#god dammit i talked myself into the plot of their fic

[bittersweetblasphemy]

*deep deep sigh*

now i have lesbian centaurs to write. someone please make me stop making OCs i want to smash together like barbie dolls.

[sailoryooons]

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand. 

❀ Word Count: 4188 

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED. 

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Song Inspiration |

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried. 

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family. 

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up. 

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games. 

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask. 

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr. 

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you. 

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches. 

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it. 

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling. 

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text. 

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous. 

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire. 

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix. 

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable. 

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy. 

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there. 

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler. 

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm. 

It’s you. You’re the storm. 

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you. 

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target. 

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air. 

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him. 

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach. 

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known. 

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing. 

“I’ll miss that. Take this.” 

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open. 

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. 

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier. 

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic. 

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris. 

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down. 

All he can do is scream.

-

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core. 

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions. 

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise. 

Penance and praise are not the same, though. 

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest. 

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically. 

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner. 

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon. 

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench. 

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child. 

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands. 

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar. 

It smells like… Yoongi. 

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?” 

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.” 

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands. 

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat. 

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.” 

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?” 

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight. 

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.” 

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile. 

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time. 

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers. 

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.” 

[t00thpasteface]

do u have a post abt your martin/lucien headcanons and if not would you consider making one....

oh. my god. i have so many. SO MANY. so many headcanons and also so many posts about the headcanons.

i was going to link individual posts, but actually if you go to this blog search (the term "marcien shoutz") it will pull up all my marcien text posts and you can browse the whole lot at your leisure! and of course all the text posts i've posted and asks i've answered about marcien (including ask games and anon hour) are under the marcien tag just the same as the art posts ✨

that being said, a lot of my headcanons are actually kind of in a permanent state of flux depending on what i need/want for a particular drawing or fic. i'm torn between a few very specific possible setups for their relationship, and i jump between them (or blend them) as the rule of cool/funny dictates!

HoK introduces them as mutual friends: this could pan out in several different directions. there's the obvious one where they hit it off right away and are open about it, but there's also the version where they hook up secretly afterwards and don't tell the HoK. and there's even the third version where Lucien sees an opportunity and pretends like he wants to be closer friends with Martin while secretly plotting to exploit him... until he starts actually liking the guy for real. wait, isn't that just a Spongebob episode??

HoK sets them up on a date: i think this one is probably at its funniest when they don't get along right away. they agree to one or two dates mostly out of loneliness and/or curiosity, or just to humor the HoK, but then once it actually starts to pan out they're like... dammit, the HoK was actually right again.

failed love triangle: now this one's got some spicy potential for explosive drama. my HoK is a lesbian, so she really doesn't have a stake in a genuine love triangle, but another HoK who's already dating, crushing on, or (yikes!) engaged to one of the boys would have a lot more to lose. maybe it's not all sunshine and rainbows, but if you love angst, there's a lot of meat on this bone. you could also take the polycule route, but we're talking about Marcien and not Marcienhok, so i'm only interested in the illicit guilty hookups behind the HoK's back. muahahaha...

they met before the events of the game: these all have a very similar dynamic of the HoK independently & unwittingly befriending either half of an old flame that fizzled out, but they would start differently depending on what stage of his life Martin was in when he met Lucien: farm boy, prodigy guild mage, Sanguinite, or priest. there's a lot of potential for friction between how much Martin has changed over the years versus how constant Lucien would be as a lifelong member of the Brotherhood, and that would certainly color their expectations about reuniting and trying to get back together.

one of them has/wants to kill the other: obviously, this could refer to a scenario in which Lucien takes out a contract to kill Martin, but remember that Martin also holds a lot of influence and could absolutely have good reason to want to wipe out the Dark Brotherhood, or at least their influence in a specific area. there's a potential for bonus drama if the HoK is/was in the DBH, whether or not Martin knows about it. i'm always a sucker for the "i came here to kill you but i can't bring myself to do it anymore" dynamic you often see between an outlaw and their lover.

you can probably presume the sort of headcanons that would go along with each scenario but as always i'm happy to elaborate if there's one you want to hear more about. (and they're all on my To-Draw List… but so are ten million other things x_x;;)

if you're reading this, consider all thse ideas totally fair game for stealing for your own art/fic purposes. far be it from me to gatekeep a rarepair!! i've also beta-read some Marcien fic before and would be happy to do so again if anyone asks.

that's all for now!!! thanks SO much for the ask!!!!

[edotfightme]

The Harder Path That Could Have Been Walked

So I'm doing a live reaction to my own 10,000 word fic that I forgot I wrote. Link here. You'll probably have to read the fic to understand my reactions because I am not keying them to each part.

A lot of this is me complaining about my own writing.

Let's go!

-----<>-----

What the fuck are these tags? WHAT DO YOU MEAN KIND OF???

Why did I tag sad racoons?

Wtf do you mean "don't summon void dragons" why is that in the tags???

I finally got past the tags.

This is a lot of worldbuilding in the notes let me check how much. 540 words of worldbuilding in the tags alone.

Wtf where did I find that language what does it say?

I can't understand a single word that was said before it translated to English it doesn't really work for an effect like I clearly intended. Plus the paragraphing makes it hard to read.

Bruh the first part was badly written we're starting off strong.

Oh shit, I started recognizing the second part. Ish. Holy shit it's like a core memory was unlocked. I remember thinking this was super cool. Let adult (questionable) me be the judge of that.

Hang on I think I realized why the hook was so shit. I was trying to keep his identity hidden. Still sucked though but good on you younger me. Still too many paragraphing issues. This was before I sorted those out methinks.

Holy shit Technoblade was still alive when I wrote this. Just had a moment while I thought of it.

Eww more text I can't read. Gonna scroll to the bottom to see if I translated it. MF I DIDN'T TRANSLATE FOR EVERYONE???? Where is the fic on my computer I need to figure out the translation- I'll finish this first hold on.

Lmao Tommy got put in his place. Should've put some sort of descriptor on the text so people knew how the Piglin was talking and which ones were talking. It's too intuitive.

"What are they saying?" I wanna know that as well Techno.

I just looked for the document and couldn't find it. The meanings will be lost to time.

Oh shit I forgot about the racoons. I gave Tommy a ton of racoons. That must be the sad racoons I mentioned. Wtf am I going to do with a bunch of racoons???

I wish I didn't press 'enter' so much jfc. Learn to write a paragraph little me. Number 1 thing I'll tell myself if I ever time travel is to write a god damn paragraph. This is exhausting to read.

Ewww I forgot about "pog".

Lol he scared the shit outta everyone you go kiddo!

The references to the bits are actually pretty funny though. I just wish I could understand WHATEVER THE FUCK THE PIGLINS ARE SAYING!!!

Also the lack of racism in this book infuriates me. Don't get me wrong, I don't condone racism, but could they be just a tad bit more racist to properly set up that they are the bad guys. The cult stuff isn't enough. We need to really hate these guys. TREAT THEM LIKE SHIT!

Lmao Tommy just had a moment where he's just fucking experiencing a past life. Which is mood. Like when you're walking in a crowd and you lock eyes with a familiar stranger and you stop for a moment to stare, wondering who they could've been to you. But then the moment shatters and you're left standing with the broken remains of what could never be.

The pacing and plot convenience is shit though (where is the racism? The foreign and silent curiosity of who you are?) let me just continue the fic.

I WANT TO FUCKING READ THIS FIC NOT A TON OF GLYPHS! The whole fic will be like this god dammit. I didn't realize this was my era before I learnt how to write foreign languages.

Haha. The random moment where it's just gibberish and then "fuck".

For those of you who aren't reading alongside me, here's piglin dialouge for reference:

"ᛟᚺ! ᚺᛁ! ᛁᛟᚢ ᛊᛈᛖᚨᚲ ᛈᛁᚷᛚᛁᛊᚺ?! ᛏᚺᚨᛏ×ᛊ ᚷᚱᛖᚨᛏ! ᛗᛁ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ ᛁᛊ ᛉᛖᛈᚺᛁᚱᚢᛊ!"

wtf does that even say???

"... that good old pogtopia look in his eyes" what was younger me smoking???? I can picture the exact expression but jesus christ kid are you alright?

Why the fuck can Phil speak english? Are they all speaking a different language? What is happening right now?

"The door to their cell swung open and Mr "Goes missing and freaks everyone the fuck out but is fine since he joined a cult" runs in." Holy shit little me you fucking killed him.

"Don't worry mate you won't be sacrificed." What kind of reassurance is that? I know it's like that on purpose but it's terrible. The unknown is scarier than the known. That's what I was banking on with Sinners.

"Eventually, Wilbur stopped looking like he was 5 minutes away from war crimes and now looked like he was 2 seconds away from war crimes for a different reason." I'm sorry but these quotes are something else. Where is the comma? You could've made this a beautiful paragraph but it's just a sentence. DESCRIBE THE ANGUISH!

Which corner is Wilbur staring at? Shouldn't he just like... glare at Phil with murder in his eyes? Also why is Tommy the attack dog? I get that Wilbur is roleplaying a drama club goth but shouldn't Techno logically be the protective one here? Or them all trying to shuffle each other behind themselves like some weird fight. And Phil's just standing there confused and vaguely exasperated, like it's someone else's emotions.

Don't make me rewrite this fic I don't want to touch it again.

Lmao them being so distracted by roleplaying drama kid goths and they forget to escape. Most realistic thing I've seen so far.

WAIT THIS IS ME PRE-PANIC ATTACKS THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH.

Plaininnit lol that's actually a good one. Also why are they answering? Make him fight for the info you muppets! But the mental disorders though.

What was the point of that entire prison scene? It looks like it served no purpose. It didn't move the plot forward at all! It just served to show us that Phil can also speak normal? Like- we could've had that later?

At last, a piece of dialogue I think I understand! The X must be an apostrophe then.

Why is Wilbur speaking in percentages? I should've had Techno's chat run a poll and the odds not looking too good.

Why is Phil in the cult council? Did I explain that? Idk if it was in the worldbuilding or later...

Why'd Tommy also shout in another language? What is with younger me and making reading difficult? I can tell why this one was so poorly recieved, nobody wants to translate a book to read it.

Eww I used "snapped" twice in the same sentence.

Why is Tommy suddenly mute now? I know I had a reason, I just can't remember it.

Hang on I gotta scroll up and read some world-building rq.

Wait fuck what is the techno quote??? oh right- "WELCOME HOME THESEUS!" Just got to the part where Tommy mimes his name across.

*to the music of where is the justice* "Where is the pacing?"

Why the music memory thing? I know what I'm meaning for the audience to ask themselves but why did I do that? I should've introduced that later on. It would've made a better plot.

Lmao the warped fungus bit was funny though.

Bruh I nailed the creepy elder thing on the head. I don't know why I'm just good at writing sleazeballs taking advantage of kids (not sexually, just in a way that grates uncomfortably against the reader). I don't know where that comes from.

WAIT I THINK I MIGHT'VE REMEMBERED A PLOT POINT! Are all of Wilbur's snakes lavaproof? Is that why I had the scene?

Oh that is disgusting what is wrong with you little me? I should've tagged cannibalism. It feels like cannibalism.

The pandora's vault Dream being grounded bit is funny and I live for it. Little me had ideas. Offputting ideas but ideas.

Lol Elder took the jukebox.

This is so uncomfortable to read but not in the way an Elder scene is. Just Phil thinking that Tommy's eyes being red means he's happy but it's fake. And Phil hating it when Tommy's eyes are blue is just tragic. Because it comes across as Phil hating it when Tommy is himself and then he's happy when Tommy wakes up brainwashed but Tommy came to him for comfort because he was fucked I just- Little me you are one messed up kid.

HAHA He named Cat "Dream" because it envokes bad memories.

Oh wait that's what the beneath the surface intention was. The surface reference was that the colours reminded him of the people.

Phil dropped Ancient Debris on his foot. Wouldn't it be fucked up if Mojang added a weight limit in Minecraft?

KRISTEN!!!!

The typos in her description though... I want to cry.

OMG KRISTEN IS HIS THING! That's actually adorable though. Little me knows how to make me aww.

More Techno vs the Warped Fungus bit I am living for it.

What is with the blue and red strobe lights that are Tommy's eyes? What is wrong with him? Little me? Explain?

Wait why is everyone just vibin in the castle? What's with that? Also Phil being a moron for Kristen and she's just being a little shit. Dream joined a nether fortress as well lmao.

Oh that's what the warped fungus bit joke was for. So he could still be lava-proof.

BRUH WHY DID I WRITE THAT??? I SPOILED THE PLOT TWIST!

Wait why are we singing ten duel commandments? Did I organize the ending to that song? that sucks.

OH MY GOD I WROTE A CHILD GROOMER??? Holy shit that is foul. I was a child when I wrote this. What the fuck? No wonder why I was getting the heebie jeebies. I literally wrote the Elder as a character that is grooming Theseus.

The wills part was so out of place idk.

Double use of worried kill me now.

Oh damn the Phil and Kristen scene hit. That one definetly didn't feel out of place.

OH SHIT I didn't expect Phil to pull Tommy out of his ass. The jail scene looks important now.

They found him. Chat. It's only a matter of time.

Aww trauma babies. Them all being so traumatized that they're fully on alert and watching for fireworks.

LMAO SHIT HITS THE FAN AND PHIL DIPS WHAT A CHAMP.

Also the fact that I'm pretty sure the Elder was placing Tommy into a drugged trance and basically hypnotising him is fucked up. Younger me you are messed up.

Kristen's entrance was pretty darn good. Like the crows being death and just everyone and everything knowing who exactly is gracing their halls is terrifying and excellent.

Philza for the save finally! Let's go!

Lmao Techno's mates at the Bastion being right bastards and telling the gossip I am living for it.

OH shit, the author notes at the end. The entire flock was there. Damn, Elder was not escaping with his life after grooming one of his kids.

-----<>-----

And that's it! I hope you enjoyed my commentary on my 10,000-word book. I actually found it enjoyable to rediscover my own book. I can understand how other people got put off by it but after slogging through the dialogue I couldn't fucking read it was a decent story. A few issues but overall a fun experience.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

I recently read Shades of blue after you rwcommended it and Oh My God was it worth it. That was beautiful and amazing and do you have any other recommendations?

✨MISSIONS ACCOMPLISHED✨

AAAAAA I’m so glad you read it!!! Honestly I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me for recs for awhile because I have.........a few...

Miscellaneous ships here, not just Revalink but the first lot are

- Pinesong by @a-perplexing-puzzle D-Do I even need to explain myself more??? I talk about this fic every other day of the week..... it’s just great vibes....soft and fluffy and angsty just *chef’s kiss* two gay boys searching through their old memories to remember how gay they are 

- Shades of Blue by @unapologetically-asexual OK I know original anon just said they read this but for you idiots that haven’t read it yet....uhhhh get on that. Nothing I could say would really advertise this fic better than this post

- somebody’s always looking (nothing’s quite as sweet) by @kouzaires One of my FAV Coffee shop AU’s for botw....so sof......so tender...........so warrmmmmm.............they characters are written so well.....just love it...a lot

- Broken Spirits by @legendoftoad It’s just AAAAAAAAAA??!!? My boys are hurting and the malice for half of it is frickin doing things to my boy and then of course you got your PTSD themes meddled in there and hnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhghgh my hurt/comfort itch is sufficiently scratched go read

- Linger On by ICanFlyHigher [idk if they have a tumblr] Ok I actually haven’t finished this fic yet but it’s been recommended time and time again so I’ve been reading this in my spare time I’m on like Chapter 12 or 13 I think but I can say with CERTAINTY that the writing is fantastic and tender moments are off the charts and my boys are so precious and also the Yiga are actually cool in this so that’s nice

- Learning Flight by homewardbound This is just *chefs kiss* *standing ovation* *throws confetti in the air* quality quality Revalink. Just a delicious chocolate cake of botw and Revalink. You got your mysterious Revali waking up 105 years later batter, and your angsty PTSD gay boys duo chocolate chips, and then you can chuck in some engaging sideplot elements as a few tall tiers, and then the cake is all whipped up with the wooden spoon of subtextual writing just mmmm delicious. and ALSO I betaed a thing that is gonna happen and let me tell you shit is gonna happen like VERY IMPORTANT SUPER COOL plot twists be happening so you better read it 

- Conversations After The End Of The World by @bismuthllie Ok this one’s a oneshot but I always go back and read it because...idk it just strums my heart strings a lot...I’ve said Pinesong was my first big Revalink fic I��ce read, but this was like...my first, first piece of Revalink content I read ever so...yeah <3 ....and also the art for this comic is fantastic too even thought it gives me the emotions......hahaha ok Revali it’s time to stop being dead

- I See You Swimming In The Sky by @unavoidablekoishi OK OK I know my logic isn’t the best considering it’s the only Revali/Mipha fic I’ve read, but god dammit it’s the best Revpha fic I’ve ever read I still need to catch up cause I’m like 3 chapters behind but this fic CONVERTED me ok, miphvali went from a “huh yeah the art is nice I can kinda see it” to “THAT FISH IS SIMPING FOR THE BIRD 24/7 AND THEY DESERVE EACH OTHER″ This is some *claps* GOOD. SHIT. Ok? *slaps roof of fic* This bad boy can fit so much charming characterization and interaction (and also has made me scream both happily and not happily on several occasions)

- Guardian of The Wilds by @no-themes-just-memes in which I constantly miscall it “Guardian of the Wild” because I’m stupid This isn’t so much a ship fic but it’s so cool Link is a spirit, Urbosa and Zelda’s mom are a thing, Zelda is HERE and she is AMAZING like no spoilers but holy shit Zelda is here and slaying in more ways than one and riding Satori and hhnnnnhhhhhhhh it’s all about those ~plot twists~ and tone changes ya know? very very very nice...

