

A Date with an Angel // Part Three // Sasori and Itachi

Sasori

“Do you like this place? It’s really colorful, isn’t it?” “It’s alright.” “These nachos are delicious. Do you want some?” “No thanks, the cheese would upset my stomach. I’m mildly lactose intolerant.” Konan just sighs to herself and picks her drink back up, slowly sipping as she tries to think of a good topic for conversation. Earlier, when the redheaded house member Sasori had invited her to spend an evening with him, her surprise had been greater than with any of the others so far. When she’d first been introduced to the household back when she moved in, she’d taken one look at Sasori and had been shocked; later on she sat in Nagato’s room and demanded to know why he was employing children to do the type of work that they did. “Children?”, he’d responded, shaking his head. “Sasori is no child; he’s 35 years old. He’s older than me and you, even.” 35?? With his short stature, smooth, unlined face and vibrantly colored hair ... it was simply unbelievable. The more she got to know him, however, the more she realized that he was indeed very mature; maybe too mature. He never smiled, never laughed, and made even less conversation than Kakuzu did. Whenever Konan made meals, he never joined any of the others at the table. “Don’t worry; it don’t have anything to do with you or your cooking,” Deidara had told her one night when she questioned it. “The guy just never eats. Hardly sleeps, either. It’s like he’s not human or something.” Considering his quiet, serious personality, his choice of venue to take Konan to tonight was entirely odd. “A comedy club?”, she’d asked, as he guided her through the doors. “Mm. They’re amateurs but really quite good. I’m sure you’ll laugh a lot.” And laugh Konan did — but not Sasori. His facial expression didn’t change once all evening, and he didn’t so much as crack a smile through even the most hilarious of acts. Now it was the interlude between sets, and Konan was trying to find something, anything to make conversation about. Before she can, the next guy comes on. It’s a man with a small dummy that he sits on his knee, that “tells” the jokes for him. Konan happens to glance at Sasori and is startled; for once, he seems interested. His eyes stay fixated on the little wooden toy throughout the man’s set, and when he’s done, it’s the first time that Sasodi cracks any kind of a smile. “Are you a fan of ventriloquism?” Sasori turns towards her, and unleashes more words than she’s heard him say in the entire time of living at the house. Sasori is gesturing, he’s vivid and animated as he explains the process of creating dummies and puppets, and the finer points of ventriloquism. “I didn’t know this was a hobby of yours.” He raises an eyebrow, and tells her it goes far beyond a hobby. The show is over so he takes her back home, and brings her straight to his room (which she’s never seen the inside of before). She gives a little gasp upon entering; Sasori’s shelves are filled to the rafters with various wooden constructs, some unfinished, some painted, some clothes, some with hair and jewelry and —

Konan goes to pick up a smaller one laying on a bench, gently turning it this way and that. “This is so realistic,” she says, softly. “I wish I had the patience for creating art like this.” “What do you mean? Your art is amazing as well.” She blinks when he says that; surely he’s not referring to — “I’ve been in awe of your origami for quite some time. The things you create are very beautiful. I’d love it if you could teach me your technique sometime.” Konan blushes; nobody except Yahiko had ever complimented her origami hobby before. She sees a piece of paper laying on his desk, and begins slowly folding and teaching him how to make a basic flower. After observing and asking questions, he’s able to replicate the simple lotus. She then asks him if he could walk her through the process for creating one of his pieces, which he does, from sanding to sculpting to painting. “Things like this are better than humans,” he tells her, quietly, at one point. “These you can create, and you can control. But you never really know what a person is thinking, or feeling, or what they’re going to do next.” At the end of it, Konan glances up at the clock on his wall and gasps: 1am?! Where had the time gone?? She gets up and thanks Sasori for (what turned out to be) a lovely evening. He hesitates, then takes her hand and gives it a light kiss. “You are welcome to come back any time you wish,” he says, as he walks her to his door. “I’m a night owl so if I’m not out on a job, I’ll be awake and working.” She nods, smiles, then returns to her own room. Before she falls asleep she thinks of another flower to teach him: the campanula. These bright blossoms offer beauty, and intricacy ... and are a symbol of new friendships.

Itachi

“Oh my Goddd.” “What’s wrong, Konan?” “Nothing; it’s just, I haven’t felt this relaxed in a while. Itachi smiled and took a sip of his lemonade, before answering, in his quiet way, “Me, too.” When Konan had been approached by the dark-haired Itachi earlier in the day and asked if she wished to spend some time with him that afternoon, she’d been excited. Itachi was somebody that mostly kept to himself within the house; always quiet, very soft-spoken but when he DID speak he always said the most profound things Konan had ever heard. He was one of the most calm and mature members of Nagato’s team, an Konan’s shock upon discovering that he was only 21 years old was immense. One night she went into the kitchen to cook everyone a meal, and was pleasantly surprised to find Itachi there ahead of her, doing prep-work for the dish she had said she was going to make. From then on, the two developed a slow, lovely friendship, punctuated mostly by them cooking together and occasionally watching a movie in the living room. Today however was the very first time she went anywhere with him in public, and she was nearly flabbergasted when they pulled up to a well-known luxury spa. “This — Itachi this kinda stuff is expensive. I can’t let you —“ but he just waved her off, took her inside, and told the lady behind the desk that they both wanted “the works”. A slow, soothing full-body massage, manicures and pedicures, eye and hair treatment, mud masks, as many desserts as they wanted (Itachi especially seemed to have a thing for the sweet dumplings), and now, a hot tub. “I wouldn’t have thought a guy would be into stuff like this,” Konan commented, reaching for her sweet tea. “Man or woman, everyone needs the chance to relax, don’t they?” Konan nods, and then says “Well I’m sure that all of you that work for Nagato do. But me? What am I doing that I deserve something like this? MY job isn’t nearly as stressful, and —“ “You take care of all of us. You’re there for us. That may sound simplistic, but that’s no small feat, my dear.” The two are quiet for a while, listening to the relaxing nature-esque background music of the spa, before Itachi says, quietly, “If — if you ever feel like talking about HIM, you can talk to me. I don’t know if you’re ready but I want you to know I’ve experienced loss, too.” Konan closes her eyes; while she appreciates Itachi’s kindness, she’s NOT ready to talk about Yahiko. So she asks instead, “You lost someone close to you?” He nods, faces her, and tells her the story about losing his parents in a car accident when he was 12. His voice wavers when he tells her that they were coming home from a parent-teacher conference for HIM, and how, for the longest time, he blamed himself for their deaths. “Me and my younger brother Sasuke were taken in by my older cousin Shisui,” he explained, now smiling. “Nice guy but definitely not father material. I guess it’s just the Uchiha curse; you lose someone and have to go to someone else. It happened to me, to Obito —“ Konan stops him, and is REALLY surprised to learn that Itachi and Obito are distant cousins. “But anyway, I just want you to know I get it. If the day ever comes when you want to talk, I can be there for you.” She scoots over in the water and hugs him; she blushes when she realizes her towel has slipped, and for a brief few moments their bare chests are touching. “S-sorry about that,” she says, backing away and covering up. “Don’t worry about it,” he replies; but he’s blushing quite hard as well. The drive home is quiet, each feeling comfortably invigorated and relaxed. When they get to the front door, Konan leans up and kisses Itachi’s cheek, thanking him for a lovely day. He tells her that she made the day even lovelier. They go inside and all of the boys make it a point to go up to Konan and tell her how great she looks after her day of pampering, which she appreciates. She goes into the kitchen to start dinner, and once again finds Itachi there ahead of her. She smiles and ties on her apron, and the two create another delicious meal together.

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.  

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”    

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 10- Recipe for Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/Bartender AU)

Word Count: 2,064

Summary: You and Bucky decide to host dinner for your friends and afterwards you get the best idea ever...

Author’s Note: Thank you all so very much for sticking with me and continuing to read! This has really been such an escape for me and I can never thank you enough for reading and being so kind and supportive. Thank you all for reading and much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: sweet fluff, soft smut, fluffersmut, fun with friends :) 

Previous Chapters 

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers 

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love

Chapter 9: Pour in onto the Page

The rest of the night goes on in a blur of soft touches, heated kisses and whispered, “I love yous.” Now that the words are out it’s as if neither of you have anything else to say. The uber ride back to Manhattan is as sugary sweet as the cotton candy you’re licking off your fingers. “Oh my god, Bucky! I forgot how good this stuff is!” you exclaim as you pull off another chunk of the spun sugar. “I know!” Bucky replies, kissing some melting pink sugar off your lips.

You giggle, trying to refrain from poking him with your sticky fingers. “Sweetheart, if you get that sticky crap stuck in my hair, we’re gonna have a problem.” Your fingers reach toward him as you hold back laughter. Bucky quickly grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth, slowly sucking the sugar off the tip of each finger. “I wish we were home already,” you breathe out.

When you finally fall through the door of your apartment, you’re surprised you’re still dressed, Bucky’s hands groping you from the moment you got out of the uber. He walks you backward until you bump the small island in your kitchen, his arms lifting you up and sitting you on the countertop. Your hands card through his hair as he kneels between your legs, pushing up the skirt of your dress.

His eyes watch you as he trails kisses up your thigh, his soft hair slipping through your fingers as you try to find a hold on something. With the languid movements of his tongue he takes you apart, your body completely sated as he stands to unzip his jeans. You waste no time, helping him get them to the floor.

He enters you slowly and you feel every inch, his forehead pressed to yours while you relish in the feeling of each other. The lights from the city cast a soft glow on your skin as Bucky’s hands and mouth explore every inch with a newfound reverence.  It isn’t long before you come undone, his name a quiet plea falling from your lips.  

The next morning you find the other side of the bed empty, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air. With a satisfied hum you throw off the covers, covering your nakedness with Bucky’s shirt. “Do you always walk around shirtless?” you ask as you enter the kitchen, Bucky’s back to you as he stands over the coffee pot.

“Are you complaining,” he croons, throwing you a look over his shoulder. “Not at all,” you say, walking over and wrapping your arms around his waist. “That smells so good! I’m so glad someone is finally using the coffee pot. I usually just get it from the café down the street.” He turns and hands you a steaming cup, asking, “you mean the little spot on West 22nd and 9th Ave?” You nod as you take your first sip, moaning at the taste.

“It’s going out of business!” You nearly spit out the delicious coffee, “WHAT?” Bucky frowns, holding you against his chest, “yeah, the new Starbucks that opened nearby is killing them.” Now it’s your turn to frown, the realization you may have to start brewing your own coffee or paying way too much for one making you angry. You take another sip, eyeing Bucky over the mug, “that’s awful. I really liked that place!”

Kissing the top of your head he says assuredly, “you have me and since you seem to approve of my coffee making skills, I think you’ll manage.” With a contented smile you reach behind him for your cookie tin, picking it up and noticing it feels way too light. “Bucky. Did you eat the last of the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?”

Hanging his head, he doesn’t answer but it’s all the confirmation you need. “I can’t believe you didn’t even leave me one!” He tries to look sheepish but fails terribly as he checks for crumbs along his mouth. “Well, they were amazing! And I was hungry this morning!” he says in defense. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that” you say. He takes your unfinished coffee from your hands and places in on the counter. “Actually, I’m the lucky one and I love you too,” he says, before stopping any further conversation with his lips on yours.

You spend Sunday afternoon at the bookshop with Bucky, organizing some shelves and just enjoying each other’s company. As per her usual Sunday visit, Grandma Betty strolls in shortly after lunch, her smile bright at the sight of you both. “Look at you two. You’re practically glowing today! I knew a night out would be good for my boy. Was it as fun as you remembered?”

Bucky sends a heart stopping smile your way before launching into a full recap of your night and how perfect it was. Grandma leaves with a smile that matches yours and a promise of some of your now famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.

After the visit you can tell that Bucky’s mood has dampened slightly, his teeth working over his bottom lip and his forehead creased in thought. “Hey baby, you think Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam would want to come over for dinner next weekend? Maybe we can do it early before you guys have to be at the bar?” His spirits seem to lift at the idea, and he sends out a text to see if everyone is available.

Once your plans are made and you all settle on a time you ask him, “what do I make for dessert?” He laughs, raising his brow before he speaks. You cut him off, “I’m not making you any more of those cookies. In fact, I’m going to make a whole batch, give them all to your grandma and you can’t have any!” He pretends to pout which makes you laugh, his antics hard to resist. “I’ll bake something new! A surprise!” you exclaim, winking his way.

You spend almost every weeknight at Bucky’s apartment, except for Wednesday night because Nat insists she needs some girl time. “So. Does it feel different now that you guys said I love you?” she asks, sitting on the couch with her legs stretched out over yours while sipping her wine. “It just feels right. I can’t really explain it. It all seems so cliché when I really think about it, but I’ve also not felt surer about anything before.”

Nat tilts her head in understanding, her hand reaching over to squeeze yours. “I get it. I’m so happy for you.” With another sip of your wine you reply, “thanks, I love you. Now stop stalling and tell me about your weekend with Sam!” She giggles and you squeal when you see a light blush creep over her cheeks. “OH MY GOD! WELL??” She kicks you with her foot, scowling before she says, “it’s the wine! I swear!” You laugh, knowing full well she’s full of shit. “Yea right. You can’t fool me. SPILL IT!”

Saturday morning rolls around and you and Bucky leave his apartment together, you’re heading out for baking supplies and Bucky heading to the bookshop to open and prepare for his early departure. “If you need me to pick anything up on my way back just let me know, doll. I can easily make a stop.” You pepper his cheek with kisses, saying thank you in between before planting a good one on his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs, watching you walk down the street until you’re out of his sight.

You decide on making a coconut cream pie for dessert, checking beforehand that everyone is a fan of the fruit. It’s the first time you’re making it and you’re both excited and nervous. Once you have everything you need you head back to Bucky’s and start preparing, making sure to send him plenty of silly texts as you bake. Thankfully the two of you had made a sauce and breaded chicken cutlets the night before so all that had to be done other than the pie was frying up the cutlets and cooking the pasta.

Bucky arrives home right on time. “Wow. It smells amazing in here baby.” He gives you a tight hug, picking you up off your feet and kissing you soundly before running off to take a quick shower. Once he’s clean and ready you finish up the cooking and put the pie in the oven. Bucky sets the table and you prepare some small appetizers.

Steve and Peggy arrive first, and Peggy joins you in the kitchen for some gossiping and wine. You look over her shoulder to see Bucky and Steve on the couch plowing through the snacks. “Hey boys! Can you please try to save some for Nat and Sam??” They both look up guiltily, trying to hide their mouthfuls of food. “Sorry,” they mumble simultaneously.

Luckily, Sam and Nat show up only moments later and Sam can snag a few bites. Dinner goes off without a hitch and everyone sits with their glass of wine while they wait for dessert. “Nat has been going on and on about y/n’s baking all week! I can’t wait to eat this pie!” Sam shouts. “I know, Bucky said her cookies are better than my mom’s!” Steve chimes in, raising his eyebrows.

