#e ''ok time to write :)'' its just Gone

[sideblogformentalhealtshit]

It's so annoying how frustratingly difficult it is to translate daydreams into actual words in a text document! Because it's oftentimes not that the daydreams are just things i'm imagining, vague ideas of what happens or is said, no no no. I'm straight up thinking, very specifically, word for word what happens. I'm straight up sounding out sentences like i was reading a fanfic but in my head. but the moment i actually try to translate these words into, well, Actual Words, they just disappear!!! Whyy

[monsterbisexual]

what is ur problemmmmmmm

[todayisafridaynight]

#ANYWAY LET ME COOK. im not a good chef but i can at least cook an egg lemme see what i got...

This is leagues ahead of Jo as per Substitute Father so I'm sure you'll do great <3 NOT TO SET THE BAR LOW... Arakawa POV part of that was sooooooo cute but I am of course VERY MUCH LOOKING FORWARD regardless of what you've got in the oven :] I think it's funny we always end up with roughly the same concepts but I just shoehorn RGGJo into it instead

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN THOUGH WITH HOW THE MARKETING FOR YLAD KEPT HAMMERING IN THE SON THING ONE WAY OR ANOTHER... BUT THE SCENE YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT IS FUNNY and honestly half of the things Westerners [<- counting myself just this once] find funny in RGG apparently aren't intentional so what's one more

Substitute Father haunts me since i really don't like it but i also know that One (1) person really enjoyed it so i don't want to delete it SOOO the most i can do at this point is try to write something better as an apology and try to forget.. and hopefully let arakawa FPOV in a better fic..

BUT YEAH LMAO they really werent subtle bout it in retrospect.... teehee..

[lechrts]

What Are We. ✷ Paul Aron

Pairing: Paul Aron x Friend!reader

Summary: When all signs start to point that maybe you guys are more than friends.

Word Count: 2.1k

Vera’a Voice! Free time for me!!!! Which means I get to write and get down and dirty and grind. (Write.) this blurb is for my bbg Ellis. Hai. Suhhhhh. ok now adding this bit but I already wrote everything so its too late but im giggling bc I just searched and learned estonia is not that much of a warm beachy country oops. Ok Bye. my b. OH WELL.

The long-awaited summer break was something you had looked forward to since the season began. Climbing the ladder as a media intern in motorsports had been tough, but landing your big break in Formula 2 made every late night and early morning worth it.

It was one step closer to your ultimate dream.

Sure, it had been thrilling, but also more stressful than you’d ever imagined. Capturing the perfect shot, fumbling with your camera settings at the worst moments, and racing against deadlines—it was far from easy.

But despite the challenges, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Being young and working as an intern came with its own unique perks too—like getting to know some of the drivers on a personal level.

Not even a year ago would you have ever thought you’d be on a little friend vacation to Estonia with people like Paul Aron or Dino Beganovic and a couple other beloved interns that you had the pleasure of meeting.

And if you told yourself seven months ago you’d be in this scenario, you’d actually laugh.

Paul had been thoughtful enough to organize this entire trip, excited to share the beauty of his homeland with everyone.

Even after traveling halfway across the globe for this sport, Estonia easily ranked as one of the most stunning places you’d ever seen.

It was day two of this unforgettable getaway, and the late afternoon was approaching fast. The group had spent the day soaking up the sun at the beach, swimming in the crystal-clear water, and enjoying the luxurious villa you’d all pitched in to rent for the week.

But now, it was time for something even more special—Paul was finally taking you all to see his true home, where his mother had prepared a dinner that promised to be just as warm and inviting as the country itself.

Dinner in Paul’s family home was as cozy and picturesque as you’d expected. His mom had gone all out, setting the table with traditional Estonian dishes that filled the room with delicious aromas. Paul was effortlessly charming, introducing everyone to his siblings, Anna and Ralf, and making sure no one felt out of place.

You’d always known Paul had this way of making people feel special—it was part of his personality, the charm that came so naturally to him. To you, he’d always just been Paul. Sure, he was flirty sometimes, but that was just who he was, right? Nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The meal was going smoothly until Anna, his sister, casually leaned across the table and asked, “So, how long have you two been together?”

The entire table froze for half a second before erupting into giggles and suppressed laughter.

Your fork clattered against your plate as you nearly choked. “What?” you sputtered, eyes darting to Paul for backup. “We’re not—no, no. We’re not together.”

Anna blinked at you innocently. “Really? You sure? Because I would've thought—”

Ralf snickered, adding fuel to the fire. “Yeah, the way you two act—it’s like, I don’t know, kind of obvious?”

Your face burned, and you glanced at Paul, who had leaned back in his chair with a faint smirk, clearly enjoying your flustered state. He wasn’t rushing to clear anything up either.

What an idiot.

Before you could stammer out another denial, Paul’s mother chimed in, her voice light but curious. “Paul, you never told me you had a girlfriend?"

Your jaw dropped. “I’m not his—”

Paul cut in smoothly, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ema,” he said, addressing his mother, “Don't worry, I would've told you.”

The laughter at the table got even louder. Dino, seated to your right, practically doubled over as he tried (and failed) to keep his drink from spilling. One of the others whispered something that sent him into another fit of giggles.

“Sorry, but this is too good,” Dino said, wiping at his eyes. “You should see your face right now.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a moment, your cheeks blazing. “We’re just friends!” You insisted again, though the way everyone at the table was grinning made it clear no one believed you.

Paul leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Relax,” He said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re making this way more awkward than it needs to be.”

“You’re enjoying this,” You quietly gritted through your teeth back, side-eyeing him.

He shrugged, completely unbothered as he whispered. “A little.”

The laughter slowly died down, but the tension lingered. You tried to focus on your plate, but it was impossible to ignore the flutter in your chest or the way Paul kept sneaking amused glances at you.

It was just Paul, you told yourself. The same Paul who flirted with everyone, who loved teasing you, who couldn’t possibly mean anything by it. But tonight, under the warm glow of the dining room lights, surrounded by his family and friends, the line between teasing and something more felt blurrier than ever.

And the way he winked at you before taking another bite of his food only made that flutter worse.

Soon, the evening had settled in beautifully, the Estonian coastline bathed in hues of amber and violet as the last traces of sunlight dipped below the horizon.

After dinner, the group returned to the villa, laughter and chatter filling the spacious living room as everyone settled into their version of post-dinner relaxation. Dino had taken to challenging the others in a card game, while the rest debated over who would make the best DJ for the night.

You had excused yourself after a while, craving a quiet moment away from the lively energy. The villa's balcony called to you, with its perfect view of the shore and the gentle sound of waves rolling against the sand. The cool evening air kissed your skin as you leaned against the railing, letting the salty breeze fill your lungs. The horizon stretched endlessly, the water shimmering under the soft glow of the moon.

For a while, you simply let yourself get lost in the serenity of the moment, your thoughts wandering back to the chaos of dinner. The teasing, the tension, the way Paul’s gaze had lingered on you just a little too long. You shook your head, trying to brush it off as nothing more than his usual antics.

It was just Paul.

Or was it?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door to the balcony slide open until Paul’s voice broke through the quiet.

"Got room for one more?"

You glanced over your shoulder to see him step closer, joining you anyways, his familiar smirk in place. He leaned against the railing beside you, his arm brushing lightly against yours. The touch was subtle, barely there, but it sent a small jolt through you nonetheless.

"You okay?" He asked.

“Just needed a little air.” You glanced at him, half-expecting him to move away, but he didn’t. If anything, he leaned closer, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if he didn’t notice—or maybe he did.

For a while, the two of you stood in silence, the only sound the distant waves and the occasional rustle of the breeze. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly easy, either. The day’s events had left too much unsaid.

Finally, Paul broke the silence. “You know,” he began, his tone a little hesitant, “I almost planned this trip just for the two of us.”

You turned to him, surprised. “What?”

He gave you a small, self-conscious smile. “Yeah. I wanted it to be just us. I thought it’d be nice to show you where I’m from, spend some time together without… racing being in the way.” He let out a quiet laugh.

“But Dino found out, and he wouldn’t let it happen. Said it’d be too obvious, especially since we aren't, you know…”

“Together?,” You finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

Paul nodded, his gaze fixed on the shoreline. “Yeah. And I couldn’t really argue with him.. he said I could've scared you off.”

Your heart was racing now, the implications of his words sinking in. He’d wanted this trip to be just the two of you? You hadn’t even realized he’d thought about you like that.

“You actually planned this for us?” You asked, your voice soft.

He shrugged, his smile a little shy. “I wanted to show you something important to me. I thought maybe it’d mean something more.” He paused, then added with a teasing edge, “But I guess I didn’t do a great job of getting my point across.”

You blinked, the memories of all the lingering glances, the playful teasing, the way he always seemed to find a reason to be near you during race weekends were suddenly flooding your mind.

You’d brushed it off every time, chalking it up to Paul just being Paul.

But now…

“I guess.. I didn’t realize,” You admitted quietly.

Paul chuckled, his arm brushing yours again as he leaned a little closer. “Yeah, I got that impression. You’re not exactly the most perceptive when it comes to certain things.”

You shot him a half-hearted glare, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Oh, come on!" You nudged your arm against his, now even closer than ever.

"Okay, maybe I’m a little oblivious. But in my defense, you flirt with everyone. How was I supposed to know you’re serious?”

He tilted his head, his expression softening. “I do flirt a lot. But not like this—not with you.” His voice dropped slightly, the sincerity in his tone making your chest tighten.

“You’re different.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. You swallowed hard, your thoughts a jumbled mess of confusion and something that felt dangerously close to hope.

Paul shifted, turning to face you fully now. “Look, I’m just going to say it." He laugh, probably feeling embarrassed it's taken this long to properly ask you.

"I’ve been trying to make it obvious that I’m interested in you, but maybe I’ve been going about it the wrong way.” He let out a breath, his lips quirking into a now nervous smile. “So… what are we? Because I know what I want us to be. I’ve known for a while now. And it sucked having to deny to my family that you're my girlfriend.” He paused.

"And you have no idea how badly I wanted it to be true." He laughed softly again, shaking his head.

“I want this—us—to be something more. I’ve been dropping hints for months, and either you’re really good at ignoring them, or I’m terrible at this.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was and how genuine he was.

“I just… I didn’t think you've ever been serious,” You admitted.

“Well, I am,” He said simply, his voice steady now. “And I don’t want to dance around it anymore. Let me take you on a proper date. Just us. No Dino, no friends, no interruptions.”

You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he was looking at you—open, vulnerable, and completely earnest—made it impossible to say anything but yes.

“Okay,” You said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he let out a breath of relief, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he pulled back. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.”

As the waves crashed softly in the distance, the two of you leaned against the railing once more, shoulders touching. This time, the spark between you wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was a promise of something new, something real—and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

comments , likes , & reblogs are appreciated ! ^_^ kinda fw this one!!!! Ur Welcome Ellis Baef.

tags! @wdcbox @planetpedri @halfwayhearted ofc.

[muwapsturniolo]

Matt nsfw abcs next please???

✯Matt Sturniolo NSFW ABC's✯

Summary: same as before, yall know what it is.

Warning: a lot of sub matt ideas because that's my new obsession.

chris version

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Call me crazy but I don't believe he is the most overcaring aftercare person a lot of us write him to be. I feel like he would just ask if you're good, cuddle you, and turn on his tv or go on his phone to watch something with you by his side.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

matt loves his hands (me too i have a thing for hands). he knows you like them too. he's caught you staring at them when he's driving, putting on rings, or drinking out of a cup. he loves when they are wrapped around your neck or fingering you.

as for you, he loves your boobs ;) he loves sucking on your nipples and leaving hickeys on them. he loves fucking them and damn near suffocating himself in them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this freaky fuck loves to cum on your boobs. he will cum, use his cum as lube to fuck them, bust another nut, then lick his cum off of them.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he used your vibrator once while you were gone. he got curious and decided to try it out when he saw a video, and he became obsessed. he ended up buying the same vibrator and uses it at home.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i think its the same as chris. one or two bodies but you really had to teach him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary or cowgirl. goes without saying. he needs to see your boobs and your face.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's not goofy at all. i don't even know what to say for this because i can't see him doing anything funny during sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is groomed nicely, not clean shaved but he leaves hair as well as a happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

depending on the occasion, hes very romantic. soft kisses to your collarbone as he thrusts into you, making sure to give you the praises you deserve for being such a good and loving girlfriend to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

going back to the letter D, he uses a vibrator to masturbate. he starts off at the lowest setting at the base of his dick, teasing himself. every other minute he turns up the vibration before he shoots his load on a pair of panties you left at his house.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

i don't categorize it as a kink but he likes being the sub. its something about you being in charge and telling him what to do that turns you on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

car or your room. car because he likes having you ride him in the driver's seat and your room because he doesn't ever have privacy at home.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

ok hear me out.... when you catch an attitude with him. he could say something a bit crazy and you will shoot him a look before saying "Who are you talking to? cause i know its not me Matthew. fix your attitude" and he's immediately bricked up and ready to apologize by eating you out.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no pegging and hes not sharing you. the thought of having to share you makes him want to curl into a ball and cry.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

they dont call him matt the much for nothing. this man eats you out for his pleasure. he loves the way you taste and the way you feel on his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

the few times he's in control he likes to go slow, making sure he's taking care of you. if you're in control he likes it rough and sensual with a bit of a fast pace.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn't like them. he prefers for the both of you to take your time with each other.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Clearly, i gotta write a imagine about this because I have such strong feelings about this. he loves the idea of you catching him using your vibrator on himself. just the idea of you catching him gives him an adrenaline rush.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

if you're edging him he can last for half an hour. if you let him cum once or twice with no edging that's all you're getting.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i already gave it away but yes, he loves toys. he loves your vibrator, and he loves handcuffs.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he likes to fuck with you in public. he will be extra flirty and touch you to rile you up. only for him to act shocked when you whisper in his ear to stop fucking with you before he regrets it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's a whiny little bitch. soft pants as he begs for you to let him cum