- Firebird by @paellaplease Oh no, it’s Kip’s obligatory Firebird gush whoopsie poopsie who would have guessed surely not me. This is just my standard for Oc ship content now it’s so good I am gay for one fire girl Maiya is my spirit animal and I just wanna cup her in my hands softly even though I know she would probably burn me for it but it would totally be worth it. The writing is just superb and I am also gay for great imagery and action which this is chalk full of so go read it 

Ok it’s actually 2am right now and I still need to finish a bunch of AP work so I’m just gonna speed run the rest of these recs

@echogekkos writes such cute and soft Miphlink fics that are on my top tier list like this one and oh crap this post made me realize Healing Touch updated crap there are so many things I need to read and catch up on anyways want more miphlink angst? BOOM read the inspiration for eternity by Merakkli and oh what’s that? You want deep lore that was custom made with lots of hot ocs in a fic that spans way beyond BOTW welp here’s Hyrule Bound a universe entirely created by @themisadventurescrew which is yet another fic series that I am behind on crap but oh shit @kittmoon has started a chapter fic called Jaded Seas recently so you should go read that but also all of their oneshots are great as well so you should follow them and did I mention that everyone I’ve tagged are people you should follow because yeah anyhow here’s a crackfic about Goron children that had me shaking out of either fear or confusion for a few days by @angsttronaut ok moving on @thatsnotzelda writes beautifully just take a look at this angsty Revalink thing and also bambambambam you’ve been ambushed by @hatenostorms @going-fancognito @ashrel @lizards-writing-blog so now go request some from them because I said so they’re great also uhhh @idiotic-canadian and @moonchildrenn [Pins_and_Patches on ao3] hate happiness but that’s ok because I get to be emotionally wrecked by their angst and whump hurray! wait fUCK I completely forgot to rec this earlier but my first Zelpha fic was this gorgeous Coffeeshop AU by @theseventhsage called Dreaming of Coffee and Love so go read that *flipping through entire history of ao3* let’s see let’s see... All of the Rito Chronicles by  sturms_sun_shattered is great, and this Teba/Harth one is also a fav and oh CRAP my zelink content is just everything by @fatefulfaerie because it’s just *throws colorful streamers in the air* pretty and I love their writing welp I’m about to collapse lets just end it off with the z’s like @zzariyo and @zeawesomebirdie on ao3  they are some pretty radical french fries if i do say so myself and and ok ok read this other Zelpha coffee au which is also by @kouzaires and this Modern au also by @unavoidablekoishi ok that’s all I can remember right now bye 

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Hey, what about "fuckin"

Since.. you know it's mondo haha, laugh.

Dude, I straight up looked up how many times I used the word f*ck (yes, I censor my curses when I'm not writing fic. Yes, I understand how silly that is) because I was curious earlier, and it was well over 5,000 times (5,664, to be exact), including past and future tenses. The fic so far is 250,000 words. That means 2% of this fic is just the word f*ck. Sh*t was used about 2,500 (2,592 exactly) times, d*mn 600 times (less than I thought, to be honest, since that includes godd*mn, which had about 500 alone), d*mmit 37 times, and b*tch 41 times. Mondo is a foul mouth little boy who needs some gosh darn soap for his gosh darn potty mouth.

Because of this, I legit don't think I can do this request. I can straight up take any given paragraph and use it, ha. The only time I use f*ckin' in the story is during dialogue, most of which is shown in TPWP. But you know what? I'll take a look during the scenes that are unique to this story, ones without Taka, and see what I can find. I was curious if anyone would try a curse word, though, ha.

UPDATE: OH MY GOD I JUST LEARNED THAT MY HUGE FILE FOR ALL OF TPWM DIDN'T HAVE TWO CHAPTERS. WHICH MEANS THIS STORY IS EVEN LONGER THAN I THOUGHT. SORRY, I'M JUST FLOORED BY THIS. TPWM IS ACTUALLY 20K SHY OF 300K WORDS. TPWP ONLY HAD A LITTLE UNDER 200K WORDS BY THE SAME POINT IN THE PLOT. I'M SORRY TO DERAIL HERE, BUT I'M HONESTLY TERRIFIED BY THE LENGTH OF TPWM. HELP.

As it stands, the f*ck total has gone up to 6,299 instances. Mondo used the word f*ck 634 times in two chapters. I....... may have over done it with curses. Oop.

Anyway! I found a scene from a chapter that I added to TPWM since it got too long to go where it went in TPWP and I split it into it's own chapter. This chapter is why TPWM goes from two chapters out of order with TPWP to one in my little explanations for where these segments come from. It occurs right before the fall festival, when Mondo is waiting for Taka to finish getting the festival ready. I added quite a bit to have it all make sense, so it's a a pretty substantial segment. I also think I may have updated this chapter from what I have on my computer, I'll have to check my phone's note app later, but this should be fine for these purposes. Just know it may be different when I actually post in several months, since I recall extensively updating this chapter, but not if I emailed myself the document with the updated version. I hope y'all like!

send me a word & i’ll post a sentence from my WIP that contains that word

Fuckin': “Okay, then tell me... what /is/ your type, huh? ‘Cuz we’ve been friends for two months now and I can’t figure that shit out. You say that Maizono is hot, but too high maintenance. You say Chi is pretty, but too timid. And every other chick we talk about gets the same treatment! Always some problem or other. What chick could possibly hold up to your impossible fricken standards? Maybe that’s why you can’t score a date. You’re too picky. And don’t fricken get offended, I’m just saying, shit.”

Mondo clenches his fists again, the anger inside him rising. /Again/. He glares at Leon bitterly, his insides squirming with his rising rage. Fuck, does he want to let that shit out and just fucking /scream/ at this jackass. To not be forced to listen as his so called ‘friend’ insults him. But... he’s been doing his best to work on shit like this. On not exploding over simple shit. Taka always is saying careless things that sound rude on the surface, but actually aren’t, so he’s had to practice not blowing up over tiny slights. But it sure as shit is a close thing... Leon sure is lucky Mondo is friends with Taka and that he is trying to learn to control his anger, shit...

“Okay, this is your last fucking warning. Shut the /fuck/ up! So what, I know what I like?! Not everyone is fuckin’ content chasin’ after anythin’ with legs! God fuckin’ /dammit/, shit!” Mondo curses, fighting to keep his voice level down. Leon is glaring at him now, and Mondo is more than content to glare back. But if that motherfucker says /one more thing/...

Luckily, again, Leon seems to realize this. It takes him a moment, but soon he is sighing, his shoulders relaxing from the tense bunch and his face no longer all pinched and angry. Hrm...

“Shit, man. I’m not trying to offend, goddamn. I just mean... seriously. What /is/ your type? Maybe if you tell me, I can try and help you find someone who matches. Or is at least close, shit... ‘cuz seriously, man. You honestly don’t seem interested in chicks, not gonna lie.”

Shit. Shit. /Shit/, the fuck does he fucking mean by that?! Not... not interested in chicks?! Is he- is he trying to- to /imply/ something, is he- h-he-

Mondo’s racing thoughts get interrupted by Leon again, the teen’s voice softer than it had been, though it still holds a hint of agitation.

“I can see you fricken overthinking over there. Look, I know I say shit that can be considered rude, but I would have thought you’d know by now that I don’t fricken mean it that way. I’m not trying ta insult you. I just wanna help. Okay? Shit...”

Okay. Okay, okay. Mondo... /did/ know that, yeah. It’s one of the reasons he still isn’t sure if he actually enjoys hanging around Leon or not, as big a douchebag as he can be. But the teen has some good parts and does seem to like hanging out with him... plus, it ain’t like Mondo’s not the exact same, so it would be fucking hypocritical if he were to get angry at the teen for it... ugh. Fine. /Fine/. He won’t get angry. /This time/.

“Ugh. Whatever, dude. But I am, alright? Interested in chicks. I ain’t fuckin’ gay! Not that there’s any fuckin’ problem in bein’ gay, but I fuckin’ ain’t! But since ya asked... fine. I’ll tell ya. But if you fuckin’ laugh at /anythin’/, I will straight up knock you the fuck out, don’t think I won’t!” Mondo growls, glaring at Leon again.

Leon rolls his eyes at the bluster, but nods readily enough, leaning in so their conversation can be a bit more private. Ugh... fine. Here goes nothing...

“Just... I don’t want a fuckin’ one night stand or shit like that, okay? When I look fer chicks, I’m lookin’ fer someone I think I can, ya know... /be with/. Fer longer than a fuckin’ night. Daiya always had some chick or other in his room, an’ he seemed ta enjoy that kinda shit, was always polite an’ kind ta them and they were polite an’ kind back, but I... I never fuckin’ wanted that shit. Seemed... I dunno. Empty ta me. I always wanted somethin’ with more substance than that. So... I got my standards. Things I know would ruin a long-term relationship if a chick did or didn’t have it. Unlike what most people think, I do fuckin’ know what I’m like, shit. Ain’t exactly the easiest person ta talk ta or be close ta, an’ I fuckin’ know that. So just... shit. Fuckin’...”

Mondo feels discomfort rise inside him, absolutely /hating/ the goddamn /vulnerability/ he’s showing right now. He can feel that discomfort turning to rage, his body wanting so bad to flip the table and scream up a storm and head out to his baby and ride until he can’t ride no more, but before he can, Leon... Leon replies. Shit...

“Huh. That... that makes sense, shit. Didn’t realize ya’d be that kinda guy, but I get it, man. Ain’t no shame in it. Some dude’s just want commitment, an’ while I don’t personally care, I can respect that. But, uh... thanks for telling me that. Know ya don’t like saying shit like that, heh,” Leon mumbles, looking a little awkward, but mostly genuine. Fucking... huh. Wouldn’t have expected /that/ from the musician. It helps settle something inside of Mondo, making the anger fade. A little. Enough so he isn’t standing and storming off, at least.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Stop bein’ a little bitch ‘bout it,” Mondo mumbles back, his cheeks warm. Leon snickers, leaning across the table to push against Mondo’s shoulder, playfully.

“Alright, whatever. But dude, come on! Tell me. What is your type? You’re being so cryptic, shit. If we’re gonna act like goddamn school girls, might as well go all fricken out, shit. What, ya only like chicks who are cross eyed or something? I mean, hey, if that’s your thing-“

“Oh, shut up, ya jackass,” Mondo laughs, shoving back, snickering at the ridiculous fucking eyebrow wiggle Leon does. Bastard.

After a moment, Mondo sobers up and lets out a forceful sigh, his shoulders tensing at the question. He doesn’t like talking about shit like this, damn. It always embarrasses him, even though it’s perfectly natural to have a type, ya know? But... ugh. Fine. Dudes talk about this shit, he knows that. His gang would always talk about shit like this, talking about what kind of chicks (or dudes, for those who favored dick) they liked. It ain’t anything to be embarrassed about, right? Shit...

“But ya know what? Fine. I’ll tell ya. Again, laugh an’ ya’ll regret it, but... I’ve got a few standards that matter most. First, chick has ta be hot, duh. Or at least she’s gotta care ‘bout her ‘ppearance, ya know? Ain’t gonna date a chick who don’t put any care inta how she looks, shit. Second, she, uh... she’s gotta care ‘bout shit. Like... she’s gotta have drive or shit like that. Somethin’ she‘s passionate ‘bout. Can’t have someone who is just... passive, ugh. Third... shit. I dunno, she’s gotta... gotta be patient an’ shit. Understandin’. ‘Cuz, ya know... ‘m kind ofa fuckin’ douchebag, heh. Shit...”

Mondo pauses for a second, hating how warm his cheeks feel, but Leon isn’t looking at him weird. He just... shit. Looks thoughtful and shit. Hmm... whatever, don’t fucking matter. Taking a deep breath, he averts his eyes and continues.

“Fourth... she’s gotta- gotta... gotta be fuckin’ kind. Nice, ya know? Don’t wanna be stuck with a stuck up bitch, goddamn. An’ this ain’t a make ‘r break thing, but I’d like her ta care ‘bout other people an’ shit. Wanna help others. Shit like that. An’... an’ fin’lly, uh... she’s gotta have her own mind. Her own ‘pinions. Can’t be afraid ta say what she thinks. Maybe even be a little stubborn, ta even out my stubborn ass. There’s some other, smaller stuff, but mainly... shit. Main thing is, she’s gotta be able ta put up with me. Which, uh... ain’t exactly easy, shit. Now, ya fuckin’ satisfied? Gotta tell ya my preferred sex positions or somethin’, or can we let this shit drop now? God fucking damn...”

Mondo looks up at Leon then, his insides a fucking /mess/. Fuck, but he hates being open like this. If he were talking to /Taka/, then shit, that shit would be just fine. Taka don’t ever fucking judge, he’s too fucking nice for that. But he ain’t talking to Taka. And Leon... while he’s a decent guy at times, he can be the biggest fucking douchebag at others. And Mondo is honestly tired of getting angry every five seconds, shit.

However... the look Leon is giving him is hard for him to decipher, even as good as he is at that kinda shit. He... he is definitely giving Mondo a Look, but what it means is just... baffling. He honestly looks kinda... constipated, the fuck...?

“Holy shit. Okay... shit. /Shit/. I... I know this is gonna make ya lose your shit, but ya know what? Whatever. We’re friends an’ I think /someone/ has gotta say this shit ta you, at least once.” What... the fuck... Mondo is getting super fucking freaked, especially at the kinda panicked but also /determined/ look that is rising on the musician’s face, which is... so fucking concerning... “But... damn. Ya- y-you do realize... shit. You do realize that you /straight up/ just described Ishimaru... right? L-like... every single thing ya said matches the tightass to a fricken /tee/. Well, outside of the ‘hot’ one, but I guess he does seem to care about his appearance, s-so there is that. But, uh... shit. He’s got drive, he cares about people, he can be patient and he sure as shit can be stubborn... ain’t afraid ta say his mind... almost a little too unafraid of that, h-heh... an’ he, uh... he most definitely seems more than capable of putting up with your ass, goddamn. U-uh... ya know. Shit like that...”

Holy... shit. Holy, goddamn, motherfucking /shit/!

Mondo is fucking /frozen/ again, eyes wide as they glare at the table, unable to meet Leon’s /goddamn/ stare. Because... n-no. That ain’t... /no/, fucking... /no/. W-while yeah, Taka /is/ all of that shit, it’s not... it doesn’t mean anything! That- that’s just why they work so well together, that’s it! Just because the kid checks all his boxes means nothing! He... he ain’t fucking gay, shit! How many goddamn times does he gotta /say that shit before people realize he fucking means it, god fucking damn/-

(Occurs during chapter 12 of TPWM, corresponding kind of with the end of chapter 13 and the beginning of chapter 14 of TPWP. Also, I have no idea what male friends talk about. Girls? Do they... do they talk about girls???)

[zankivich]

An Unexpected Romance: Chris Evans x Black! Female Reader Part 2

a/n: this one was really fun to write. I’m back in my bag tbh. These are some cute characters if I do say so myself. Like everything I write I feel like  this could be a fully blown multi-chapter fic. Also it’s finna get smutty so I hope you’re prepared for that. Let me know what you think? K bye. 

WARNINGS: Smut, softness, too much cuteness? 

Part 1 Part 3

The call comes two days later. Not that he leaves any room to be forgotten. No, Chris had texted you bright and early the next morning to thank you again for giving him a chance, and to apologize if he’d been in any way aggressive. You were quick to reassure him there’d been no aggressiveness on his end, certainly not any that was unwanted. He was a good texter, happy to provide details about himself, and to notice the details you, yourself, provided.

Chris: What are you up to this morning anyway?

Y/n: I had an early meeting with the company I just signed on with for a project I’m spearheading, and now I’m in my office preparing the debrief on that meeting which will be presented at another meeting.

Chris: Wow. Sounds intense. What do you do for a living?

Y/n: I’m a senior level consultant at a consulting firm. I basically just get hired to tell folks what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it. Then I leave before they fix it.

Chris: Ah so you liked to be in control huh?

Y/n: I...trust my gut, and my gut has yet to lead me astray. I only make decisions I believe in.

Chris: And what is your gut telling you about me y/n?

Y/n: It’s telling me to keep texting you even when I shouldn’t. Even when I’m busy. I like the things you say.

Chris: I like that. My gut is telling me you’re important. I can’t really explain it further than that. I just think we could be really good together.

You bit your lip, eyes roaming over the words in the message a few times. It was sweet. Damn him all to hell.

Fast forward to the next day where you’d spent all day outside of the office meeting with clients. He caught you in the middle of your lunch break between bites of sandwich that wasn’t very good. You’d put his name in your phone as just Chris, and yet when his name flashed across the screen the letters may as well have been hieroglyphics. It took you ten seconds just to get your shit together.

“Hello?” You swallowed into the phone, trying to manage an up-beat cadence.

Chris was like honey through the phone, as if the weight of the conversation was nothing to him.

“Hello. God, I gotta tell you it’s good to hear your voice. I thought I was starting to lose it in my memory for a second.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure it’s been exceptionally trying for you.”

“It has, it has. So perhaps you won’t think I’m being too pushy by asking you out tonight?”

You moved the phone just far enough away from your ear to wordlessly praise the lord to the air. Or whoever was up there.

“Um...tonight, huh?”

“Yea do you already have plans?”

“No, no. I just have a pretty long day ahead of me. I might not be able to make an early dinner.”

“Well that’s okay. Dinner isn’t even what I had in mind. What if I picked you up at, say eight-thirty? Would that be enough time?”

You bit your lip. “It would...Can I ask, if we’re not going to dinner, where are we going?”

“Now that....is a surprise. Send me your address, I’ll be there at eight-thirty sharp.”

“Oh lord. Okay I guess I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

It took you a moment to remember to put the phone down. Men were usually very simple. Dinner, usually somewhere they can order a steak. They like to do dinner on the earlier side, give them ample time to order drinks. The more drinks they order the higher they believe their chance of sleeping with you goes up. In all your years of “grown up dating”, you could count on one hand the amount of men who had offered to take you somewhere other than dinner on the first date, and never had that place been alcohol free.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was more that understanding men; their preconceived notions, their inadequacies, their mentality etc. was about safety for yourself and for others who may fall victimized. The patriarchy was toxic afterall and perhaps no one knew this better than Black women.