Everyone looks at Steve in shock, their mouths hanging open. “What the heck guys?” you say as you walk to the table holding the pie. “What happened?” Steve quickly speaks up, “nothing y/n! We were just talking about how good your baking is. That looks amazing!” You throw them a knowing smirk and put the pie on the table, serving a slice to everyone.

Sam shovels in a giant bite, moaning around the fork. “Holy cow, this is incredible y/n!” Steve follows suit, closing his eyes and mumbling something about heaven while he chews. Bucky looks up and gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling as he mouths “I love you.”

Before you can answer him Sam snorts, pulling your attention away as you watch him point and laugh. “Jeez, you two are sweeter than this pie.” You scowl at him and try to hold back your laughter but fail miserably when Nat chimes in and says, “that’s the best you could do. Really?” Everyone starts laughing and Bucky pulls you into his lap, feeding you a piece of the pie. “Wow. It really did come good,” you say, only loud enough for him to hear.

While everyone continues to eat Bucky makes some coffee, the smell drifting through the small apartment and perking everyone up. The rest of the evening goes by fast and before you know it, Bucky and Sam must leave for the bar. Bucky tries to help you clean up, but you shoo him out, looking forward to a little alone time with Peggy and Nat. “It’s fine Buck, don’t worry! We can definitely handle this!”

It doesn’t take the three of you long to clean up, afterwards getting comfy on the couch with a glass of wine. You hang out for another couple of hours before the yawning starts, the wine and good food catching up to all of you. “Thank you so much for coming, this was so fun!” They enthusiastically agree, telling you for the hundredth time how delicious the pie was.

An hour later you’re in the bath, relaxing under the bubbles and teasing Bucky by sending him sexy pictures. ‘Doll, this is so unfair…I know what’s under those bubbles and I want some.’ You giggle, placing your phone safely on the towel next to the tub. Grabbing the plate of pie you brought into the bath you take a bite, savoring every flavor as it swirls over your tongue. You mentally give yourself props, loving how much everyone praised your baking abilities.

Finishing the last bite, your eyes suddenly go wide, and you blurt out, “that’s it!!!” You drop the empty dish to the floor and grab your phone, trying to text Bucky as quickly as possible. “Shit, shit, shit!” you curse at your slippery fingers, wiping them off on the towel. ‘BUCKY! I KNOW HOW TO SAVE THE BOOKSHOP!’ The text goes through and you smile to yourself, excitement coursing through you while you wait for his reply.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-broody-muffin @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hailmary-yramliah @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @hiddles-rose @imgaril-lindru @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @scarletsoldierrr @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky @throwmyheartawayagain @flyawaybay @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods​ @inflxmes 

[melodyalanaroster]

To answer some Fanfic Questions...

So, this is my response to @broxklynn‘s post... I decided to make this its own post... So that It can be properly answered.

1. How and why did you start to write? Is there some kind of story behind it?

I started writing in general when I was in elementary school... Back when I just had a Platform 9 3/4 journal, not many friends, recess, and a desire to immerse myself in the world of Harry Potter. I enjoyed writing, and even joined the Writer’s Club in High School (but I eventually left to join Anime Club and Divergent Thinking Society). As for writing MCL fanfiction, I began writing Sam’s and Alana’s stories as early as when I first got into the fandom, back in 2013. Alana’s story started out as “A Fresh Start”, had a one shot called “When I Wake”, then turned into “Let The Dawn Be Broken”, and is now “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. The final product barely has any hints of the first 3... In fact, Sam’s story, “Fighting Darkness”, has been completely debunked due to what I’ve decided to canonize in “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. Writing MCL fanfiction has been a major help in distracting me from the depression that was caused by family issues, severe abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, my mom’s disease and her death, as well as working at several shitty jobs. Writing has helped me escape reality and keep myself sane enough to not be a black hole of hate, anger, and sadness to my friends and boyfriend.

2. What do you struggle the most with your writing?

There are 2 major things I struggle with... 1 is Timing. I often set deadlines for myself that I never meet and it makes me so frustrated that I miss them... There are currently things in my drafts that were meant to be “Holiday Specials” for Valentine’s Day and Halloween 2020 that are still unfinished... It makes me feel like I’m letting my readers down, when its more of me letting myself down... The other thing is Inspiration. Because I hate my job, I often think about Alana’s story in an effort to not be completely consumed by the fact that I do hate my work... Due to that, I often come up with ideas for my story that I think are FANTASTIC for my story... But, by the time I get home, I’m either in too much pain or too tired to write, or I’ve forgotten the ideas...

3. What is your favorite genre to write?

I love writing Romance with a bit of Slice of Life and a hint of Action/Adventure... 

4. Slowburn or “Flame”/PWP?

Slow burn any day.

5. How do you overcome writer’s block?

If I absolutely can’t write... I work on other stuff I need to do... Typically, something around the house, or something online I need to do... I also look for cool stuff to add to wish lists... I’ll occasionally play videogames or read comic books... In an effort to subvert writer’s block, I like having multiple chapters in my drafts at once. If I’m not in the mood to work on one chapter, I can work on a different one.

6. What kind of thing you dislike the most, when reading a fanfiction? (for example: particular plot, grammar mistakes)

One thing that makes me upset (and it makes me madder when I do this) is misspelling... Especially when it looks like its almost blatant... You have autocorrect, USE IT! Or when a fanfic is so awful, yet the author acts like their work is a gift from god... I don’t mind a “bad” fanfiction... Hell, the concept of “My Immortal” is so bad that its hilarious... But Fifty Shades did a lot of damage and E.L. James acts like she’s bigger than Jesus... Seriously, she wrote Twilight fanfiction, changed some minor details and names, people who have no knowledge of BDSM ate it up, and she acts like she’s a “Sex and Relationship Guru”...

7. What’s the biggest issue for you, when writing a Beemoov fanfiction?

The biggest issue for me is finding out when to allow for Beemoov’s writing and placement to take place in my story. I don’t like a lot of the events of UL and LL, so I’m often finding myself in a position where I have to watch video playthroughs and go “Okay, how can I omit this character, but keep this scene?”. I’ve had to do that A LOT with Alexy and Rosalaya.... Although, to a certain extent, I’ll often cut their scenes out altogether. I really hate what Beemoov did to them. They were great characters in HSL, but became utter shit in UL and stayed shit in LL. To make up for Beemoov’s writing style, I’ve created my own characters, added in old characters (like Kentin and Armin), added in bits from the manga (like Viktor, Severina and their fathers), and gone off on my own storyline. The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster is close to MCL at times, but often veers off onto its own road.

8. Have you ever created a character based on person in real life? (celebrity, someone that you know, etc)

YES!!! A LOT of characters in my story are based on real people! Alana’s step-father, Nate Films, is closely based on Nathan Fillion. A lot of her family members are based on members of my own family, just changed a bit to fit the story. Lynne Roster, Alana’s mom, is what I had always dreamed my own mom would be... Hell, Alana’s cat, Sylvester, is based on my own childhood cat, Luna.

9. How do you feel about your own characters? Do you think of them as your babies or have rather love-hate relationship with them? (And, do you have favorite one?)

I love most of my characters. I do hate 3 in particular... But, you’re supposed to hate, or at least not respect, them... That’s why I poured my hatred into them... Those 3 are Carol, Kai and Azrael. Carol has aspects of my abuser in her. You’ll see more of her when I finally post the HSL related chapters... And understand what I mean... Kai is based on one of my real life cousins that I’ve not been happy with for years (the one who my bf has deemed “the family failure”). You mainly see him in the Cousin Mels chapters, and in the Christmas Special... Azrael is the one who is seen the most in the UL chapters, and she is a main adversary for Alana. She is the one who broke her the most, the one who ended Alana’s relationship with Nathaniel, the one who truly traumatized her. As for ones I love... The one I love the most is Alana... I know, she’s a reflection of me, so that’s kind of vain... But, she’s a part of me. When I do finish her story and am at the point where I need to say “Goodbye”, it will hurt....

10. Enemies-to-lovers or friends/bestfriends-to lovers?

Definitely friends/best friends to lovers. I also like toying with what happens when best friends turn to lovers, but circumstance parts them and one moves on...

11. Is it easy for you to get inside your character’s head? Can you empathize with them? Is there’s some similarities between you and your main character?

It is VERY easy for me to get into Alana’s head... Like I said in #9, she is a reflection of me. She looks and acts like how I’d like to in a lot of situations... Her life is more interesting, traumatized, and more well off than mine... But, she is still me in major ways...

12. Who has been the biggest supporter of your writing?

Definitely my boyfriend. He doesn’t really understand the game itself... But, he likes how happy it makes me and he respects how much of my heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears that I’ve poured into writing my story. He loves listening to me read passages from it to him while I’m working. He gives me advice and his opinion is highly valued... My family knows I’m writing a large story, and have seen some of the images that I’ve gotten commissioned, but they don’t really know or care about the game. They do respect the fact that I am writing. They love the fact that I’m slightly following in my mom’s footsteps in that regard (she wrote 3 books and several poems). My online friends have been very supportive as well! I’m constantly updating them on what I’ve worked on each day in my Discord Server and the words of encouragement always help.

13. How do you handle criticism?

Not well. Due to the abuse and family issues mentioned in #1, for a good amount of my life, I’ve gotten nothing but harsh criticism... So, now that I’m away from all that, at 26 years old, I’m just now getting to a point where I’m starting to take it better... But, I’ve got a long way to go.

14. Do you like giving your characters trauma? Why/why not?

I hate sounding like a sadist... But, I’m going to anyway, so fuck it... Yes. I have done awful things to Alana over the years. In A Fresh Start, she got sexually assaulted and ostracized. In When I Wake, she gets into a car crash, put into a coma, and in her dream state murdered by Francis in front of Nathaniel. In Let The Dawn Be Broken, the plan was for her to end a war. In “The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster”, her childhood cat dies, her mom gets sick, she gets abused by Carol, her best friends get ripped away from her for a bit, she gets sent to a country halfway around the world alone, she gets assaulted and ultimately turned into a weapon of mass destruction.... I’ve even thought of killing her mom off at one point... But decided against it...

Now, granted, A Fresh Start and Let The Dawn Be Broken never saw completion, but happy endings were planned for them...

I do this, all while giving Alana happy endings in each story because “If Alana can go through utter hell and make it through, then so can I.”... I know, I’m “god” in that regard and I can control how Alana’s life is.... But, the fact that in my writing, she ends up standing tall, happy, with everything she wants, after everything she goes through does make me feel better.... 

15. Are you proud of yourself? When you look at first piece you wrote and compare it to the latest one?

Yes. If you look at A Fresh Start, you can tell it was written by someone fresh out of High School. There’s no real depth to it. Let The Dawn Be Broken isn’t much better... But, The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster has become my magnum opus. It is the largest piece I have EVER written, and will probably remain the largest piece I write. I am very proud of what I have created... And when its last word is written, and I am ready to get it made for it’s place on my shelf, I will feel very bittersweet about it... That being said, my original plan for a sequel involving Nathaniel’s and Alana’s daughter, Aurora, has been discarded. I don’t believe Aurora could ever have as much of my heart that her parents do...

And there you have it! Some insight into my world, writing, and history!

[gas-station-trackphone]

Fic Recs/Mandatory Reading for Reddie fans

Here is an incomplete list of some of my favorite Reddie fics on ao3, because i cannot get over the sheer talent of this fandom’s wonderful writers! A lot of these are the Greatest Hits that you’ll find on almost every fic list, but that’s why I consider them mandatory reading. like if you haven’t read some of these, what are you doing?

the years go by like days by georgiestauffenberg, rated M

the 27 years in between, but better because richie and eddie stay together. every time i think of this fic, i think of that lady gaga meme where she’s like “brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, etc” and maybe it’s bc this is one of the first reddie fics i ever read, but this one is always gonna be my favorite

broken record by spunknbite, rated E

the mother of all time loop fics. every reddie veteran gets chills at the phrase “the house on Neibolt was still standing”

literally everything by stitchy

like seriously just clear a few days bc you’re not gonna want to stop reading this author once you start. no other author has made me literally fucking cackle in one paragraph and sob in the next like this one, pls do yourself a favor and devour all their works like i did 

the night we met (take me back) by camerasparring, rated E

ch2 fix-it where eddie shows up at richie’s door alive and with no memory. great slow burn with a wonderfully conflicted richie, 10/10

let’s hear it for my baby! series by cloudings, rated E

OOOOOOOHHH boy! a modern teen!reddie grindr AU that’s both steamy AND sweet?? more like a fucking blessing amen hallelujah

a heart that laughter has made sweet by marjaani, rated E

another lovely teen!reddie fic that’s got it all! sweet, stupid boys, humor, a teeny bit of angst, and some 5-alarm fire smut with some top eddie, as a treat

keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. by theappleppielifestyle, rated T

angst with a happy ending is my favorite, and this one is just fantastic. so sweet, so sad! and stan is featured as eddie’s afterlife buddy and idk about y’all but i cannot get enough of stanley uris in my reddie fics. read this, then read all this author’s reddie fics, they’re all amazing

collateral by loosecannon, sheepknitssweater, rated E

a post-ch2 fic that i guess could be classified as fix-it, BUT with some very interesting twists. they beat the clown, everyone lives, but no one really gets the tropey happy ending. the WIP sequel is also incredible and i live for the updates.

the greater fool  series by mischiefmanager, mostly rated T with some E

this is a series i’ll reread a lot bc it’s so fucking good. follows young reddie into early adulthood, mostly a bunch of cute shit where they figure out themselves and their relationship. also contains the single best teen reddie fic in existence, he came in through the window, but reading the whole series is a must

brokeback derry and everything else by Amuly, rated E

27 years in between, richie and eddie reconnect in their 20s and meet back up in derry twice a year to remember and love each other before going back to their lives and forgetting. so much pain. there’s a lot of sweet stuff in there, but you can see shit’s gonna get complicated from miles away and the anticipation almost gave me stomach ulcers (in a good way). ultimate angst with a happy ending.

let me name the stars for you by playedwright, rated M

speaking of angst with a happy ending...Martian AU!!!!! this one fucked me up in the best way, i literally called my roommate at 2am to vent to her about my emotions after reading it. i go back and reread chapter 8 just to be overwhelmed by it, and it makes me cry every time. plus, there are awesome sequels/companion pieces in the series! read this, i beg you!

walk through fire for you by hyruling, rated T

unwind after all that angst with some cute, drunk, confused eddie being very upset when he finds out richie is engaged. richie only teases him a little before pointing out the matching ring on eddie’s finger. 