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he doesn't like rope. when he's tied up he prefers handcuffs or you to use his bandanas. its something about rope that makes the session to scary for him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he is a good 6 inches, soft and hard. he's not that big in circumference but he knows how to use it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

his sex drive is moderate. i don't believe he wants sex all the time but if you want to have sex he's always up for it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if its a rough session the both of you fall asleep immediately. if its a soft session then both of you are up for a good thirty minutes before knocking out

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle

[l223m0nade]

Bees (a stucky au snzfic)

ok

ok ok

so I saw this random thing on a tumblr post:

and it got its Stucky-idea hooks so deep in my brain. It just did. And the thing is my deepest inspo is honestly in the land of snz. (This fic kind of ends abruptly sorry but i want to do more and it'll probably end up on Ao3 w like a M or E rating 😳🫣 when and if that happens i'll link to it)

Stucky au, no powers, age gap, what I'm picturing in my head goes less with the words "silver fox Steve" and more with the words "dorky Dilf Steve" like 2012 Cap fashion with current Chris Evans face? in..a good way? and longhair early-20s burnout Bucky. I have some backstory headcanons that are just hinted at here, hopefully it's tantalizing rather than confusing.

anyway have 11.5k words of this and encourage me to write more bc i have fallen in love with these particular boyz. Some light existential angst but mainly idiots pining aka the sweetest sauce

~Fic~

Sam isn’t sure how much longer he can allow this to go on. His barback and the new semi-regular square dude are once again being all awkwardly flirty while pretending they’re not, like two sad lonely white...ducks, who never learned a mating dance and have zero game.

At least Square Dude has an excuse: he’s the most obvious newly-divorced newly-out family-type guy Sam’s ever seen. He’s clean-cut, with a ridiculously handsome square jaw, wearing well-made but unstylish button-down shirts and pants that make him look like he belongs in a Norman Rockwell painting. He started coming in about two months ago, quiet, friendly when ordering his one or two beers of the evening, and firmly shy when it comes to the inevitable overtures sent his way. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this is him dipping a first toe into the pool: coming to a relatively quiet gay bar, just to sit and watch men talk to each other and let the whole notion sink in.

By now most guys would’ve found someone to spread their wings with or gone elsewhere to find em, but Square Dude, whose name is Steve, seems content to talk to the guy who pours his beer about whatever DIY project Bucky is pulling questions out of his ass about.

The crush is painfully obvious, and suburban closeted Steve can’t be blamed for having no deal-sealing abilities, but Bucky has no such excuse. Sam has watched him pull stiff-backed business bros in five minutes flat when the mood struck him, with his big blue puppy eyes and his dark wicked smirk and long lean slouch. But with Steve all he appears capable of doing is asking him questions about crown molding as though those words mean anything to him while gazing at him like he’s beaming the words You could fix me directly into Steve’s skull. Steve, for his part, just doesn’t seem to be able to look anywhere other than Bucky.

As usual, anyone that tries to strike anything beyond a friendly conversation is kindly but firmly rebuffed. “He’s not ready for that yet,” Bucky had insisted with unnecessary defensiveness when Sam implied it was time for the new guy to move from spectating to participating in the relatively mellow flirting and hookup scene the bar played host to most evenings. “People go at their own pace.”

“The only pace he’s going at is towards you,” Sam smirked. Bucky glowered at his implication. “You gotta make it weird. He comes here to, like, practice. I’m part of that, in a chill, friendly way.” He shrugged and looked at the glass he was drying. “When he is ready, it’s not gonna be for me, it’s gonna be for someone actually in his league, like a...hot college professor, or something.” Sam had rolled his eyes and resolved to stop trying to help Bucky Barnes flail around in his mess of a love life anymore, for the hundredth or so time.

Tonight is busy enough that Sam can mostly be distracted from this bad sitcom, and not so busy that he has to yell at Barnes for being distracted. Still, there are a couple empties on tables in the Steve-less side of the bar, and after finishing the drinks for the people in front of him he turns, catching Bucky’s voice, in a tone of delight he uses when speaking with only one person, saying “Wait. Seriously? Bees?”

“Yeah!” Steve responds, equally puppyish. He’s tall and broad, sandy hair and beard just beginning to show a hint of salt-and-pepper. He looks like anyone’s fantasy fireman or lumberjack, at least in the context of a place like this. He also exudes genuine sweetness and vulnerability despite his intimidating muscled height.

Bucky Barnes, Sam’s barback and old friend, leans against the bar doing the helpless-goober-with-a-crush stare, a look on his face like Steve just announced he was a Nobel Prize winner. “No way. How do you keep bees? Just as, what, a casual hobby? That’s, like, a whole thing, you can’t be an expert in so many things!”

Bucky is all shaggy longish dark hair and stupid cheap graphic t-shirts, with a striking, animated face that is used mainly for sarcasm. He and Sam had been at the same high school a few blocks away, though Sam is older, and in the funny way of life they’ve wound up good friends. He’s working at Sam’s place because, in his words, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with his life. Bucky’s going through his own version of one of those fairly bleak lost periods of 20-something misery, but he’s smart and not a drunk and decent at what he does for Sam, and if he bangs a third of the customers he does it discreetly enough. Sam never knew dark-blond, broad-shouldered, bass-voice sad-eyed dudes pushing 40 were the kryptonite that made him unable to do anything including flirt, until Steve came in one day and Bucky sprayed himself with the keg he was tapping.

Steve chuckles— is this man blushing? “Oh no, I’m nowhere near an expert. But it’s pretty easy once they get established. Don’t need much from you. I’m not, uh, living at the place with the backyard where the hives are, right now….so….but they’ll be fine without me.”

Steve gets a little quiet and Bucky’s fangirl expression dims with distressed sympathy. It gets sad like this sometimes when talking to Steve. Recently divorced guys had this problem, where everything came back to the one topic. Steve’s not doing it pathologically, didn’t seem like, just genuinely realizing another change. Bucky looks stricken. He doesn’t always seem young, at newly 24, but sometimes it still shows.

Sam finally manages to catch his eye away from gazing at Steve to convey a quick head jerk of get-the-hell-over-there-and-do-the-job-I-pay-you-for, and Bucky peels himself away with an apologetic smile at Steve. Sam picks up the conversation with Steve as Bucky clears tables at top speed, hearing how he’s renting a place month-to-month not far away, not able to plan something more permanent just yet. He doesn’t say anything revealing, but it’s still easy to paint a picture of a small, empty apartment. Bucky’s not the only one with a soft spot for this guy, and Sam is warmed by the thought that his little bar offers him respite.

………………..

“That’s so sad,” moans Bucky a few days later. It’s just after opening on a weekday afternoon, and Bucky seemed quieter than usual so Sam is tantalizing him with what he learned talking to Steve the other day. “Did he say—you know he has kids?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam answers. He’d been as offhand as a person could be about that sort of thing, but it wasn’t hard to see how he really felt. He was standing in the rubble of a sincere loving marriage to a woman with whom he had two 11-year old twins. Helped explain his rectitude when it came from moving from his spot at the bar, meeting someone other than the staff. Bucky’s eyes are pools of sympathetic anguish and Sam feels the need to say, “This kinda stuff happens to people, Buck,” earning an eye-roll for his patronizing efforts. “It’s good he’s coming here, learning about himself. I think you help a lot, for the record.”

Bucky starts and gives him a bewildered look. “What?”

This is aging him. Sam sighs, “He’s lonely. Maybe feels kinda lost right now.”

Bucky’s mouth gets a pained downward slant to it.

“He. Likes. You.”

At that, of course, Bucky gets uncomfortable, blushing and moving off to wipe tables somewhere away from Sam, rubbing his nose and clearing his throat like he’s been doing since he got there. He brightens when Steve comes in an hour later, and Sam rolls his eyes and leaves them to their game of mouse-and-mouse.

Steve is telling Bucky... how window insulation works. He thinks he asked, he hopes to god he did, at least. He’s been embarrassing himself for weeks, coming to this place almost every day. He’s kept it pretty well under wraps that although he liked the neighborhood simplicity, and talking to Sam, and got comfortable after the first few visits, the real reason he’s there more evenings than not is to see Bucky. With his bright grey-blue eyes and dark hair hanging past his chin, swinging against his cheekbones, with his smile and wicked sense of humor and his confounding ease in himself, the ease that gives Steve despair and hope for himself. With that mouth and that divot in his chin, and those last two thoughts are not allowed, because the need to put his thumb into that dot in his sculpted chin and kiss those ridiculously pink lips is urgent and unthinkable.

He doesn’t do that, he just sits and pines and chats awkwardly with him, and gets to know a few other regular guys and talks sports with Sam. He just likes talking to Bucky, it’s easy, easy like nothing has been in a long time, and he’s a creep, he’s a pathetic older guy using his experience to take advantage of a younger guy—

Only, he’s not actually experienced here, at all. And Bucky is so smart, he’s self-deprecating about it but it’s not like he and Steve aren’t generally on the same level beyond his inner glossary of home improvement terminology. He downplays the fact that he knows cars like an expert, insists the stuff Steve learned from keeping up an old house and the hobbies he picked up to stay sane is somehow far more impressive— Steve’s pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose, to make him feel less adrift and clueless. He has that way about him, of someone who looks after other people without realizing it.

Things were all dark there for a while, with the end of his marriage to Peggy. But he’s pretty sure he and Bucky are friends, and he feels bright when he sees him.

Tonight, though, Bucky seems just a little worn down. He’s wearing a waffle-knit shirt under his incomprehensible-thorny-calligraphy-t-shirt, as though he’s cold, and his eyes are tired. Steve waits for a reply to the last thing he said and looks to see Bucky with a dazed, spaced-out expression, before he shakes his head and rubs his nose, saying “Sorry, I thought I was gonna sneeze, what’d you say?”

Talking about the goddamn weather and window insulation was segueing into a real conversation, to Steve’s delight: “How my mom moved us out to Jersey so we could live somewhere better and I never forgave her.” Bucky gives a wide-eyed grimace of agreement and he can’t help the bright laugh that bursts out of him. “How about you, you grow up in the city?” He’d inadvertently spilled his guts about the divorce on like his third time in the bar, something that humiliated him to think of but Sam had simply said with an understanding face wasn’t too unusual, so Bucky knew the basics about Peggy and the twins, but Steve had felt clumsy asking Bucky about himself.

He rolled his eyes with his problematically attractive crooked grin and answered, “Aw man, I grew up practically around the block from this place. Went to high school at the big catholic cinderblock in the neighborhood. I was at school on the west coast for a couple years, but…” His eyes cast downward. “now I’m back.”

Steve remembers how bad it felt at that age, to not have accomplished enough fast enough. Saying that will make him sound like an old grey dad and even if that’s what he is he can still hold out a little hope of being something different here, so he just says, “Brooklyn’s a good hometown to come back to.”

That makes Bucky smile at him and look him in the eye, like he liked what Steve said, even like it made him feel better. Steve tamps his answering grin down to reasonable levels.

Bucky’s also been rubbing at his nose on and off this whole time, and he can see it give a little twitch right before he breathes out a “scuse-me” through hitching breaths, his eyes flickering closed. He pushes his nose firmly into his long-sleeved elbow. “hhh-hh-tdschuh!” He sneezes quietly and muffled. “Oh, snf, sorry,” he says, blinking and emerging from his elbow but not lowering it, the hazy ticklish look still on his face, breaths hitching. “Another—hhh—‘nother one?” He freezes, looking up at the overhead lights, nostrils flared, but after a second he deflates with a sigh. “Nope, nevermind. Snff.” Steve’s guts swoop. This crush is so unsustainable. He’s gonna fail to be cool and friendly and he’ll have to watch Bucky go all uncomfortable and pitying as he explains to Steve that he has six hot boyfriends who are not almost-forty almost-virgin losers who only know how to take up his time when he’s trying to work. According to his therapist these “harangues of negativity” are “unhelpful.” But Bucky looks tired and a little pale and like his nose is going to start turning pink and Steve is just trying to survive.

“Bless you,” Steve says softly in his gentle voice that’s so deep it takes Bucky by surprise and makes his stomach flutter every time he talks to him. He feels like he might be blushing.

“Thanks,” it comes out husky and he clears his throat hard, moving to the little sink to wash his hands.