And yet Chris seemed to be evading your expectations, and not for the sake of keeping you on your toes. It was as if his aura existed outside of your expectations all together. He didn’t need to trick you, or convince you. He was just himself, and that self was perhaps better than the vast majority of men you’d met in your life. Could that be? Was it really possible? It seemed like you’d find out regardless.

***

Large hoop earrings are truly a staple piece for any iconic outfit. Without the dread of a formal dinner, you were excited to play with your wardrobe a little bit. There was a beautiful pastel pink camisole that matched a floral set of pumps quite perfectly. The slicked back ponytail and the knitted cardigan are simply added bonuses. Ya girl looked good as per the usual is the moral of the story.

By the time he knocks on your door there’s a giddiness to you. Grownup dating seemed to lack a certain excitement at that point in your life. Oftentimes priorities didn’t match up, men didn’t say what they really wanted, or truly were after. But it really did seem like Chris just wanted to show you a good time. And as much as you were trying to keep the walls up and stay smart, you couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might prove you wrong.

“Hello.” He smiled warmly at the threshold. “You look beautiful.”

Your brain had short-circuited. This was basically nuclear warfare and you were not having it! He was wearing a thin black sweater that stretched tightly across the firmness of his chest. There was a level of scruff that was absolutely tantalizing, and the way his eyes were one step away from twinkling like an anime character was a reality that suffocated you with the weight of it. It was truly too much. This man looked straight out of a factory. The wind had been zapped from your sails. Dammit.

“You look...really good yourself.” You hummed. “Like, unnaturally good actually.”

He only laughed wild and carefree arms coming up into a shrug.

“I gotta keep up with you somehow, right? So you ready to go?”

“Yes actually, let me just shoot a quick text…” You mumbled, swiping your fingers across the screen.

y/n: Okay we’re leaving the house. Remember if I don’t text back for an hour without stating why to track my phone.

Raya: don’t worry girl ain’t nobody gone call the police on captain america. Yo black ass wouldn’t make it a second

Jesse: Me and my cousins will ride up there swinging if need be. You just say the word mija

Tanya: or not word….cause the girl might be dead????

Jesse: Oh...you right

Y/n: okay BYE NOW

Usually the group text for dates was centered on safety and precaution. You had a feeling this one was going to be fully for them to clown your ass for the rest of the night.

Chris gets the door for you, and it’s easy to note immediately that you’re sliding into a tesla. The fact that it looks like a spaceship on the inside is a dead giveaway. But the car is warm and the second he slides into the driver’s seat, his large frame takes up precedence in the vehicle. His non-driving arm lands on the middle console sending parks of heat over to your seat with stark intensity.

“So, you’re still not gonna tell me where we’re going? You know that’s like prime serial killer talk right?” You noted.

He smiled again, this wide grin that seemed to transform his entire face. It seemed infectious just to look at him.

“Gosh you’re totally right. I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel any better, we’re heading towards the city and not away from it. It’s a public place, I promise.”

“Okay Chris. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt...for now.” You teased.

He looked over at you instead of the road.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Oh chile….

“Mmm. Noted.”

There had been a certain energy the night you met. It had existed in the non-existent space between your bodies as he held you against his chest. A sort of aura that pulled you, pulled the both of you in. It had felt a little overwhelming then, but to know that it existed now within the small confines of the car was another thing entirely. Your body tilted in the direction of his unconsciously, your elbow propped on the console directly next to his. You were drawn to him. And the good news was he seemed to be too.

You were both confused and happy to see him steer clear of the usual Beverly Hills or Hollywood spots. Where does one such movie star as Chris Evans take a woman on a date anyway? Your girls had discussed everything from WolfGang Puck to the Rosevelt. The sun was sinking low and heavy in the sky as night began its arrival. As he navigated you to the Santa Monica Pier you felt the giddiness from early wreck havoc in your belly. It was so far from anything you could have ever expected in the best way possible. All the nerves of being with this guy you really liked sort of melted away and gave way for excitement.

“The boardwalk huh?” You grinned out the window.

“Yea. There’s great street food, games, views. I figure it’s pretty tough to have a bad time here. Increases my chances of you agreeing to a second date.” He smirked.

You laughed a little louder than your flirting giggle and turned to face him straight on.

“Oh so you already plotting the second date now!”

He laughed right along with you.

“Sweetheart I’m on date number four up here.” He pointed to his forehead.

“Sheesh! Well I don’t want to disappoint, but I played point guard in high school so if we find some hoops I’ma have to put your ass to shame.”

“Oh she’s trash talking me already ladies and gentlemen!”

You were already taking your seatbelt off and reaching for the door handle. It was the most excited you’d ever been on a date, couldn’t even remember the last time someone took you some place to be goofy and play games. You typed your destination into your group chat and told your girls not to bother you. It was finna be a night.

It comes to no surprise that you end up at the arcade. He buys the tokens, you buy the beers. And then...it’s on.

“I want to start by saying that I am firm in my masculinity. Basketball is not my game, and I stand by that.”

You rolled your eyes around your beer and quickly took off your cardigan to free your arms.

“Boy, put the tokens in the machine and quit playing.”

He only grins at you so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Side by side in front of the basketball arcade game, you each take shots at the swinging net. Unfortunately there are no bonus points for fine looking biceps while missing shots. This leaves you to crush your opponent--date, whatever--by over twenty points. Though Chris was “firm in his masculinity” this did not stop him from being competitive, so he quickly threw more tokens into the machine and tugged the sleeves of his too-tight sweater up his arms. He makes a shot while you just stared at him, a little dazed. You only beat him by eight that time. Rude.

“Okay,” Chris panted. “I lied. I do play basketball. I like to think I’m pretty good at it too, but you definitely just kicked my ass.”

“I was MVP all three years I played. It’s not your fault.” You giggled.

“You play in college at all?” He asked as you took your beers and moved on to a new game.

You shook your head. “I went to Howard for both undergrad and my masters. We’re D1 and I wasn’t that good. I got an academic scholarship instead.”

“So brains and a killer arm? Anything else I should know?”

“Hmm...I have an irrational fear of mice? I found a mouse once in my kitchen when I was a little girl. I got so scared that I literally fainted.”

“Brains, killer arm, faints at the side of mice. So, I guess Cinderella for date number two is out.”

You placed your arm on his shoulder as you laughed. The sheer volume of muscle was not lost on you, nor the way your mouth salivated in response. Woops.

“I’d be down to watch Ratatouille. That’s my favorite food movie ever, I think. I guess animated equals not so scary.”

He smiled and let you keep your palm on his shoulder for much longer than was necessary.

“Duly noted. Shall we?”

Chris beats you in skee ball, and you beat him in some random zombie shooter game. Eventually he lets you lean on him to take your shoes off so that the two of you can do a dance revolution game. It’s silly and awful, and you laugh the entire way through it. There’s more arm touching and at some point he finds an excuse to touch your waist again. The way you bite your lip and stare up at him is only interrupted by the squeal of children’s laughter. There’s an increase in your heart beat that can’t be explained by the physical activity of the game alone, and the heat in his eyes is not nearly PG-13 enough.

“Should we uh...go get a snack or something?” You mumbled still peering up at his lips.

His grip on your waist only grows tighter, and you swear it’s past them kids' bedtime.

“Sure, why not?” He grins before slowly letting you go.

Sweet jesus.

It’s only when there’s a foot of space between the two of you that you can breathe normally again. But then he reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Breathing is clearly overrated.

You buy two different flavors of icecream to split and find a bench tucked away in the lights of the pier to keep talking.

“So what about you?” You asked between globs of cookie dough.

“What about me?”

“I know what you do for a living obviously but like...Where are you from? Do you have siblings? What’s your favorite food? How do you take your coffee? That kinda shit.”

He beams at you and holds a spoon of his rocky road to your lips. You hold eye contact as your lips wrap around the spoon. His lips part just barely and you know you’re not the only who can’t get a grip tonight. Good.

He clears his throat. “I’m originally from Boston, but I grew up in a town like thirty minutes away called Sudbury. I have two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and an older sister. They’re all much smarter than me I promise. My uh father remarried so I’ve got some half-siblings too. I can break out the family tree sometime if you want. I really enjoy seafood. I think it has something to do with where I grew up. I take my coffee black.”

“Boston, eh? LA must have taken some getting used to.”

He chuckled. “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to LA. I have a place in Massachusetts. It keeps my mom happy, and makes it easy to go home. I’m between projects for now, but its easier sometimes to just be here for the talk shows and the meetings and what not. I’ll be honest it’s been looking up lately though.”

Damn him and his ocean eyes and his dumb dumb smile and his stupid facial hair. And...now he’s putting more ice cream in your mouth. Diabolical.

“What about you? From DC to LA?” He asked.

“Ugh it does feel pretty cliche, I know. I never in a million years though I’d live out here. It’s tough cause all my family is east coast as well. When I was fresh out of grad school I got offered a job at a firm out here. The salary and the benefits were some of the best of my class. I couldn’t really say no. And now I mean...you saw me and my girls. I found community out here. It’s scary to think of losing that.”

“Hey that makes sense. You’ve made a life for yourself here. That’s really admirable.”

“Yea I guess. It helps to live away from the worst of it all. And I suppose LA does sometimes come with perks.” You smiled in his direction.

“I could not agree more.”

*Meanwhile in your phone*

Raya: what do we think? Is she still alive?

Tanya: Girl please. The only thing that girl is at risk for is a good dicking.

Raya: sljgdlkfgjkl you goin to hell

Jesse: Should we take our bets now?

Tanya: I’m putting five on the captain throwing her back out TONIGHT

Raya: I’m putting ten on y/n holding out just to be stubborn af

Jesse: I’m with Raya on this one.

You walk through the sand together with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. There’s everything from playful jabs to probing questions to heavy flirting. At some point it transcends the innocence of a first date. Perhaps it's the moment when he offers to carry your heels so you can feel the sand between your toes. Or the moment when you tell him something funny and he laughs into your neck till all you can feel is the rumble of his chest and the warmth of his skin. Maybe it’s the feel of his fingers untangling your hair from your cardigan when the wind traps it. There’s a softness to him in all his overt physicality. He thumbs at your chin playfully and smiles down at you. It’s not just softness then. It’s tenderness too. And you melt into him.

“Hi.” he whispered till you smiled.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

“Can I kiss you by chance?”

Your arms slide closer wrapping firmly around his neck.

“Absolutely.”

If his chest is rock-hard muscle then his lips are the antithesis of that. The kiss is soft and yearning when he wraps them around your own, and his hands ain’t bad either. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in him and he in you until there’s no clear discernment of where one begins and the other ends. But it doesn’t matter when his tongue is just as teasing and probing at his personality, and you fingers scratch roughly through the strands of his hair.

The only thing that could possibly bring such a perfect moment to an end is the need to breathe. You pull away with a stuttering gasp, and he hides his face in your neck with a whine that awakens a whole new fire with you.

“Wow.” He sighed.

“Yea...Wow.”

You blinked a couple of times to try and bring yourself back to reality and out of...whatever the hell that was.

“I should uh--I should get you home right? You had a long day.”

He squeezed at your shoulders before pulling away and you swore it was colder without him near. As the night suddenly hurdled towards a close, you felt a sense of longing. You weren’t quite ready to let him go yet, and the anticipation of being without him was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. The only good news is he holds your hand the entire walk back to the car, and his shoulder makes for lovely resting space.

The car ride feels like a fraction of the time it took to get there. Perhaps it's because you know each other better now, have a taste of what it’s like to be next to one another. Like a junky you were hooked. White, Black, or green, there wasn’t anything that could stop you from wanting to be near him. He was infectious, and he’d gotten himself directly under your skin.

“Could I walk you to the door?” He asks.

“Please.” You nodded.

You take smaller steps as if that will make it all go slower. And a grin forms slowly on your lips when you notice his much lengthier legs attempting to do the same. It’s the kind of PG-13 shit you’d never really experienced before. How pathetic that the second you got just a tiny bit of it you were practically begging for more.

The light beneath your door illuminates the movement of your bodies. You turned with your back to the door to face him, aware for the first time that you’d been smiling for a while, that you had no idea how to stop smiling.

“I gotta say I had a really great time.” You murmured. “Thank you for the effort and the fun and...the kiss.”

“That means the world to me. All I wanted was for you to have a good time. Honestly I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“You know, I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on as well.”

He smiled widely at you. “Good. So now we’ve set the bar so high that it really only makes sense for us to go on another date right?”

“I think I could be up for that, yea.”

“Could you be up for another kiss?” He teased.

“Could you be up for coming inside?” You countered.

His eyes widened at that, the intricate game of you both keep each other on your toes unfolding. You weren’t even sure where the idea had come from. You certainly hadn’t planned it. At some point you realized you had to go inside, and the thought of him being on the other side of the door just didn’t feel right.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose if you’re tired. I know your work day was long.”

You nodded eyes skimming from his ankles to his hair.

“Suddenly? Not so tired.”

“Me neither. Let’s go inside.”

That’s what you thought.

You unlocked the door to your place leading him into the living room.

“Um make yourself comfortable. I just gotta let my girls know I got home alright. Do you want anything to drink?” You asked.

“I better not. Still gotta drive home.”

There was something about his lack of confidence about getting laid that had you pausing in the kitchen. Few men had ever made it past the threshold on the first date. The threshold may as well have been a neon arrow towards your vagina. Not that you’d decided to have sex with him. Of course not...

Y/n: I know y’all are not placing bets that center around my pussy. Get a life.

Raya: Girl I’m married with two kids and you just went out with Chris Evans. Your life is my life. Don’t take that from me.

Tanya: Now sis, why are you texting us when there is some red, white, and blue DICK to be had.

Jesse: djdflkjgdf

Raya: lmao. She got a point. Did he drop you off?

Y/n: He did.

Tanya: Annnnnnnnnnnd?

Y/n: Annnnnnd my date ain’t over. I simply must be going. Night night!

Your phone began to erupt with buzzes in your palm. You quickly set it to silent to ignore the peanut gallery and headed back to your date.

Chris was in your living room staring at a photo you had set up on the wall. It was you, your mother, and your little brother all wrapped up in each other from your graduation the second time. The fact that his ass was poised like a piece of fruit begging to be plucked from the tree is a secondary detail.

“Is this your family?” He grinned. “You look just like your mother.”

You stalked closer, ready to be in his space again, and smiled.

“This was for degree number two. I’m the first to ever get a master’s, and my mom couldn’t stop crying the whole day. This is the only picture I had where she wasn’t obviously in tears.” You hummed.

“That’s beautiful. She’s got so much to be proud of. You’re clearly an amazing woman.”

Most may have tilted their head in shyness, maybe looked at the ground and ignored the compliment. Such a cliche. You had learned long ago that the most radical, most self-loving thing you could do was believe your own hype. Others will rarely do it for you. Chris seemed to be the exception to many rules.

You raised your chin proudly. “Thank you. Every ounce of it, I get from her. I can assure you of that.”

“I believe you. Mothers really are the superheroes of the world, no pun intended.”

You reached for his hand slowly, heart warming at the way he instantly went to intertwine your fingers. He was truly nestling himself inside your head, your walls coming down one by one. Silence pursued as you led him towards the couch, his eyes raking over every inch of you as you moved. As his back hit the couch, you stepped out of your heels. His legs were deeply parted and the thickness of his thighs looked like the perfect seat. It didn’t help the way his hands were gripping his thighs like an invitation. That knot that sometimes appeared in your belly when he was around tightened.

“Can I sit with you?” You hummed.

“You can sit anywhere you’d like.”

His voice had suddenly gone husky and deep, your eyes fluttering wantonly at the sound. You were mostly definitely going to take him up on that.

You placed your foot on the space of the cushion right next to his thigh, and used the leverage to climb yourself into his lap.  His hands immediately came to rest on the small of your back pulling you close, close, close.

This kiss is better. Much better.

Whatever gentlemanly urges he’d proudly displayed throughout the night, quickly gave way to a new urge, a hunger that boiled hot for each of you. It was the same feeling you’d felt when he first caught you at the bar, multiplied by a million. His facial hair rubbed tantalizing along your jaw as he kissed and bit and marked you with reckless abandon. Your fingers turned to fists in his hair and tugged sharply. The moan he released in response had your hips bucking up against his.

“God, come here.” He muttered against your throat.

His too-large palms went from your back to your ass and suddenly he was tugging you rougher, firmer, right against something firm of his own.

“Oh shit.” you whimpered thighs tightening around his waist. “Touch me.”

His lips began a trail from your neck down your cleavage, beard scratching up the flesh until your back was arching in lust.

“Take this off.” He demanded with a tug to your cardigan.

No problem there.

“You next.” You whined and reached for the bottom of his sweater instead.

Your camisole joined the rest of the pile on the floor and suddenly his tongue was finding the patch of skin right between your breasts. Wet didn’t begin to describe what you were experiencing in that moment.

“You’re fucking gorgeous you know that?” He huffed.

Your fingers gripped at his knee for leverage and you leaned back just enough to give your hips room to breathe. And move.

“Fuck.”

You giggled at Chris, your hips sliding against his in the most amazing rhythm.

“I like it when you lose that little nice-guy thing you got going on. What else do you got hidden from me, Chris?”

His hands moved to the thick of your thighs and squeezed hard until you lost your own grip of self-control.

“I think you like to take the reins. I think every part of your life is carefully constructed to your liking. But I’m starting to wonder what it might look like if you lost a little control, y/n. Do you think I could make you do that?”

Your eyes, though hooded with the overwhelming emotions he was making you feel, found a way to burst open at his words. Because in just one single night he saw you. Saw you in a way that you had not willingly given out. There was an armor that you put on to walk out into the world, something intentionally crafted to keep you safe. How had he disabled it in just one night? As sexy as it was, it was also scary. Were you ready to let him take control?