in the heat of the summer (you're so different from the rest) by kaboomslang, rated E

post-ch2 slow burn with tags that really say it all, including but not limited to: eddie moves to california and richie is a mess, Eddie Kaspbrak’s Hot Girl Summer, and cute middle aged man dates

pivotal moments by danfanciesphil, polypocket, rated E

high school reddie has a sort of fwb thing goin on, but emotions get in the way. featuring wonderful bevchie friendship, hella miscommunication, cute double dates, high eddie, and a happy ending

like a bullet in the back by jerry_duty, rated M

adult idiots in love! a personal favorite trope of mine! slow burn with a fair helping of angst but a really great ending. richie stays with eddie in new york while he’s there on business, and it takes these losers SO LONG to figure it out but the way they dance around it is very cute

no sense of living without aim [WIP] by liesmyth, rated E

richie and eddie meet on grindr in the 27 years between and hey, whadda ya know, they fall in love! i really love this fic but i’m pretty sure it’s been abandoned. i’ve had it open on my phone browser for like 3 months with no update but i still check it regularly bc i’m pathetic and this fic is just so good i’m DYING to know what happens next so read at ur own risk

a strange sense of familiarity [WIP] by Katranga, rated E

another “they meet and fall in love without remembering” fic, and even though it’s not complete yet, it gets regular updates. oh, also, i’m obsessed with it. they’re long distance fuck buddies who can’t admit they’re in love, and then they get hit with the childhood memories! and everyone lives! what’s not to love!  also PLEASE read kisses take like mint and every other reddie work by this author, they are all fantastic

adult friends by sudowoodo, rated T

AU where adult reddie meet at a first aid seminar for work (immediately fall in love), become friends, become best friends, and finally get to be happy. has some super repressed eddie and intensely pining richie, which is always fun, and genuinely made me laugh out loud. also please check out this author’s other reddie fics, there’s some super sweet kid reddie in there that really warms the heart

the mind's a funny fruit by joldiego, rated T

eddie wakes up barely alive in derry, has 0 memory, calls himself richie, and moves in with some lesbians. an absolute must read that ought to be on every reddie fic rec compilation. i read this a long time ago and just thinking about it makes me want to read it again.

now what i'm gonna say may sound indelicate [WIP] by IfItHollers, rated E

it took me entirely too long to find this fic since i joined the fandom, and it’s truly a fucking masterpiece. it’s almost at 200k now and still unfinished, and the slow burn is excruciating, but this is a legendary fic for a reason. eddie spends the first chunk of this fic in the hospital recovering from the massive chest wound, and then he and richie move the recovery to ben’s cabin in the woods. the author’s notes for each chapter are a story in themselves

signs of a new lifetime by swordfishtrombones, rated T

one of the sweetest, most romantic reddie fics i’ve ever read. a fresh take on a classic concept: post-ch2, they’re in love, they haven’t said/done anything about it yet, BUT!!! it’s not angsty! they are all cute and giggly like “you say it first!” “no, you say it first!” and it makes me fucking MELT

broadcasting tower by swordfishtrombones, rated E

back-to-back recs from the same author! bc i love these fics so much! sort of similar to the last one in that they both know what’s up and just haven’t said it, but this one’s got the angst! i didn’t know when i read it that it was the same author as the other fic, and i thought how funny, i found another reddie author that perfectly captures this pair in such a wonderfully romantic way! i also just noticed there’s a follow up to this so now i have to go read that immediately

eurydice; the original comeback kid by Vulcanodon, rated M

for the love of god please read this and the other work in this series. it’s a ch-2 fix-it with some intense action sequences and major pining, and it has haunted me since i first read it

love on the telephone by tempestbreak, rated E

okay this one is really just 30k of pure smut but it’s also so sweet and features a mini sexual awakening for eddie and some insecure richie with an emphasis on how much they love and trust each other. also it doesn’t hurt that the smut is fire, like does anyone else want that twink obliterated, or is it just me?

the boy who loves you by candlejill, rated E

eddie lives, richie confesses, things are chill and then they’re not. richie’s career flourishes, which is always nice to read and is what ultimately catalyzes eddie’s gay awakening and realization of his love for richie. it’s got some sad angsty parts and a very sweet ending, and it up there as one of my favorite reddie fics of all time

richie and eddie break up [WIP] by skeilig, rated M

a refreshing and realistic take on life ch-2 for the losers, because being in love at thirteen doesn’t mean you can fall into a perfect relationship at 40. i’ll admit, i’m hoping this will ultimately be a “richie and eddie get back together” fic, but it’s still a very good read (and often very funny in the second chapter) at the moment in the midst of their break up

september 1989 and everything else by pineapplecrushface, rated T

cute kid reddie figuring it out and making me smile. the follow up to this and the after derry series by this author are also personal favorites

go west by ssstrychnine, rated T

road trip fic! an absolute work of art slow burn with teen reddie in the 90s. it’s so beautifully written i just wish i could go back and read it for the first time again

the edification of eddie kaspbrak by tozier, rated M

character study with some incredible fucking prose, my lord it gorgeous. explores how eddie learns about love as he grows up, and it’s super fucking sad sometimes bc the poor boy doesn’t know how to have the things he wants and i just want to give him a hug, but it’s really a spectacular fic

circular motion by sinchronicity, rated M

soulmate!AU that follows book canon and even though it’s been a long time since i’ve read it and the details are fuzzy, i remember absolutely loving it and thinking it was incredible

tell me you know by RichiesToesHurt, rated E

college losers with some severely pining and jealous richie with a lovely ending 

predicament bondage [WIP] by dgalerab, rated E

i resisted reading this fic for so long, recently broke and binged all of it, and now i’m like frothing at the mouth for updates. richie’s a closeted actor/comedian who meets eddie, a professional Dom, when he needs help researching a role. they become friends, they develop crushes, richie realizes he’s a sub, and it’s just so much fun to read

there’s a lot more fics to rec so i might add on to this in the future, but in the meantime my biggest tip for for reading fanfiction that took me embarrassingly long to figure out: focus on the authors! if you read something you like, check out the rest of the work by that author bc odds are you’ll like that too. i mentioned it in a few specific works above, but check out the authors catalogues for these fics. if i included every work by these authors that i loved, this list would be miles long

feel free to add on any great stuff i missed, there’s sure to be tons of it!

[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 15

Wordcount: 3, 484 Rating: T for strong language and mild violence “For you, it can be. I'm actually conscious about the taste and origins. You know those protein jellies Zao makes? They're made of his roommates.” Chapter synopsis: Everyone goes out for a night in town for a day off. While Arthur is complaining about the venue of choice, Allen sulks about the prospect of being replaced. When you disappear to the bathroom, he follows you and comes clean about it, even suggesting that you run away with him. You're reminded that you picked the right choice when you come across some unfinished business. The reader is referred to as she/her.

15 - Blood was on the agenda

“Technology advances, but humans don't. We're smart monkeys, and what we want is always the same. Food, shelter, sex, and in all its forms, escape.”

He could repeat the quote word for word if he wanted.

A week had passed since Zao left the planet, leaving you buried to the neck with work, and him, with an unstable mechanic. Alfred was still wasting away, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when the guy was the source of all his problems. Ever since he returned to the guest room after comforting Arthur, this feeling of abandonment never stopped haunting him.

How could it, after seeing you curl up so comfortably with Alfred? Every night was the same. Allen would face you, hoping you could face him. But it was always your back. Your arms were coiled around the blonde's neck like they belonged there. And the image seared into his mind like branding. It only burned deeper into his soul at every passing day as you stuck closer to the man.

Down a narrow flight of stairs in a secluded street was a pounding nightclub. Two bouncers who could easily take his head off guarded the entrance. With tattoos of dragons etched into their skin, the sight was enough to get Arthur warbling again. “Why did we have to come here? The club across the street looked fine to me!”

Allen clicked his tongue and ruffled his hair.

“If it weren't for the fact that two of your friends are on the hit list, we'd go there. But we need every bit of protection we get.” Holding his hips as he gave the two men a squint, a tense silence fell around the group before they gave a soft grunt. A grin stretched over his face. “Good thing your boyfriend has connections.”

“... Hah...” Digging a hand through his choppy blonde locks, he shook his head with a hard frown. “And because of that, that idiot will turn up dead in a ditch one day...” As he trailed off, everyone entered the establishment. One of the bouncers whipped their head over their shoulder to stare at the group that just disappeared inside.

“Didn't we already let that guy in? The blonde one?” He pointed behind him with a thumb.

“... You're tripping balls, man.” The other sighed.

“Not today, I'm not. The one with the blue eyes. Like an hour ago.”

“Maybe he came in again cuz' he wanted to. It's not that deep.”

“This is why I'm better at this job than you.”

“Eat shit.”

It was a cloudy afternoon. A grayish-blue haze had been cast over the city, but what you walked into was so much dimmer in comparison. Nothing but neon illuminated the interior. Lights that faded from blue to purple lined the countertops. The tiles of the dancefloor were a blinding white. Next to it was a heated pool that glowed blue.

As fog clouded over the surface of the steaming water, it curled around the patrons wading in it. Needless to say, you were hypnotized. “Did nobody actually think of bringing their swimsuit?” Scrambling to the edge, you bent down to your knees and played with the white clouds. “A nice hot soak would do my sore muscles some good.” Before your fingers could do so little as graze against the water, Alfred grabbed your wrist.

“But not for your junk. They're practically swimming in STIs... Just do it at home in the bath.” He grumbled, pulling you up. Shivering at the thought, you let him pull you to the bar.

“But the bath doesn't glow...”

“Not yet, it doesn't.”

Allen narrowed his eyes. The guy was so quick to follow you, then lay hands on you, it had him rethinking his life purpose. Protecting you was meant to be his thing. Hell, it used to be his job, even. And yet, here Alfred was, having replaced him. No way. He was just an outsider in the end, wasn't he?

As he watched your interaction with him, he would soon learn he was right to some degree. Maybe Alfred didn't replace him, after all. He just became another figure in your life. Somebody he never managed to be--yet.

“Let's just grab some grub.”

Ever since Alfred arrived, he'd been wondering what was on the menu.

Hunger might have been history, but not eating. And you knew it well. Shooting him a weird smile, you nudged him with your elbow. “You say you don't have organs, but you still have a digestive system. How else do you use the toilet, huh?” Alfred looked at you, turned away, then looked at you again with his face scrunched up in a scowl.

He couldn't admit it, but you were right down to a T. “It doesn't count. It's not exactly real if it's not made of organic materials.”

Taking a seat by the counter, the stools beside scraped back to be occupied by your friends. While Alfred sat on your left, Allen sat on your right. Arthur took the end. “It's all a social construct.” You piped, much to his displeasure. The word wasn't entirely accurate to describe the emotions flurrying in his chest, however.

Was he frustrated? Yes. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to hear what you had to say. And you didn't disappoint. “If something serves a function in your body, it's an organ. Doesn't matter what it's made of.”

Alfred waved over the bartender. “I'm not having this conversation with you. We're from different generations, so I have a right to brood in peace.”

“Fine. But I won't let it destroy you.”

His breath hitched while he was about to order. “Can I--” Darting his eyes to yours, his voice only faltered at the steely look in them. Tearing his gaze from you had never been so difficult. “... Can I get a yakisoba with extra bonito flakes on the top? And uh, six of these dim sum-thingos?” He slid the menu to you.

“What do you want?”

A soft laugh rumbled from your throat as he refused to look at you. I'm finally getting through to your thick-headed ass, huh? But you couldn't be unreasonable. This was always a touchy subject. “I'll just have these dumplings. What about you two?”

Allen raised his brows, unimpressed. “Lotus chips and beer for me. This isn't the most vegetarian-friendly place in the world. Sucks.”

Arthur smirked. “I know, right? But protection is the priority, I suppose. I'll have the BLT.”

“I don't think you get to side with me when you ordered the worst thing off the menu.” The redhead mused, causing the other to flare their nostrils. He slapped his hands down on the counter to sit further up his stool. “But I get it. Aw, everything reminds me of him! Except for this BLT cuz' it's white.”

“Shut your gob and bugger off, Allen! It's literally just food.”

The said man sipped his beer loudly. “For you, it can be. I'm actually conscious about the taste and origins. You know those protein jellies Zao makes? They're made of his roommates.”

“So what? Not everyone has the same eating habits as you. Deal with it!”

You exchanged funny looks with Alfred. “Don't they get along well?”

“Not as well as us. And it'll stay that way so long as you don't talk about your philosophies.”

“... And that's not happening.” The food finally arrived, so the murmur of conversations came to an end. But it wasn't long before they picked up again. “You're not the only one who can have opinions.” Alfred glanced at you with narrowed eyes. “I can't even say that they're as strong as yours. But you'll have to live with them. Maybe you could learn something new.”

He scoffed, but he couldn't bite back a defeated smile. “C'mon, not this again. You of all people should understand how I feel about that stuff.”

“And I've seen what it does to you.” Alfred hung his head at that. This was exactly what he wanted to hear, but it annoyed him all the same. The hardest topics were often the most worth discussing, and this was a perfect example of it. Giving your chest a few indignant bumps with his head, he sulked like a child much to your amusement. “I'd love to entertain you some more, but nature calls.”

Hopping off the stool at that, he thrust out a hand to grab yours. It all happened so fast, even he was shocked. But it became apparent to you both what just happened—he needed you for one last reckoning. For you to see that expectant look of his, saying how he wasn't done with you. After a few moments, he let go, letting you turn away and run off to do your business.

Life had been such a shitshow you almost forgot the situationship between you and him. Even with his lacking memories, he couldn't forget it either. And now, he just had to wait for the right time.

“Right. That's it.” Allen grumbled, scraping his chair back to hop off.

Arthur glanced up.

“And where the hell are you going?”

“Gonna go with her. I've learned to not trust anything anymore.” Jogging after you at that, the mechanic was left with a fellow blonde.

“Well, would you look at that? It takes two to tango.”

Alfred shook his head. “What?”

“You and Allen, I mean.”

The toilet flushed. Leaving the cubicle to wash your hands in one of the communal sinks, you stared at your reflection as you shook away the water droplets. The pandemonium of the club music had faded to a soft thumping, giving you some space to collect your thoughts. Even in the darkness, what you saw in the mirror couldn't be clearer. It was distinctly different from watching yourself in a pond—where the ripples of the water distorted your image—specifically the one in the garden back at headquarters.

Your old home.

But it could burn for all you cared. This was who you were now. Tired, resentful, and fuelled by a fire of hot vengeance.

“... Whatcha thinkin' about?”

Your heart jumped out of your chest as you turned to the voice. Leaning against the doorframe was none other than your old bodyguard himself. “Oh my god, you scared the crap outta me.”

He craned his head to the side with a grin. “Sorry, a force of habit. Security works better when they're discrete.” You responded wordlessly with a small, wistful smile. As nostalgic as it was to have the man by your side 24/7, he didn't have to do this anymore. And it was better that way. Something about bodyguarding never sat well with you. Not with a man of his talents, anyhow.

Walking in to join your side, he bent down to fold his arms across the sink. Then, he rolled his head up to you. “So... Wanna tell me why you look like that?”