“Allergies, or…?” Steve ventures, a little divot between his eyebrows of concern-more-like-pity.

“I dunno, something’s bothering my nose today,” he says lightly with a shrug. In truth Bucky has a good idea what’s making him sneeze. The fucking radiator that was supposed to heat his cheap shitty basement apartment had stopped working in the middle of the night, so he’d spent six hours until dawn shivering, and an itchy tickly feeling had been growing in the back of his nose and throat since around noon. It’s starting to evolve into a runny nose and an ever-present but elusive feeling of being about to sneeze, and he knows that means he’s coming down with a cold.

He sees some convenient glasses to clear and excuses himself with a smile so he can sniffle out of Steve’s earshot; he’s enough of a mess compared to Steve on his best day, he doesn’t need to show off his scraggly urchin runny nose aesthetic of tonight any more than he has to.

For the next hour, these light, tickly sneezes either sneak up on him or abandon him at the last minute, leaving his nose feeling like it’s going to start getting stuffy.

Steve watches Bucky do his job, sniffling, rubbing his nose, and sneezing furtively into his sleeve or collar; tucking the strands of hair that have come loose from his short ponytail behind his ears, and feels so helplessly tender for him that it can’t be normal or healthy even by desperate crush standards.

Bucky’s coming down with a cold. He seems to want to brush it off, but Steve can hear a slight change in the resonance of his voice that gives it away even if the tired pink starting to border his eyes and nostrils doesn’t. The place is getting crowded and he’s busy; Steve feels for him, as well as pathetically jealous of his attention as he banters with him in passing once in a while.

He glances up as Bucky heads in his direction with a short stack of empty glasses and sees his steps slow; he pauses, blinks up at the overhead light, eyes hazy, and then, wavering, starts to turn his face into his shoulder, before pausing again and then sighing and sniffing as the sneeze evaporates. He looks up and sees Steve watching him like a creep and laughs, “Damn, lost her,” and then as he continues behind the bar, “You havin’ fun watching me look stupid?”

“It’s agony actually,” he responds, gets a laugh, and feels the now-somewhat-familiar internal squeal of this is flirting! I’m flirting with a guy and I think he can tell! It’s painfully pathetic, but he can’t help but track the fact that Bucky knows plenty of the folks that come to Sam’s, that he’ll give anyone his attention if they ask for it, smiling and joking, but the only person he really goes out of his way to talk to, initiates teasing with, is him, Steve. It’s still nothing more than polite obligatory chatting, he’s sure— when you work at a bar this kinda thing is natural. Bucky is young and charismatic and gorgeous. His love life would probably give Steve enough combined envy and jealousy to cause heart failure, which would be perfectly appropriate because he is an old square divorcee. It makes him warm and bubbly enough that he seems to be Bucky’s favorite customer to pass the time with.

A guy down the bar gets his beer from Sam and sidles closer. “This seat taken?” he asks with a good-humored cocked eyebrow. This is why Steve actually started coming to this place: to meet people, to meet guys, in a way that, well, went somewhere. To call his own decades-old bluff. Not to moon over staff half his age who woulda been out of his league even if he was still in his twenties. He turns to the guy—his age or a few years older, attractively lithe with muscle, a hard but handsome face, and smiles.

Bucky gets busy for a stretch— Sam’s place is actually full tonight thanks to the playoff game. He enjoys the feeling of being a genuinely necessary part of the bar’s operation, when some nights it’s hard to believe he’s more than Sam’s charity case. Nights like this remind him that he has a real job, he’s decent at it even with a bum left arm; whether he’s living out his dreams or not he’s an adult with a job, a place to live, and people he cares about. Plus it distracts him from feeling sorry for himself for coming down sick.

His satisfied feelings fade when he looks over to the Steve end of the bar and sees Brock Rumlow talking to him. He scowls. Fucking Rumlow. He only ever comes on nights with games these days, but Bucky would be perfectly happy if he never came in at all.

It’s fine. Steve’s fine. He is a grown-up, significantly more of one than Bucky. Of all the people who have no need of his misplaced ineffectual chivalry, Steve has got to be last in line.

Maybe he finds more stuff to do in the general area of that end of the bar, and maybe he’s listening for Rumlow to say something dickish, or maybe he’s just a masochist and he wants to know firsthand if they hit it off. Sam is trying to point his “Don’t-be-Stupid” face at him like a flashlight beam but he resolutely ignores it while he replaces a couple bottles that legitimately needed it, ok, just because they’re in a convenient place doesn’t make that untrue.

“Yeah, I’m glad I found this place,” he catches Steve’s cheerful voice. A wave of bar noise obscures their next words, and then he makes out Rumlow,

“—actual sports on the TV. ‘Course,” the smile is audible in his voice, “the clubby places are good for at least one reason, y’know?” He quiets down to say it but not enough. Steve wouldn’t particularly like that, Bucky guesses, and then grinds his teeth as his brain helpfully supplies him with the memories of how easily Brock had charmed him, months ago. It wasn’t any kind of nightmare, but it was still probably his least favorite hookup to date: he’d been so happily focused on Bucky at first, then rough and selfish in bed, capped off by an unnecessarily clear implication that he wouldn’t be calling. Bucky knew the score with casual sex, but it had still given him enough whiplash to sting; it crossed his mind a few days later that it had been like Rumlow wanted him to feel like a dumb kid.

Steve has sputtered something about “not sure he’s looking for anything like that” while Bucky fumed about the past. He has to grab beers for a couple guys, and bending to get in the lowboy fridge makes his nose run suddenly, and flush with an insistent tickle. He manages, just barely, to squash the sneeze completely into a silent mmp! into his shoulder, andmakes a getaway to the bathroom. He blows his nose, but it won’t stop tickling, so then he stands there like an idiot, holding paper towels like they’re a book he’s reading, staring up into the lights and waiting to coax the sneeze out.

He can feel it coming but it still takes forever. At least the bathroom is empty. He wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly and sniffs and his breath finally starts to catch.

“hehh...heh...heh—heh-Uhh....huhh. Fuck.” There’s no way it’s not happening though, his goddamn nose tickles so bad— “hhHAh—EHSsschhooo!” It’s a ridiculous cartoony sneeze but at least it’s satisfying. He blows his nose again, then sighs. He’s definitely sick. Gonna be great sleeping in a freezing apartment. Turning into kind of a shitty night, he thinks with sarcastic pep.

When he leaves the restroom he can’t help glancing over to where Steve sits, and sees he’s now frowning at whatever Rumlow’s saying, looking politely uncomfortable on the way to annoyed. As he drifts back into earshot he hears, “….fun, but, if you’re looking for more than, um, casual, I dunno, kind of a dead end.” Then his pulse jumps as Rumlow looks right at him and finishes, “not dating material, trust me. Either way,” he leans in, “I think you can do better.”

Bucky closes the distance but puts himself behind the bar so he doesn’t immediately clock the asshole. His fists are clenched. Can he throw him out? If he doesn’t get away from Steve and shut up Bucky’s gonna end up fired and charged with assault, probably, but he doesn’t know if he can throw someone out on the grounds of being a jerk that he hates. Thank God, Sam’s caught on that something is up.

Rumlow doesn’t seem to have won Steve over, in any case. He’s turned cold and hard in a way that makes him look unfamiliar, and he says quietly but very clearly, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” He sounds like a straight Army Captain contemptuously shattering an underling’s heart immediately post-office-suckjob or something; in the morass of anger and panic it still registers with Bucky’s dick to his utter bewilderment. It definitely triggers some core memory for Rumlow, who turns the color of old milk before flushing and standing. He takes in the sight of Bucky glowering behind Steve and barks an ugly laugh. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, shaking his head in mock pity. “Good luck with that rescue mission.”

Bucky feels like he did when Hank Ackerman pantsed him in 8th grade. Everything’s too bright and clear. He wants to cover his face and run into the back, but he’s rooted to the spot by the thought that that’s just what the dumb baby slut Rumlow’s been making him out to be would do.

“That’s it man,” Sam comes up beside him, smile on his face as though he’s just casually joining their conversation. “You’re done. Get outta here.”

Rumlow scoffs, takes a step towards the door, then turns with the beginning of a macho intimidation-lean in Sam’s direction. He’s hammered, Bucky hadn’t realized, and he can usually tell with people. He’s...kind of fucking scary. Had he gotten rougher around the edges, or had he been like this when Bucky went home with him? Jesus Christ.

Sam just returns his stare, all semblance of friendliness gone from his face. “Get out.”

Rumlow glares another second, but then he goes. There’s a reason Sam’s successful running a bar in the middle of the still-managing-to-be-seedy part of Brooklyn, as well as his finely tuned sensibilities to the unmet needs of Brooklyn’s grownup queer folks. He has the air, recognizable to serious troublemakers, of someone who will absolutely meet and raise any escalation. There were, in fact, a taser and a gun behind the bar, but Sam had never had to use them.

Steve stands up sharply, like he’s—what, gonna follow? Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but then—“Steve.” Sam’s got the side bar entry folded up and he’s intercepting his angry stride. “Please don’t.” He goes on, too quiet for Bucky to make out. Steve deflates and sits back down, taking a long drink of beer and then frowning at his knees.

Bucky consciously lets go of his tension as he sees Rumlow’s silhouette, walking outside, disappear from the last window on the right. He feels shaky, the way any kind of confrontation leaves him, and embarrassed as hell. He avoids Steve’s eyes for all he’s worth, scrubbing a hand under his nose and sniffing sharply.

Steve was just a customer. Bucky was just one of many people that Steve made polite conversation with in the course of a day. Feeling like this was just a consequence of getting that confused. Because he’s an idiot. He has to sniffle again. He also feels about ten times sicker than he did a few minutes ago, and successfully blinking away the brief prickle in his eyes just turns it into the need to sneeze.

Steve tries to breathe smoothly and calm down. This frat-boy rage is ridiculous, he still wants to go punch the hell out of that fucking creep. He must be drunker than he realizes, although deep down he knows it has more to do with the inarticulate surge of protectiveness he’d felt for Bucky since the guy had gestured to him with a jerk of his head as he crossed the room.

He hears a shuddering gasp and sees Bucky duck down to crouch behind the bar. His concern flares way up, but then he hears the three muffled sneezes, all in a rush, “hhhMPtchsh—hmptsschoo—hptsshhuh,”. He straightens back up, sniffing hard, more wetly than he sounded earlier. He’s rubbing his nose and glaring at the door, not looking at Steve.

“Bucky,” he says, frowning, determined to get this across, “what that asshole said about you—”

“Steve, snff, it’s fine, just drop it, okay, I’m asking you,” he meets Steve’s eyes with a downcast expression, before it flickers as his breath catches, and he sneezes again, half-pinched down into the collar of his shirt, “ihh-dtsschuh!”

His nostrils keep quivering and he lets out a shaky sigh of frustration before ducking around the corner out of sight with his hands tented over his nose and sneezing, “hiih-hih-HIDtschoo!...hih-HIH-TISchoo! ..heehh...heh—HEH—” the last one deserts him and leaves him sniffling. They’re still pretty quiet, but a lot heavier and spraying than the first sneezes Steve heard earlier. Bucky blows his nose and washes his hands thoroughly, and when he’s back behind the bar his nose is decidedly pink.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky’s lips thin in exasperation— it’s not like him, compared to the guy Steve’s talked to the last few weeks. Whatever, he can’t help but say, “you do sound like you’re coming down with something, you should—”

“Steve, I’m fine,” says Bucky, in a soft tone that brooks no argument. Still tense, he turns to Steve with a crooked smile and says, “Really,” and it’s warm, if strained, between them again, and it seems like that’ll just have to satisfy Steve, and he says as much to Bucky who blushes and bites his lip for some reason.

Sam rescues Bucky by asking him to do inventory in back, letting him be sneeze and be dramatically in his feels without anyone around, especially Steve. The bar is slow enough now that he just shamelessly hides for the rest of the night. He’s constantly sniffling and sneezing and needing to blow his nose with the roll of rough brown paper towels back there, and even without that he’s too keyed up and pissed and miserable for human company, so it’s for the best.

He casts furtive recon glances to the bar where Steve sits, first craning his neck trying to spy Bucky, then brooding into his beer glass which makes Bucky feel like an asshole, then perking up at least a little shooting the shit with Sam, hopefully talking shit about Brock Dickface Rumlow. Then the misery wells up enough to get him to actually focus on work to avoid feeling it, and then it’s a few hours later and they’re closing up and he goes home to his little icebox and tires not to think about anything.

The next day, Sam chooses evil.

Steve and JB Barnes are both at least somewhat complex men, and it is always a bad idea to meddle in the affairs of others. But screw it, he’s had Bucky moaning in his ear for months now, and he was gonna have to recheck all his angry counting from last night, and these guys really seemed dumb enough to let the tension of mutual attraction strain between them until it just broke, some misunderstanding threw them both on the defensive or whatever, and they missed the chance at any of the fun part of connecting with each other.

So.