“Look if you wanna make me lose control? You better have something damn good to show for it, sir.” You grinned.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay.”

And just like that you were being lifted into the air like a spaceship taking launch. A man had never lifted you with such ease since you were a child. A grown ass woman of your size wasn’t just thrown around like a rag-doll. Dainty had certainly never been used to describe you. And yet, Chris had managed to stand with your legs and arms wrapped around his like a kola to a tree. His hands on your lower body only throw you further out of whack.  This shit was insane. And your pussy was transcending physics with how wet he’d manage to make you.

“Can I take you to bed?” He panted, breath harsh against your lips.

You groaned. “God, yes, boy scout. Please take me to bed.”

Your bed seems perfectly crafted for two, or maybe that’s just the feel of him sucking at the skin of your pulse point. His tongue is suddenly everywhere. On your neck. Below your sternum. At the jut of your hip. He strips you of your jeans and falls victim to the slim space between your thighs. His palms now work on mapping them expansively but not without exploring the thin piece of fabric that separates him from the wetness of your inner folds. All it takes is the tip of his nose to rub against the pubic mound, right above your clit, and you just kind of lose it.

“Holy shit! Please. Just please.” You whined, hips bucking closer to his mouth.

A grin descended upon his face that held all of the cockiness of a man who was sure of himself. It was the first time he’d ever looked like that to you. And lord was it hot.

“Sweetheart listen to me.” He said smoothly. “I’m gonna make you cum now. But you gotta be good for me. Can you do that?”

Your lips parted in shock. What does one say to such a thing?

“Okay.”

He’s not interested in torturing you, at least not this time. As soon as you promise to be good, his tongue snakes out of his mouth and he’s on you. Firm flicks of his tongue and hard sucks of his lips quickly leaves your underwear sodden. It appears he has no interest in taking them off, and you might just care if it weren’t for the way he was rocking your body. Most men couldn’t find a clit if there was a neon sign pointing to it. Chris finds it like it's his damn address. He sucks and licks and drools until your thighs pulse, until your back arches, until your body feels poised like spring begging to break.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders trying desperately to pull him closer. You’re not gonna make it.

“I--I gotta...I gotta cum.” You huffed.

He nods while he’s eating you out and takes your statement as a direction to slip his fingers between the soaked material of your underwear. You’re so wet that there’s barely any hit of tension as his finger slides deep inside of you. You can hear it now right beside the desperate pants of your mouth, the crude slip of his fingers digging into you, searching and pumping. He curls it just right, touches that place, until you can’t breathe,  until your bursting for him like an overripe fruit.

Your body throbs and pulses as the orgasm rocks its way through you and he never moves, just licks away your release with the same intensity. When you collapse, he lays his head against your thigh and grins up at you with wet lips and a wet beard and eyes completely void of anything but tenderness.

“Oh fuck off.” You whined pushing your hand tiredly against his face.

He chuckled but absolutely did not fuck off. Instead he took to placing kisses along the skin of your inner thighs as if he was rewinding the coil inside of you so that he could make you come loose all over again.

“You done?” He hummed nosing at your pubic bone. “We can be done, just let me know.”

“Really?”

“Of course, really.”

You bit your lip and watched him for a few minutes. His fingers were drawing patterns on your leg, his lips feeling like they shot sparks all across your skin. You wanted him bad. Whoever said consent wasn’t sexy hadn’t had Chris Evans in their bed obviously.

“Come up here.”

His eyes finally left the dream of your thighs and locked with yours. He trailed slowly up your body, thighs and arms bracketing either side of you. Your back arched involuntarily until your chests touched. He kissed you long enough for the taste of yourself to get lost in your own mouth. His facial hair still scratched hotly at your flesh.There wasn’t anything you wanted more than for him to destroy you in that moment. So that’s exactly what you said.

“Chris?” You mumbled against his lips.

He immediately backed away. “Yea?”

You reached over to the drawer of your bedside table and grabbed aimlessly for protection. The condom wrapper fell into his hand and your legs came naturally around his waist.

“I’d like for you to wreck me...please.”

It didn’t sound like a question. It was much more a demand than a plea. But your boy scout aimed to please. And please he did.

“I can do that.”

Suddenly when Nicki Minaj said You’ll never catch me in a light-skin nigga’s bed, it took on a whole new meaning. Surely she meant light skin like Drake, and sis definitely had a point. But... surely Nicki couldn’t hate you for the choices you made that night, and all the ones you’d go on to make for this man in particular. After-all, it was technically your bed.

buy me a ko-fi? 

[cyclogenesis]

For the writing ask (you don’t have to answer all of them since I probably picked too many, sorry!): 1, 2, 7, 8, 10, 19, 20, 26, 30, 31, 32, 36, 38, 39, 40. (Thanks 💜)

I did it, I answered all of them!! (Yes, it took me a couple of days aha.) Thanks for asking anon! 😘

1. Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

Generally speaking I would rather die than rewrite anything ever, and most of the stuff I’ve written I can look back on and be like “nice”. I did recently reread a few bandom fics I wrote and felt mildly horrified by the fact that some of the writing was so spare that the dialogue sections were like reading a screenplay, so I’d have to say those would come the closest. Like I wouldn’t actually ever rewrite them, but were I to write them today they would read very, very differently.

2. Anything that you’d like to write but feel like you’re unable to?

Honestly I read soooo much Hydra Trash Party stuff and would love to vibe with Bucky’s sexual trauma in fic more but I feel like I’d really struggle to write that kind of background given my usual writing style. That’s the kind of super iddy thing I usually do in chatfic, but unfortunately I don’t have anyone to do that with in this fandom, so I’ll just keep whining internally about the lack of HTP Sam/Bucky while doing absolutely nothing to address that glaring lack.

Rest of the answers behind the cut!

7. Your favourite ao3 tag.

I cruise the Bottom Bucky Barnes tag like a 50s kid dragging Main.

8. How slow is a slow burn?

HERE’S THE THING. So if I ship something super hard, like hard enough to write or read fic about it, then I have already interpreted the canon itself as a slow burn because presumably they haven’t kissed yet, and I’m writing or reading fic because I’m ready for the kissing to be happening. I also don’t tend to read a whole lot of long fic. So basically I’m gonna need kissing by at least the 15k mark unless it’s like, masterfully written.

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

You know, I’m honestly not usually drawn to stuff that’s very traditionally tropey! I don’t write it too often either, usually with fic I’m just a simple gal who wants to look at canon and then figure out a way to get them to acknowledge they want to kiss each other. I do love fake relationships though!

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

“There’s more than one Loki,” Sam is disturbed to tell him. “A bunch more. One of them is a good guy now.” Actually, Strange had described him as ‘moderately helpful and uncomfortably sincere’. “Another one, uh, broke time, and now there are multiple timelines that have created different universes.”

“Got it,” Bucky says, in the tone of someone who in no way has it.

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

I usually have a couple of things going at once that I bounce between until I decide that I’m Going To Finish Something, Dammit and force myself to focus on just one. It’s generally fine because I’d rather have too many ideas than none at all, though I’ll sometimes inadvertently cannibalize myself and have to edit out things I’ve used in two different WIPs.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

I’m honestly pretty forgiving about that, having been trained to suspend my disbelief by liking really dark fic hahaha. One weird thing that tends to throw me in not-dark fic is a lack of humor in the dialogue. I tend to like fandoms with pretty funny characters or people, so I like to see their sense of humor reflected in fic. Sam and Bucky in particular are really funny characters in their own ways - gimme the banter, please!!

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn’t.

In so many fandoms I’ve had visions of an OTP epic spanning years and years, and in zero of those fandoms have I ever completed one of those stories.

31. What was the most difficult fic for you to write (but in the end you made it)?

There is a point where every fic feels like the most difficult thing I’ve ever written. Something particularly cute that I do, which I love, is writing very intensely up to the sex scene, and then getting shy about it and wandering away and not working on it again for a little while, despite the fact that usually the whole point of the fic is that I want to get to the sex scene!!!

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

I’m sure I have plenty of things like that!! I try to edit repetitive things like that out because when I’m reading a lot of a writer’s stuff little phrasing quirks always stand out to my copyeditor brain. That said, I know when I’m doing it and still tend to huffily be like “well that’s the best way to phrase that action!!” so, whatever.

36. How do you come up with fic titles? What’s the one you’re most proud of?

I either have a title from the jump or I’m combing my music library for a lyric snippet I can use like ten minutes before I post the fic. I’m pretty fond of This Is A Song About Fucking in that I committed SO deeply to jacking myself off there; it’s a phrase that Brendon Urie used to say to introduce Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off during the Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour (I had to look that tour name up. Thank GOD I had to look that tour name up) and I used it for a 5SOS group sex fic posted a cool eight years after that tour (which I went to multiple dates of, oh god) ended.

38. “This never happened” fix-it fics or “this happened but” fix-it fics?

Definitely the latter, when a canon makes a lousy choice I’m usually like well here we are, let’s talk about where we go from here. But I don’t really look for anything with the fix-it tag in general, once the canon breaks something I loved I’m usually so moody that I just abandon ship and stop reading fic haha.

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

I verrrry rarely write AUs for posting, but have chatficced some truly bonkers nonsense in my time. My old writing partner in bandom and I used to get weird with Brendon/Ryan - the satyr/fairy and fisherman/selkie days were really something.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

I’m too invested in the thing I’ve written 5k words of these week to think of anything new, so here’s a snippet from that instead.

“Come here,” he chokes out, and the helpless hope on Bucky’s face in response nearly undoes him completely. He sits up to meet Bucky halfway, grabs at his shirt the moment he’s within reach and drags him close, Bucky climbing onto the bed all long limbs and graceless need. The kiss is a surprise only in how rough it is, a hard press of lips like Bucky’s greedy to touch Sam any way he can, like this is just another way for them to collide.

[amedetoiles]

give me a character meme! wwx please!!

[All gifs made by me. No stealing or reposting, thank you. ♥︎]

★ How I feel about this character

I love wwx so much and he deserves so much!!! My feelings for him can be summed up by my first ever meta in this fandom, this half-crack half-shitpost, and the many many meta tears scattered across all the tags on my page that various people have yelled at me for. I love him. I love him, I love him, I love him. No character has wrecked me as much as this stupid chaotic ass, who is so inherently good and selfishly selfless it fucking hurts. Yet, for all the love and care he gives freely to everyone else, he can’t for the life of him compute any that others have given to him. He tries so hard to be good, to make the right choices even in impossible, horrendous circumstances, and it’s excruciatingly painful watching him realize again and again that even good choices paved with good intentions can cause destruction. He suffers so much because of it. He suffers before we even really meet him. @cangse-sanren​ wrote “Your parents were bright smears of color and laughter to you, but little more” in this beautiful fic, and I still weep about it daily.

I love how immensely protective he is of both his siblings. He just tries so goddamn hard to be what everyone needs. I could and have and will continue to cry about him every day. How his pathological tendency to repress all things that hurt him, to cover up his pain in humor and obnoxiousness and bravado, and his internalized belief that he is worth much less than everyone else, all converged into the most awful way possible. How despite losing his sect, his siblings, his friends, he was still trying up until the very end. God, what a fantastically complex fucking character. To watch him bloom again after that deluge of rage and grief and insanity 13/16 years later was the most satisfying journey anyone could possibly depict. To know that he has the chance to heal, to recover, to grow with all the different parts of his family he once thought lost forever now back in his reach (yes! even our angry grape!!). Truly amazing.

★ All the people I ship romantically with this character

WangXian!!!! These kids who came out of endless tragedy and trauma to find a love, a trust in each other–theirs is a love story that truly extends across space and time. It warms my heart to watch them rebuild their lives together into something warmer, and brighter, and happier than either of them ever grew up knowing. To watch them shed the psychological trauma on what it means to love and be loved given to them by their terrible parental figures and say, “No. We’re going to be better than that.” I love how they complement one another. How loudly and quietly they love each other. How in the warm security of each other’s embrace, they are each able to work through their own internalized traumas without judgement. Lan Wangji’s uncompromising devotion. Wei Wuxian’s fierce protectiveness. It’s hard to say who else could fit together so perfectly. What a joy it is to watch Wei Wuxian realize that he is no longer alone, that Lan Wangji is and will always be standing beside him. What a joy it is to watch Lan Wangji realize that this is not the dream he’s spent years suffering through, that Wei Ying has returned to him against all odds. What a fucking joy it is to watch them both learn to trust happiness, to trust love, to trust each other. GOD. *wails*

★ My non-romantic OTP for this character

YUNMENG SHUANGJIE. YUNMENG SIBS. YILING SIBS. A-YUAN AND HIS TWO DADS. All the different found families that permeated the story was just breathtakingly beautiful. They all fucking gutted me. It all at once makes Wei Wuxian’s story that much more beautiful and that much more tragic. For a child who lost his parents before he even had time to remember them, who then had to rebuild his family again and again, only to lose them each time in increasingly horrifying ways–it truly fucked me up. Wei Wuxian stood on that cliff in Nightless City, and it was visibly clear that he wanted nothing more than to join all the families he loved and watched die (because of him).

The beauty of his story of course is that for all the tragedy that he is subsumed by, for all the ways that he is wronged and has wronged, there are equal, if not more, number of ways that he is lifted, is healed, is shone a light through all the darkness. In the end, his families return to him. Wen Ning, who lived despite it all, carrying the memory of his sister, the best doctor in the world. His shijie shining through his bratty nephew’s heart of gold. His very own A-Yuan, kept safe and protected all these years by his soulmate, his zhiji. His angry grape of a little brother who can’t say I forgive you but tosses him Chenqing that he’s kept safe all these years and says I trust you. They’re all a little broken, a little worse for wear, but there’s something extraordinarily beautiful about these families who find each other again through the bridges they rebuild towards something better.

★ My unpopular opinion about this character

Oh man, I’ve seen a lot of debate about wwx that I try not to get into (I type this of course as I ready myself to do exactly that). Probably the most unpopular opinion (possibly?) I have is that I don’t personally feel like the addition of a second flautist and expanding Jin Guangyao’s villain-ry in CQL detracted or reduced Wei Wuxian’s complex morality–one of my favorite and best parts to his character. I still think he is very gray. His tragedy is still contingent on his naive idealism and his willful blindness that a person only needs to be righteous and honorable regardless of reputation and politics. This clearly isn’t the case. Not just for him, but for all the characters. You can do everything right and still be punished. You can do everything right and still cause others pain. You can be the most hypocritical, loudmouthed piece of judgmental shit and still remain unpunished and available to share your stupid ass ignorant opinions on matters that have nothing to do with you. (Whoops that got away from me.) Wei Wuxian learns this repeatedly. It’s excellent and heartbreaking.

The thing about Wei Wuxian is that for all that he has imposter syndrome, for all that he is unable to see that he is a person worthy of the love he receives, he is still not only extremely confident in his own abilities and in his beliefs of what is right and what is wrong, but also that he is the person who can decide that line between justice and evil. An arrogant assumption, and one that causes not only him but the people he strives to protect a significant amount of pain. This wasn’t lost in CQL. While the plot technically does absolve him of all of his crimes on a surface level, it’s clearly not as simple for Wei Wuxian himself. In the Ancestral Hall, Wei Wuxian stares at the names of Jiang Fengmian, Madam Yu, and Jiang Yanli, whose lives are heavily felt on his shoulders, and he tells Lan Wangji, “After all, the Stygian Tiger Seal was created by me. Whether Jin Guangyao was there or not, that fact can’t be changed.” The show despite its censorship still asks the audience to evaluate his actions and the role he played, both willing and unwillingly, in the deaths of so many people.

It is also shown clearly that the cultivation world only stops trying to kill him because there was now another target, another scapegoat to blame. This is something that Wei Wuxian knows and expresses on multiple occasions on the show. For all that the show may have change things, I don’t think it’s necessarily correct or fair to say that it completely washed away the nuance that was present in the novel. The overarching conflicts and questions are still there. What is moral and what isn’t, what is justified and what isn’t, who is at fault for unforeseen consequences and who isn’t, and the role of external factors and circumstances in all of this. As someone who watched the drama first, I didn’t feel that the complexity of all the characters and their decisions was lost at all in comparison to the novel I later read. The show was honestly superb and still the best version for me overall. (Please don’t send pitchforks.) I have so much more to say about this, and Jin Guangyao still being a great nuanced character foil, but alas, this is already too long.

Other things: Wei Wuxian is a good brother actually, and he knows Jiang Cheng very well. He tried his best under the worst possible circumstances, and it was a great big shit show. I hate discussions where people try to hold one brother more responsible than the other. They both very nobly (and very recklessly) sacrificed a great deal for each other, and they both, frankly, fucked up. They’re Twin Idiots, and I’ll love and drag them both equally dammit! With that in mind, Wei Wuxian’s happy ending isn’t just him joining GusuLan sect, novel be fucking damned (yes, I said it!). His home can be in Gusu and Yunmeng. *SLAMS FISTS* Let 👏 Wei 👏 Wuxian 👏 go 👏 home 👏. (Talking to you, my grape guy. Jin Ling is going to show up in Lotus Pier one day with his da-jiu, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.)

★ One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

WEI WUXIAN PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HUG YOUR DIDI. Jiang Cheng has been waiting 16+ years for your hug, and he damn well deserves one, especially since he gave you such a great octopus hug, all limbs and burrowed scrunchy faces. Like, I know, I know, you were distraught, and traumatized, half-beaten to death after three days of intense surgery, then reaped by ten thousand undead souls calling for revenge, but guess who told your favorite (only) angry grape little brother that in the next life, let’s be brothers again okay? GUESS WHO IS LIVING HIS NEXT LIFE??????? Bruh. Chop chop. Hop fucking to it.