“Like... Like what?” Blinking a few times at the mirror, you leaned in to peer at your reflection.

Allen snorted. “Not literally. Well, not your physical appearance. I can tell when something's on your mind.” Straightening up, he squeezed your shoulder as he stared at both of your reflections. Almost instantly, he felt you tense up beneath his fingertips. “I've known you for nearly eight years, dollface. I'm offended that you're underestimating me.” The man pressed his cheek to yours coyly. “Even if you don’t talk to me about your problems, I can smell em’.”

You outstretched your hands to hold the edge of the sink, breaking away from the contact on his skin. It wasn't anything worth paying mind on your end, but the feeling of your face separating from his was reminiscent of tearing something from its glue. It stung as much as it was destabilizing. It showed in his troubled frown, which deepened when he heard your mirthless laughs while you hung your head.

“I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you.” The loudest silence fell around you both as his eyes went round with grief. “It's... Too productive.” Returning his gaze with a bittersweet smile, he felt himself die a little inside. You weren't spared of the sensation as you continued with an honesty so brutal, it killed you to say it. “I've been trying so hard to make something out of myself.”

Your brows trembled ever so lightly as they furrowed together. “But I'm getting so tired, I wanted to just... Give up on the future. Maybe disappear for a bit. But I couldn't bring myself to come to you or anyone about it. You especially.”

Allen huffed out a pained breath. “Why? I wanna help you! You can trust me with anything, you know that! Out of everyone in the world, I'm the closest to you, aren't I?” Holding onto your shoulders, he gave you a desperate squeeze. “Or am I wrong to assume that?” In this space in time, he never felt more betrayed in his life. The hurt coursing through every fiber of his being was unbearable—he preferred being skewered into by your father's blade to this.

“Because it’s Alfred now?”

Your heart sank as you listened to and saw how wounded he was. His lips were trembling, and tears were threatening to spill from his glassy eyes. Never in your life had you seen him cry. The sight was so sobering you couldn’t hold yourself from pulling him down into a tight hug. “No! It's because you're you.” As your bodies swayed from side to side in the embrace, you dug a hand through his hair and screwed your own eyes shut. “You’re my only family in the world. Nothing and nobody will ever replace you, ever.”

He tightened his hold on you as he let a few tears roll down his face. His eyes had been shut as a last-ditch resort to keep that from happening, but they oozed out the tiny gaps of his lids. “Then talk to me.”

Allen never knew he had this fear, but here it stood before him in all its glory, threatening to undo his sanity at the seams. It was the fear of being a second choice. Being abandoned. He already was once, and it nearly cost him his life. But if you did it--“What makes me so different from the rest? Why would it be easier to say this to everyone else?”

“Because you’ve known me since I was thirteen!” You buried your face into your hands to hide how it contorted with pain. Falling deathly quiet at your sudden outburst, he could only watch as you trembled away. “I’ve been working towards something ever since. I always thought I was scared of disappointing dad. But in the end, I was more afraid of disappointing you.”

Allen pulled you in again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to kiss your cheek. It wasn’t a first, but the way how his mouth lingered on your skin made it feel like something more—something beyond a platonic friendship—and pulling away felt like a sin in itself. “Don’t think that fucking low of me. You could never disappoint me.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he bit back a contented sigh as your cries quietened to sniffles.

“You have nothing to prove. Fuck expectations. You don't have to live the way everyone wanted you to. Just live how you want.” Reaching up to hold your face, he was at a loss from how satisfied it felt to finally say it. But the moment of truth had yet to come—the culmination of everything he wanted in this world.

“Just run away with me. We can put this all behind us. We don’t have to think about this ever again.”

You held onto his hands that found a place on your cheeks. It was a nice thought. To abandon everything you knew to live a carefree and blissful life with Allen. But you declined with little hesitation. “We don't run from things. It's not who we are.” A sad smile made its way to your face. “And I have too much unfinished business.”

Allen wasn't sure whether to think of your response as rejection. But he wasn't about to let it get to him. “... If you ever do, then tell me. Zao's got a nice retreat in the middle of nowhere. We'll pack our things in the middle of the night and disappear by morning.” Your smile spread to him, but his was more bittersweet.

“I just want you to know that you'll always have a way out of everything. I'll wait for you. So just... Give me a call.” He shoved his hands into his pockets to walk off. With one last wistful look over his shoulder, he added this. “I'll always be your guy.”

Going to the bathroom was meant to clear your head, but here you were, sitting in your lonesome in an empty pool room in the penthouse to mull over the conversation. You would be lying if you said you didn't want to run away with Allen. A part of you wanted to return to how things used to be—when it was just you and him. He was the most important person to you in the world, but so was Alfred. You couldn't just forget about him like fuck all, could you? Breathing out a drawn-out sigh, you watched the soft pulsing of lights of the city at night through the window.

Maybe Allen did want you to forget him.

Fiddling with the gun he left you, the barrel scraped against the counter in small slides. Then, you picked it up with a huff to slide off the stool. It was about time you joined the rest. As you did, you caught sight of a familiar silhouette by the window.

Shrouded in the dimness of the room, their body was nothing but a shadow against the scenery of neon holograms and billboards. With a brief squint, you could recognize the person almost right off the bat.

“Alfred? How did you know to come up here?” Tucking the gun into your back pocket, you couldn't help but grin at the pleasant surprise. The said man spun to your voice, then waved. Your grin would've widened at the sight, but it faded upon discovering he was in a different set of clothes than what he arrived in. He came in a dark khaki military jacket and navy blue jeans.

Weird. When did he change to a kimono?

“Hey! I haven't seen you in ages. Come gimme a hug, dammit!” Tightening his arms around your waist, he lifted you up a few inches off the ground. A few nervous laughs fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders to stabilize yourself. And they felt... A little softer than you remembered. Warmer. Before you could linger too long on the sensation, he set you on your feet and gleamed.

“Whatcha doing in the club, (F/N)? I thought you didn't like places like these. 'Specially when this one's got ties to the underworld and stuff.”

You craned your head to the side—never have you been this baffled. “... You walked in here with us.”

Alfred blinked. “Oh, did I?”

“... Are you drunk?”

He patted his chest a few times without eliciting any sort of whirring noise—immediately, the interaction changed to an unsettling one. But his answer only confirmed your suspicions. “Nope! Stone-cold sober. It would take more than a few drinks to get this baby down.” He gloated, much to your surprise. But the shock soon morphed into a grim kind of understanding.

Alfred couldn't get drunk.

In a heartbeat, you grabbed his wrist, then felt down his forearm. The utmost terror contorted at your expression as you felt his soft flesh sink between your fingers. You only sucked in a horrified gasp when you witnessed his veins disappear under your presses. It was almost as if he was—“Heh. You having fun there?”

Glancing up at him in a dark glower, you never bothered to open your mouth. Instead, you reached for your back pocket. If he was who or what you thought he was, you couldn't let Alfred see him. He couldn't leave this room alive. However, your conviction couldn't triumph the smallest shred of hope that you were just seeing things. There was one way to confirm you weren't hallucinating.

Blood was on the agenda, and you wanted to see it.

You pulled out your gun at light speed and fired a shot into his palm.

The explosive bang was loud enough to reach a few floors down, including the elevator that just left this one. Allen was whistling to himself when he heard it.

As faint as it was, he couldn't mistake it for anything else.

He shouldn't have left you alone.

[votederpycausemufins]

helleborusangel where hath your ramblings gone. your ramblings my beloved. Sorry for the late chapter today, had a dip in motivation and then tech issues, but it’s longer than last one so hopefully that makes up for it. also pinging @petrichormeraki like always.

(also slightly warning, uh... how do i say this? it’s not explicit or really sexual so... horniness warning? idk. it’s near the end)

They had done their best to help Grum out, but when they turned him back on, he still was out of it. At the very least, Fundy had been glad to see that a face that matched Jrum’s, but blue, replaced the smiley face. Well, that wasn’t all true. Sometimes it flickered back, but that was better than staying looking like Dream’s mask.

Speaking of the admin, he had sent a message to Fundy, leaving the fox looking around, trying to learn where Dream had been hiding, because he obviously saw or heard what had been going on. Fundy reluctantly said goodbye to the bots, leaving them alone with each other.

Jrum was happy to hug onto his brother. “I’m glad you’re doing better!”

Grum nodded before looking at the top of Jrum’s head. “May I have your shears? I assume you still have them with you.”

“Yeah! Sure!” Jrum pulled his favorite shears out and handed them to his brother. His smile turned to confusion as he was pushed down slightly to make him crouch. He could hear the shears being used, and then a sudden sharp pain before it disappeared. “Ow! Be careful!”

“Did I manage to cut your antenna as well?”

“Yeah! It hurt!”

“I apologize, but something was tied around it.” Grum replied, letting Jrum stand up again before holding out a small red vine.

“Oh! One of those pretty plants! It must have gotten up there when I was exploring that cave.” Jrum took the vine and looked it over. “I think I can still pot it with the other sprouts I have.”

“You… have more?”

“Yep!” Jrum replied before going over to a furnace and throwing his clay in to cook. “It kinda looks like nether plants, but at the same time not? It’s slightly more redstony colored!”

“I suppose that is why you would be a fan of it.”

Jrum paused. What did Grum mean by that? It… It almost sounded like an insult. “What?”

“Redstone isn’t very useful.”

“Not that- What are you talking about?! We’re made of redstone and it’s Daddy’s job to work with it! It’s very useful!”

“”It takes too much time and it’s easy to break. Besides, what are you going to do? Make a secret door with it? People can still break through it.”

Jrum frowned. “Don’t say that!”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No it’s not! Shut up! Or I could just make it so you can’t charge yourself!”

“Fine, live in an unfinished house by yourself. I’m sure you’ll be so safe with your diamonds. It’s not like anyone will want those for themselves.”

“I… They won’t be able to take them. I kept them when we respawned unlike most of my stuff. So even if they kill me, they can’t get them!”

“And so what? You’ll just keep them there? I thought you only had five slots in that chest of yours. What happens when you have something more important, or they’re out and you’re using them.” Grum asked, noticing how one of Jrum’s hands moved slightly. “Or are you fine losing that stupid toy of yours?”

“Don’t say that!” Jrum yelled and shoved his brother over. “It’s not stupid! Dad gave it to me and that makes it important!”

“If its connection to him is so important, he’s the one important. But let’s see, he’s not here. We’ve been here days and he hasn’t shown up. At this point, he probably won’t. And you know why?” Jrum refused to answer or guess, so Grum continued. “Because he doesn’t love us. He’s perfectly fine abandoning us. We’re not even the first one he’s done this too. He. Does. Not. Care.”

Jrum started tearing up before running off crying. Grum didn’t go after his brother and instead went back to work on the house, leaving Jrum on his own again. The younger robot was planning to go back to Puffy, but on the way there, he changed his mind. He changed his path and eventually ended up in the cave again. He nearly tripped over a large vine on the floor, but it was almost like it moved slightly so he didn’t. 

The robot went a bit deeper into the cave than he had when he first found it, following the vines on the ground until he reached the mass that the plants were coming from, the red, egg shaped plant towering over Jrum’s small size. It ever so slightly reminded Jrum of the heart of his daddy’s base. That thing was a sort of living machine as well, and he kept forgetting to feed it. He barely cared about it. And now that he and Grum were gone as far as their dads were concerned, it honestly made sense they wouldn’t come looking.

Jrum sat down next to the egg thing and curled up. He looked around and made sure no one was around before pulling out his special diamond block and hugging it. “I wanna go home…” and then he slowly went into sleep mode.

As Grum worked on building, he shut off a number of his functions, the most prominent one being his emotions. He had hurt his brother, but it was necessary. Something was wrong, and he didn’t know what. He didn’t want to hurt his brother, but he did so it couldn’t be worse. For all he knew, he could suddenly start attacking his brother. Even if this did lead to them on opposites sides of conflict, it would be for the better.

Grum paused in his building to check his battery. It was high, but not that close to full charge, which was odd. It currently felt like he was tired and needed to move to a reduced power mode, but also like he was fully charged and slightly buzzy with the energy.

Blacklist check. Attempting Entry: JoeHills. Assigned roles: Hermittown member, Acknowledged associate family, Operator, Higher Being of Unknown Origin. Banned roles: Hermittown member. Acknowledged associate family. Continue blacklist.

Blacklist check activated. Increase displacement by 2%. Displacing. Displacement complete. Displacement at 41.5% total.

Grum shook his head after realizing he was zoning out. Maybe he should go into sleep mode. The second floor was almost complete at this point. Once it was done, the place just needed to be decorated. The robot hopped down to the ground off the partially built roof, ignoring the damage he took, then went inside. He put the blocks away in a nearby chest, making sure it was organized and hopefully wouldn’t lead to a chest monster. Once everything was stored, Grum hopped onto his bed and started to shift to sleep mode.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in sleep mode exactly, but Grum knew it wasn’t long when something woke him up. Specifically from someone coming inside the house. “What, back so soon? Let me guess, you’re low on charge again.”

“I don't really have that.” A voice that wasn’t Jrum’s spoke up and Grum sat up to see Dream.

“I apologize. My brother and I got into a fight.” The robot said, flopping back down

There was a short moment of silence and Grum could imagine the admin shrugging. “It’s fine. Not many people get along all the time here.” Part of Grum wanted to doubt this guy. There was always something off about him, but at the same time… “I see your place is almost done.”

“Yes it is.”

Grum could imagine a nod. “It’s impressive. You only started two days ago and it’s already almost done even at this size.”

Two days ago? That didn’t sound right. He had started… today? But then how had he…? : ) No, that’s right, two days ago. “Can I ask why you’re visiting?”

“Well, you and your brother showing up is pretty interesting. And even though we have people of all kinds here, no one’s a robot.”

“Well now my brother and I are here and we are.” Grum replied, finally sitting back up, knowing the conversation wasn’t ending anytime soon.

“Yeah. Makes me wonder how much we can figure out from you two. Like there’s one thing I figured out which is pretty interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“Hmm… you know I think it’s actually two.”

Grum rolled his eyes. “Yes, and those would be?”

“The first is you can’t remember the last few minutes before you crashed.” Dream said, leaning in the doorway as if what he said was something simple like ‘I saw a cloud’ or ‘it’s almost night time’. It stunned Grum and made him take a moment in processing it. He had trouble remembering before crashes? How did the admin know that? Had he seen it happen? I mean, he would have-

“The second is for some reason you tend to crash when that one person Fundy knows gets mentioned. I think his name is… Iskall?”

For a moment, Grum could almost hear the grin of the admin, before everything went magenta, then black.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in sleep mode exactly, but Grum didn’t think it had been that long when something woke him back up. Specifically from someone coming inside the house. “What, back so soon? Let me guess, you’re low on charge again.”

“Uh, yeah he is.” An unfamiliar voice spoke.