It isn’t a big surprise when Bucky calls him around 2, apologizing and pausing to make some gross “ihHgjshuhh!” noise, saying he was probably too sick with this cold to come in. What is a surprise, for poor Bucky, is Sam’s implacable response: “Duuude, I’m so sorry, but there’s some kinda convention in town and the place is packed, I need you here so bad, no matter what. You can take the next two days off, I’ll pay you.” He hears Bucky swallow back the what the hell and resignedly say ok. He feels diabolical. But hopefully it will be worth it. Steve usually comes in early on Thursdays, and he’d looked all hangdog-worried about Bucky the night before.

He’s been there twenty minutes already, chatting distractedly with Sam and staring at the TV screens but really looking all over the room like Bucky might be hiding somewhere. Bucky slouches in, ten minutes late, takes in the mostly empty room and gives Sam a betrayed glare.

“You really ndeeded mbe, huh,” he mutters as he puts his backpack away.

“You don’t even sound that bad,” Sam rejoins cheerfully, and Bucky’s mouth drops open with incredulity.

He moves some boxes around in back without issue. Then he tries to start prep by the bar. In a fifteen-minute period he has two sneezing fits that require him retreating to the bathroom to blow his nose endlessly and wash his hands. Sam decides that’s plenty sufficient. He and his customers are gonna pay a price in germ exposure for this stupid ass cupid skit he’s putting on.

“Steve, you believe this guy?” Bucky’s been avoiding Steve’s concerned hopeful looks since he got here. “He insisted on coming to work.” Bucky chokes in outrage, then coughs for real, while Steve moves a few seats closer. Sam turns; Bucky couldn’t look more betrayed if there was a knife with Sam’s name on it in his guts. Lord deliver him from dramatic white boys. “Did you take the bus here, Buck?” There was no other way for the guy to get to work, but he just replies flatly,

“Yeah.”

“You oughtta go home and rest.”

“Le me give you a ride, Buck,” Steve jumps in with the Air-Bud eagerness Sam had expected. They confirm it and bustle Barnes into a Civic while he’s sneezing too much to protest. Sam washes his hands metaphorically of the situation, and also very literally and thoroughly.

Steve’s car is a little old, and cold, and dusty. Bucky shivers as he buckles his seatbelt. He feels silently nervous and thrilled to be in Steve’s Car!!, but at the moment it’s hard to be anything but….sneezy…

“hhh-hh-hhmmPtchuh! S-s-sor-ry-hiihHIptchsh!” Holding them back when he feels like this just makes his nose more irritated and thus even sneezier. He stubbornly jams his fist under his nose to quell the tickle. He has some napkins from work, so a nose-blow is possible, but it doesn’t feel possible, not so close to Steve, who has it a million times more together than Bucky even on days when he isn’t falling apart on a cellular level.

“Bless you,” Steve says quietly. He looks at him reflexively, to see a small, sweet, sympathetic smile. “Ready?” Bucky gives a little nod and the car pulls out into the slushy road.

His nose is running onto his finger, it’s a crisis. This is why it’s always a terrible idea to leave the house when you’re really sick. “Ugh, I gotta blow mby ndose, I’mb sorry, I’mb so gross right ndow,” talking also makes his nose angry. Fucking Sam and his supervillain plan to humiliate him. What had he done to deserve this? He fumbles for the napkins with his less-dextrous left hand, the one he should have stuck under his nose, goddamnit, he’s gonna sneeze again…

“Psh, don’t worry about it,” scoffs Steve like the big huge dad he is, then with a sympathetic glance he turns the radio on, to the classic rock station, because of course, Bucky almost laughs even while racing to get tissues on his face before this giant wet sneeze overcomes him. The music is loud and it does help him feel less embarrassed.

“heh—HEH-KSSSHOOoo!” he gets the wad of napkins in front of him just in time. Blowing his nose after that demolishes them, but he feels a little closer to a human being.

“Bless you!” Steve chuckles. “Man you got a good bug, jeez!”

Why are he and Sam both so cheerful. “Thanks, I’mb glad you’re impressed,” he croaks.

“You have cold stuff at home?” Huh? When Bucky doesn’t answer he continues, “Tissues, tea, soup, medicine, you know?”

“Oh, umb, sorry, I’m tired,” Steve makes a sympathetic sound. “I usually just use toilet paper. I took the last of my Dayquil before work. I dunno if it even helped, all it feels like it did is mbake me jittery and sdeezy.”

“Why don’t we stop by a drugstore.” He sounded decisive.

“Oh, you don’t have to bother with that, really Steve—” he pauses to sniffle desperately. Technically he can afford a couple things, and he probably needs them. “Or—you could drop me off and I’ll get myself home from the store, that would totally be a big help—”

“Is the heat even on in your place?” Steve interrupts, shrewd-eyed. At Bucky’s wide-eyed sputtering response he continues, “I knew it. I used to be a broke Brooklyn kid, once upon a time. Only reason to come into work, am I right? Can’t believe landlords are still getting away with this shit.”

Bucky considers denial, then slumps. “S’why I’mb so much...hhh...worse...hh-huh-hudschuh! Snff-snff. Worse today. They said it’ll be fixed by tomorrow so...we’ll see, ha. I got a space heater and an electric kettle though, I can get in my blankets and drink tea and I’m fine.”

Steve is quiet, no response, and Bucky worries irrationally that he pissed him off. A few minutes of classic rock later, he pulls into the small parking lot attached to the drugstore, turns the car off, and turns to him, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Bucky I—” he breaks off and laughs to himself. “I know you have to be polite to customers, I don’t want to—” he makes eye contact, looking pained and rueful. “I’d like to think we’re friends. But I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything,”

“We’re friends,” Bucky interrupts gently. Steve’s face brightens like a sunrise and Bucky’s chest does a nice warm thing.

“Yeah? That’s...I’m real happy to hear it.” Steve says, sheepish but grinning. Then his eyes get the determined look that Bucky is starting to think means trouble. “Well the reason I asked is, as a friend, I really hate the idea of you trying to ride this out in an icebox apartment. I have heat. And a couch!” He hastens to add at whatever wide-eyed look Bucky’s giving him. “It’s just, I know it’s no fun being sick by yourself, and, well, honestly I wish I’d socked that asshole at the bar last night, and I really wish I’d clocked him as a jerk faster, and I’d feel a lot better if I could do something nice for you, and you really seem like you could do with some rest and medicine. Will you let me grab some stuff here and spend the night at my place—where there’s heat— and let me fuss over you?”

“Steve, that’s—that’s so nice, but I really can’t imb—snff—impose on you, and I gotta be so contagious right now…”

“I don’t care about that,” Steve says easily. “And I know you’re not gonna die on your own, but,” and, whoa, he’s deploying some kind of dignified mature version of puppy-dog eyes, it’s so sincere, and also so certain, that it starts to seem like the only sensible course of action is to let his gorgeous crush take him to his apartment while he’s the polar opposite of sexy, an unspeakable snot factory, and also possibly starting to run a fever.

….His apartment is gonna be so goddamn cold.

And lonely, incidentally.

And Steve is so nice. He’s literally, actually here, he seems to mean it that he wants to take care of Bucky’s sick bedraggled ass as some kind of friend-favor. There’s no way this is a come-on with him in this state, even if he can still muster enough energy to wish it was. No way Steve’s ever gonna want to fuck him after watching him snuffle through 200 tissues and mouth-breathe all evening, but he was nuts to think he ever would anyhow. He’s just that nice, and Bucky is that pathetic, and that might not feel great, but he wants to be Steve’s friend, he really does, and even through his own shyness he can see that the guy is pretty lonely.

“You, umb. You really don’t have to.” He says, watching Steve, who waits with obvious hopefulness. “But. Uh.” Steve raises his eyebrows and gives him a little smile, and Bucky finds himself returning it helplessly. “If you really don’t mbind. It could, potentially, be really ndice to take you up on that. You really don’t have to though!”

“I want to, though.” Jesus, he’s so sincere. Bucky feels some weird kind of protective way about the earnest honesty in his eyes.

“Well, then, okay. Thangk you, I really appreciate it.” He laughs, finally feeling how miserable it would have been to go back home and try to sleep in a cold blanket pile on his mattress on the floor. “Mby place sucks right now.”

“Alright then,” Steve beams. “Let’s get you a couple things and then get you cozy.”

Bucky’s nose is not okay with him using his face to talk instead of constantly blow it. It’s gotten completely blocked, and it’s tingling unpleasantly, and running so bad again he has to smush his knuckles under his nostrils. The tickle crests and his breath catches before he can do anything about it, but he clenches his jaw and forces it into a stifle. “hhh-huh-MMP!!” The problem with doing that is it just makes the tickle— “hh-mMP!” worse. “Ugh, sorry.” His hand is a dam against his nose at this point.

“Bless you!” They both step out of the car, but Steve hurries over to his side with a crinkle in his brow. “Why don’t you just stay here and I’ll grab a few things. Anything in particular, or just tissues and NyQuil?”

“Dyquil is just schndapps,” Bucky grumbles, then his brain catches up a little and he says “tissues,” fervently, and then it catches all the way up and he says “wait, ndo way are you buyig!”

Steve cocks an eyebrow like a handsome jerk. “You really wanna go in there?” With your current nose situation? He’s kind enough to not say.

He casts about for a moment—“Grab me a little pack and then I’ll go in!”

Steve gives him a skeptical look and says “Sure,” in a way that makes him think his orders won’t be followed, but he’s too busy squishing his nose more firmly and silently begging it not to make him sneeze again to keep arguing, or to protest when Steve opens the door for him and puts his car keys in his hand before dashing into the store with a promise to be quick.

He’s back not even ten minutes later, by which time holding his nose plugged and not letting his sneezes out has put Bucky in a state of perma-misery, stifling relentless sneezes every few seconds, unable to keep his eyes fully open. Steve tosses a box of tissues onto his lap before he gets all the way into the car because he is a saint.

“Guh,” Bucky says gratefully, pulls out a wad of about ten, and lets the miserable sneeze that had been building out into the nest of forgiving softness. “HehgSHOOmpff!!” And then blows his nose forever. Finally he feels like he can speak and have a face again; the little drugstore bag is now home to a dozen nasty used-tissue balls. “Well,” he says as he puts the last one in there, “wish I hadn’t had a witness for that.”

Steve just chuckles. “You’re fine,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble. “I grabbed you a toothbrush, and I’ve got some stuff that can fit you for pjs.”

Bucky feels like he sneezed out the last of his strength. “You’re way too nice.” He sniffles and slumps against the window, looking at the familiar blur of orange streetlight. “I should be more worried you’re a serial killer.” Steve chuckles again, and he likes that, so he goes on, “Probly got a nice Jeffrey Dahmer setup at your place. Sorry if I don’t make a good steak.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Steve replies, sounding indignant. Then laughs for real, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna chop you up and eat you, I swear.”

“It’s fine. Just mbake mbe into soup,” sighs Bucky. That would be warm. He’ll just be a big hot pot of Bucky, and Steve will stir him and season him so carefully with his big strong hands. This is a weird train of thought. He might have a fever. But he can still hear Steve chuckling.

Steve pulls into his parking spot and the car shudders to stillness as he takes his key out of the ignition. Next to him, Bucky is asleep with his head mushed against the window. He’d conked out for the last five or so minutes of the drive. “Hey, Buck, we just got to my place,” he says softly, trying not to sound too bedroom-y. His eyes flutter open, the blue of them standing out, and Steve takes a steadying breath because Bucky is so good-looking it catches him off guard and overwhelms him sometimes.

His eyes are glassy-bright and there’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and as he shifts upright in his seat Steve reaches over and touches his forehead without thinking about it. It’s noticeably hot, but not burning. The twins’ childhood bouts with the flu gave him a sense of bad-fever heat. “Think you got a temperature,” he murmurs sympathetically. Bucky just blinks up at him, a little wide-eyed, and only then does he realize his big meaty hand is practically covering half his face. He feels himself flush to match Bucky, and for a second they just look at each other.

Until Bucky sniffs a miserable liquid sniffle and they both almost jump. “Sorry,” Steve mutters awkwardly, and Bucky’s saying the same thing at the same time. They both move to get out, “Just one flight of stairs up.”

“huh—tschumpf!” is Bucky’s answer, his nose buried in a new handful of tissues. “huhh, hUH—huh.” The second sneeze fizzles, leaving him blinking and frowning and wrinkling his nose snifflishly against the ticklish haze as he shuts the door. “Fuck. Sorry, scuse mbe.”

“Bless you.” It’s probably not normal to find someone so sick so adorable.

Steve leads him up and along the hall and then he’s unlocking the door, feeling giddy that he’s letting Bucky into his apartment, and then guilty for being excited, when the poor guy is just hesitantly accepting a much-needed favor. Bucky trails in behind him and then stands still while Steve sets the bag from the drugstore and started to turn to him, saying, “It’s not much, but—”

“ASHHOO!” Bucky’s sneeze interrupts and snaps him forward into his tissues, and then he just stays folded over for a second like it sapped the last of his energy. Then he straightens, rubbing his nose into the tissues and sighing. “Jesus, sorry,”

“Bless you! You don’t have to be sorry, you’ve just got a cold.” Steve has to hold himself still to keep from rubbing his back.