[onceuponastory]

Coming Back Home Chapter Four: Open Heart (Nick x Y/N)

“Now you're sitting there so broken-hearted Face buried in a screen, watching other people's dreams But just remember all the fires you started Cuz when you love again, I know you'll turn it up to 10” - open heart: adrian chalifour 

Plot: Six years ago, Y/N left her hometown and all its bad memories behind, and never looked back. But now, she’s come back to be the maid of honour in her sister’s wedding. Returning ‘home’ means she has to confront her past, the last thing she wants to do. When she meets the handsome best man Nick, she feels more comfortable…until her sister asks her to show Nick around town…a town that Y/N fell out of love with a long time ago.

Can Y/N fall back in love with the town she left behind, and maybe find love of her own along the way? (based on prompt by @orphicodysseywrites​)

Tag List: @shinydixon​, @baker151910​ and @thesundrop​. Let me know if you want to be added!

Warnings: Some mentions of anxiety, abandonment and death

Note: I originally wanted this chapter to just be a filler before the next few chapters get more exciting with maybe some drama, but then this ended up being about 3k words. So...enjoy!

Read the other parts / Read this story on Wattpad!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Nick or his character! I just used Nick bc he’s the only character of Dacre’s that fits this prompt. Aside from Nick being in this, this fic has NOTHING to do with The Broken Hearts Gallery. But you should all go see the movie if you can, because it’s adorable!

That Night

“Goodnight Y/N.” Katie smiles, giving me another hug. “Love you.” 

“Love you too.” I smile. She leaves the room, and I let out the shaky breath I was holding. Even though Katie said she had forgiven me, I knew I had messed up. Nick would never want to speak to me again, and part of me still didn’t believe Katie had forgiven me. I mean, she had to, she’s my sister, and I’m the maid of honour....but what if she actually wanted me to leave? What if she never wanted to speak to me again after this? What if Nick felt the same? I wouldn’t blame him, after the way I spoke to him earlier today. Katie said he was worried about me, but when she brought me back, he was nowhere to be seen. My eyes sting again. I like Nick...a lot, and I want him to know I didn’t mean to unleash on him like I did. And I want to talk to him about it and clear it up...But I can’t, because if I did, there was a possibility that my anxieties would come true, and that I’d be abandoned and alone again, just like when my Dad left us. Maybe he was right. Maybe nobody wanted me. It wasn’t Katie’s fault, she was only a child when my Dad abandoned us. She just got stuck with me. It must’ve been something I did that caused this. It’s always my fault. Shivering, I climb into my bed. My bed is cold, causing me to shiver even more. 

Feeling even more alone, I silently cry myself to sleep.

A Few Days Later - Nine Days Until the Wedding

Walking out of my bedroom, I look up to see Nick leaving his room. I gasp slightly. “Uh...Hi Y/N.” He gives me a smile. 

“Hey.” I reply, giving a small wave. Things still felt awkward between us both, and we hadn’t really had the chance to talk to each other properly after my little....outburst. It wasn’t like we were avoiding each other...even if I was. I still wanted to make things right, but I was still unwilling to confront what would happen if Nick never wanted to see me again. And besides, we just didn’t have the time to speak to each other for more than a few minutes, because we were so busy with our separate maid of honour and best man duties. It also didn’t help that Katie was slowly becoming a bridezilla. I didn’t blame her, because the wedding was fast approaching. She just wanted everything to be okay, especially after what I did...but god, if I had to have one more talk about the correct way to position the centrepieces by millimetre, I would lose my mind. But, I wanted Katie to know that I’d stand by her and help her, regardless of the circumstances. Partly because that was my literally my job as the maid of honour, but also because I’m still terrified she’d stop talking to me after the wedding.

“Can I talk to you? I-” Nick begins, before he is cut off by: 

“For FUCK’S SAKE!” Katie yells from downstairs. See what I mean? Nick and I quickly head downstairs to see what was wrong.

“Um...sis? Are you okay?” I ask, seeing her pacing across the kitchen and biting the skin around her thumbnail. She snaps her head over to me. Anger is written across her face. 

“No Y/N. No, I am not okay. That was the person handling the napkins. They’ve just called to cancel. It’s almost a WEEK before my wedding, and we’re gonna have no fucking napkins! I mean, what are we supposed to give our guests? They can’t eat our meals without napkins! And how the hell are we going to get another vendor in time?! Stupid fucking vendors.” She hisses and almost launches her phone across the room, but I quickly take her hands in mine before she can.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright.” I soothe her, running my fingers over her knuckles. “We’ll get it sorted.”

“And it’s not that big a deal in the long run.” Nick tells her. The two of us look back over at him. With my eyes wide, I quickly shake my head, warning him not to poke the bear even further. “I mean-”

“Yes, Nick. I know what you meant. I’m sorry that you don’t understand how important these kinds of things are to the smooth running of a wedding. That’s so.......man of you.” Katie rolls her eyes.

“Nick’s just trying to calm you down...right, Nick?” I ask, giving him a look. Nick nods, looking slightly confused. “Tell you what.” I offer. “How about I go to the store and see if I can pick up some napkins? It’ll give you some time to cool off?” I suggest. Katie’s head snaps back to me. 

“Did you just suggest buying our napkins from TARGET?!” She exclaims angrily, squeezing my hands tightly. I have to stop myself from letting out a yelp of pain. “Everyone’s going to notice! We’ll...be a laughing stock!” 

“Katie, I really don’t think anyone’s going to notice, and besides...you don’t really have a choice. Now...can you let go of my hands? Please?” I say slowly, trying not to incur her wrath even more.

“Y/N’s just trying to help, right?” Nick says, coming to stand closer to me. “I’ll even go with her to make sure she picks the best ones.” Katie is silent for a few moments and she also lessens her grip on my hands. I quickly shoot Nick a grateful look.

“....You’re right.” She nods. “I knew I could trust you, Nick. And besides. It’s a perfect bonding opportunity for you two.” She turns away. My stomach twists. Bringing Nick means he’s going to bring up what happened between us, and my worst fears might be proven right. Katie takes out a piece of fabric from her bag and shoves it at me. “This is the colour of the bridesmaid dresses. I expect you to remember this colour Y/N, given that you helped me pick them out. The napkins must match this colour.” She insists. “But be quick. I need you two back here soon. I’m going upstairs, and if any more vendors cause trouble, I’m going to stab them with a fucking fork.” She threatens, walking out of the room. 

“Jesus Christ, her grip is like a fucking vice.” I hiss when I’m sure Katie is out of earshot, holding my hands.

“Does she need us back to help her with more wedding stuff or to stop her stabbing the vendors? I’m not sure which it is.” Nick jokes, making me laugh. Maybe things were better between us both about what happened a few days ago. 

“Well, guess we better go before we have to find out.” I sigh, picking up the car keys. Nick follows me outside to the car, and we both get in. 

“Oh, by the way, can we...uh, talk later on?” He asks. My heart sinks. And there it is.

~~~

“How am I supposed to know what colour matches our dresses?!” I exclaim, grabbing a pile of napkins and holding them against the fabric Katie gave me. “Nick.” I sigh. “Which napkin colour best matches this?” I ask, thrusting about five similarly coloured napkins at him. Nick looks startled, and honestly, I don’t blame him. 

“I guess....this one?” He points at one. 

“That’ll do. Thanks.” I toss all of the similarly coloured napkins into the cart. “Well, that’s us. Anything you and the groomsmen need whilst we’re here?” I ask. Nick shakes his head.

“Nope, we’re all good.” Dammit. I was hoping he’d say they still needed to buy everything, so we could postpone our talk. Nick and I pay for the napkins and head out towards the car. “So...” Nick begins, getting in next to me and buckling his seatbelt. I look over at him, bracing myself for what I know is coming next. “Are you hungry? Cause I’m starving, how about we grab some lunch? I think there’s a McDonald’s back there.” He asks quickly. Before I can even reply, or ask him about the talk he wanted us to have, he holds out his wallet. “I’ll pay!”

“Um....” I begin, frowning slightly. “Sure? But if Katie gets mad at us for being late back, I’ll blame you.” Nick agrees, and I drive out of the parking lot. As Nick points me in the direction of McDonald’s, only one thought is in my mind. “Is he avoiding this talk too?”

~~~

“So.” Nick begins, pausing only to take a bite of his burger. Freddie Mercury’s vocals play faintly in the background from the car radio. “I think Queen is infinitely better than The Beatles.” He states.

“Nick, you don’t have to worry about offending me or anything. I absolutely agree. To be honest, I think most people would agree too.” I grin. “Want a french fry?” I offer, holding out my container. He shakes his head. “Good. Was hoping you’d say no.” I tell him, munching on my remaining fries. Nick laughs. “Oh! By the way, Nick....” I begin, licking ketchup off of my fingers. “Thanks for coming to help me with this...and for dealing with our family drama. I promise Katie’s not usually this bad. Wedding nerves must be getting the best of her.” Nick chuckles.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind, honestly. I know part of my best man job is to make sure everything runs smoothly...but I really enjoy spending time with you.” He smiles. Butterflies start fluttering around in my stomach. He...actually likes spending time with me? Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps I haven’t ruined everything.

“You-You do?” I stammer. “Even after what happened?” Nick’s face falls slightly, and the butterflies in my stomach turn into lead, dropping further into the pit of my stomach. Here it comes. 

“Yeah...we were supposed to talk about it, right?” I nod. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-” Nick and I speak at the same time. The two of us laugh. “You first.” 

“Well.” I take a breath. “I’m sorry for being rude that day and kind of...unleashing my built-up familial issues onto you without warning. I was acting weird, and you had every right to ask me if you were the reason. I was really horrible to you, and kind of embarrassing, so I totally understand if you hate me and never want to speak to me again. Just tell me, it’s okay. I mean, to be honest, I’d-”

“No.” Nick says, cutting me off. I look at him, confused. Does he...does he want to stop talking to me? I was right, I- “No.” He repeats, as if reading my thoughts. “You’re wrong. I was a dick, and you had every right to call me out on it.” 

“No, you weren’t, I was-” Nick raises a finger, which shushes me. “Sorry.” I mumble.

“Anyway. I was out of line with what I said. I overreacted because I thought you didn’t like me, and so I took my worries out on you. I had no idea you were struggling so much with being back here, and with showing me around, especially after you and Katie’s past...which I also knew nothing about. I’m so sorry if I made those feelings worse. And you don’t have to worry about me not wanting to hang out with you anymore, I told you that I love it.” He leans in closer, staring at me intently. “If you feel upset by anything I do, please don’t be afraid to talk to me, alright?” He asks. I nod. Well, that...went differently than expected. “Can I ask you something, though? That night, when you found me in the kitchen at like 2am, and you fell asleep on the table...did you have a nightmare that night? Is that why you were up so late?” Part of me wants to lie to him, tell him that I just heard a bump in the night and that nothing was wrong...but no. Nick’s been so lovely to me and dealt with all my issues, so he deserves the truth.

“Yes. I did. To be honest, Nick, I’ve had a nightmare every night since I’ve been back here. But it’s nothing new. They’ve been a normal part of my life for a good ten years now, and I don’t see them letting up any time soon. It’s...okay.” I shrug. “I used to see a therapist back in New York, and she told me nightmares are a normal response to what happened to us. Turns out having your Mom die and your Dad abandoning you because he doesn’t love you anymore in the space of a few weeks causes a lot of trauma. Who knew!” I joke. Nick frowns. “Sorry...” I wince. “I like making jokes about it sometimes. It helps me heal in a way.”

“No, I didn’t mean you.” He replies. “Listen. If you have another nightmare and get upset, or need someone to calm you down, just come across the hall and speak to me, okay?”

“Nick, I can’t do that, you-”

“It’s fine. Honestly, I want to make sure you know that you’ll always have someone there for you whilst you’re here. I want to be that person.” I try to say something in response to that, but my mind goes blank. Outside of my family and therapist, nobody was that nice to me...so willing to deal with me and my issues. I lean forward and hug Nick. 

“Thank you.” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. “It means a lot.” Quickly, I pull away from him. “S-Sorry, I don’t know if you’re okay with hugs, or...” I stammer, completely avoiding how we almost kissed a few days ago.

“No...It’s okay.” He says, his voice breathless and husky. It sends shivers up my spine. Nick keeps staring at me, his blue eyes intently focused on me. It’s like it was a few days ago...when we almost kissed. It feels different, though, in some way. It feels...right. Like how this was meant to be. Before I could even do anything, however, my phone rings. Katie’s name flashes on the screen. Typical. Interrupted by my sister again. Guess some things never change. Leaning back into my seat, I answer the call, shooting Nick an apologetic look. “Heyyyy sis....Yes I know, we’ve been gone a while. Sorry, we got napkins then some lunch. Yes, yes, I know you need us back. Still, we got hungry, and-” I hold the phone away from my ear as Katie launches into a tirade about how important it is for us to be on time to help her and Adam with things. 

“Tell her it was my idea.” Nick whispers, shooting me a thumbs up.