Jrum was slightly jostled from sleep mode when something moved him. He wanted to get up and move to see what it was, but the 12% battery he had left didn’t really give him much cause to try. Instead he just shifted slightly to tell whatever was disturbing him that he had woken up.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not planning to hurt you.” A voice spoke, and they sounded really nice, so Jrum was pretty sure they were telling the truth. “You look a little tired. I don’t have a bed with me, but maybe some food will help?”

Jrum half comprehended the apple that was moved into his vision. He knew it was red and that it was supposed to feed him, so he weakly grabbed it and smacked it against his monitor screen. When he wasn’t able to eat it, Jrum whined, and a moment later the apple was taken back. “I guess no food then. Let’s find you a bed instead. My place is right nearby, so we can use that!”

“B-b-battery.” Jrum stuttered out, clinging to the fabric of whatever this person was wearing. His power conservation was making it hard to talk, but he was trying his best. “N-need ch-charge.”

“Argh! And it’s not a thunderstorm. What are we supposed to do instead?”

“H-house. Ch-charger.”

“Okay, where’s that?”

Jrum didn’t try answering verbally and just sort of tilted his head so the screen could be seen, displaying coordinates on it. He heard the person repeat it a few times before he darkened the screen again to conserve power.

He could feel the slight bounce from being in the person’s arms as they walked, and while at first it was a little jarring to him, it slowly felt more and more like it was being rocked. He kept expecting feathers to gently brush against him as his dad held him, but it didn’t come. He just fell back asleep.

His brother yelling at him unfortunately woke him back up and Jrum was clinging to his dad again. Grum was scolded, and Jrum realized it wasn’t his dad. He could feel himself being set on a bed and some fumbling around. “Where do I plug this thing in?” Jrum held out his hand and was given the charger cord before plugging it into his port, glad to be charging now that he was all the way down to 4%. 

“You should really build yourself one.”

Jrum didn’t respond, just charging, but the person replied for him. “Can’t you share? I mean you both live here.”

“I’d rather we not. He’ll just taint it with redstone everywhere or those little plants of his.”

That was enough for Jrum to respond. “Uggggh! Shut up and let me charge!”

“You’re the one in my house.”

“It’s our house!”

“Our house? I’m the one who built it. You didn’t even make that whole charger yourself, you got my help as well as Sam’s.”

“Well I need the charger just as much as you!” Jrum yelled, sitting up, and immediately regretting doing that as it felt like his head was spinning. “Stop being so selfish!”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“Hey! Language! And don’t talk to your brother like that!” The person said. Jrum was glad they said something, because Jrum just started crying again. Tommy… he cursed a lot. Doc also did plenty. Ren wasn’t quite as bad, but often you could catch him catching himself. Jrum had heard Xisuma throw a few curses out here and there, and even though his dads tried their best, because he was around them so much, Jrum had heard them curse. But this was different. 

He had never heard- okay that wasn’t true. Grum had cursed a few small times, but usually it was something small and when he was more upset at a mistake he made. But this? Grum yelling at him? That had never happened before. Plus, sure Grum tended to be the slightly more mature of them, trying to talk properly and ended up seeming much more robotic, but Jrum knew his brother could be playful and kind too. But recently he had seemed so cold and upset. It was like Jrum didn’t even know his brother.

As Jrum was hugged by the person who had been helping him, neither of them knew what was going on in Grum’s mind as he came to the same thought. It was if he didn’t even know himself.

“Oi! Stop being such a fucking bitch!” Tommy yelled as he flinched away from another piece of TNT Grifter had placed and Tommy had almost run into. “I still don’t know if I’ll fucking respawn!”

“I said you will!” Grifter said, holding back evil giggles.

Tommy grumbled before taking another stick from his inventory and chucking it at the explosive material after walking a few more blocks. The moment the stick touched it, the TNT exploded, leaving a hole behind. 

“I still don’t understand why the fuck we’re here and not back in Helscraft. I thought you wanted to see your boyfriend.”

“He's not my boyfriend, he’s my husband.” Grifter corrected. “And I said there’s something we need to pick up first.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but continued to follow the hels avian since he didn’t want to get stranded here. “So, you’re also an avian like Grian.”

“Yes I am.” Grifter responded along with a flutter of his wings. “And?”

“Well it’s prettt fucking obvious Grian’s a parrot. I know my Phil’s a crow. The Phil here looked basically the same, but if it’s something else maybe a raven? I heard they have really similar wings. But what are yours?”

“Magpie. And yeah, dad’s a raven.”

“Cool, cool.” Tommy nodded, trying to think of something else to ask. “Uh, what exactly are we after?”

“Aww, don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck no. For all I know it’s some trap to try and kill me.”

“I would never!” Grifter said sarcastically. “It’s just something I’m sure Sense wants to see just as much as me. I put them here just before getting trapped and made sure you couldn’t get them again without going to the right coordinations.”

“And how much further do we still need to go?”

“Not much. I could have been there ages ago if I wasn’t dragging you along.”

“You’re the one who kept putting down TNT!”

Grifter responded to that comment by placing down another piece of the explosive, Tommy running into it this time and it lighting, the teen desperately running away before it actually exploded.

“You bird bitch!”

“Oh shut up, we’re here.”

Tommy looked around and saw nothing. “And what’s here?”

Grifter didn’t answer, just smiled as the ground shifted and part of it started to rise from the ground, slowly shifting into an elongated spiral. Tommy watched as the material shifted into bedrock and then magic emanated from it with green particles. Grifter went over and reached a hand in, then a second, and the. He put his whole head in as he continued to look for whatever was on the other side of… Tommy was pretty sure it was a portal.

“THEY’RE AWAKE!” Grifter shouted at the top of his lungs when he pulled his head out again, scaring Tommy and making him fall over in panic.

“Man, what the fuck, don’t do shit like that!”

Grifter didn’t answer, just went back into the portal, this going through time all the way up to his hips. He was short enough his legs were just left flailing around as he tried to reach something on the other end. An arm started to come back and Tommy was surprised it was dragging something along. “What the fuck. Is that Jrumbot?!”

Grifter came back dragging along what looked to be Grumbot. “Oh? They exist in your world? That helps explain it. But no, these are Sefter and… did we ever give the second one a name?”

“You and your version of Mumbo built these?”

“No, not really.”

“Then did you find them somewhere or some shit.”

Tommy regretted asking when Grifter looked at him with a smirk. “You see, when two people love each other a lot, they end up taking all their clothes off and-”

“Don’t you fucking continue with that! And how do you even make something like that when you two are not that?! Wait, never mind. My brother had a fox with a fish.”

“Huh, not adopted then? Good to know. But yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard the parrots and the bats before. And these two came out of one very wonderful night-” “I said don’t talk about it!” “-though they didn’t seem right and so we tried checking them out, but nothing. Then I sort of got a bounty on my head and I hid them away here!”

“So you just had versions of Grum and Jrum before they were built?!”

“Uh, I suppose so. It’s a shame they had to build them and not-“

“Can you please fucking stop and just get us to Helscraft.”

“Of course! I’m sure the kids will love to see their papa.”

“I would ask another question, but I think I know the answer.”

“I can tell you’re right.” Grifter smirked before taking them to Helscraft. “Oh Evil X! Guess who’s back in town!” There was no answer and he pouted. “Hello? Where’s the fun of showing up if no one is here to freak out?”

“Uh, going to see the person you came to visit? Tommy suggested. 

“Well yeah, but I don’t know where he is while you do.” Grifter crossed his arms before looking up at the sky. A few moments later, the reddish purplish hue of the shy shifted into the same color of an ender pearl, maybe a bit brighter. “There, that should let people know I’m here. Now where’s Sense?”

“Uh… we go through the portal on the main island, follow a path with blue clouds until we get to NPG’s place. We pick up something to let us breathe, and then you go right.”

“You go… right? Like is that east? West? North or south?”

Tommy shrugged. “Dunno. It’s just right.”

“Alright fine, just show me where we’re going before everyone shows up to try and trap me again. Come on boys!” Grifter called to the two robots who had been running around who quickly came back over to him. “And maybe on the way I can think of a name for you.” Grifter booped where a nose would be on the hels version of Jrum.

As Tommy guided them, Grifter spent the time brainstorming ideas for names while ignoring all the mobs that were trying to kill them. Tommy did his best to fight off the monsters, but he still didn’t have much gear, still only having what was salvaged from the one room in the prison.

“So obviously my other side and I had the same idea with names, so something based on that, but I’m not sure what would fit there. Do I just use a d as well for defter?”

Tommy shot another of the living cloud things out of the sky, wishing the thing had infinity since he was down to seven arrows. “It was actually a J, but I guess it does sound like Drum instead of Jrum sometimes.”

“Hmm, you’re right, I can sort of hear a difference. Now, I could also do something else… Where did the J come from again?”

“It was from the word junior I think.” Tommy said before needing to dodge an attack, nearly being hit by a second in the process. “You think you want to help out at all?!”

“They’re aggroed on you, not us, so it’s fine. Hmm, maybe something that’s a synonym?”

“Well if I die to these things, then they’ll be after you!”

“Ugh, fine.” Grifter rolled his eyes and summoned some gear for Tommy. “Put on the armor and use that instead of a bow. It works better and is less affected by gravity.”

Tommy took the armor and put it on before looking at the tube he had been given along with a bunch of darts. He tried firing a few of them, but he just kept missing. “I’d prefer arrows over these things!” Tommy shouted back, making the Listener get closer and use some magic on the bow, giving it infinity.

“There? Happy? Now maybe Befter for Brother? Brefter? Hmm, younger Yefter? No, that sounds stupid. I could try another name mix? But already used Sefter and while Pergrift sounds nice, that’s supposed to be our name. Maybe Grifter then Sense? Grise? Grense? Or maybe use Perfect instead and get Grifect. Oh yes! Grifect! Sefter and his little brother Grifect! Oh it’s just right!”

“Great! Now that you figured it out can you please just fucking help out and shit?!”

Grifter rolled his eyes, but did start to help, but he also gave the two helsbots some weapons to see what they could do. Grifect did okay, but Sefter seemed to take to it like a fish to water. Tommy thought it was even a little scary how well the kid was doing. But at the very least it kept them safe while traveling and they were able to move faster, arriving at NPG’s base before too long. 

Grifter refused to take a single step into the place, claiming NPG was his mortal enemy or something, so Tommy was the one to go inside and find what they needed. Rifling through chests, Tommy found some wood called skyroot, and used that to make a chest and sign, dumping the stuff from the prison into it. He then put a sign on the front of the chest for NPG for whenever he got back. ‘Theseus replace me. needed gear. Srry about grifte. Tommy’.

It was a little hard to get the message out while fitting it on the sign, but Tommy hoped it would be enough. He then went over to the nearby armor stands and took armor from the stand that had a set of purple armor as well as an elytra. Based on what Tommy had seen people wearing the short time he had been there, he was pretty sure the pink armor was the equivalent to netherite here, but diamond equivalent would do fine and he didn’t want to steal good armor.

After that he went looking for tools and weapons and food. He grabbed a sword, pick, axe and the masks he came in here for in the first place. During his search, he also grabbed what seemed to be a special crossbow, some more arrows, fireworks, blocks for making bridges, and some food. Finally, just to be completely safe, not knowing how long he would be stuck with all this gear, Tommy also grabbed a wooden bucket filled with water in case of MLG jumps, and a shulker box that he emptied out into other nearby chests.

Out of all the things he was glad to grab, Tommy didn’t expect the water bucket to come in handy so soon, but when he left the base, he was greeted with Grifter putting TNT down to blow the place up. The teen rushed to each of the explosives and covered them with water before detonating them, which left Grifter upset, but at the very least he didn’t seem to try it again.

“Okay, now time to go find Sense.” Tommy spoke up, getting Grifter to stop being as angry as before. He led them on the same path NPG had taken them on the initial visit, eventually leading them to the bridge of purple clouds. Tommy showed the hels avian what he was supposed to do, but instead he just picked up one of the kids and flew them over before grabbing the other and doing the same, leaving Tommy wondering why he hadn’t just used his elytra.

From there, they walked further ahead until they saw a small house. The moment Tommy pointed at it, Grifter raced off towards it, yelling at the top of his lungs. “SEESEE!!! I’M BACK!!!” And just as he was reaching the building, Sense was coming through the door and got tackled by Grifter. Tommy was left to catch up, dragging the kids behind him, glad that this place seemed to be permanently devoid of mobs and he didn’t need to deal with any of them too.

The teen honestly didn’t know what he expected when he found the two helsmits still on the ground kissing each other. The only thing that Tommy didn’t expect at all was the green magic around them, and when Grifter finally pulled away, the teen was surprised to see the scar that had been on Sense’s neck was gone now. “Did… Did you just fucking kiss him to heal him?”

“I mean, I didn’t need to…” Grifter started.

“Oh but it was definitely the best way.” Sense finished for him, sitting up. “And are those who I think they are?”

Grifter jumped back up. “Yes! They were kept perfectly safe and now they’re even active!” He pulled the robot kids over to introduce them. “This one’s Sefter as I believe you probably remember, and now this one is named Grifect. Unless you think another name would do well.”

“No, it fits quite well.” Sense replied before pulling Grifter close to him again. “And you said they’re active? How did you manage that? Was it all those planning sessions?”

“Oh no, I’d never manage to pull off the things you could. It just seems that they showed up before they had counterparts, and now they’re working with them.”

“Ugh, must we be the alternates and not the originals?”

“For all you know, that could mean we end up like those prude mirror versions of ourselves.”

“Hmm, I would miss the mind blowing s-”

“O-Kay! Since you’re together, does this mean I can get back home now? I got you out of prison and now got you to your husband, so now it’s your turn!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re going to need to find EX because I can’t get you there without extra help.”

Tommy’s eyes widened in shock, then anger. “Are you telling me I did all of this shit for you and you can’t fucking do anything?!”

“Hey, I got you out of season four. You couldn’t have done that alone. But I’m just a Listener. If I had help from someone else like a Watcher, then maybe I could do something. EX is an admin, a hacker, is linked to Hermitcraft and that dimension from his brother and the fact that he’s not 100% biologically a hels being.”

Tommy grumbled. “Fine, but can you at least teleport me to him so I don’t have to try and find him myself?”

“No he can’t. He’s not around.” Sense spoke up. “Word went out that he’s off visiting Hermitcraft again.”

“Again? How long has he been going?”

“Since a few months ago when NPG pulled someone over. The message goes out every once and a while leaving someone else in charge. With the bastard that attacked me gone to visit family, Prof’s the one in charge.”

“He’s actually not gone for family. The bitch replaced me instead.”

Sense raised an eyebrow at that. “Is that so? My my, and that lead to Grifter getting out. Wouldn’t it be fun to him coming back and finding someone else in his place.”

“Look, I’m sure you two want plenty of time with each other to do evil and gross things, but unless you can figure something out, I’m gonna bother you two until you fucking do something!”