“You’re...hh-huh….? Snfff, ugh. Totally gonna catch this, I owe you way mbore apologies.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he chuckles, toeing his shoes off. Bucky follows suit and he continues, “I stopped caring after raising toddlers, they’re little germ factories, you catch everything.” Why’d you bring up your old-dad status, Steve? “I’ll grab you some things to sleep in.”

An hour and one confrontation about Steve giving up his bed later, Bucky is ensconced on his couch like the king of cold-medicine commercials, surrounded by blankets and pillows and tissues and steaming cups and bowls. He feels a little more human, which is nice, but lets him access how incandescently awkward he feels at being rescued from his idiotic life like a snotty Cinderella. Steve has been flitting back and forth between the couch and kitchen, fussing over him to a truly excessive degree while exuding satisfaction and cheer, like some kind of calendar-model Santa with a caretaking kink. He was practically rubbing his hands together at the prospect of getting Bucky blankets and tea on his couch. Now he’s giving a rundown of his TV system standing next to the couch and it feels the tiniest bit manic and Bucky can feel himself getting a little too quiet but he can’t help it. After a minute Steve notices, and sets the remote down.

“I should stop babbling at you and leave you in peace,” he says with a bashful chuckle, turning to leave the room.

“No, I— you don’t—” Bucky doesn’t really have a response beyond ‘please chill out and hang out with me and let me picture cuddling with you,’ which will not be said aloud.

“You really don’t hafta feel like you need to entertain me, Bucky.”

“It’s not, I don’t,” he sighs and then sniffles. He doesn’t want to sit here and stare at the wall and stress about this, alone in this room in Steve’s goddamn apartment. He maybe should have thought about just how much he’d fallen for Steve before taking him up on this offer, because the concern and sweetness and fussing are starting to ratchet up his anxiety, because what if there was a chance it meant—

“Is anything the matter?” Steve crouches smoothly to be on his level and torment him with his eyes’ blueness. When all Bucky can do for a moment is flounder he looks more concerned, and a little downcast. “I really don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If anything’s bothering you, you can just tell me.”

What the hell is an ordinary sinner supposed to do in the face of this much sincerity? Act like he thinks he’s a damn grownup, Bucky guesses, and girds his nervous loser loins.

“Why’re you—” he starts, frowning, then cuts himself off and tries again with a small, apologetic smile.

“It’s just...this is such an imposition, and you seem...kinda weirdly happy about it? I just don’t get why.”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirks up, making him look dry and self-deprecating and unfairly handsome. “You’re worried I’m gonna start talkin about Scientology, or put you in my basement dungeon?”

Bucky shrugs. “Kinda.” Just ‘cause he went home with strangers didn’t mean he had no sense.

Steve seems to cast about for an explanation, and he also starts to turn pink. “It’s—you’re just so—” and then he sighs and sits on the end of the couch, next to his blanketed feet, addressing his words to the wall in a rush. “Honestly, Bucky? I have a huge crush on you, and,” he laughs in embarrassment, decidedly blushing now, “I’m just real happy to have a chance to take care of you in whatever little way.” Now he does turn to look at him, pained. “I’m sorry, that must be so uncomfortable to hear. I promise you’re not my hostage! Please don’t make a break for it, it’s cold out and you’re so sick. I swear I’m not Cathy Bates in Misery.”

“Y—hihdsschuh!” The sneeze catches him by surprise, but he has wadded-up tissues in his hand already anyhow. He has to blow his nose, and he does it thoroughly to buy time. Steve stares stoically at the ceiling as though waiting for sentencing. Is this seriously Steve telling Bucky...he likes him?

“You…” he stops, sniffs. He needs a plan. He doesn’t have one. His mouth is gonna keep moving anyway, “You said, ‘you’re just so—‘, what were you gonna say?”

Steve looks confused for a second, and then just helpless. “Bucky, you’re just so sweet. I’m happy for a chance to do something for you because I owe you, you get that, right?”

“Owe me?” Bucky asks, nonplussed. Steve laughs with what seems like disbelief at his confusion.

“Yes, Buck! For the last few months! For taking pity on me that first night I came into Sam’s. You asked me a question about antifreeze.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs. His world is rearranging itself. Steve remembered that?

“I feel—real self-conscious, I guess, coming into the “scene,” he gives it air-quotes and Bucky’s heart swells a little more, “by the route I have. Y’know, married dad who woke up one day and realized the stuff he repressed at sixteen might be the real him. Sam’s was the third place I tried to go into. I just felt so ridiculous, I still do— 39-year-old brand-new gay dude, it’s idiotic. I was practically gonna have a panic attack, I was definitely gonna leave and not try again and just...stop trying in general, maybe, to figure this new scary shit out. Except you were there, this—this smokin-hot guy, and you’re acting like you actually want to talk to me, and… so I stayed. And came back.” He looks Bucky in the eyes and it makes Bucky’s stomach clench. “I feel like you’ve been taking care of me this whole time, helping me ease into things, helping me not to feel bad about being completely uncool, asking me about stuff I actually know about instead of laughing at me because I’ve never heard of ‘poppers’,”

At that, Bucky has to give in to the giggle bubbling out of him, which inevitably leads to a short coughing fit. His first instinct is to keep laughing, rake Steve over the coals, but Steve is looking at him with a careful sort of expression, and it occurs to Bucky that just because he’s older and seems like he has it all together and has great posture doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling vulnerable. And he looks like he’s feeling really fucking vulnerable right now. Acting like Bucky is worthy of this adorable schoolboy crush is absurd, but it’s not like it was so many eons ago that little baby Bucky Barnes was having his First Gay Bar experience, and he’d been scared as shit.

He already feels like he missed the boat on his life. Steve is starting over at 39. He’s so fucking brave. Bucky...somehow, unthinkably, Bucky is in a position where he could really hurt this guy.

“I’mb, umb. Snfff. Thing is, I’m a little surprised…” And Steve must think that’s the prelude to rejection because he pulls this sad little smile onto his face that’s the worst thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he has to make it go away, “It’s just, to hear you tell it I took pity on you and I’ve been talking to you to, like, guide you along and coach you because I’m some saint!” He smiles, starting to feel amused. “Steve— I just wanted some reason to talk to you, dude.”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

He has to laugh, putting his forehead in his hand. “Sorry. I, just, I have not been operating under the assumption that I had a chance with you? And now it sounds like you’re telling me I do? While I sit on your couch filling your trash can with my disgusting tissue mountain?”

All he gets from the man is “...Huh?”

“You said ‘crush’,” he insists, and he’s not laughing, his heart is pounding actually. “What did you mean by that?” He’s gonna awkwardly say that he wants to fuck, and once that box is checked in his Gay Awakening, he’ll move on to actually date people actually in his league, and that’s maybe not gonna feel great, but, well…

Steve looks up from staring at his hands, makes eye contact, and he looks a little confused and a lot like he’s facing a firing squad. “I meant, I mean that…” he blows a breath out. “Jesus I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean that I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a date, since pretty much the first night I met you.”

Bucky’s head does a record scratch and Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, “But I guess instead I kidnapped you when you were sick and blurted this out to you while you were trapped on my couch waiting to be left alone to sleep. I was never smooth but I swear I’ve done better than this.”

A giddy feeling is rising up in Bucky’s chest, making him forget completely about how tired and crappy he feels. “Well, I am smooth,” he says, “I’ve got game. At least, I did, until you showed up and turned me into a giggling bimbo. What the hell, Steve.”

“This is starting to seem like a romantic conversation but I can’t tell,” murmurs Steve with his face still uncertain but a little twinkle in his eye.

Bucky’s nose is gonna ruin this, he’s surprised it gave him that long a grace period. “Yeah, snfff, real romantic, I’mb gonna—hih—fuckin’ sndeeze—heh-heTShoo! Againd.”

Another sneeze teases out, and then he has to blow his nose for about ten years. “Bless you,” says Steve all quiet and bedroomy in his deep voice, and he’s definitely smiling, sparkle-eyes, leaning towards him the tiniest bit, but still looking like Bucky’s leaving him hanging a little, unsure, and he can’t help the wave of doubt he feels.

“Steve, you—” he stares at the blanket on his lap. “I’m a mess. You’ve accomplished shit, you have a real goddamn job, I—I’m just, ok, we’re both adults, but I feel like a screw-up kid compared to you.” He takes a deep breath and says what he doesn’t want to, “I’d be...pretty damn flattered if you wanted to hook up. I kinda can’t imagine you actually want to date me.”

He dares to look up and Steve looks more serious. He doesn’t say, “no shit.” He says, “I won’t argue if you say you don’t want anything, but I sure don’t agree with how you describe yourself. I don’t want to hook up—at least, not just that— I want to date you, get to know each other better, because I like you. I trust my judgement, when I think someone’s a good person.”

He says it so simply, and Bucky finds himself believing it despite himself, and a warm happy fire is kindling under his ribs. “Well, shit,” he murmurs, “it’s starting to seem like you’re asking me out.”

“It’s...starting to seem like you might be saying yes? If I am?” Steve looks agonized and Bucky’s doubts are no match for the giddiness fizzing up inside him, and he lets it show on his face with a grin, and whatever that looks like makes Steve kinda gulp and scootch up closer to him. Bucky makes a show of giving a slow, considering nod. Yes.

Steve has this soft, nervous little smile on his face, but his eyes hold something weighty, almost burning, as he moves even closer, and it’s just, it’s really, wow, Bucky has maybe never been taken seriously in quite this way by anyone before, it makes his knees feel watery and kindles something in his core. “I know you’re sick,” he rumbles, “but I feel like I gotta kiss you,” and how is it that the softer he speaks the deeper his voice sounds? He brushes his curled fingers over Bucky’s cheek because that’s how close they are now and this isn’t really Bucky’s life, is it? “What if I was to kiss you, right now?”

It’s hard to tell with the sexiness melting his brain but he realizes Steve is actually asking, because he’s a gentleman— a gentleman Bucky wants to be taken apart and turned inside out by. “Then you would be a guaranteed victim of my plague,” he breathes. “But I wouldn’t stop you, I’m not that selfless.”

“Sounds like a dare,” Steve murmurs, and tilts his head and presses their lips together.

It’s a short simple kiss but they each give a quiet gasp at the contact, and then stay there a moment. Steve’s beard isn’t huge but he feels it, like a firm underline to the shockingly warm plush pressure of his lips. He thankfully tragically remembers that congested people can’t make out and pulls away after just a brief press of lips, but not before giving a soft lick to Bucky’s, full of promised things to come.

They sit there a few inches apart and breathe. Bucky feels like a vibrating tuning fork. He just barely stops himself from shakily saying “wow,” like a highschool virgin, but when he sees Steve looking at him with lips still parted and a gobsmacked expression he changes his mind and lets it out anyway, “wow,” with a giddy grin.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, blinking like he got hit with a cartoon hammer, going from pink to red, and then he swoops in and kisses Bucky’s cheek, and then stands, going, “Excuse me, just gotta go...out of your sightline, and. Do something cool. And serious. No victory dances.”

…..the next morning…….

Steve could hear Bucky in the shower, sneezing three times, but not sounding—four times—nearly as heavy or exhausted as the night before. A few minutes and one loud noseblow later, he came out wrapped in a towel, mercilessly bare-chested, his nose bright red but his eyes clear and cheerful. Steve’s attention caught on his chest as his nipples tightened in the relative chill as Bucky said sheepishly, “forgot my clo-hothes—” his voice swooping to a breathy quaver on the last word, “hhh-hh-hehh—EHisSHOooh!” he turned as far away from Steve’s part of the room as possible and sneezed over his shoulder. “Snnfff. Excuse me, sorry.”

“Can I lend you some warmer stuff, just for now while we eat breakfast? There’s no way you’re not still sick,” Steve fussed, forcing himself to round the kitchen island slowly and casually instead of rushing over and wrapping him up in his arms and kissing his red nose that was twitching again. He quelled it with another sniff that sounded a lot less congested than the previous night.

“Ah, I’m ok. I felt really bad yesterday, but I slept so well,” he said with a warm grateful smile at Steve that went to his toes, “I don’t feel shitty and run-down anymore, just all, like, shnuffly.”

Steve chuckled helplessly and went over to rub his shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

“No way!” Bucky glowered, but then a few drops fell from his wet hair to his chest and neck, and he shivered into a sneeze so quick and light it sounded incomplete, “hih—tish!” followed by “ih-hihtchoo!” and he blinked, taken by surprise.

“That was... the cutest thing that ever happened,” Steve said truthfully.

“Shuddup— heh—edschoo!”