“It was Nick’s idea...yes, I’ll tell him. Okay, see you soon. Love you too. Bye.” I hang up. “She told you if that was your idea, then you’re the one dealing with the kids at the wedding.”

~~~

The Next Day

“No, Caroline...it’s not a country estate, there’s not big grounds or anything. It’s just a hotel in the centre of town...Yes, it’s charming. No, there’s no damp, I promise.” I roll my eyes. Caroline was Adam’s older sister, and she was the closest thing to a Karen I have ever seen in my life. She liked everything to be just so, which is fine. Still, with the number of waitresses she had berated and probably caused long term scarring to probably bordering on the hundreds, she was definitely a Karen in my books. Nick walks into the room as I’m on the phone. “Look, I just called to double-check that you’re going to be here on time for the bachelorette party this Friday.” I sigh. “No, I don’t know if they have that bottle of champagne here...The local store is quite limited in its selection, yes. I will check. Maybe bring a bottle just in case....Okay. See you Friday.” Hanging up, I roll my eyes and check her name off on the list. 

“Do you know you bite your tongue when you focus? It’s quite cute.” Nick asks, placing a mug of tea beside me.

“Is there alcohol in this?” I ask. Nick frowns for a second, then realisation dawns on his face. “Was that Caroline on the phone?” I nod. “Oh.”

“God, she’s insufferable. I don’t even know why Katie has her in the bridal party.” I groan, taking a sip of my tea. “I guess since she’s going to be her sister-in-law, she feels like she has to, but fuck me, if I have to hear about this particular bottle of champagne from France in the 1700s one more time, I will lose my mind.” 

“Yeah I’ve met her too, I know exactly what you mean.” Nick responds. “With me, it was talking about how she has to have the most perfect thoroughbred horses for her dearest children Timothy and Petunia to have riding lessons on.” Nick puts on a ridiculous posh accent as he speaks, making us both laugh.

“Oh? Pay my servers a tip so they could actually....live? Oh darling, I absolutely couldn’t! How on earth will I pay for all my darling Timothy’s piano lessons?!” I copy his posh accent, and Nick laughs even more. “God, we’re terrible.” I say through my laughter. “Better not say that during our speeches.” 

“Are you joking about my children and I? Let me talk to your manager immediately. I will sue you into next year!” Nick orders, putting on his posh accent again. I start laughing. “Oh, you’re laughing now? How rude.” He teases, making me laugh even harder.

"God, Nick, you’re going to be the death of me, or my sides, at some point.” I giggle, trying to catch my breath. 

“Anyway, no, we’re not terrible. Caroline is.” Nick corrects me. “Sooo, whatcha up to?”

“Just phoning the bachelorettes to see if they’re still okay for Friday’s party.”

“Oh, we’re all sorted for that on our side. Cannot wait.” Nick grins. 

“Oh, we’re sorted for that on our side. All of us are well put together, and have no issues like bitchy bridesmaids on the bachelor side.” I jokingly mock him. Nick fakes being offended. "Since you guys are sorted on your side, you can sit here while I finish up if you want. I just have these girls left...aaaand my phone’s about to die. Give me five, I’ll go grab my charger.” I tell him, quickly heading upstairs. When I reach the top, Katie is standing there. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t realise you were there. Did you...did you hear us making fun of your new sister in law? I’m sorry, we-” She holds up her hand to stop me.

“Yes, I heard. But don’t worry, it’s fine. You guys are right, she’s a bitch.” She giggles, causing me to laugh too. I walk past her to get my charger, but she stops me. “Actually...what I wanted to say was that I heard you and Nick laughing...and it made me smile.” I frown. “Well, for as long as I can remember, you were always really sad as a kid, and a teen....and an adult.”

“Wow, thanks sis.” 

“As I was saying, given what happened to us both, that’s understandable. But god Y/N, hearing you and Nick laughing...that’s the happiest I’ve ever heard you sound. And the hardest I’ve heard you laugh...in a long time. I know you guys just met a week or so ago, but he really seems to bring out the best in you.” I’m speechless again for a while, and all I can reply with is:

“I guess you’re right.”

“That’s why I’m expecting a credit for introducing you both when it’s your turn to get married.” She winks. I gasp, and quickly shush her.

“Shh! He might hear you! And we’re not getting married!” Katie sighs.

“Look Y/N, I don’t mean to push you, it’s just... after what happened with our Dad, and then Nana dying, I thought we’d never be happy again, but then I met Adam, and he supports and uplifts me everyday. I’m finally happy.” I smile softly.

“I know Katie, and-”

“No, no. Listen, please.” I stop talking, and she continues. “I remember that feeling of happiness, and what it looks like...and god Y/N, I see it whenever Nick looks at you, or when you talk about each other. Your faces just light up. I know it’s not my place to force you to be with him, but just...just keep it in mind okay?” I nod.

“Thanks sis.” I pull her into a tight hug. As I watch her disappear into her and Adam’s bedroom, her words play in my mind. Realising Nick is still waiting for me, I quickly grab my charger and go back downstairs.

“Hey.” Nick looks up as I sit back beside him. “Everything alright?” 

“He really seems to bring out the best in you.” Echoes in my head. Maybe Katie was right. Everytime I was with Nick, I felt...good. Maybe it was because he did make me happy. I smile.

“Yeah Nick, everything’s great.”

[bettsfic]

Hey! I was just wondering if you would soapbox a little about your creative process. I absolutely adore your writing advice but was wondering a bit more about how your ideas form and how you choose which to pursue and do finished products look like you want them to? What's a bad habit you're trying to break? No obligation to answer, especially cause an anon is like tell me your secrets! But thank you for all you've written, you are so helpful and kind

thanks for the great question anon! i wrote a bit about my drafting process here but that doesn’t encompass the idea building side of things (also i’ve made some changes to the process so i was thinking about writing a more cohesive, updated version at some point).

i tend to think of project ideas as piles of aesthetic, and usually i only begin writing once the pile has toppled over and i can’t not write it. that’ll make more sense in a moment. 

i’ll walk through 2 examples of my idea generating process, from how they started to where they are now. 

1. Vandal

Vandal is a novel i’m working on that i really have a lot of hope for. i’m about 60k words in right now and 75% finished. it’s about a teenage girl (sierra) who casts a spell on her hot, helpful neighbor (frank) to bind them together. the spell ends up working but backfiring when he becomes her foster father. then, in his custody, sierra gets jealous and casts a spell on his girlfriend (jenny) to break them up, but that backfires too: sierra gets taken out of frank’s custody and placed with a manipulative and abusive foster brother (leo). frank more or less kidnaps sierra and they have to Run From The Law. throughout the novel, sierra is inwardly battling Vandal, an immortal archangel that has possessed her and is trying to get her to kill herself so he can break free of the prison of her body.  

the idea for that story has a looooong breadcrumb trail and a huge aesthetic pile. since i couldn’t manage to get Baby traditionally published, i had a lot of that dynamic i could adopt into something else. i wrote at length about where that idea came from but i can no longer find that post (UPDATE: here it is). it’s somewhere in my training wheels tag. in short, i spent an entire summer watching/reading age gap stories and the male perspective in them bothered me a lot, so i wanted to write a story from the younger party’s perspective, and do the reality of those situations justice. i wrote that story, though, so i didn’t want to rewrite it. 

then, in december 2019, for reasons i don’t remember, i started reading snape/hermione fics. i really liked the dynamic, but it was a little too angsty for me, and none of the fics gave me the catharsis i was looking for, which was basically Grouchy Soft Boy Takes Care Of PTSD Weary Girl. being unable to find anything that fit the exact no-conflict, angstless dynamic i was looking for, i decided to write it myself using an A/B/O reylo idea i’d been kicking around for about 8 months but i could never land on, because i didn’t know if i wanted ben or ren. that fic turned out to be Reclaimed.  

to answer one of your questions, Reclaimed didn’t turn out the way i wanted it to at all, and i’m still kind of shocked by the traffic it has. i felt bad about writing it, because i was setting down so many other things to work on it, and it was a struggle from start to finish. at the time (and this is a major theme of my process), i thought it was a waste of energy.

but it opened a very important thematic concept to me, which is the idea of voicelessness and trauma, and recovery through finding one’s voice.

fast-forward to february, i’m headcanoning with @star-sky-earth just days before i have to head to nebraska for a writing residency. she and i are talking about a certain male celebrity who shall not be named, flirting with his younger female costar who shall not be named, and i said something along the lines of, “wouldn’t it suck to get a crush on a dude like him, only to find out he likes you back, and then you realize he’s actually kind of shallow and boring?”

i remember distinctly saying, out loud, “god fucking dammit,” because, right then, an aesthetic pile had toppled over, and an entire novel unfolded itself in my brain. i pound out an outline. it’s garbage. i play around with a vocal gauge. it’s not quite right. then, two days later, i write an opening scene that i don’t think is great but i send it to some people and they’re like, oh this is fire. 

the aesthetic pile looks like this:

lolita, where dolores is the one in control

delusions of grandeur born from a major traumatic event

obsessions with fairy tales and the escapism they provide

the consequences of extreme neglect

forced voicelessness as both a theme and a major structural constraint

a lot of wolf imagery

non-chronological timelines

i proceed to spend the next two days driving across the country brain-writing. by the time i reach nebraska, i hit the ground running, and write for basically 30-40 hours a week for 5 weeks. then, because pandemic, i decide to stay 2 more weeks, but i hit a snag. i write about 14k of really boring drivel and realize my outline has failed me. i toss the 14k and re-outline and try again. then, my attention is rattled by a crush on a composer who has no interest in me. 

i go home and fall into my annual summer depression and i lose focus. so, that’s where i’m at. i really miss vandal but it’s gotten super dark and i’m finding it difficult to manage darkness with everything going on. which brings me to my next aesthetic pile that has recently toppled over.

2. Eden

that’s not the title but it’s the project name. i’ve begun writing a YA sci fi comedy with an ensemble cast. this aesthetic pile took years to build before it toppled. it started with Elixir of Erised, hands down the best fic i’ve ever written by a huge margin. i reread it this past winter and was kind of amazed i’d written it. 

i really liked the idea of a potion showing you your deepest desires, but until recently have not had the patience to build an entire world around it. so, for the past 3.5 years, i’ve kept a document of “if i WERE to a YA SFF book with the themes of EOE, what would i want to include?” over those 3.5 years, here’s what the list became:

dark academia vibes

heist plot

soulmates

that list is not really conducive to an entire universe, and i never had the motivation to sit down and think through it. 

then i watched breaking bad, and a lot of things started clicking. at the same time, i was talking to my buddy kyle about my fallen knight archetype schematic, and i began fleshing out all the archetypes that went with it. i came up with 12. i built a database. i thought, wouldn’t it be cool to write something with ALL 12 ARCHETYPES?? haha but who would be dumb enough to do that?

me. i would. 

with breaking bad as the missing plot piece (which introduces the idea of conflict around the MANUFACTURE and DISTRIBUTION of addictive substances, with an ensemble cast of morally grey characters, which leads to a war), i had enough to get started. 

i wrote an outline. i wrote another outline. i wrote a third outline. i stopped to write some histories of this place i’d built. i wrote a fourth outline. gdocs became a mess so i downloaded scrivener and taught myself how to use it. i wrote a gauge of the first chapter and landed the voice on the first try. then i did a rough sketch of how a trilogy would go. then i outlined each book in the trilogy to make sure my character trajectories were on point. then i did a lot more worldbuilding. now i’m working on my fifth outline, which breaks the entire novel down scene by scene. 

and for Reasons, i’m tasking myself with writing the first draft in 6 days across two weekends. it’s a high-stakes adventure story with a very tight timeline, so i think it’s conducive to being written quickly.

which brings me to another question you asked, which is, what bad habits do i want to break? i always, always slow down at the halfway mark. sometimes i even give up. i have no idea why. no matter how much preparation i do, no matter how solid my endgame is, at the halfway mark i either slow to a crawl or set the whole project down and pick up something new. i do this with reading books, too. i can only ever read the first half of books. then i either skip to the end or put them down forever. it’s definitely something i have to figure out because at this rate i’ll never finish anything.

okay this took way longer than i thought it would to write but i hope it answers your question. tl;dr i follow aesthetic and thematic interests until they lead me to a point where i can’t not write the stories that develop from them. 

[dianadragonfly]

Okay, hang on bitches, cause Imma bout ta rewatch “The Final Problem.” I’ve seen it once since 2017. And because there is no commentary on the disc I have, I will be providing the commentary.

[[MORE]] Since I started my “rewatch and comment” spree, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Things that had previously stood out in my mind as being particularly not-good are really not that bad. Most were actually really short moments that stood out in retrospect because they seemed incongruous with how well-written and acted everything else was.

Up till season 2, the writers could do no wrong whatsoever. The exact moment I experienced a “well that was overdone” moment of questioning the writers was when Sherlock broadcast a picture of Mary on the outside of the facade in “His Last Vow.” From there, I had moments of doubt and questioning plot and directing choices that took away from the narrative. But, except for the moment John sees Mary die, I never ever questioned the acting choices. The actors are so amazing. And I’m not just saying that because Ben and Martin are hot.

As I prepare to watch the episode, there are several scenes that I dread. Opening with the girl on the airplane reminds me of how much I hated this trick. If the girl is Eurus messing with them, then why do we see it acted out? If we cannot trust that what we see is a reality, then all of the “Mind Palace” theories of TFP (i.e. that it actually took place in a dream or in the head of a character) have some authenticity to them. Ugh.

Damn. I’d forgotten the “Hello. My name is Jim Moriarty” part of the intro. No need for that if the girl is just something in Eurus’s imagination.

Oh shit. I hate hate hate hate everything about this scene of Mycroft.

First of all, there is security in Mycroft’s house.

Second of all, he would have skewered any of those actors with the umbrella sword or shot one of them with the gun.

Why are the paintings crying blood? John and Sherlock couldn’t accomplish that... once we add scary clown it’s just too much. Even for Sherlock.

Oh stop with the heavy-handed East Wind references. Dammit, I loved this show for its subtly. Killer clowns are not subtle, even in pranks.

Now with Mycroft here, in the client position, refusing to sit, with the Baker Street Boys in their chairs - this is what I came for. The light, the look on their faces, the composition of the shot.

Oohh Hudson throwing some shade. John’s half smile...

Is the skull portrait glowing? I can’t tell.

“That’s why he stays!” Fuck yeah. John’s half smile again...

“Middle child. Explains a lot.” As a middle child, I resent that remark. And sort of get it.

So the flashing back and forth in time, with the ashes of Musgrave Hall in the apartment, 5 year old Eurus answering grown-up Mycroft’s questions, the pebble: all of that would be okay, if not a tiny bit less than subtle, had we not just fought a goddamn clown in the scene before.

Oh goddamn. The stupid fucking patience gernade and that song.

Of course Mrs. Hudson vacuums to Iron Maiden.

It’s Sherlock’s turn to half-smile. Cute.

Beautifully shot here with the above view and all three of them at different points on a circle around it.

Ugh. I have to turn away at the “action shot” of them jumping out the window. This is not “Die Hard.” It’s not a cop buddy movie. We just got a really well played, fun little scene where they talked a about Oscar Wilde to avoid talking about the fact that they might die. That’s what I watch Sherlock for.

There was a fan fic written around 2012 that mentions “The Importance of Being Ernest.” Coincidence? Creators reading fanfic? I know Wilde and ACD were contemporaries, but it’s interesting. I can’t think of any other literary works that are alluded to in canon. It’s funny it should be this one.

And now we’ve commandeered a boat. Seriously.

All of the other episodes, I had more patience with on this go-around where I get a chance to type out reactions and reflect on how they are put together. But I’m finding that isn’t the case with this one. I’m just pissed. Give me one or two unbelievable moments or plot twists in an episode and I can sustain it. But between the airplane, killer clowns at Mycroft’s, the patience gernade, and this, I’m already done and we’re 20 minutes in. Sherlock looks like a goddamn vampire bat. And seriously, why does Mycroft need to steal a boat? And write a message in the sand? What the hell? Why dress up?

Sherlock’s security guard act cracks me up.

Oh his face when he sees Eurus. His. Face. Curiosity. Heartbreak. Empathy. Pain. Doubt. Fear. THIS is my show. Not patience gernades, killer clowns, dressing up like a sea captain etc in one damn episode.

She “enslaves” people... magical Eurus who makes people kill their family. Really?!

Oh no. He ignores “Vatican cameos.” I forgot that. He chooses to ignore John’s warning.

His face.... Jesus Benedict can act.

Big bouncy red alert! Okay, what was with the spinning John face when he gets knocked out?

This constant shift between wondering what the hell is happening, wondering if the show has become a parody of itself, and then bouncing back to this heart wrenching narrative — is that the point of this episode? Like “The Empty Hearse” or “The Abominable Bride”? But those episodes explained themselves after they pulled the rug out. As soon as something got to the point of absurdity, it was explained. Sherlock didn’t swing in a window at Bart’s and kiss Molly but we briefly were led to believe he did. Moriarty and Sherlock aren’t really kissing on the roof. (By then we knew what was up though). Sherlock didn’t really attempt to dig up a dead Amelia Rocoletti. We understand it’s a drug-induced dream.

This rapid jumping back and forth with half-assed explainations — I’m coming to believe this off-balance feeling is the point of the episode but I don’t like it. I like it even less than I did before.

Oh Andrew Scott. I love you.

The bastards wait till 5 minutes into the Moriarty scene to tell us it’s 5 years ago. That constant pulling out the rug — I will at least excuse that because there is a plausible explaination given. But it’s a cheap trick. This episode is one cheap trick after another, with only a few moments, here and there, of characters actually interacting.

So it’s late and I don’t know if I have the heart to make it through this whole episode tonight. To be continued....

Edited:

Starting at scene 5 on the DVD because that's when Sherlock sees Eurus for the sort of first time. I kind of just want to bask in Ben's performance here again.

After the last episode, clean-shaven Sherlock in a suit is a relief. He's back... at least a little.

His small smile when he asks her how she got out. . .

I'm realizing how much of this scene had to be Benedict looking directly into the camera and talking to Eurus. That had to be intimidating.

***I've skipped ahead to closer than where I was last night because the small people in my house will want food soon. Parentig gets in the way of fangirling. ****

I still love the Hungry Donkey story.

OH MY GOD! I forgot how much I love Andrew Scott here!!!

Are they making out through the glass?

And now the four of them wake up in a cell but this one has glass. Ugh. The plane again. I love how Sherlock changes his voice here to talk to the girl. He isn't incapable of reading people and reacting to them. He just usually can't be bothered. There’s a fan theory that says Sherlock is autistic. I was going to comment that this skill of his is evidence that he’s not but I stopped myself. He -knows- HOW one needs to act to get people to respond to him, but it’s a learned skill. Which actually might add evidence to the “autism” theory more than the sociopath theory.

Mark Gatiss - I forget what an incredible actor he can be. Whoa.

These scenes - these scenes where they have to apply themselves to a task that Eurus sets for them -- they are so fucking good. Tense and well-acted. I can see every emotion on every actor's face. The rest of the episode should have been better to make it worthy of these performances. It physically hurt watching John try to shoot the governor.

Someone said that Jim Moriarty went from a criminal mastermid to manical Thomas the Train Engine on this episode and I can't unthink that any time he flashes on the screen.