Grifter rolled his eyes before pulling away from Sense. “Alright fine you little shit. We’ll figure something out. And if we can’t, then we can kill you instead.”

Tommy started backing up. “Uh, did I say bother you two, I meant, I’ll ask politely every once and a while. I’m sure that sounds good, right?”

“No no, Gri’s got a point.” Sense smiled. “With you gone you’ll be gone from Hermitcraft for good, and when that happens, well, the same thing will happen to Theseus. Making sure he can’t try anything more.”

“Aww, c’mon. Maybe since he’s there and I’m here, it won’t work?” Tommy asked in a somewhat pleading tone. “Please don’t kill me.”

Grifter pulled out a piece of TNT, ready to use it on Tommy, when Grifect tugged on his tunic shirt. “Aww, what do you want sweetie? Do you want to have fun with him first?”

“Wouwdn’t uwu wanna huwt the pewson who huwt papa fiwst instead of him?”

Tommy was very conflicted by that. On one hand, it looked like this kid was going to save his life. On the other, did they really need to do it by dealing him who knows how many points of psychic damage? “Uh, yeah, listen to the kid.” ‘Either to make you change your mind or make your ears bleed.’ He continued in his mind.

“Aww, my little pumpkin is already talking!” Grifter cooed, and the second option went out the window. “Well do you have any ideas on what to do?”

“Maybe hacking awnd wistenew powews wowking togethew cawn wowk!” Grifect answered and now Tommy was wondering if maybe death wouldn’t be all that bad. 

“Oh my! Are you telling me you know how to hack! That is wonderful! Oh Sense it’s like the perfect family!”

“Well it’s my family, so of course it is.”

“Yes, everything with you is perfect. Perfect plans, perfect family, perfect-”

“Oh my god please just kill me so I don’t have to listen to this anymore.” Tommy groaned. Fortunately, that seemed to work because apparently he kept ‘killing the mood’ anyway. Within a few moments, Tommy felt like he was falling even though everything around his was a weird purple color. And then suddenly, his feet were on the ground and he was standing in what seemed to be a large empty building. And based on the noises coming outside, said building was in the nether.

“Ugh. Well, at least I still have the fucking gear.”

[rocket-bear]

shinsena ghost fic outline

SO. on my last list of shinsena fic ideas I had written "shinsena ghost AU (yes, like the patrick swayze movie) but with an actually happy ending". I have decided that I'm not actually going to write this fic because 1) it would take forever and I have other ones that are bigger priorities for me and 2) the inspiration for it was really the MOUNTAIN of IT fix-it fics I was reading in early 2020 because I was Going Through It where I then shunted that inspiration over into a fandom I was actually comfortable writing for, and at this point I have moved past that stage and no longer need the catharsis,

BUT! I do really like the bits that I did already write for it, and I still love the idea, so I'm just going to go ahead and post the WIP bits that I did get finished, and then flesh out what the rest of my plan was after!

The fic takes place in Sena's second year of college! It's a ghostfic so, y'know, warning for major character death and copious discussion of grief, haha, but it gets better!!! Also, in addition to ShinSena there's BG mentions of HiruMamo in both the fic excerpts and bulletpoints for the rest of the planned plot. Text below the cut is about 6k words!

---------

"Aw, beans," is the first thing Sena hears after he dies.

He doesn't really process it in the moment, too busy blinking up at the bright, unclouded sun and distantly noticing that it doesn't hurt his eyes. He sits up, running through the last few moments in his mind-- a bouncy ball dotted with pink flowers, skipping merrily over the sidewalk into the street, a girl in her school smock tottering on chubby legs after it, a car unavoidably close, his view of everything blurring as he throws himself forward without even thinking about it--

Oh.

"EHHHH," he shrieks, and scrambles away from his body, and it doesn't come with him.

"I'm going to be in ;so much trouble," that voice says again, and Sena whips around because it's the only thing he can actually hear clearly, even though he's pretty sure he should be able to hear-- the other people around him, looking at his body without looking at him, everyone unharmed but most of them in tears, and he doesn't want to think about that.

So he looks, and sees-- something. It almost looks like an afterimage, at first, the kind of light-dark luminescent spots your eyes put up when you look away from a light you've been staring at too long, but it stays put as Sena stares at it, a kind of void of shifting light just stamped in the way of his view of the bushes lining the sidewalk.

"Um," he says, and the Thing kind of goes more dark-light than light-dark for a moment as it… sighs?

"Yeah, sorry, you're not getting me at my best, this wasn't supposed to happen," it says, and Sena feels like he would be hyperventilating if he had lungs, but he doesn't anymore.

"No, listen," the Thing says, and it starts to get bigger, which Sena belatedly realizes is because it's moved closer to him. With the way it doesn't actually seem to take up space, it's hard to tell. "Let's move away from here, okay? It's going to be hard for you to listen with all this going on."

And, well-- Sena casts a glance back behind him, to the people with their hands over their mouths and tears in their eyes and the pointless things they're doing to his body to try to bring him back to it, and he scrambles up to his feet and follows the thing.

"Okay, here goes," the Thing says as they move further away from the-- the scene, and then its voice changes. "Fear not, mortal, for your time on this plane has elapsed, and you have accomplished all that you were intended for. Your current form--"

"Wait," Sena says, fighting against the mesmerizing effect of the Thing's shifting lights in combination with its new, multilayered voice, high and low at once but somehow soothing. "I thought you said this wasn't supposed to happen??"

"Well, okay, yeah," the Thing says, its voice reedy and thin once more. "Your time actually isn't supposed to be up, but-- okay, did you know you're like, really fast? Like crazy fast. I was just supposed to nudge the driver once they stopped the car in time, you know, typical near-death experience stuff, but you jumped right through me before I was in place."

"You kill people by touching them?!" Sena skitters away from the Thing, and gets the distinct impression that the silvery flush it pulses in response is decidedly unimpressed.

"I can't kill you again," it says. "And we don't kill things, anyway. We just… mark them as finished. I got you out of the oven too soon, that's all."

That sounds a lot like it was only different from killing things in terms of word choice to Sena, but he doesn't say so.

"C-can-- can we fix it?" He asks instead, the first shards of ice-cold realization sinking in at last. He's dead. He's dead?

The Thing flares sigh-dark, and says, "You know this kind of thing has only happened like, four times before? Ever! Since the dawn of humanity! It's been like 20,000 years since the last time! I don't know off the top of my head, kid, I'm gonna have to look it up."

"Then-- there's a chance? How long will that take? What if-- I mean-- they're gonna take me to the hospital--"

The ice shards sink further into his body, but the Thing's voice is dismissive.

"If there's a way, that's not the body you're going to be coming back to; there's no way we're gonna be able to do this without rolling back the clock. So don't worry about the morgue, okay?"

Which-- was a relief, but Sena feels an empty sensation at the word "morgue" that he's pretty sure would have been nausea if he had a working stomach left to experience it.

Some of that must show on his face because the Thing comes to an abrupt stop, and its voice is more gentle as it says, "Okay, gameplan. If there's a way to get you back, it's gonna have something to do with the energy left over from your presence among the living. So go see your friends and family and see what you can figure out. Right now, you're a ghost, so there's got to be some way to tap into that energy."

Sena nods a little numbly at first, working on auto-pilot, and then nods more firmly as he actually processes the Thing's words. A plan! That means-- there's something he can actually do, while the Thing goes to-- "look it up." That's good! A plan!

And then, the Thing goes yellowish, and its tone turns apologetic.

"And… Speaking of ghost stuff, I didn't get to finish this part before. Your current form will let you move around this plane to visit your loved ones and grant yourself any closure you desire, but you won't be able to interact with the living world, and if we're not able to fix this in time-- when the time comes, you'll have to make a choice. Move on completely to the next plane, or stay here with your loved ones until there are none left who remember you."

Sena blinks, going still, and the Thing glows even more yellow.

"So we've got about [a month] to figure this thing out. I'll do what I can, kid. You hang tight."

And then it's gone, and Sena is left alone on the sidewalk.

He does all that he can do, and goes to find Mamori.

------

He doesn't think through the consequences of that until he gets to her apartment and finds her in tears and Hiruma on the phone, calling them an escort to the hospital. Every awful minute of that first day feels like nothing more than a smear in Sena's memory by the time his funeral comes around. He spends the time in-between trying his best to do something, anything, that will let his friends and parents know that he's still there. He does his absolute best to go full Hollywood Haunting on everyone he knows, trying to knock over pictures or rattle windows or flick lights on and off, but nothing works. Every once in a while, when he's flopped beside Mamori on the floor as she goes through photo albums, he almost thinks she hears him as he talks about the photos she's flipping through-- but it always just ends up being a fresh round of quiet tears that brings Hiruma over to her side.

The funeral seems to be no different. He'd hoped, somehow, that maybe having so many loved ones gathered in one place to think about him would somehow give him the energy to make himself solid-- and there are so many people there, not just Sena's family and closest friends, but people from nearly every team in the Tokyo American football community, some of them who he only ever remembered seeing across the field.

All of the original Devil Bats are there, of course. Kurita sobs his way through the service. The Ha-Ha Brothers stand stony-faced, and Juumonji scrubs a rough hand across his eyes, but Sena never sees any tears. Suzuna clings to Monta's arm as they both cry openly with Riku in the row behind Sena's parents, Mamori, and Hiruma.

His parents cry. Mamori seems too exhausted to, just sitting quietly and taking in the service with bruised red eyes. Hiruma puts his arm around her shoulder at one point, and Sena finds himself surprised by how much tenderness he's seen between them in the last few days. Hiruma had handled almost all of the arrangements, actually-- Mamori and Sena's parents making the decisions, and Hiruma diligently rising from each discussion to make the appropriate phone calls.

In the middle rows, Sena finds himself looking at Shin and Sakuraba. He shouldn't have been surprised to see them-- and he really wasn't, not really, he knew he would be devastated and would definitely show up if the situation was reversed-- but something on Shin's face startles him into looking again.

He looks tired. Sena doesn't think he's ever seen Shin tired, before, not even after playing full-out through an entire game, not even after the most intensive of training. But Shin's face is undeniably drawn, and the skin underneath his eyes is bruise-dark.

Sakuraba tears up, and Shin doesn't, but it's Sakuraba who lays a comforting hand on Shin's shoulder. [UNFINISHED SCENE-- also I had intended to go back and make this scene more accurately reflect Japanese (vs Western) funeral traditions but have not done that since, I'm not finishing the fic]

----------

He finds himself seeking out one of his and Shin's old training routes from high school, when they lived close enough that it made sense to share. It's been years since he ran this route, but it makes sense, he figures, that he would be revisiting old memories like this. It was a good route, anyway-- at one point it ran alongside the river, and Sena remembers reaching it on hot summer days, and noticing that even Shin tipped his face into the breeze when the sun was really beating down.

He walks along the path at first, but before long finds himself jogging, the force of memory and habit alike drawing him into those quick strides. It doesn't feel the same without the sensation of the wind on his face, or the heat of the sun on his body, or even the sweat beading up stickily between his skin and his clothes, but it's something.

Without fatigue or fear of obstacles to keep him vigilant, Sena finds himself startled before too long by the sound of steady footfalls coming up behind him. He automatically shifts his path to make way-- though it doesn't matter much now, he thinks with a frown-- and looks up as the lone jogger makes to pass him.

It's Shin.

Sena's not-heart squeezes painfully at seeing him unexpectedly, and Sena gapes.

"Shin-san--" He gasps, and of course Shin doesn't respond or look his way. Sena swallows the painful reminder and adjusts his pace to match Shin's.

They run together, and of course it's quiet, because Shin doesn't know that he has company. Not that companionable silence was atypical for their runs together before-- running was for focusing on technique, including breathing, so they would save the chatting for before and after.

Sena wonders if Shin had kept to running this path all along-- he was so sure that they'd both abandoned it when they'd made their way to university. Or at least, Shin had apologetically told him so, when he'd moved on to Oujou University and Sena was still in his third year at Deimon.

Maybe Shin's feeling nostalgic too, Sena thinks, and then shakes his head. He doesn't want to be sad, and it's nice to have Shin at his side, even if Shin doesn't know he's there.

He tries to sink into the feeling of running. It's still hard-- he can't feel much of anything, after all-- but with Shin there, it's a little easier to fall into old memories and let those guide him. He can pretend-- to feel the gentle breeze off the river cooling the sweat on his face, to feel the push of the sidewalk under his feet launching him into his next step, to feel how the sun is hotter on his back and shoulders than anywhere else as it crawls its way up the sky.

It almost feels like normal, finding that rhythm alongside Shin that has their steps striking the pavement in tandem, Sena's extra stride to make up for their heights a little accented half-note; that peaceful, focused haze that has them inhaling and exhaling in synch. It's so perfectly familiar that Sena can almost imagine a lump rising in his throat and the sting of tears in his eyes, nearly overcome with the twin sensations of having and loss--

--when Shin startles hard beside him and skids to a stop, with a gasp that has Sena's blood running cold before he even looks back for him, the image of the oncoming truck flashing through his mind.

But there's no truck here, of course. They're on a running trail, on a totally separate level than the road, but it's obvious enough what drew that terrifying, uncharacteristic noise from Shin's lungs when Sena looks back, and his eyes meet Shin's.

Shin sees him.

[UNFINISHED SCENE, this is the last of the actual fic that I wrote!]

---------

FROM THERE here was the plan:

- Shin being able to see him only lasts a split second. Shin's super shaken and keeps looking around and rubbing his eyes for a couple moments, and then he turns around and walks back to the train, and Sena-- thinking, like, "holy shit, Shin never skips training"-- follows him back, because even though it's super heart-breaking seeing Shin so shaken up it's also the closest he's gotten to making any progress the whole time

- Shin gets back to his dorm and just like. sits down at his table with his head in his hands. Sena's motivation to keep trying to get his attention kind of dries up so he pokes around Shin's dorm room instead and notices, like. a bunch of half-eaten meals/snacks in the trash, "Practice" scratched out on his calendar for the next few weeks, unmade bed, evidence that Shin's only really gotten dressed to go out jogging over the last few days and is only wearing his pajamas otherwise-- he's just not doing good.