[readingwiththestars]

₊˚⊹♡ NOTHING LIKE THE MOVIES

["Trust me, Lib," I said, picturing her lips. "In a crowd of million ski masks, I'd still be able to find you."]

| ✮ 3 stars |

ᝰ.ᐟ ⊹ arc review thank you to netgalley + simon and schuster for providing me with an e-arc in exchange for an honest review

THOUGHTS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [minor spoilers]

ok. i put this review off for a couple days cause i knew this was gonna be harder to write because i love lynn painter books, really. buuttt i was horribly disappointed with this one. i'm the biggest wesliz fan but... like yeah i cant even form coherent thoughts about it. like this was unnecessary there was no point in shattering their relationship to write this.

like it was good to see wes's pov and everything but it felt so... idk yeah. (see im still struggling so bad to find words.)

one thing i would formally like to invite lynn to STOP doing though is shoving every taylor/ pop culture reference on the planet into the book. like holy shit woman. i few is okay BUT NOT THAT MANY COME ON!!!! they were in the middle of a fucking argument and wes is quoting illicit affairs or some bullshit. usually i love finding little references on page but this felt like too much.

i feel like she's whipped out her computer and gone straight to some dog fanpage or just plainly scrolled through edits seeing people saying "this song is so wesliz coded" and shoved those songs into the book. there is an on page reference to in between reference saying its their montage song.

also um this shit: ”little liz can’t come to the phone right now. why? oh. because she’s dead.” and somehow when jack antonoff was randomly brought up??? like some people are good at weaving taylor swift lyrics into books. lynn you are not.

also lynn take this a plea to never use the word "growl" or "growled" in a sentence ever again when describing your male characters. and to never write this sentence “she’s one of the guys you know? she’s just… different,” EVER AGAIN. PLEASE.

WHAT I DID LIKE THO WAS THE TINY TINY CRUMBS OF BAILEYCHARLIE AND NICKEMELIE (even tho nick was only mentioned and i dont think emelie was even there but eh)

CHARACTERS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

liz - ok so weirdly enough she was the most tolerable and still intolerable at the same time. like she was so different from the liz in bttm the sunshiney, wearing dresses of all different colours and her love of romcoms. she was described as anti-love and was practically a full on different character seriously. if you liked the first book maybe dont have high expectations for nltm. like i do understand she had her heart broken and so obviously that makes sense for some of the change but it had been two years and as liz likes to say SO FUCKING MUCH "she's moved on, she's moved past it, its in the past" well for someone who's moved on you sure like to avoid the past a lot. also idk who tf she was trying to fool with that whole "i don't like wes, im over him." shit like gurl- you were literally kissing 2.5 seconds ago whats with the switching sides. and there was SO much about her leaving "little liz" behind. like what was so wrong with liking flowers and romcoms? and being a hopeless romantic and wearing bright colours?

wes - okay so it was quiet heartbreaking to hear abt wes's side of this book (except for the whole pursuing liz part) and i did feel sorry for him. but like what happened to the sweet, caring wes in the first book. and tell me why i had to read THIS sentence “climb on me like a good girl,” LIKE MY EYES LYNN WTF????? i did not sign up for this wes, like no stop telling me how obsessed you are with liz's lips or how she's a mythological sex goddess- boy sit ur ass down. and don't even get me started on the beginning of the book. WHAT WAS THAT SHIT? why was wes acting like a 7yr old excited for school and talking (so much) abt his love for scootering? SCOOTERING. LYNN PAINTER WHAT THE EVER LOVING HELL? SCOOTERING. DO YOU HAVE SOME OBSESSION WITH THEM OR SOMETHING? WHY DID THOSE DUMB THINGS KEEP SHOWING UP?? like tell me why i needed to read this shit: "i fucking loved the scooters ..... wes + scooters = HEA" ..... lynn.

QUOTES ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

im not going to bother to find any of these, see: im too lazy

all in all i still liked some points when both of them were acting normal. which is why its a 3. but i feel like this is leaning towards a hate review but yeah idk i cant actually pin point parts that i remember liking- also the ending??? what was that? it made no sense to me.

[dbacklot99]

2024 fic roundup game

Can I just create an ask game? said @cheeseplants

Yes!! Thanks to @cheeseplants and anyone else you tagged me.

What fandoms do you write in? Good Omens! Only Good Omens, Forever Good Omens.

How many words have you published in 2024? Ok, including some chapters for an upcoming [redcated] collab, I'm estimating 150k that I actually wrote. Which....isn't much in this incredibly talented fandom BUT was a lot for me.

What is your greatest achievement this year? Getting out there and collaborating!! I talked to artists (y'all are magical and terrifying), I joined the [redacted] project and wrote amazing angst with @gaiaseyes451, @sixbynine-da, @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon, @groovynightstrawberry, and MxThirteen, PLUS more artists, @apocalyptic-scenes & babyrubysoho.

And then kept on writing with a lot of those folks to create some amazing crack - and Lucicrow?

My point is, once you start collaborating, you have no idea where it will take you!

What are your top three fics you’ve written this year? Mirrors (E, WIP but almost finished): Angsty reverse omens AU, but there's a happy ending I PROMISE. With amazing art from @daneecastle and @c0smicdisaster.

Cracked Pepper (E): Utterly absurd birthday crack for @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon. I'm still tickled that I somehow wrote this.

Have We Been Here Before? (E): A one-shot love letter to the fandom (also podfic from the amazing @nosferatini )

What was your biggest pit of despair moment? Hmmm, I got kind of lost in my subplots in the middle of After Heaven. But it worked out and I actually love the ending.

I regularly despair that I will never have enough time to write - or to write as well as I want.

What have you learned? I've gotten some sense of the things I'm ok at. And learning to work on adding descriptions and feelings, not just plot.

Still need to improve my gif game!

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground? I have three historical scenes hopping around, but not fully formed yet...

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out? Yes!! I can't name all of them - and some aren't published yet (looking at you, @on1occasionfork). But some to throw love at:

Saint of Lost Things (E) by @gaiaseyes451. This would have gone on my year's best list, but I'm sneaking it in here. Post S2 angst and redemption is absolute marvel of story telling!

What Have I Lost (M) Another post2S fic, from MarieCuriosity that I can't wait to see how it comes together!

The Show Must Go On (M) A great 1941 follow-up by @vieux-yeux

Lady of Rheged (E): A West Essex historical AU by @mageofthepeople

Seasons of Nightingales (M): A massive, sweet post2S fic from @nosferatini that is almost done!!!

but i still want more (E): An intense but heartachingly lovely postS2 fic from @cordsycords

Confeitor (M): pure poetry from @adverbian

What three fics have you read this year that you love? Lol, 3!!!

Tethered (E): WIP by MarieCuriosity based on a Gleafer prompt

Someone is Calling Him Shorewards (E): by @harlotofupdog. Gah, if you haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for?

Trial & Error (M) by @fellshish. I love everything postS2 and this one was so original!

Anything ginger_cat wrote

Angel-Centered Therapy (G) I thought this was the perfect counterpoint to its big brother (sister?), Demonology.

Rosae series (E) by UKCalico. Sure, it's incredibly hot, but then hits you with these deep insights into the characters and their lives.

If I loved you less, We Could have Coffee (M): The Chapell Roan fic you didn't know you needed; excited to see what happens next! By @spectrallydistracted

Teach me, both the art from @gahellhimself-blog and the fics from Jeans. A really amazing collaboration!

What ideas are percolating for next year? Going to start off with a couple sequels, and then we'll see where the plot bunnies take us.

Who do you want to thank? @goodomensafterdark for endless support and entertainment. Wibly for maps!! @ireallyneedmoretea & @moderndayklutz for being beta rockstars on [redacted]!

Are you somewhere in this post? Should you be? Go on and play the game!

[leclerking]

max x reader (you)

enemies to lovers slow burn or fast burn idk idc

write a self indulgent fic when you're drunk

slayyyyyy im drink rn girlie lets write some fan fictionnnn

do i make this aesthetic? ok maybe i make it aesthrtic

MV01 | ★ BRO WHATS YOUR NAEM?

so its a clubbing scene. im drinking as usual. i want to dance but my friends arent dancers. they're also tired. a man comes up to me and i instantly want to rail him.

he says " you wannt to dance?? ' i said " Yeah dude all night' . so we're on teh dance floor and we're dancing and my friends are at a distance somehwer in the club

then i fall tired so i left to ge t a drink and join my friends, just as i sit down with them, this man. built like a tree. same one from earlier comes back and says lets dance again come on. i was tired but he was handsome so i wen back to dance. then again i was tired so i came bk. and so did he. "come onnn the night is young lets go back" he pleads with a huggee smile. as if he slept with a hanger in his mouth

"dude WHO EEVN ARE YOU AND HOW DO YOU STILL HAVE THE ENERGY??' i asked as i was close to passing out. (just like rite now while i amm typing this)

but he just smiles and takes my hand and i follow him and we're again having fun on the dance floor. soon enough i couldnt do tjis anymore so i tell my friends that we can leave. and we'er sitting on a bemch outside waiting for our uber AND GUESS WHO SHOWS UP!

"you want to catch a drink later someday again?"

i only stare at him. what does he even mean?? " i dont live in this city, i'm here for like 5 days. also WHO ARE YOU i still domtknow your name yet!! how will i even find you??'

'so u do want to find me? " he smirks " if we have one last dance left togther, maybe we will find eachother " and with that he left.

------------------------- im so tired im going to continue this when im drunk mext time i hop e i dont forget the storu--------------------------

HI I DDI NOT FORGET WE ARE BACK HELLO!

OKAY so now this is probably the next day or the day before we leave the city (i dont know which citty)

im in the lobby with my friends, just back from a whole tiresome day of site watching ? seeing?? the city. im waiting to get something frm the recption and i hear his voice.

" you're here??" "omg dude are you stalking me ?????" i ask with a smile! LIKE WHY AM I SMILING ??!!

" nope. my friend actually lives hre. i came to drop her off "

" you have a girlfriend?" "would not you like to know??"

" nvm i dont, bye"

"okay wait, shes just a friend, and besides i came to drop her AND her boyfriend." and idk what to say, i wanna ask him out but whats the point ill leave tomorrow...

" would you like to go out today? i know this really really great place that has a great salsa night..." not like the dip like the dance!

"sure i'd love that" why am i brushing like an idiot. i told him i'd meet him down in just a few minutes. and sooner than later we were at this beautiful place, you could see the coast. so many people were dacing through tje entire street.

and then so were we. one mimosa after another. one song after another and we were both super drunk and laughing anf giggling and dancing and just having the greatest time ever.

and we continued to have a great time even after we got back to my room. im sure we had great sex. and we wer arguing about something i dont remmbr and having a roast contest. thats all i remembr.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

because when i woke up, he was gone. not a single trace. no note, nothing... AND I STILL DIDNT KNOW HIS NAME. was he just a ghost? perhaps my drunk imagination or halusination...

went down for breakfast and met my friends. and they asked me about last night. AND I ASKED THEM FOR CONFIRMATION " SO I WASNT THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD SEE HIM??"

maybe he was real.. but i had to leave in a few hours. maybe he would just have to remain a core memmory to me in this city. and it sucks because he has the cutest smile, and the best energy when it came to dancing.

the whole time, in the taxi, the airport , the flight.. okay maybe no tthe flight because i usually fall asleeep. i thought about him and waht a wonderful time we had.

would i ever see him again??

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

I want to take this time annd appretiate some of my friends or moods as they say on thos web site. It is 3 am her

@crimsonicarus @lesharl-eclair @sebsore @sebscore @jelloecat @hellocat? @jelliecatz @scuderia-leclerc starcentral @strkctrl @stqrsctrl @deadaydreams @fhumingrace you guys salllaayyyyyyy 💗🤍💕❤️💔💌❤️‍🩹💟❤️‍🔥🫦💋

OH WAIT AND @KRIKRISYERR I for the lyf of me caaannot spell this useeename but they give me the best f1 fic recs

This account has lit rally Turner into my safe space 😭😭😭😭😭💗💗💗💗

[pxgeturner]

Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

[kordyceps]

OK I mean obviously I'm reading your steter stuff on AO3 but I'd love to know if you have an all time favourite? Either your fave of your own work, or fave of another author's that you rec/reread/still think about a million years later (or both lol)

Oh man, okay, sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask! But it's such a good one and I unfortunately have the memory of a gold fish, so I needed to do Research™ (aka reread all my favs again lmao) so I could answer it properly. 😂

I only have one Steter fic of my own atm, so I guess that's my de facto personal fav for now…

But as for other folks' work, god, there are sooooo many great Steter fics out there!! So these are just a handful of my top favs, and definitely not a comprehensive list!

Five Times Peter and Stiles Troll the Pack by taylorpotato Rating: M | 2.5k | requires an AO3 account to read Stiles and Peter yell at each other in Polish, misleading the pack into think they're fighting, when in reality it's all just like completely fuckin' filthy dirty talk lmao. Short, but very funny, and such a perfect capture of their mischievous dynamic. 10/10, would recommend!

The Devil You Know by Twisted_Mind Rating: E | 11.6k Peter is there for Stiles when no one else is, and uses that to slowly manipulate his way into earning Stiles' explicit trust. And ooooh boy, is it so delicious and spicy. God damn! Cards on the table: this fic definitely won't be for everyone since it wades into some darker waters. But oh my god do I love love LOVE Peter's characterization in it. God, I feel like I could write a whole damn essay about this fic, but then I'd just end up spoiling the whole thing LOL. Just--if you like darker, manipulative Peter and enjoy your sweetness just a wee bit twisted, then 10/10 would recommend!