I had a moment, when Eurus was using such clinical language of behavioralism ("prompts") etc that I flashed back onto my life as an ABA instructor. Seriously. I know they are a million miles away but no one watching this would ever think, even for a second, that Eurus was morally right. Why, then, do we do a smiliar thing to autistic children? I had a moment of revulsion then. (Restirct physical liberty and autonomy, make them complete a command that's nonsensical for either reward or aversive. Give prompts. Follow through (deny reward) if one deviates from the prompt). She might as well been saying "Touch table, Sherlock." ("Touch table" is one of the first directives often given in ABA. It's easy to manually prompt (force) a kid to do and helps the kid realize the link between following the requests and obtaining rewards.)

Sorry. ABA rant is slightly off topic.

To be continued in comments ..

[starker-stories]

My Virgin (Revisited), Chapter 2

This chapter on AO3

By @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​​

All links are to AO3. As everyone knows by now, starker-stories blew up his starkerstories blog, losing everything that was below a readmore on tumblr-full-text posts. So the safest place for fic is AO3. You don’t need to be a creator to have an AO3 account. You can have one solely as a reader. But to read anything at all in this series, you can just be an anonymous reader and/or commenter.

The entire Messages Series.  All links are to AO3.

Messages Unsent  (complete & posted)

Nothing More Than A Machine  (complete & posted)

Tomorrow  (complete & posted)

My Virgin (Revisited)  (complete & posted)

The Cold  (completely written) posts every Thursday  

Untitled Book 6  ( in progress )

Untitled Book 7  ( in progress )

Tags: Sexual Roleplay, Virginity Kink, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Kissing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, A teeny weeny bit of plot for the next book hinted at, Happy Ending, Happy Sex

Chapter 2: You’ve been kissed

But Peter had been thinking all day, hadn’t he? Been thinking about the things they had talked about, and the things Peter still had yet to say. Some of those things Tony might not like, Peter was still worried about that. But some of those things...

“Tony?” Peter asked breathlessly, pulling his face away enough to speak.

“I love you.” Wait, that wasn’t it. He tried again (but dammit Tony’s hands were making it really hard to think.)

“Iwannatellyousomething” Peter blurted out before Tony’s mouth distracted him again. That worked, but unfortunately it left Tony looking up at him and Peter with nothing to say.

His brain flitted back to the things that had been on his mind that day — The Cold, and how Tony might react when he explained it, and something else.

He decided to go with the Something Else.

(Even though it was really embarrassing.)

So he ducked his head into Tony’s neck (his favorite hiding place) and whispered it.

“I have a confession to make.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he hadn’t said them. Why talk about it now, when they had discussed it thoroughly (and tenderly!) the night before?

But dammit, it made him hot to talk about it. And, ah hell maybe… maybe Peter had initiated the kissing on the couch just in case he did work up the nerve to ask…

“I only ever lied to you once, Tony. Ever. That first night. You asked and I… I told you I had done ‘it’ before. And I hadn’t. Not with… people I mean. Toys don’t count. So that means I lied. That was my first time.”

“I know baby. I told you, I could read you like an open book.” Tony casually reached around Peter’s waist, sliding his hand up under the hem of his t-shirt, caressing him with a firm touch, with the warmth of his palm.

“But I’m still mad at myself for not telling you. Because…

“Okay, maybe this is wrong but…”

He blushed furiously and ducked his head. But hiding his face wouldn’t make him understood, so he tried whispering it into Tony’s ear.

“Maybe I… always wondered… what would you have done if I had told you?”

“Wanna find out?” Tony said, playfully leering.

“Oh god.” Peter whimpered, closing his eyes and hiding as best he could in Tony’s shoulder even as he grinned from ear to ear. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach tightened… and his cock immediately stood at attention. “Um… yes.”

“In that case… This has to be in my bed.” He smiled, hoping Peter would catch the inflection. Because while it was their bed now, that night it had been his. “I loved carrying you there. Should do it more often. Do what you did that first night. Arms around my neck, legs around my waist.”

When they arrived, Tony didn’t just dump Peter onto his bed, he let him down slowly, kissing him the entire way until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Tony climbed in and wrapped his arms around Peter, gently guiding him to the center of the enormous bed.

“Baby, I will never get over the way you look right here. We can be together ten years and I’ll never get tired of this sight. But this isn’t about ten years from now. This is about my beautiful virgin who I want to tenderly take apart until he’s screaming from how good it feels.”

Peter giggled and blushed and covered his face with his hands. Oh well — it wasn’t egotism if you really were that good.

“I’ve waited so long to kiss you, Peter.” Not untrue then, not untrue now.

Tony brought their lips together so slowly. His fingers stroked the side of Peter’s face, slid into his hair, with just enough firmness to let him know that he was in the hands of someone who knew what he was doing. In the hands of someone who appreciated what he was being given.

Lips together but not kissing, Tony moved the words across them. “I love you.”

He kissed them into Peter’s mouth, probing softly with his tongue at the line between them. Teasingly light, exploring the boy’s senses, listening to his responses. Learning Peter’s body. For the first time. All over again. It had been so long since they’d made love in this bed, made love like this, it was almost like it was their first time.

He found the touches with his tongue that made Peter shiver. Too much. He found the ones that made him gasp. The ones that made him moan. The ones that made him pant into Tony’s mouth. That made Peter want more. He waited, deepening the kiss bit by bit, always leaving Peter wanting more.

Tony broke the kiss and stretched out over Peter’s body, holding most of his weight on his elbows and knees, just letting the heat from their skin touch. His hands on either side of Peter’s head when he kissed Peter again, his hands tangled in Peter’s curls, fingers twisting them, playing with them, while he kept his kiss teasing again, not deeper like they had been doing before. He waited again to sense Peter’s need.

Tony used to be so crude in bed. It was all take. Didn’t matter how inexperienced his partner. He didn’t hurt, but neither did he care. It took time for him to learn. To appreciate. To observe the little reactions that a body made. Until making someone have those reactions became almost as good as the finish itself. Maybe moreso. Definitely moreso when it was Peter having them. Tony devoured every sound, every breath, every tiny movement he made — realized and unrealized. Peter’s responses were dialed up to eleven. Then add at least double that because Tony was so hyper-focused on them.

When Peter was ready and not before… when it wasn’t just want but need, Tony slipped one hand behind the boy’s neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. He lowered a little of his weight onto Peter’s body. Grounding him all along its length. Their kiss never truly broke. Only enough to take half a breath and then resume, it fell into a circular rhythm of a single, endless kiss. Until Tony felt the boy shiver and he noticed a change in the texture of his gasping breath.

Tony loosened his hand from Peter’s neck and broke their kiss entirely, separating, leaning back to look into the boy’s eyes. His cheeks were flushed, the delicate skin of his face a little irritated from the scrape of his beard, his lips strawberry red from his kiss. And Peter’s breaths were still too fast.

“Baby,” Tony whispered. “Right here baby. Shh. Look at me, Pete. I’m here.” He smiled softly as he felt Peter’s chest moving more steadily. “Beautiful.” Careful not to be too gentle and set off Peter’s senses so soon after he’d just brought them under control.

Peter whimpered, but he obeyed. Looking into Tony’s eyes, he sighed. This was better than he could have imagined. For so many months now Peter had missed the afterplay, that peaceful laying-beside-each-other and talking-all-night time that meant so much to him in the beginning.

Only now did he remember — foreplay was a wonderful thing, too.

Then Tony started talking and his whole body glowed.

“It’s all right, baby. I have you. You’re safe. You can let go and know that I’m going to catch you. Always, Pete. I won’t let you fall. Beautiful, you can let yourself feel all of it. I’ll hold you through it all. Through everything. You’re mine, Peter. That means I’m yours. Every night, but especially this night.”

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut. He moaned even as he smiled. This is what he had been asking for, what he had been daydreaming about. Tony always talked during sex, but this? This crooning, this gentling, this was a thing of beauty.

Tony ran his thumb across the boy’s smiling lips. “Has no one ever properly kissed you, Peter? No one but me?” He knew that Peter hadn’t had sex with anyone before him. But this? He hadn’t asked because Peter was so insistent on keeping up his ruse. “Are all your kisses mine, baby?”

Oh well, it had been lovely while it lasted.

Peter kept his eyes closed, so he didn’t roll them. But he couldn’t keep the perturbed look off his face.

He lifted his head and looked above them — okay that WAS the full-head-eye-roll but he tried to disguise it.

“Tony,” he said, looking at the vast expanse of the Alaska King they were laying on. “I don’t think this bed is big enough for you, me, and your ego.

“Of course I’ve been kissed before… hello? And for the record I am not a virgin, I just haven’t done… that… one thing before. With people. Toys don’t count. And if I’ve never been kissed like that before it was because I didn’t want to…”

He stopped short.

Of course he had never been kissed like that before! He had kissed boys before, but it had always been one quick step on the way to something entirely different. There wasn’t a single person on Earth, or on other planets, that he wanted to kiss for that long. So, really, Tony was right.

That bastard.

“You’ve been kissed…” Tony put a chaste kiss on Peter’s lips. “Like you kissed your girlfriend at a dance. You’ve been kissed…” He opened his mouth and did a poor example of the typical teenage moray eel kiss. “Like you kissed your first boy, too excited to even think about doing it right. You’ve been kissed…” He shoved his tongue into Peter’s mouth like boys do because they think that kissing is basically tongue fucking. “Like you kissed your first college boy at a party. You’ve been kissed…” That time he did a proper French kiss, not clumsy, but without finesse. “Like you were kissed by your first date who was a couple of years older than you.”

Tony cupped the back of Peter’s neck again, his fingers tangling into the soft curls at the nape. He brought their lips slowly together, repeating the way he kissed Peter earlier. Making Peter want. Letting Peter know how much he wanted as well. Holding it, repeating it, letting it build from kiss to passion to desperation. “Now, baby, you’ve been kissed.”

Peter turned his head to one side and tried to recover. Both his ability to speak, and his pride. Damn Tony, they were supposed to be recreating their first time together, the first night he had lost that particular v-card. Not to admit he had never been kissed like that before.

He pushed Tony away by a few inches to increase the space between them, breathing in what air he could find there.

It didn’t work. He just sighed in frustration (it came out more as a growl) and covered his face with his hands. He didn’t want Tony (who had done exactly as Peter had asked) to see his forehead crease, but it was creasing now. Dammit, he had asked for this! Had fantasized about it for ages! How could he not realize that now, in the moment, his ego would be getting in the way?

While Peter's face was covered, Tony smirked at the sound the kid made at having been proven wrong. Tony did have all of Peter's kisses.

Peter had moved them apart just enough for Tony to slide his hands along the hem of Peter’s shirt. His hands worked underneath the soft fabric. Palms flat, warm and firm, he moved them up, one along Peter’s back, the other caressing his stomach. As they rose, his forearms lifted the boy’s shirt. Tony pushed higher in the back, dragging Peter’s t-shirt up over his head, then down his arms and off.

Peter moved his hands away from his face to let Tony have his way (besides Tony was doing that thing to his stomach which certainly took his mind off anything else. It always made him melt when Tony touched him there — WAIT did he do that on purpose? That bastard.)

“Peter, you are beyond beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss from the crook of the boy’s neck, down his shoulder, onto his chest until he came to the center of it. “Look at you. You take my breath away.” Tony lifted Peter’s arms until they settled lightly around his neck. His hand trailed from his lips on the boy’s chest, down to the button of his jeans. “I need to see all of you. Every bit of you is perfect. And you’re giving all of you to me, aren’t you baby.”

Too breathless to speak, Peter only nodded in assent. His injured pride wasn’t hard to ignore if Tony kept talking like that.

[auncyen]

writing scraps from this year

- "Everybody's Fool" [...I'm pretty sure this had no context besides being an Evanescence song that I like and that sounds like it could fit Joker, especially in a Palace fic.]

- Ryuji worries--he messed up and killed Okumura's shadow, too aggressive, everyone is appalled at the thought, tells him no -Ren brought Futaba in on the significance of Akechi knowing about the Metaverse, upsetting Morgana [both these bullet points were for things in Shuffle Time, but I'm pretty sure I'd probably use them for independent fic if I used them now. Okumura goes down REALLY easily once you get to him himself, and I just had this stray thought that, especially since head injuries can be unpredictable in the real world--like, Ryuji in the boss fight, worked up for Haru's sake because shitty abusive dads, just winds up and absolutely slams Okumura's Shadow, surprised but satisfied that he instantly goes down--and the Shadow seems fine, if weak, in the conversation afterward, so all's well that ends well, and even after the mental shutdown Ryuji doesn't immediately think of it--but then one night he just happens to think of the way his bat connected and Okumura's head banging against the helmet when he hit the floor and concussions and sometimes they're fatal and oh god he ruined another team, it's his fault Okumura had a shutdown, he killed someone-- thankfully he goes to Ren about this before he goes to Haru or the police, but he's nearly having a panic attack and Ren is just like no. NO. This was not you, something else was going on, calm down. just hold on and we'll figure it out. I imagine this is while Ren is suspecting Akechi but right before he's sure enough to tell the team so like. HE'S EXTRA PISSED OFF BECAUSE NOT ONLY IS ONE FRIEND'S PARENT DEAD, ANOTHER FRIEND IS BLAMING THEMSELVES FOR IT the point of Ren telling Futaba about Akechi early on was just to add another little wrinkle to Morgana getting upset enough to leave the team, I think. He'd felt "special" as Ren's confidant at least, and he'd liked knowing that only he and Ren knew about Akechi even if he knew they'd tell everyone else as soon as he showed anything concerning. But Ren thought it might be prudent to know about Akechi's background, so he asked Futaba to look into it as well as why Akechi was a person of interest, and Morgana understood that it made sense to tell Futaba, it just...became another way that he was no longer needed/important.]

Ryuji & tutoring? Ren paying Kawakami to help him figure out study method for Ryuji--doesn't want her going directly to Ryuji because it might embarass him/make him stubborn - or Makoto tutored Ryuji when he was a first year--both found it frustrating, but he got acceptable grades before the Kamoshida incident happened--she wants to do better this time. (Sojiro helps them figure out what's getting in Ryuji's way, gives a mini-lecture to both of them? Tells Makoto that if she's going to be in charge of people she needs to help them achieve their best rather than forcing them to follow a method that doesn't work for them)

-Ren has a guess that there are PT-like people in hometown of Inaba, but for the completely wrong reason-- Adachi's sudden confession seems like a change of heart, as well as the oddities in the confession (which probably aren't public but Futaba would hack that shit as soon as Ren started talking about the odd midnight channel and weird murders and supernatural-seeming shit and everyone goes METAVERSE???) - Ryuji thinks it's a shame the group never went big, Ren points out that they couldn't really do much in sleepy Inaba - the overall thrust is that Ren is deeply invested in being able to continue Metaverse activities even after he goes home, and Futaba and Morgana both enable this instead of thinking more and becoming concerned about why this is so overly important to Ren

- Sae gets Metanav on her phone? [...This is...all I wrote down for this. as an aside of the whole interrogation room plot, Sae would theoretically be granted the app on her phone--at least, if Yaldabaoth thought she'd be useful to Ren. Since canon does nothing with this, I guess he didn't. BUT WHAT IF? idk]

- Mishima accidentally Metaverse with Ryuji [THIS IS ACTUALLY HOW I WROTE IT? lol the idea was he was telling Ryuji about a Phansite request while they were trying to verify its authenticity, so naturally he manages to hit all the keywords while they're in the vicinity of the Palace] - Ryuji panics, gets them back immediately, tells Mishima to NOT mess with any apps that might appear on his phone - tells the others at PT meeting -and Ren just...sighs. "now he's going to flip when he doesn't get the app" - hold up, Ren. How you know that? everyone pumps Ren for more info on Igor once he comes up, Mona is tipped off that something is wrong with Ren [this was...actually another thing that was supposed to come up in Shuffle Time! GEE, MAYBE THE ISSUE I'VE HAD WITH SHUFFLE TIME IS TRYING TO DO TOO MANY THINGS. basically this was playing with both the fact that Ren doesn't really seem nice to Mishima sometimes and that Ren knows more about the app than the others do and for some reason doesn't tell them. Ren is pretty sure Mishima's not ready to awaken to a persona, so he'd be useless in the metaverse, so he's not a candidate for the app. While he's right, at least within the timeline of the fic, the way he acts about it rubs Ryuji wrong and the fact that he knows things about the app and hasn't been saying rubs EVERYONE wrong. This was supposed to be set before the rank where Mishima is challenged to change himself and Ren acknowledges afterward that even if Mishima isn't ready for a Persona yet, he has more strength than he gave him credit for. He also apologizes to Mishima for holding a grudge about the leaked record and tries to be kinder to him afterward.]

KO Gamplay & Story integration -Ren gets knocked out in mementos, bad fight - cut to interrogation room: "...And that's when 'Ren' died." - Sae is not impressed & Ren needs to stop bsing. he smiles & tells her to be patient so he can explain...the crime she truly wanted to ask him about... - back to fic's main time: others manage to revive Ren, but he's acting strangely - his 'ego' has been wrecked & his personas are out of control. his friends can help keep him in check but only for a while, and even then he's not quite himself; whoever is with him gets responded to by a Persona of their arcana, so he flits wildly between personalities between meetings with confidants and pretty much needs to be supervised in public settings to make sure he acts...semi-appropriately (morgana being around means he's usually in Magician mode) - eventually, though, the matching arcanas is an issue with Akechi drawing out Justice personas that know 1) there is an assassin in the Metaverse and 2) Akechi has access to the Metaverse. Principality, which guards nations, waits until he is certain Akechi is the Black Mask. Then murders him in the real world. And that's why Sae is interrogating Ren in this timeline.

-Ren's POV of Stall & Crash -"warden" Arsene, punishment/handcuffed/restraint -"I know you're not real" "I am as real as your sense of self... ah, but you don't have a good grasp of that, do you". [u know how in p3 out of control Personas hurt their real selves and p4 is basically EVERYONE'S Shadow being pissed off at their real self? yeah this was basically Ren's guilt at considering selling out his team, albeit while heavily drugged, causing Arsene to manifest as an abusive warden who 'allows' Ren to still be able to use his Personas but makes it very clear he's not worthy and hurts him at times. I don't think I did this mostly because while it's proposed as Ren's POV of Stall & Crash, Ren being unstable to this degree beforehand wasn't really evidenced in that fic and I thought it might be fun to play with but also I would HOPE he wouldn't start Shido's Palace while like this. ...may work better as a completely separate fic?]

- Clean-Up the Heart - Ren calls Kawakami before realizing BAD IDEA - she gets suspicious and invents a reason for him to request her so they can talk - they have a heart-to-heart - that's it that's the fic [...lol. to add a bit more: the idea was to set this either while Ren is still playing dead, or right after he's allowed to come back to school. He really needs to talk to someone about everything that's happened but he doesn't want to place more stress on Sojiro or his teammates, so he thinks about the other confidants he knows and...Kawakami should be okay, right? He shouldn't tell her about any of the scarier stuff, but maybe he can just talk a little except he clams up as soon as she answers and hastily says it was a misdial Kawakami doesn't quite buy that as she can tell he sounds genuinely off, so she just...makes up on the spot that actually. she's a little tight for cash, and she knew she said she'd do things for him for free, but if he could hire her just one last time? and ren's just like "oh. okay. sure" she basically cleans up his room and then goes 'okay, one, I'm not actually having money problems, you don't need to pay me, and two, now I KNOW something is wrong because I lied and said I was having money problems again and you haven't been nosy about it even once. What's wrong?" and that's how she gets Ren to open up, at least a tiny bit.] holy cow this got long so I'ma do the rest in a different post I guess

[ladyluck852]