- Just as Sena's like, really starting to grasp this, Sakuraba shows up at the door-- Shin gets up to answer the door with his back to Sena and like, whatever Sakuraba sees on Shin's face just stops him in his tracks and he immediately pulls Shin into a hug, which Sena is kind of shocked to see that Shin totally sinks into

- Sakuraba sits down with Shin at the table and they talk. Shin admits that he thought he saw Sena while he was jogging, and both of them are just brushing it off as like, a grief-induced sensory memory, stuff like that happens, etc. Sakuraba comforts him and encourages Shin to take it easy, it's okay to take time off of even his own personal training, it's okay if he needs more time, and also like fusses about Shin not getting enough to eat especially if he IS going to keep training

- Sena meanwhile is like, feeling awful with guilt but also just kind of overwhelmed with the realization of how important he was to Shin, and this is where I would've like, laid the groundwork for how they'd gotten closer during the rest of high school/early college but Sena still never rrreally understood how much Shin cared about him because 1) he's got self-esteem issues baybee, and 2) Shin is not exactly, like, super forthright about his feelings,

- but, while Sena DOES feel awful about how much Shin was shaken up about seeing him, it's the only thread he can think of to pull on to try and bring himself back, and he ALSO feels guilty about having to watch everyone grieve for him, so, well,

- he starts haunting Shin!! Shin does not listen to his good and helpful friend Sakuraba and goes jogging again the next day, but it's obvious that he's still feeling Off and he's having a hard time getting into a rhythm, and Sena isn't able to tap into ~whatever it was~ that made him visible the previous time and is feeling super defeated about it, UNTIL,

- Shin takes a break at the midpoint of his normal route, which is a thing Sena knows he does not generally do from their own training together, and is basically just slumped over on a bench with his head in his hands again and Sena's also feeling awful and helpless and does the same thing,

- and then Shin tenses up beside him, his breath getting shallow, and Sena notices and tentatively calls out to him. Shin slowly, slowly looks up, and they make eye contact for just a second again, before Sena can tell he's not visible anymore because Shin's eyes kind of unfocus and he looks away, and just gets up and goes home.

- This kind of refreshes Sena's determination, and over the next few days (IT WAS GONNA DEPEND ON HOW LONG I WANTED TO TORTURE SHIN) they repeat the same pattern, with Sena going on Shin's jogs with him and occasionally achieving small flashes of visibility(/audibility, though Sena isn't ever able to get out anything helpful before the universe mutes him again) which Shin seems to be determined to just brush off as grief illusions even as he gets more and more tense each time

- Until finally as they're jogging, Shin sort of tersely asks "Are you there?" and instead of saying anything Sena just tries to barrel into him for a hug because clearly auditory-visual haunting only isn't WORKING and we've gotta get some TACTILE FEEDBACK in here,

- and it works. He knocks Shin off of his stride, and Shin grabs for him in turn, and there's a moment where they both stare at each other in total shock and relief before Sena starts trying to frantically tell Shin the whole story and disappears out of his arms like, three words in.

- Shin has a little tiny mental breakdown in the middle of the sidewalk where he cycles from devastation at Sena disappearing again to trying to pull himself together like, "okay if this is real then this isn't my last chance because it's happened a lot over the past few days" to a kind of giddy catharsis because it's real Sena's really here to kind of shutting down over the idea that maybe it's STILL not real and he's just going REALLY crazy to actually pulling himself back together and going to find a bench to sit down on, and just like,

- talking things out, out loud, in hopes that Sena can hear him. He can only see Sena when they're running, which is something they used to do together, so maybe recreating old memories is what triggers it. He's noticed that even when running, he usually sees Sena in moments when he's feeling least conflicted/emotionally complex-- either pure grief or pure nostalgia or pure just-zoning-out-running, not as much when he's really struggling to process and has a lot going on internally at once. Maybe the stability of the emotion is part of it.

- Sena meanwhile is having his own meltdown from sheer overwhelming relief over FINALLY FINALLY making contact and Shin FINALLY FINALLY believing he's there and also just like making hearteyes at Shin for immediately going into full methodical Ghost Scientist mode after getting his own meltdown over and done with

- speaking of going full Ghost Scientist, Shin announces his intention to do exactly that by saying he's heading back to his and Sena's old running trail to test out the "recreating memories" theory right that second, and they head over.

- They jog, and Shin talks out some of his memories with Sena from his own perspective, which is a surprise for Sena because he doesn't even remember some of the things that Shin does and also it lets him actually understand what Shin was thinking in those moments.

- And most importantly: it works. It's not constant, but the longer they practice, the longer they're able to keep Sena in view for longer stretches of time, more of an unsteady flicker than the total off-or-on that it was before. They stay out for a long time (and in the process discover that other people still can't see Sena when Shin can as he continually gets weird looks for talking to thin air) and Shin actually eats a real meal when he finally goes home.

- Sena and Shin keep practicing over the next few days, which makes Sakuraba SUPER concerned because Shin spending hours and hours jogging every day looks like Shin further depression-spiralling from his perspective, but he's somewhat mollified by the fact that Shin's actually getting back to eating and getting dressed etc. normally, even though he's still not going to practice.

- During this time, Sena and Shin bond when they're actually able to communicate. Sena notices that Shin's parents haven't checked in on him even once despite the fact that he just lost a friend, and Shin confirms in one conversation that he basically doesn't have a relationship or emotional connection with his parents at all. (But watch, hang in there, I'm gonna fix it,)

- In the meantime, Shinigami-san tracks Sena back down and they both share what they've learned. Shinigami-san says that Sena has to gather energy from as many of the people he's formed bonds with as possible to chain himself more strongly to life, and gives him a pendant to wear around his neck that will store the energy. When Sena talks about his and Shin's experiments, It says that it makes sense that being emotionally and physically in-sync would help bolster the connection between them to the point where other people would be able to see him, and that if they practice enough they might even be able to just use one or the other (emotional sync or physical sync) without needing both.

- After Sena laboriously relays this to him through flickers, Shin gets a metronome and they both practice tapping their fingers to the rhythm, and they're finally able to see each other at Shin's dorm room vs having to be on a run and actively reminiscing together. They develop a system where when Shin wants/needs to see him, he'll tap his finger against the side of his leg and Sena will do the same thing so they can actually talk.

(- There is at least one moment in the development of this that, when Sena successfully appears in front of him, Shin smiles fondly and very softly says, "There you are," and Sena immediately disappears again because he's so shaken to his disaster bisexual core that he can't even handle it.)

- During this process they find out that Sena's pendant glows when Shin is reminiscing or otherwise talking about his feelings (but not the capital-L feeling) about Sena, which lets them know how to go about "gathering energy" from Sena's friends.

- With the clock counting down on Sena's deadline, Shin starts approaching Sena's friends to "check on them," or, to sit down with them and talk about Sena. It's a little awkwardly sweet on both sides, because no one expects Shin of all people to be making sympathy housecalls and Shin's not very good at talking about feelings, but the conversations are surprisingly genuine and cathartic for all parties (including Shin, who is still processing some weird sideways grief even with his new connection to ghostSena, and Sena, whose self-esteem issues have a hard time standing up under a deluge of people talking about how much they cared about and miss him), PARTICULARLY:

- Monta and Suzuna, where the reminiscing works a little too well and they actually see a flicker of Sena sitting at Shin's side during the conversation and freak out. Shin immediately changes tacks and tells them that Sena is there and that he's trying to bring Sena back and he needs their help, and at first this makes them freak out more because what the fuck but by virtue of Shin being… Seijuurou "Overly-Serious-Stoic-Never-Overreacted-In-His-Life" Shin, he convinces them to try the tapping technique to bring Sena back into view.

- Sena has Shin describe a memory involving the three of them while they tap along to Shin's rhythm, and the combination of reminiscing and tapping works well enough that they're able to get frequent enough flickers of Sena to believe Shin. Yes, they do get a least one good long group hug out of the flickers, I'm not a monster.

- Shin still has to do most of the communication for Sena because it would take a lot of practice for the Sena-Monta-Suzuna combo to get enough in-sync to be able to communicate effectively, but he explains the whole situation and all the information they've gotten from Shinigami-san. They decide that it still makes the most sense for Shin to field the energy-gathering housecalls for the same communication-based reasons-- Sena can guide Shin through the conversations by suggesting memories to bring up with his friends-- but all the same, Shin suddenly finds himself with two tiny new best friends who want to hang out with him all the time. (And not even just to talk to Sena! Suzuna and Monta become pretty attached to and curious about Shin after he shows them more of his vulnerable side in the conversation leading up to the point where they actually see Sena themselves.)

- I was going to go through little flashes of Shin's conversations with a lot of Sena's friends across the football world, but the other Big One was going to be Mamori, of course. (And a little bit of Hiruma, who refuses to sit down for an Emotional Conversation with fucking Shin, but will gladly peanut-gallery Mamori's out of his own repressed desire for catharsis and also to make sure with guns loaded that Shin doesn't fuck up the fragile acceptance Mamori's been building since Sena's death.)

- Having learned from the experience with Suzuna and Monta, Sena wisely sits out of view during the conversation because he actually doesn't want to put Mamori through the rollercoaster of seeing him again, especially if his and Shin's efforts fail.

- Shin does not fuck up his conversation with Mamori and so Hiruma doesn't have to murder him! It's actually the most honest-- and healing-- conversation he has with anyone. Mamori finds herself feeling very fond of Shin, who she didn't know was so close with Sena and could be so supportive and empathetic under all that stoic strength, and Shin finds himself immediately adopted by another one of Sena's loved ones.

(- In their conversation, Mamori also mentions that just after Sena passed she kept finding herself thinking she heard Sena's voice, because that seed in the actually-written bit above was in fact foreshadowing ohoho.)

- I was not going to Go Into It because not even I have the strength, but to continue the theme of Shin finding a new family via his bond with Sena, there was going to be a brief scene referencing that Shin's visit with Sena's parents went much the same, with the addition that Shin was surprised Sena's parents already knew so much about him (because as it turns out Sena talked about him FREQUENTLY.)

(- Also within the housecalls there's a comedy scene where Shin makes Sena solid just long enough for Sena to log Shin in on Skype so he can talk to Panther without sacrificing a computer, and they discover that international friendship energy gathering does in fact work.)

- AND THEN: SAKURABA. The fic would switch to Shin's POV from here! In Shin's energy-gathering conversation with Sakuraba, things are going well at first, with Sakuraba reminiscing about Sena and then turning the conversation toward Shin himself to talk about how he's noticed Shin's seeming a lot more steady and like he's been doing some real healing lately. Shin obviously does not explain the ghostSena situation, but does honestly say that his conversations with Sena's other friends have helped him process his feelings a lot. And Sakuraba, being a supportive friend, very gently says that he's proud of Shin for reaching out, and for doing so well when he's going through something so hard, because he can't imagine losing the person he was in love with.

- Shin freezes up, and Sakuraba tries to reassure him that it's okay, he's known for a long time, he's so sorry that Shin never got to actually process those feelings with Sena, and Shin doesn't have to talk about it but if he ever wants to Sakuraba's there for him-- and Shin very stiltedly deflects the whole conversation because he doesn't want to totally shut Sakuraba down when he's just trying to be supportive but also Sena is right there

- After finally, awkwardly shooing Sakuraba out the door, Shin sits back down and tries to Talk About It with Sena, but he's so emotionally frazzled that he's not able to get a stable connection. Since they can't have a two-way conversation, he just launches into apologizing-- he's sorry, he understands if it makes Sena uncomfortable, Sena doesn't need to feel obligated to respond to it and of course Shin is going to help him finish getting what he needs regardless--

- Sena's just RAPIDLY flickering in and out of view, with the time he's not visible getting longer and longer as Shin keeps talking because they are incredibly emotionally out-of-sync, and with Shin only able to tell that Sena looks upset whenever he's able to see him, he makes some Assumptions about Sena's feelings about his accidental confession.

- Things don't get better over the next day or two. They try to do their synchronizing exercises, but even reciting memories doesn't help because Shin is too anxious and ashamed (and sleep-deprived from stress) to connect to them emotionally, which is only compounded because he realizes that Sena's deadline is fast approaching and they won't be able to finish in time if he can't get his shit together but that anxiety Does Not Help with relaxing enough to synchronize when he's spiralling over the thought of losing Sena again because of something that he "did".

- Finally, Sena apparently gets desperate and snatches up the metronome during one of the moments when he's solid for just long enough to do it.

- Shin doesn't see him for a while after that, and assumes (correctly) that Sena has taken the metronome with him to try and sync with Monta and/or Suzuna instead, and also assumes (incorrectly) that this is because Sena is extremely disappointed with him at best and totally hates him at worst, and that either way Sena probably doesn't want much to do with him anymore even if he is able to be brought back.

- He spirals for like, A Day, after which he does in fact break and go to tear up very stoically on Sakuraba about how yes he was (is) in love with Sena and it hurts him that he'll never get to express that properly (now that Sena wants nothing to do with him) and how he feels like he let himself (and Sena) down by not being able to act on that earlier (when it wasn't a literal life-or-death situation) and how maybe he's just not cut out for emotions and connections with other people actually, just look at even his relationship with his parents???

- Sakuraba comforts him and very gently tells him he's being a catastrophizing dingus and shows him, like, a mountain of texts on his phone not ONLY from concerned fellow Oujous, but also from a bunch of the people that Shin's talked to about Sena over the last few weeks, all of them expressing the general sentiment of "wow I was super surprised when Shin came around to talk to me about Sena but I'm so glad he did, it looks like he's doing well, keep an eye on him for me" in varying levels of transparency because after all they are Manly Footballers, but regardless: look at that, Shin is actually perfectly capable of forming relationships with other people, and they like and care about him.

- This results in some decidedly less stoic tears, and Sakuraba and Shin successfully patch things up after their previous awkward discussion about Shin's feelings for Sena. When Shin leaves he immediately heads for Enma to try and find Monta, because even if Sena and his friends don't want to see him he absolutely can't just shrug and sit back and just wait to see if they manage to save him.

- When he's like halfway there, he comes across Monta and Suzuna heading in his direction, and they cut off his questions by just being like NOPE SHUT UP COME WITH US and dragging him over to like, a park gazebo for some semi-privacy.

- Suzuna gets the metronome out of her bag and sets it on the park table and turns it on. Monta pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and starts reading.

- It turns out that after he left Shin's, Sena ghosted up into Monta's room and just plopped the suddenly-appearing metronome down on Monta's desk, scaring the shit out of him but also giving a very clear signal of WE NEED TO TALK. Monta called up Suzuna and the three of them had spent the last day and a half working on synchronizing non-stop, and while they still aren't nearly as good as Shin and Sena had gotten with weeks' worth of practice, they got far enough along that Sena was able to have them slowly write out some of his memories with Shin, this time from his perspective, through the unsteady connection.

- Suzuna and Monta take turns yanking the paper back and forth between them to read out the description of Sena and Shin's memories, and with Shin tapping along to the metronome, he's able to see Sena more and more clearly over time until he's solid more often than not.

- As it becomes increasingly clear, even to Shin, that these specific memories Sena has chosen to share are a record of him coming to realize his feelings for Shin, Sena is eventually able to take Shin's hands and hold them without disappearing, tapping not needed. He interrupts Suzuna and Monta to try to finish off the confession himself: Shin didn't need to be scared when Sena found out about his feelings, because--

- Absolutely overwhelmed by everything about the last 36 hours and having no ability to process any of it in words ANYMORE but moved by the SPIRIT OF COMMUNICATION regardless, Shin gambles on the pretty sure bet that he and Sena are in-sync about this, and kisses him.