The Prince and the Pease by luulapants Rating: E | 47k | requires an AO3 account to read Medieval/Royalty AU where Peter is forced to cede his claim to the throne and become a "guest" of King Deucalion's as part of a peace treaty between the two kingdoms. Stiles, who is suspiciously far too mouthy for your average servant, is gifted to Peter as a bedwarmer. This one does such an incredible, masterful job at translating the characters into its setting and time period. The sass, the wit, the wordplay! You can definitely tell the author knows their shit, and my god is it fantastic. The plot itself is also so satisfying -- lots of great ups and downs, and, ugh, just so good! (Be sure to read p2 for the full ending btw!) Needless to say, 10/10, would recommend!

Keeping him (It's all about intent) by sittinginmytincan Rating: M (& E for oneshot sequel) | 121k Stiles winds up slingshotted into his own future, where it turns out he's married to Peter Hale of all people. His only way back is with Lydia's help, but she's gone mysteriously missing somewhere on the east coast while investigating some strange disappearances. Man, this fic….. I feel like the writer for this one must have received a checklist of things I'm into and decided to mark nearly every single one of them lol. Time travel, woke up married, magical theory, an enthralling af plotline -- and it's so thorough. Like, everything is so incredibly well thought out, the characterization is on point, and the development of Stiles and Peter's relationship is just chef kiss. Definitely 10/10, would recommend!

The Striking Complication by aurevell Rating: T | 118k I don't even want to write a summary up for this one because the mystery of it all and peeling back what's happening piece by piece is, imo, the best way to experience it. This story is intense as fuck, near relentlessly oppressive, and impossible to put down. It keeps you constantly at the edge of your seat as you try to figure out what is going on and how Peter and Stiles will survive it, with these heart-wrenchingly sweet breather moments sprinkled throughout. If you enjoy time loop stories, this one is an absolute must read! 10/10, would recommend!

build-a-beau by veterization Rating: E | 41.5k Tired of his dad always worrying about him being single, Stiles decides to pay for a fake boyfriend service so he can finally get his pops off his back about it. It goes about as well as one can expect a fake texting boyfriend you accidentally catch real feelings for can go lmao. This fic is wonderfully witty, with really fantastic banter between the two of them, and it's just so very fun getting to watch the pretend part of their exchanges slip more and more into something genuine. 10/10, would recommend!

Under the Songbird's Wing by mia6363 Raing: E | 87k Stiles is captured and held in captivity alongside Peter, Deucalion, and Satomi Ito. To survive, Stiles runs through lacrosse drills and tells stories, eventually persuading his fellow cellmates out of their shells and establishing a profound, unbreakable bond between them. This one is HEAVY, folks. Like, heavy heavy. But, god, it's also such a beautiful exploration of the characters and the bonds they develop through shared captivity. I don't even know what more to say, really, it's just haunting and lovely and awful and wonderful all at once. In the mood for something that hurts? Then 10/10, would recommend!

[stolaz-the-artist]

May you make a murder drones au of nexo knights Please 😢

MURDER DRONES SPOILER WARNING

I mean yeah, that's kind of obvious.

This Is gonna be a loooong post. Longest ask I've worked on.

I didn't need to make so many drawings but I had so much fun I just kind of had to.

im gonna do everyone a favor and kind of digitalize my writing under each page, just in case its hard to read.

Serial Designator C

"I don't know because you won't tell me!"

"Oh please don't run! if I miss it will just prolong your suffering"

"Oh i do wanna be dapper *sigh* but alas"

Clay: Are you . . . new drones?

Macy: Uh, sure?

Clay: Hm. . . Well I have been saying we need more bots

Serial Designator W

"C-100110010! HOW DARE YOU LOCK YOUR MOTHER UP!? You let me out this instant!"

"Wait . . . Prom queen?"

Lance: He's literally so ungrateful. Like you're so cool.

"How did you even manage to knock yourself offline?"

*Rebooting. . .*

"If the other one survived after all this time it's truly a miracle"

Serial Designator F (Fletch)

Post limb change

Him and Izzy are very close friends (She think its cool when its revealed he's a Disassembly drone)

Was "adopted" by two worker drones (That W killed in an attempt to get him back)

He's a bit taller due to his torso, but because his legs cant fully support him, he's constantly hunching

"Im so tired of this shit"

Gets called names like • Loose-limb Fletch

•Drop-A-Limbs

•Disjoint-Drone

•Snap-off Fletch

Fletch: WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?

Wanda: Literally barely anything. Just put the right limbs on

Wanda: Like what kind of idiot tried to connect Worker drone limbs to a Disassembly drone torso?

Macy Doorman

"Huh, knew illegal downloading all those Ned Knightly movies would come in handy"

"EAT PLASMA BITCH!"

Macy: One more buzzword and I'll do it

Jestro: . . . Equity Partnersh-

"Oh bite me"

Clay: Now im pretty new to this "Rebelling" stuff. But uh, do I have to fight my mom? Its just that-

Macy: YES!

Clay: sighhh Fine, lets do this

Aaron

"The hell happened to you?"

Aaron: So do you think they like video games?

Lance: Doubt it

Aaron: Then why are we here?

Lance: Blackmail

Aaron: Oh fair

One of Macy's best friends (And the friend she's had the longest)

"Super invited to my shindig next week"

Aaron, whispering: I mean, he's fun sized?

*sizzle*

Aaron, whispering: Ok so not fun

Macy: whispering: OH REALLY!?

Lance

Axl: Where's Macy

Lance: She went out

Axl: Out? Have she lost her mind?

Lance: Think so. Oh and Aaron went with her

Axl: Excuse me?

Lance: Yeah . .

Phone focus cuz tiny space

Wanda: This is so shit

Lance: I know right

Fashionista. Yes he knows there are non flip phones, he has one, but it just doesn't meet the same level of sass as a clip phone

Lance: Do you understand what will happen if you go out there? Let me spell it out; D-E-A-T-H! Are you out of your-

Aaron: I'll come lol

Lance: Yeah, no. You two gp enjoy dying. The hell you think this is, a shitty horror movie?

Axl

"Im gone for 5 min to get some actual edible snacks and everyone is dead!?"

Accidentally gave her the gun idea

Really fixated on food, spends a lot of time recreating food

His bigger legs make him a bit less flexible, but he packs a mean kick (home made)

Axl: There we go!

Lance: Aren't you worried someones actually gonna drink it thinking its actually edible- or drinkable I guess

Lance: But idk, people are pretty stupid here

Axl: Hm, no you're right

Decoration don't drink u'll die lol

Serial Designator J

"its tricked you! and if I promised you anything . . . It tricked me too . . ."

"Ha-ha! I-am so good-at-hiding!"

Is AD's most "trusted" worker (And with ,pst trusted I mean most easily manipulated)

Clay: What will the company do to us once we're done? How do we know the company wont get rid of us?

Jestro: Awh, im so sorry. You know the consequences of questioning the company

*virus*

Clay: Hm, fair enough

Monstrux

Merlok

Absolute Destruction

"The flesh demands invitation"

"Dropped this-silly"

Pre-skinning Merlok

Robot view

Monstrux: You look g-great, toots! hm . .

Monstrux: Have you considered a hat-tho

~*~

There's a few extra sketches I did for fun lying around, and if ya'll want that (plus the story line of what's happening) just tell me I would include it here but this is painfully long enough

(Oh and all relationships are kinda neutral here. They don't entirely line up with the show. Ship whoever I don't care)

Anyways, this took weeks to make (cuz of studying and the fact I got sick in the middle of it) but im rather happy with what I have came up with!

Always feel free to make asks like this! I enjoy them a lot! might take a while for them to come out cuz of school but I'll do my best!

(Also I'm aware some are a bit out of character, it was for comedic purposes)

[awaitinganorphanera]

HI HEY NICE TO MEET YOU DO YOU HAVE ANY FIC RECS??? (ao3 or any platform actually)

K WOW, It's been a while since I get to answer any inbox questions so IM SO SORRY IF IT TOOK FOREVER FOR ME TO RESPOND ajshjashjash now I'm under the assumption that you're asking for CobyMeppo fanfics specifically?? if I'm wrong im so sorry 😭, but considering how you're asking me and considering how majority of the content that I post on here is exactly CobyMeppo driven then- I'll take it as a yes Well getting things straight then, I'll be breaking down the fics I'm recommending into two (with an additional third uwu) categories, with one being just shippy CobyMeppo romantic stuff and the other not necessarily shippy but implied and/or platonic ones because GOD i have an incredibly unhealthy attachment to these two

OK SO HERE WE GO

Coby/Helmeppo Fanfics on Ao3 I absolutely adore recommend (all of which are on ao3 <33):

1.) Non smut (yes this is classification i’m adding)

Words On Skin by marineduo (spiralxshock)  - The basic premise of this is that it’s set in a modern au, where Helmeppo is a tattoo artist and Koby is a hopeless romantic writer, sadly it isn't complete but goodness it's such a cute and short read 😭

To See You Smile by DamianFinch2 (DamianFinch) - Jealous and possessive Helmeppo + gushing and crushing Koby. This fic is an adorable and angst one shot, with it holding one of my favorite dynamics being  - Its short and a bit saddening for Helmeppo, but it's a commonality in the CobyMeppo community to make Helmeppo miserable 😊

Optics by The_Storybooker &

Choices by Ricky4479 - GOD I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE THESE TWO FICS, ESPECIALLY OPTICS. I just absolutely adore works that focuses on Helmeppos past and what he’s gone through, with him almost always trying his best to deny his feelings for Koby its just- F—

Expression by Eloarei - This one is just an adorable one shot with Koby being an insecure flustered mess as Meppo acts all smug with him, some of these fics are more OPLA based, which I honestly prefer since the way the Netflix l.a personalized Helmeppos smugness to be more endearing and less irritating is something i’ll never get over with.

Pressure Treated by Anonymous  - Fics that tackle the Trans!Koby au is just so endearing to me, it's absolutely heartbreaking especially when it writes abt the gender dysphoria and crisis one feels. Helmeppo comforts Koby in this, it's heartwarming.

Careless Whisper by coralnebulas - More Trans!Koby but less angsty and more adorable and funny! Koby and Helmeppo are absolute dorks in this fic and it's so aishjasjsag

Rinse and Repeat by battybatzgirl - Helmeppo acting like a tsundere and denying his feelings for Koby, part 7267352. But yeah! It's short and cute and the characterization, humor, and writing from this author is phenomenal. 2.) MMM SMEXY STEAMY S E X

Helping Hands by leghair - Koby requests a body massage :)

Insomnia for Daddy's Boys With Repressed Feelings for Their Cute Best Friend by Xenophile45 - Meppo tries to sleep and get over his identity crisis and gnawing thoughts by letting one out for his friend 

midnight habits by battybatzgirl - Meppo tries to sleep and get over his identity crisis and gnawing thoughts by watching his friend let one out

Of shirts, sheets and new haircuts by River1848 - Meppo tries to live normally and ignore his developing feelings for Koby, lets one out for his friend and gets caught. Said friend proceeds to comfort the poor guy

all tied up and fine print by battybatzgirl - These smut fics specifically are so unique and intensely ingrained into my mind - Actually, just read all the authors works, genuinely, every single OP fanfic they write is phenomenal including their Kobylu and platonic Coby Meppo content. There's a lot from them I haven't mentioned but a lot of which are Koby centric ajijassaksaj

To be needed in times of war by RainbowNixie  - Ok, this one is NOT necessarily purely CobyMeppo, this is a Coby/Hibari/Helmeppo fic (WOO POLYAMORY) and is only read if u enjoy multi shipping or are ok with this. I do still recommend it though cuz it's amazingly written and the characterization of Helmeppo and Hibari here is so cute. - But srsly, to get into more detail, I genuinely would want anyone who's interested to check it out. This this this this is such an underrated but amazingly written fic, with the story revolving around Hibari and Helmeppo relationship dynamic w/ each other in the context of a Coby/Helmeppo/Hibari being in a polyamorous relationship. The fic focuses on Helmeppo and Hibaris doubts and feelings (SO MUCH FEELINGS) on their love and just utter care and worry for Coby. 