- It connects. (And connects, and connects...) Sena's pendant starts to glow brighter and brighter until he's totally enveloped, and--

- Switch back to Sena's POV! He wakes up on the street in front of the truck again, scraped up but otherwise totally unharmed. So are the little girl, who he successfully pushed out of the way, and the driver of the car, who stopped in time regardless. Shinigami-san is also there, and Sena tells It to leave the driver alone because It owes him one, and Shinigami-san congratulates him and tells him that hey hey that was the plan along!! (The onlookers assume that he's confused from the near-accident when he starts talking to thin air.)

- Sena waves off all the concerned onlookers and runs off to find somewhere to sit where he's not going to be gawked at so he can text literally everyone he knows. By the time he finds a bench, he's already gotten HOLY SHIT WE JUST TIME-TRAVELED ARE YOU OKAY??? texts from Monta and Suzuna, which he responds to and incites a flood of emoji-based cheering. Everyone else he texts is politely puzzled by his "are you okay???" message, including Mamori and his parents to his intense relief, except--

- He gets a call from Sakuraba, who sounds very confused as he tells him that Shin wants to talk to him. Sena reassures Shin that he's okay, and tells him to meet him at the park that they left off at, and also that he loves him because he can't restrain himself after not getting to say it before. Shin says it back, and Sakuraba therefore sounds both confused AND delighted when he gets the phone back from Shin to say goodbye.

- Sena texts Suzuna and Monta to meet him at the same place, since it's about halfway between Enma and Oujou, and starts running.

- Shin and Sena, being… Shin and Sena, get there before the other two, and there's so many tears and so much hugging and so many I Love Yous and also some apologies. Monta and Suzuna eventually arrive and there's another round of tears and hugging and I Love Yous, and when everyone is less punchdrunk off of trauma and catharsis, they sit down and figure out that it's only the people that actually saw Sena as a ghost that remember the other timeline.

- With the group understandably not ready to be separated under the circumstances, but also with Sena desperately wanting to see his parents, Mamori and Riku, he comes up with a thin excuse for an impromptu dinner party at his parents' place later in the day (celebrating passing a tough test? beat the Cupids in a football game? national pancake day?? doesn't matter!!!), clears it with them, and invites Mamori+Hiruma and Riku over as well. (Shin lets Sena arrange takeout for everyone on his dime so that Sena's parents won't have to cook for an unplanned dinner party.)

- Fic ends with the group heading toward Sena's parents' house, Shin and Sena holding hands, with Sena feeling content and confident in his relationships as his phone continuously blows up with people responding to his check-in text, and Shin admitting that he's feeling pretty hopeful about the idea of getting to form connections with Sena's family all over again.

END. Thanks for indulging my "I'm too lazy to write this but NOT too lazy to bulletpoint each plot detail beat-by-beat" post, haha!

[xmalereader]

Billy Hargrove X Male Reader

|| THREE ||

-

|| Masterlist ||

|ONE — TWO — THREE

-

Summary: Reader is new to Hawkins, his parents had just moved into the new house and are trying to start over from there old lives. But what if reader can’t? He’s still a messed up kid who’s tired of pretending to be happy...and that damn mullet head of a ghost won’t stop following him around!!

Warnings: PTSD, Langauge, OCD TRIGGERING, Reader wants to know why he can touch billy!

—

Tags; @daybreakmistakes @spnfanboy777 @cypherthetransmasc @kingreidx

—

He was bouncing his leg up and down as he sat on his bed facing his door, staring at a few notes that he had taped onto his door.

“Okay!” He throws his hands in the air and shot up from his bed. “So far, we know that ghosts only wonder around when they have unfinished business, so do you have any unfinished business?” He asks, turning around to face billy who sat on his bed, staring at him.

“Not really no.”

Y/ns frown deeps as he spins around and uncaps his red sharpie, crossing out the first option or idea that he had. “Okay, next we have objects.” He says, pointing at one of his notes. “Is there an special object of yours that someone could’ve taken from you?” He holds his sharpie out to the other option was he waits for a response. “No.” He hears again, as he crosses it out he stops mid way, “wait what about your camero? You told me that was your baby or something.” He shurgs as billy rolls his eyes and sits back on the bed. “My dad only gave me that camero to keep my mouth shut whenever I had to deal with Maxine, it wasn’t anything special.” He explains with a shrug as well.

Y/n can only frown as the explanation, Turing back to his door as he crosses out the information. “Well, I have nothing else...Whatever it is that’s keeping you here—“ he’s startled by his bedroom door being slammed open, causing the door to hit him in the face as he grunts. “Hey!” He winces out and rubs his head, looking up to see his own mother looking down at him. “Sorry sweety, but I heard you spreaking to yourself again.” She says as she looks over y/n’s shoulder to see his room floor covered in papers. “What are you doing?”

“Smoking weed.” He blurts out randomly as his mother glares at him.

“Where do you expect me to get that stuff?” He adds with a bit of sarcasm and steps back, stilling wincing at the pain as he rubs his head again. He hears his mother sign in disappointment. “Anyways, I just came up here to remind you to take your meds, you know that your father can’t sleep well with all of your mumbling and talking in the middle of the night.” She sneers out as y/n narrows his eyes, before giving her a wide and fake smile. “Yes, ma’am.” He says through gritted teeth as he watches her slam his door shut and leave back to the living room.

“Your mom may be the hottest women, I’ve ever hated.” He hears billy say behind him as y/n grumbles and bends down to pick up his mess., “shes a real piece of work.” Said y/n, setting his papers on his desk as he looks over to see the orange bottle filled with pills, he stares at it for awhile before reaching over to take it and popping it open. “Are you really going to take them?”

He stares inside the bottles and scoffs. “No.” He walks over to the trash and empties the bottle, watching the pills fall into the bin as he feels the bottle become lighter. Once the bottle was empty he puts the lid back on and tosses the bottle onto his desk. “They don’t even work, they think that ill become less crazy but in reality they only make me sick.” He walks around his room, picking up his mess as billy watches from his bed. “This mental illness of yours—“

“I’m not mentally ill.” Y/n snaps back with a glare.

“Then what are you?” Billy moves over to sit at the edge of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he tilts his head to the side. “I’m—i’m different than anyone else, I see things that no one else can and I sometime feel things too and just recently I discovered something that must’ve happened back in that mall that you don’t want to tell me.” He exclaims, gripping the sheets of paper as he spoke. “Mentally ill isnt really a good way to describe me...” he stands up and thinks, smirking a little as he chuckles. “Just call me crazy.”

“I don’t think your crazy you’re just weird.” Billy began to follow him around this time as y/n grabs a shopping bag that contained brand new shoes that he bought a couple of days ago. Billy watches him as he takes out the shoes and hums to hismelf, seeing as the other male began to replace the shoe laces. “What are you doing?” He asks in curiosity as y/n grins evilly as billy and tosses the shoe laces behind him.

“Making myself comfortable.” Said y/n as he opens up a drawer in his desk and takes out—

“Zip ties?” Billy rasies a brow.

“Mhm!” The other hums out as he puts his shoes on and uses the zip ties as shoe laces. “You are officially crazy.” Says Billy as y/n finishes adjusting his own shoes. “Okay so you use zip ties as shoe laces and now what? You pour the milk first before your cereal too?”

Y/n stays seated on the floor, slowly lifting his head up to give billy an innocent look. “Is that really bad?”

Billy’s eyes widen. “What is the matter with you?!”

He can only shrug In response as he walks over to his closet to grab a jacket.

“That is like—a sin to humanity!” Billy continues to blow up as y/n sighs annoyingly.

“Billy, sweetheart, the love of my life,” y/n says in a sweet and sarcastic voice as he turns to face him. “I’m case your haven’t notice but no human really likes people like me.” He reminds him for the millionth time before giving him a quick smile and dropping it. He grabs his Walkman and headphones, “come on.” He gestures towards the window.

“Where are going?” Billy follows him towards the window as y/n slides it open, he puts his headphones on first and then starts to play one of his favorites  cassettes’, ignoring bully’s question as he simply allows himself to get lost in the music.

I feel your heart

It's beating time with mine

But love love love is on the line

Y/n steps onto the roof as he sings along to the music.

He holds you down

But I know you want to run

You're hot hot loaded like a gun

He walks towards the nearest tree that he uses to climb down, using it to escape his horrible parents and his dumbass life. As he reaches out to grip one of the branches he sharply turns around to face billy who stops in his track to chuckle at him.

Oh you feel so trapped and confused

Start with nothing and you've got nothing to lose

“—you’ve gotta nothing to lose!!” Billy hears him sing out as he begins to dance to the music, throwing his head around crazily.

You can never never never ever hide your heart

Don't you ever ever ever ever try

If you don't give your heart wings you'll

Never never never ever fly

Y/n continues dance as he jumps down onto the tree and begins to climb down while billy only watches him go crazy to the music under the moonlight.

Break down the walls

You've got to cut the ties

There's pain pain burning in your eyes

Billy can’t help but smile at this strange teenager, he’s seen many weird teens back in high school but this one, this one was different. Y/n was free spirited and he didn’t care about what others thought of him—I mean yes, he is crazy and does so many things incorrectly but somehow Billy enjoys this unique thing about him. He thinks that the most unique thing about y/n is that he can see him and that made him feel whole. He used to be so alone and now he has someone.

It's time for tearing free

Oh come come running straight to me

Oh you know he don't love you like I do

Don't make believe that you don't feel it too

You can never never never ever hide your heart

Don't you ever ever ever ever try oh no

As y/n contiunes to sing out loudly he notices that they are heading towards the woods, following each other around as y/n spins in circles and makes weird hand gestures towards the sky.

If you don't give your heart wings you'll

Never never never ever fly

You never fly, if you want you can fly

At one point he feels y/n graze his fingers against his Billy’s cheek, causing him to gasp in surprise. Still getting used to the feeling of y/n being able to touch him. He sends him a small smile as y/n laughs at him and skips away, hopping to the tune as they mysteriously make there way back to star court.

“Why are we back here?” Asks billy as y/n takes off his headphones and turns off his Walkman. “We came here to look for some answers to our questions, pretty boy.” He winks at Billy before chuckling. Billy shakes his head as he stands in front of him, “you are not going back in there, you can get caught again and this time you’ll be getting it on your criminal record.” Y/n frowns at Billy’s words but the dead man was right. He could get caught again if he were to trespass once more.

But he can’t just give up, not like this.

“Not until I find something that explains everything about this!” He is quick to say as he runs towards the fence and jumps over, quickly he runs towards the opened hole on the door and crawls in.

“Y/n!” Billy hisses out as he reaches out to grab his arm. “You don’t even have a flashlight!”

“Don’t worry I memorized the place, I don’t need a flashlight to see in the dark.” He whispers out as he quietly makes his way around the ruined mall, making small turns as he finds the back door that billy had guided him through. “I saw something here that caught my attention.” He whispers, finding the entrance to a downstairs.

He grins to hismelf as he steps forward but is quickly pulled away by billy. “What the hell?!”

“I’m going first in case anything bad is down there.” Said billy, giving him a stern look as he goes in first. Y/n rolls his eyes and with a pout on his face he follows close behind billy.

The two male there way downstairs and through the tunnels, y/n walks next to billy as he grips Billy’s arm, not wanting to get lost in the dark or trip over something that’ll make him easily fight it or get hurt. “What the hell is this place?” He hears billy whisper out as y/n frowns.

“The mall?” He rasies a brow at his own answer, confused by everything as well as the two walk further, billy is the first to notice a light in the distance. “I think someone is here.” He’s quick to push y/n behind a wall as the two stay hidden, “Wait why are you hiding? You’re dead.” Said y/n as he turns to billy to see him shrug. “Sorry, I guess with you being able to see me and touch me makes me feel alive again.” He responds back, causing y/n to smile softly at the thought of billy feeling alive. “Maybe you are alive, but to me.” He adds quietly as he walks past billy and heads towards the light, ignoring Billy’s shouts as he makes his way towards the open room.

He peaks inside to see a couple of men talking amongst each other.

“Ворота в последнее время действуют, что-то требует, но мы не можем найти источник

Vorota v posledneye vremya deystvuyut, chto-to trebuyet, no my ne mozhem nayti.”

Y/n stays hidden behind the wall as he listens to the strangers speak to each other. “Russian...” he whispers out. “There speaking Russian.” He says to himself as he tries to remember his Russian learning from his grandmother before she died.

“The gate has been acting up lately, something is calling out too it but we don’t know where the source is coming from.”

He’s able to translate back to himself as he hears billy shift next to him. “You can understand them?”

“My grandmother used to speak Russian, as I grew up she taught me the language. One of my most successful moments in life.” He explains to billy, keeping a close eye on the Russians as they mumble to each other before they decided to walk away, heading towards a different room that lead them far away from y/n and billy.

“Lets go.” He’s crouched down as he walks past the room full of Russians, heading up a pair of stairs as he looks over his shoulder to make sure that they weren’t being followed. “You have to be careful y/n, we could’ve been caught and this time you’d be in deep sh—“

Y/n wasn’t listening to billy, he was zoning out his voice as he looks up ahead to see a strange glowing line that kind of looked like a crack of light, it wasn’t a wall and it was moving. Yes, it was defiantly moving. He steps closer, reaching the edge of the the railing as he lifts a hand up to try and reach out for it.

“Hey!” He gasps in shock as billy grabs his wrist, pulling him away. “You’re too close to the edge you dumbass!” He hisses out in anger as y/n shakes his head. “Sorry I just—I feel like...” he was feeling lightheaded and was stumbling backwards, lucky fo him billy was there to catch him in time before he could fall back. “Y/n?!” Billys voice is faint, sounding like he was far away as his vision begins to darken.

“You are the one.”

“They think your special.”

“He was able to open and close it all on his own! He’s too powerful!”

“He’s still a child!”

“Then we keep him locked away, far away from everything!”

“We all hate you.”

“Do you want to know why they call you One? Becuase your their number one prized possession!”

“You’re the one.”

He gasps awake, quickly turning to his side as he throws up his dinner. Coughing and panting as he wipes his mouth clean and slowly begins to sit up, he touches his surroundings to find himself still inside the mall and underground. “What—“

“Your awake.” He’s startled by Billy’s voice, Turing around to see him sitting across for him. “How long—“

“Three hours.”

“What—? Three—“ He was panting heavily again.

Three hours? But, it only felt like a couple of seconds to him. Everything just came rushing towards him, he remembers hearing the voices and the shouting. He remembers seeing white coats and children that were younger then him, younger by a couple of years. He could still hear his own screaming, wait—Wait was he screaming?

Y/n lifts his head up and places a hand on his temples. “Billy...” he murmurs out. “What’s happening to me?” For the first time in his life he was scared and confused. “Why am I seeing this stuff? Why do I keep getting these visions and why do I feel so lost? I feel like something is missing inside of me.” He croaks out in fright, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill out. “Billy.”

Billy was staring at y/n with a sympathy look in his eyes as the two made eye contact. “What’s wrong with me?”