3.) Coby & Helmeppo fics on Ao3 I adore and recommend (platonic/ only implied romance):

a pawsitively bad day by battybatzgirl - Did i mention to read this author - Koby turns into a cat :D

in my mind like a song (in my head like a zombie) by Glitter_Lisp - It's a Modern au w/ Trans!Koby being siblings w/ sanji, him and Meppo got into a fight but make up cutely in the end

Pink by fireontheriver - A short and wholesome one shot, with Helmeppo comforting and providing platonic intimacy and affection to Koby after the events of marineford

Constructive Dismissal by Senna_B - Modern au that ships Koby with X drake, with Platonic cobymeppo being its focus.  - This one is honestly a nice read, mostly taking on Helmeppo’s pov and showcasing his feelings of inadequacy to his best friend. The characterization and writing once again is glorious, authors other works are highly recommended

As Bright as the Stars by your_dragon_just_shot_at_me - A chapter by chapter Plotty CobyMeppo adventure where they essentially just frolic around but with ✨mystery✨

Mirror by MatoMasaharu - insecure Koby overthinks and tries to stay tough as Helmeppo gets concerned in the sidelines

Hints and Glimpses by Senna_B - Probably one of my favorite coby and helmeppo centered fics that does a fantastic job in writing their friendship and dynamic, with it being a great one-shot story with an AMAZING plot regarding fortune telling and future events. Gosh the writing of their relationship, their friendship, the foreshadowing, the plot????? Good lord i ate this shit with a huge ass smile

friction burn by miswriting (m_is_writing) - MY ABSOLUTELY FAVORITE PLATONIC COBYMEPPO FANFICTION I REREAD AN UNHEALTHY AMOUNT OF TIMES!! - ITS AN A/B/O AU FIC WITH AN AMAZING MIX OF FLUFF AND ANGST, THE AMOUNT OF PHYSICAL AFFECTION AND CARE AND PERSONALITY THIS HAS IN THIS MAKES ME RAPID

OK, LASTLY, JUST LASTLY, THE FIC THAT WILL FOREVER BE MY FAVORITE, LIKE GENUINELY FAVORITE COBYMEPPO FANFIC EVER, THE FIC RESPONSIBLE TO MY HYPERFIXATION ON IT, THE ONE THAT MADE ME DECIDE TO START THE GETTING INTO THESE TWO AND LOW-KEY PUSHED ME TO FR START THE ANIME AFTER HAVING WATCHED THE LIVE ACTION:

birdsong and seafoam by literatureonhowtolose - Ok, now I know I might be overhyping a Fic up, and by all means, I most definitely am. I don’t promise that this would be any CobyMeppo fans favorite too, but it's just something that I genuinely, truly, adore and remember whenever this ship comes to mind. - Its ironic I think, that my favorite cobymeppo fic is the only fic in this list that isnt even focused on cobymeppo, and being one of the shortest - The thing I probably most liked about this fic is the writing. How much it managed to express and characterize Helmeppo and describe his thoughts with not much words. I’ll never get tired of rereading it

[sweet-s0rr0w]

day 15 of @hprecfest - a fic over 50k

Star Quality by @wholahoop - E, 119k, 2018

Summary: Two years after the war, and Harry’s content with his life. OK, so it’s a little annoying that he keeps winning Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor award, and he’s really not looking forward to the unveiling of an enormous gold statue of himself, but he loves his friends, and he loves being an Auror. And if he yearns for something more, something he can barely bring himself to think about, well, he’ll probably get over it. No one’s happy all the time, are they?

But then everything changes, and Harry’s thrown into a new and dazzling world he’s not sure he can actually escape from. And as time goes on, he starts to wonder: does he actually want to?

Excerpt:

At some point the queue wound its way past a line of tills, and he was forced to buy a copy of Malfoy’s album as his entrance ticket to the signing. Why he also picked up a copy of the ‘authorised autobiography’ Sarah had shared with him earlier, which was also on offer by the till, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he shoved it into the plastic bag the checkout girl offered him and tried not to brood. “Big fan of Draco, are you?” she asked, the words curiously like a snigger, and looked him up and down.

Harry considered this, and decided the only dignified response was silence. “He’s OK,” he mumbled when the girl continued to look at him, waiting for an answer. He could feel his face going all hot.

The girl actually sniggered out loud this time, before turning to the girls behind him, and Harry wished he’d gone with his original silence scheme. Did he look like a wally right now? He considered the idea gloomily and concluded that he did. Not only had he, a grown man, apparently queued up for hours to get the autograph of another grown man, but he was wearing an ill-fitting outfit that even he had to admit did him no favours. And then there was his hair to consider. It was undoubtedly doing the thing it always did. Harry didn’t want to impress Malfoy, he really didn’t, but he found himself reaching up to try and surreptitiously flatten his hair down into something half-acceptable, and found no comfort in the fact that Samantha tapped him on the shoulder and, with a silent look of comradeship, passed him a tiny hairbrush and her hand mirror. He brushed half-heartedly, and then glanced in the mirror only long enough to confirm that, yes, it had made absolutely no difference – had brushing it actually made it worse? – before passing it back with a ‘thank you’ that he tried to make sound sincere.

“Don’t worry,” Samantha added in a confidential whisper, leaning closer as she stowed the brush away again in her handbag, “Draco will see what’s in your heart, and that’s the most important thing.”

I know it's not exactly an unknown fic, but I love who_la_hoop, and this is my favourite fic by them (Sleeping Beauty Curse a close second). Basic premise is that Harry, fed up with fame, accidentally makes a wish on a star, and wakes up as a Muggle, in a world where no-one knows who he is. Confused, he wanders around London, and when he walks past the Virgin Megastore he sees a giant poster for popstar Draco Malfoy's latest record - and hey, guess what, he's having an album signing today! And hey, guess what else Harry, you're about to have a major crisis of sexuality! It's exactly the kind of thing I wish I'd thought of writing; all the scenes are just so well observed and funny, this Malfoy's great, full of swagger (with his management team composed of the Slytherins, of course) but soft underneath, and last but not least, the sex scenes are obviously incredibly hot.

If you read it, and if especially you love it, please do let me know! And as always, please do take the time to leave the author a kudos/comment <3

day 1 - first fic you remember reading

day 2 - a fic rated G

day 3 - a fic not on ao3

day 4 - a comfort fic

day 5 - a romantic fic

day 6 - a fic for a ship you don’t normally read

day 7 - the best of your OTP

day 8 - a fic that was recced to you

day 9 - a WIP

day 10 - a fest/event fic

day 11 - an underrated fic

day 12 - a fic from your favourite author

day 13 - a rare pair

day 14 - a fic rated T

[milesmoraleswife4l]

Miles 1610 X Nigerian Y/N

notes: nigga when I tell you this took my too long to make. Like writing this is not for the weak bruh

warnings: jus fluff ig

summary: y/n takes miles to meet her nigerian parents. ( im nigerian so umm yea)

“Miles, they are not going to like you if you don't take this seriously.” You said this for the 15th time. Miles is coming with you to a party your parents are throwing at your house. You thought it would be a good time to introduce them to Miles for the first time. As much as you were excited, you were hella nervous because this was the first time you ever brought into this household. And not just any household, but a Nigerian one at that. 

Miles needed to understand that one wrong move will ultimately end in your mom gossiping to all your aunts and your dad to the uncles saying, “ arabinrin mi, o ko ni gbagbọ aṣiwère ti ọmọbinrin wa mu fun wa lati pade oh.” (my sister, you won't believe the fool our daughter has brought back for us to meet oh) 

It's like you could hear it from a mile away. The thought made you sweat bullets because you know that they'll never approve if they have a horrible introduction to each other. “ No Miles try again, that's not right! C’mon you actually have to try. “ You said about just giving up and saying maybe this isn't the right time for him to meet them. ‘’Mami por que te preocupas tanto?’’ He said coming closer to hold your waist. “ because you don't know my parents, they're super judgemental and really strict. Like they didn't want me to even think about boys until i was at the ripe age of 30.’’ “ Thats crazy.’’ He said while laughing. 

 ‘Not its not, because as much as i love you, i need our parents to support our relationship.’’ you said as you were pacing around your room. ‘’ Ok ok I understand. Tell me what I need to do and I'll do it ok?” he said while grabbing both of your sides and engulfing you in a warm hug. And you sigh as you take in a pleasant whiff of his cologne.

TIME SKIP

Miles rang the doorbell to your parents house. “ remember everything i taught you please, and just be yourself at the same time.’’ you said while giving him a nervous smile. ‘’ Don't worry mami everything will be ok’’ He said wanting to give you a kiss but the door flew open.’’ e kassan mommy this is Miles” you said very sweetly to your mom. “ ekassan ma o dara pupọ o pade rẹ” Miles said while bending down to greet your mom. You just stand there; completely shook because you never taught him all of that. ‘’ Here are some roses I brought you, and you look completely beautiful, now I know where Yn got her beauty from.” He says smirking a little at you and how surprised you are. “ AHH AHH YN, why didn't you tell me you got with this handsome man?! Please arewa okunrin, what's your ethnicity, let me have three guesses!’’ your mom said begging the poor boy. “ No mom please no, he doesn't need to tell you all of that.” you said completely embarrassed that it even came out of her mouth. Luckily, Miles just laughed and proceeded to answer the question. “ I'm actually African american and Puerto rican ma.’’ “

Ehen so Yn has now gone and brought home a latin boy, ok ohh.’’ Your mom says, folding her arms in astonishment. “ Ok well Yns dad isn't here right now but you're more than welcome to stay.” Your mom says pulling him away for him to meet all your aunties. “ Come and see the fine boy Yn has brought to me ohh.’’ She exclaimed while pulling miles away. You laughed as you saw him being poked and prodded by many aunties at once. When they finally finished, which felt like hours after, he came back to meet you with a smirk on your face. “ Well, that was definitely something.’’ he said like he just saw a ghost. “ This is my family for you.’’ You said while laughing your head off. “ Haha. very funny.’’ He said while rolling his eyes. “ Anyway, im super hungry, can i get something to eat real quick?’’ He asked, wrapping his hand around your shoulder. “ Not too close omo, do you want her to get pregnant?!’’ Your mom yelled from far away. “ Mom! Stop please im begging” you said covering your face in embarrassment. “ Sorry!” Miles quickly said while moving his arm, but still scooting closer to you so that he can be near you as much as possible. “ Ok lemme just get something for you to eat c’mon.’’ You said while pulling him off the couch. 

He followed you to the kitchen and jumped up when he saw plantain. 

“ You guys have platanos too?!’’ “ Mi vida, here if anyone hears you call it that you're in big trouble. We call it dodo or plantain.” You said while rubbing his face by how cute he's being. “ Well whatever you want to call it, give me two big spoon-fuls of that please.” He said  while looking at it like it was his prey he was about to catch. “ Ok OK! It's not going anywhere why are you looking at it like that?’’ You said, chuckling at how hungry he is. “ Oh and gimme some fufu and efo riro.” He said looking over the table. “ Miles bruh, how do you even know about that?’ You said dying of laughter. “ Mami stop asking my questions and just put it please i'm dying over here” He said all dramatic.

Ok so this is litterally my first story so dont judge me pls. :)

[mistysharks]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @hilarychuff thank you! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

11! For now:)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

75,643

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Stranger Things for now! I would love to branch out but the hyperfocus does what it wants and I am just along for the ride!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm Stupid (Do Me) Steddie/M/Getting together/first time (first one I wrote of them!)

All you have is your fire (and the place you need to reach) Hellcheerington/E/Sex Pollen

Five times Steve Walked in on Eddie and Chrissy (And one time they walked in on him) Hellcheer + Hellcheerington Pre-slash/M/Accidental Voyeurism

5 times Steve absolutely didn't have a bisexual meltdown (and one time he did) Hellcheer + Hellcheerington/M/Getting together

Some lonely night we can get together (and I'm gonna tie your wrists with leather) E/Hellcheerington/ final part of my Vampire Eddie and Chrissy series!

(I need to start doing shorter titles :') )

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

Yes! Almost always, though it might take me a while! I always appreciate them all <3

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

Ok so honestly? I don't do angst much haha, and literally never sad endings. Its all gonna be tied up with a neat little happy bow from me, baby! I think I left chapter 3 of Bardic Inspiration in a pretty sad state - does that count?

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

Orgasms cout, right? ;D Right now what comes to mind though is the only fix-it fic I've really written - (I only need) the working of my hands Where I give Hellcheer the happy, sexy ending they deserve (but make it Sapphic with a side of coming back wrong)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet! Fingers crossed it remains that way! I usually try and stay miles away from any fandom drama tbh

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

I am determined to! Like sure I would call some of what I've already written smut but I feel like I'm not quite fully there yet. I haven't fully realised the lengths of perversion/intimacy hyperfixation that sits in my mind! Its an ongoing process hehe

Regarding what flavour of smut I write, its always queer, soft, and a little gothic in the undertones... Would love to do some more genderqueer stuff in the future as well

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

Not yet! I'm not against them, and I loove a good AU, but nothing has stuck so far. Maybe one day I'll write that Stranger Things Persona 4 AU. (look it would work so well!! Eddie as Kanji makes me feral ngl)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I love that that is a thing people do <3

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

No but that would be super fun! I tried RP once couldn't get into it:( Sharing ideas and bouncing plot points is always fun though:)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Thats too hard! I'm just gonna do a current top 5 lol 1. Steddie 2. Hellcheerington 3. Hellcheer 4. Lan Zhan/Wei Ying (Untamed) 5. Kanji/Naoto(P4)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have 2 unpublished, lengthy chapters of a Steddie pirate AU that I love but I really don't know how to keep going with :(

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm pretty proud of how I set the mood of a scene - the colours, the light, the sounds... just hinting at a feeling without describing the feeling itself.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I can like, either do super dialogue heavy bits, or really descriptive bits, and its so hard to marry the two together!! ahh!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Look english is hard enough lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry potter haha, wrote some truly terrible angsty self-insert when i was 14 (luckily that is gone forever!!)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Honestly, I really love When I am done, its such a snap-shot kind of fic, and its got such a mood that I love. Keeping a one-shot simple and to the point is really difficult, and I think this one is my best attempt at it.

Thanks for tagging me as always, Hil! I'm tagging whoever reads this hehe - if you made it this far you should totally do it too (these are fun!)