Winner Winner (Hanbin x Reader)

A/N: chicken dinner. Here I go, finally writing a fic about my ultimate bias, pls enjoy I thought this was v cute. Also, the fun cousin stuff is v accurate if your cousin is like your sibling, I have one of those and I would sell him for a corn chip...

Word Count: 3.5k

Genre: fluff, meeting the parents lol

Warnings: I put on my big girl pants so there’s the usual, cussing with the addition of some suggestive content :)

Summary: Meeting his chronically nervous girlfriends parents for the first time should scare Hanbin, but it scares his girlfriend more.

“You’re more nervous than I am. God dammit I know I should have made a move before we left the house, I think I have a bottle of tequila in my car” Hanbin fussed, not being able to watch his fidgeting girlfriend stress out without stressing himself out. He was meeting her parents for the first time, introductions long overdue by about a year and a half just because y/n could not comprehend having her parents and Hanbin in the same room. Hanbin was ready, he’d been ready like three months into the relationship, but y/n kept putting it off until her own mother yelled at her. Of course everyone thought it was hilarious, especially her cousin...

Hanbin and y/n met when Bobby decided to bring his cousin around, they were like two peas in a pod and he just wanted her to meet his best friends. Bad idea, Hanbin swept her off her feet and now Bobby was just slightly uncomfortable. Being as close as he was to the both of them, he really didn’t want to know about their personal life whatsoever, Hanbin was strictly forbidden from talking about y/n whenever he was around because he had a habit of oversharing.

“Babe, I want to leave. I don’t wanna be here” she whispered, burying her face in his chest as he tried to cover her with his jacket. He rubbed her back, her arms, played with her hair, anything to calm her down. She was always nervous and the only time she wasn’t nervous was when she was bossing him around or with Bobby, the fact that it took this long for him to meet her parents just made it worse for her.

“We’re already here. Come on, I’ll give you a massage when we get home” Hanbin said excitedly, wincing when she smacked his arm.

“A massage? You know I hate massages, is that a code word for you getting some? You’re terrible Hanbin, please don’t even mention anything like that in front of my parents” y/n groaned, ringing the doorbell as Hanbin smirked. He knew her, he knew if he acted stupid she’d go into mom mode and boss him around, get a bit of confidence. She was so cute.

“What? You don’t want you parents to know their 23 year old daughter has a private life with her boyfriend? So I shouldn’t mention that you drink either right? Or that you let me-“

“Oh, it’s you two...” Bobby muttered, grabbing y/n by her jacket and trapping her under his arm as he dragged her into the house. Y/n was whining and hitting him but to no avail, the cousin/sibling dynamic was something Hanbin would not get involved in. He just shut the door and removed his shoes, hearing yelling coming from Bobby’s mom to let the poor girl go and his poor girlfriend coughing up her lungs.

“Where’s my son in law? Gosh you’re all red what happened?” Hanbin heard a voice say, his eyes wandering all over the house as he crept through the hallway, making his way towards the kitchen, but not before taking photos of the pictures her parents had up on the wall. Lots of hilarious photos of a young Bobby and y/n in hilarious poses, bad haircuts, missing teeth. Adorable.

“Your nephew tried to choke me to death. Why is he even here? He’s so chaotic mom, why do you guys love him?” Y/n groaned, seeing Hanbin creep into the kitchen with a nervous look on his face. Everyone noticed him in an instant, he’d never felt so weird in his entire life and it was just y/n’s moms intense stare. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but suddenly she smiled and pulled him into a hug.

“Oh you’re so handsome! Wow y/n, your kids will be gorgeous”

“Mom!!!”

Y/n was back to being a nervous wreck, her hands fiddling with her shirt until it was wrinkled and Bobby lent her his sweater, but not before making jokes about her nervousness. His theory was that she was probably pregnant and that’s why she couldn’t deal with the pressure, this had resulted in her chasing him around the entire house and upstairs.

Hanbin was a good boy, sitting at the dinner table waiting for his girlfriend and best friend to settle down, trying to ignore the loud thud he heard from the stairs but silently hoping it wasn’t y/n.

“Jiwon! You idiot, my ass hurts!” Y/n was whining, Hanbin peered around the corner to see both y/n and Bobby sitting on the stairs. Well it looked like they had both fallen, probably wrestling or hitting each other like idiots, y/n was hitting Bobby and that’s when Hanbin decided to stop being nosy.

“Can you two stop acting like children, your father is going to be angry if you break something” y/n’s mom hissed, sending the children to the table. Before y/n could sit next to Hanbin, Bobby occupied the space and gave her a smug look, winning one last time as she went to sit across from them.

“Father? Your dad is here?” Hanbin asked, nervous for real this time.

“Yes, yes I am. Nice to meet you, you’re the boyfriend?” Y/n’s dad said, coming into the room as Hanbin immediately got up from his chair. Bobby and y/n laughed at him, watching his interaction when he went into proper formal mode, finally seeing eye to eye when it came to making fun of her boyfriend.

“Honey you’re so sweet, y/n hates it when I cut up her meat for her” y/n’s mom cooed halfway through dinner, Hanbin had jumped out of his seat to serve his girlfriend and everyone had watched when y/n turned bright red.

“That’s because she loves-“

“Shut up Jiwon” y/n hissed, stopping her cousin before he could make a filthy joke at the table. She was finally beginning to relax, all without the aid of alcohol or five minutes alone with Hanbin, the evening was going by so well that her hands didn’t even shake when Hanbin kissed her cheek when he was done serving her.

“Before I hear about you from you, I want to hear what my daughter likes about you. Clearly you and Jiwon are good friends, but if you’re anything like him and you’re dating my daughter I’m going to be disappointed. So y/n what do you see in Hanbin exactly?” Her father asked, skeptical of the first boyfriend his daughter had brought home to meet the family. He’d been waiting for this day, and he didn’t expect to like her boyfriend but he didn’t think anything bad of Hanbin yet.

“M-me? What I like about him?” Y/n asked nervously, Hanbin watched her hands clutch her napkin and her eyes widen and he tried not to sigh out loud. Nervous y/n was not a friend to either of them, “well he’s really nice...”

“I’m sure he is” her mom said from across the table, her spot next to Bobby’s mother certified a good view of her nervous wreck of a daughter.

“He’s really helpful and smart, um...he’s a good eater,” y/n mumbled, watching Hanbin grimace slightly before Bobby started to choke. No one really caught on, Bobby was the only one who found it funny and in turn he’d begun to choke on his food like an idiot, “he likes it when I cook, oh my gosh you’re so annoying!”

“In conclusion, he really loves her whatever, Hanbin talk about yourself” Bobby muttered, wiping tears from his eyes as his cousin glared at him from across the table. Y/n had been plotting to get rid of him ever since his first comment of the night, now even more so, if she remembered correctly Bobby was dating someone and no one knew.

“Talk about myself? Or how much I love y/n? I guess I can do both, I don’t think I am a particularly good boyfriend,” Hanbin laughed, honestly speaking but making y/n stare at her plate to avoid everyone’s eyes suddenly on her, “but y/n makes me a good boyfriend. My life is chaotic, I’m always busy, I get frustrated and angry all of the time but it seems like y/n never falters no matter what. So in turn, because she’s so supportive, I’m always trying my hardest to be the type of man she feels comfortable and safe with. Even if she is crazy I’m-“

“Don’t say it” Bobby whispered under his breath, kicking Hanbin in the leg before the both of them turned to stare at each other.

“I’m crazy for her. I love her, so I hope you guys think I’m a proper fit for her, I can’t imagine a day without her” Hanbin finished, smiling cutely at y/n who was swallowing a whole cup of water.

“This chicken is really spicy” y/n said, her whole face red as she stood from the table and disappeared from sight.

“Is anyone else touched or is it just me? Hanbin I think you should go handle your woman before she uses up all the tissues while crying her eyes out” y/n’s dad said, giving Hanbin a thumbs up. It was mostly an excuse to talk about him while he was away, but Hanbin didn’t catch on as he went searching for her. He heard crying when he passed the staircase, pulling open the closet underneath the stairs and watching y/n as she stood there sobbing between the coats.

“Harry Potter are you okay?” Hanbin chuckled, closing the door behind him as he squeezed himself into the closet with her.

“You’re so sweet, my mom adores you, I’m just freaking out right now okay?” Y/n cried, not budging when Hanbin tried to hug her.

“What’s wrong my love? Why are you crying so much? You didn’t even cry this much the first time I told you I loved you” Hanbin joked, not getting a reaction out of y/n who just buried her face in his chest.

“You’re so special Hanbin, so the thought of losing you terrifies me. And I knew my parents would love you, that’s why it took me so long, I don’t want to lose you” she confessed, not seeing Hanbin’s reaction since it was so dark and her face was plastered against his chest.

“Ah, baby, sweetheart, my love, don’t be stupid. You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, what makes you think I’d ever let you go? Do I need to kiss you to make it better?” Hanbin whispered against her ear, notoriously warm hands creeping up her shirt until she jumped.

“I’m going to choke you in this closet Hanbin” she grumbled, trying to remember where she saw the pair of random shoelaces.

“And?” Hanbin snorted, finding her mouth in the dark and covering it it with his, the both of them leaning against the wall of the small closet as he slipped his hands underneath her shirt. And Bobby’s sweatshirt.

“You can’t seduce me. They’re waiting for us” y/n whined, Hanbin ignored her as her hands said otherwise, tugging at his hair while he kissed down her jaw.

“Your parents think you’re crying your eyes out, plus I think they’re talking about me so they definitely want us there. What would you do if I-“

“Are you two DONE?!”

Y/n had never moved so fast in her life, tripping over her feet to separate herself from Hanbin as the door opened and Bobby turned on the light. Hanbin pulled y/n in front of him, giving a nervous smile as he fixed her hair and clothes.

“Shut up, she was so sad and inconsolable, my poor baby” Hanbin cooed, petting y/n’s hair as Bobby rolled his eyes.

“Her dad wants to see you. I’ll give you five minutes to get rid of your problem, y/n come with me there’s cake” Bobby said, pulling y/n with him and shutting the door on Hanbin. He sighed as he stood in the dark, banging his head against the door because now he was nervous about what her dad wanted. Problem solved.

“Do you drink?” Her dad asked, his meeting room of choice was the laundry room and Hanbin stared at the clothes spinning in the washer.

“Yes but no. No?”

“Do you want to calm your nerves or are you okay?” 

Hanbin sighed, “I’m okay, just curious”

“I’ll get to the point then. Do you want to marry her?” He asked, Hanbin felt his heart beat against his chest as he rubbed at his stomach nervously.

“Um, please? I adore her” Hanbin laughed, blowing air out of his mouth as her dad nodded.

“Do you have a ring yet? Are you certain because... I don’t think it’s in your best interest to even consider breaking her heart. You know, Jiwon would kick your ass”

“Yeah,” Hanbin mumbled, “never in a million years. I want to spend my life with her, and I did buy a ring already. I don’t have it on me, I’ve been waiting to ask you for her hand for what seems like forever”

Y/n’s dad laughed, patting Hanbin on the shoulder, “she’s a special case, nervous as hell, I’m glad she likes you”

“I’m glad she likes me too”

The rest of the night went by smoothly, Hanbin had invited y/n back to the dorms with him and they gave Bobby a ride too. Hanbin was in a tremendously good mood, cracking jokes and offering to buy everyone ice cream for a movie night, sending Bobby to the store while he kissed y/n in the car.

“Someone’s in a good mood” y/n laughed, pulling away from Hanbin who looked like he had hearts in his eyes. He adored her, she was his whole world, his pretty lady.

“I just love you so much, can you blame me?” Hanbin laughed, sitting back in his seat with a smile while y/n poked his stomach.

“I love you more! Like you handled everything like an expert” y/n said, holding onto his hand and watching him smirk.

“I can handle you like an expert”

“Shut up”

When they finally got the the dorms, it was somewhat of a frenzy, Hanbin didn’t quite understand why everyone was suddenly coming to him to solve their problems but everyone freaked out even more when they saw y/n.

“Oh hey y/n, come look at this dog I saw!” Yunhyeong said, dragging y/n away as the rest of the boys seemed to be wrestling on the floor.

“What the hell is happening right now?” Hanbin groaned, heading to the kitchen to put the ice cream away while everyone followed. Bobby helped, just as skeptical as Hanbin when Donghyuk dragged Jinhwan into the room. Jinhwan looked terrified, everyone looked terrified, he was holding his arms behind his back and almost crapped himself under the heavy stare of both Hanbin and Bobby.

“W-we found the um...the ring” Jinhwan whispered, flinching when Hanbin looked entirely shocked. Mostly because they were in his room looking through his things and he had a lot of things in there, and a lot of y/n’s things as well.

“And? What the hell” Hanbin hissed, watching Bobby walk around the counter and grab Jinhwan’s arm. It took Hanbin a while to figure out what was happening, but as his eyes focused on Jinhwan’s left hand he felt a mix of emotions. The strongest one was anger, confusion as to why the hell they’d done it.

“Cut his fucking finger off,” Hanbin muttered, everyone in the room collectively losing their shit while Bobby tried to pull the ring from Jinhwan’s finger, “are you guys insane?! Do you know I was planning on proposing tonight?  She’s literally here right now!”

“It was an accident! We’ve tried everything!” Donghyuk whimpered, terrified for his life when Hanbin slammed open the fridge and grabbed the mayonnaise.

“Oh god, no” Jinhwan whined, covering his face as Hanbin dropped some onto his hand and gripped the ring, yanking hard and nearly tearing his whole finger off. Jinhwan was practically crying at the end, everyone watching Hanbin like he was a ticking time bomb as he rinsed off the ring and made sure the diamonds were free of condiments.

“Touch my shit again...I dare you” Hanbin whispered, leaving the room and finding y/n waiting patiently in the living room, “baby, wanna go somewhere?”

“Didn’t we just get here?” Y/n laughed, watching Jinhwan sulk by and knowing Hanbin was probably a little on edge and being mean to them.

“Yeah but...let’s get out of here” Hanbin shrugged, giving her a cheesy lopsided grin when she nodded. They took a walk, he bought her an ice cream cone that they shared while he told her about how much fun he had. Y/n was delighted, trying not to fight him when he ate half the ice cream in one bite, but snuggling close to his side anyways.

“It’s cold and you bought me ice cream, seems like you’re trying to get rid of me” y/n mumbled, sitting on a bench after Hanbin and draping her legs across his lap.

“The complete opposite, I swear. I just wanted to talk to you in private” Hanbin mumbled, catching her chin between his fingers and making y/n blush.

“In private? We couldn’t just go to your room. Are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend? I don’t think you ever asked” y/n teased, scooting closer to kiss him while Hanbin stopped her. Uncharacteristic for him, he would never deny kisses, especially when there was no one around to see.

“Ah,” Hanbin sighed, shaking his head while his girlfriend got impatient. Hanbin was only like this when there was something important going on, it kind of scared y/n, “would you ever consider spending the rest of your life with me?”

Y/n snorted, covering her mouth with her hand, “What a question. Duh, do you want me to prove it to you?”

“How?” Hanbin mumbled, suddenly interested in her tone and losing sight of his objective.

“We can go home and I can-“

“Wait wait. No, now is not the time. Sit here I’ll be right back” Hanbin said, kissing her cheek before running off to god knows where. Hanbin sat at the next bench out of sight, trying to psych himself up to do this, he really wanted to but he also didn’t want to cry. He heard footsteps and thought it was y/n but it was really just garbage blowing in the wind across the way, a clear reminder of something Hanbin felt like without her...

“Okay, you were gone forever” y/n teased, watching Hanbin come back with a blank look on his face. She raised an eyebrow, not knowing what he was up to at all, his idea of a poker face usually was just a mean face. Y/n watched as Hanbin knelt between her legs, she glanced around the park with a blush on her cheeks and Hanbin just rolled his eyes as he held his hand out.

“Can we get married? I want to be your husband forever”

He didn’t know what he expected out of her, the crying definitely, the clinging yes, the public displays of affection were something he didn’t expect but he could only allow so much of it before he was tugging her back towards the dorms.

Bobby was eating ice cream alone in his room, missing his cousin and hoping Hanbin would bring her back soon to play video games when his phone rang. He couldn’t pause his match but knew Hanbin would explode if he didn’t answer so he did, “yes?”

“Please clear out the dorm, get them out of there, I’m on my way home”

“Does this mean she said yes?”

“Jiwon your cousin is seconds away from getting handsy with me in the elevator and I fear for my life, just get them out of the dorms”  Hanbin pleaded, sounding desperate in a way only y/n could make him. They were so annoying, now Bobby and Hanbin were going to be related. Now he had to take care of their kids.

“Fine. You owe me”

“I already told your mom you had a girlfriend and she didn’t kill you. Now you owe me” Hanbin muttered, hanging up while Bobby groaned, throwing a pillow at his girlfriend who was sleeping in his bed before quickly going to kiss her forehead.

“Sorry babe, we have company tonight”

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

K

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K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

oh my god how can I pick just one???? 😱 

Hmmmmmmm, the main ones I want to mention are ones I also want to keep to myself until I write them/finish writing them because I feel like they’re very unique...I don’t wanna hear if they’ve been done before cos then I won’t want to write them anymore XD

Let’s see...something I’m not super protective over....tbh I lot of my super angsty ideas involve sad/hopeless endings tbh. I’m a sucker for them.

I had a really angsty time travel idea where character A goes back in time to save Character B from dying, and they do, but then after that conflict passes, another springs up and Character B dies again. So A time travels again and saves them from that too, and lo and behold, a third conflict springs up and B dies again. And so on, A is just completely incapable of letting B die, and suffers over and over again because B’s death is inevitable and unchangeable, but they also don’t get desensitised to it cos it’s always different and they can have months and years in between giving them false hope that they’ve finally saved them. And then, ooh boy, compromised morals as they get more and more desperate to save them, until they can’t even recognise the person they are anymore and maybe Character B even ends their relationship over how much they’ve changed (may or may not be aware of what’s happening, who knows, not me)

Actually...that’s not that angsty enough that’s kind of bland and done to death

dammit

I really like angst ideas where for whatever reason, a character is going through hell in the story, suffering a lot, for a perceived purpose. I have a few ideas like this, but then when it comes down to it, at the end, their suffering was pointless for whatever reason (there are a few alternatives) and that’s like, oooh that hits where it hurts, even with a happy ending, there’s a lingering sense of just...despair, cos they could have avoided so much suffering but they didn’t notice something, or were too in their heads and perpetuating their own misery because of it etc. Those ‘what if’s man, they hurt.

The long soulmate au I wrote three years ago was like that, Draco suffering through the years keeping quiet about Harry being his soulmate (and not even Harry knew) and he was telling himself he was protecting Harry (only slightly true, but once he made the initial dumb decision he was kind of locked into it since he stupidly decided to keep Harry away by making him hate him *cue eyeroll* Draco you dumb fuck), and everything happens as in canon, but with that undercurrent of him loving Harry because they’re soulmates (but also hating him because when he starts suffering (and oh boy I made him suffer from after GoF onwards, torture and nastiness from the DE for sport and all that, and he blames Harry, if it wasn’t for Harry being his soulmate, and he feels so afraid all the time of someone finding out and using him to get to Harry and suffering even more, and maybe he’d be better and not get hurt so much if not for Harry and blah blah) and then near the end (8th year) they’re sort of becoming friends, and Draco went on a killing spree when Harry died, so he’s known as a hero now and fucking hates it cos he only sees himself as a weak coward for always running away and hiding from the DE and only fighting because he was mad with grief when he realised Harry had died and didn’t actually mean to save any of the people he saved, and he still hasn’t told Harry, even though Harry talks to him about soulmates a lot once they start talking, cos Harry still wonders where his is (papers printed a pic of his mark in 1st year so everyone knows what his mark is, and Harry assumes his soulmate just doesn’t want him) and Draco is fucking miserable, and trapped in his habit of hiding and completely incapable of telling him, so when Harry makes a move on him, Draco pushes him away because he’s so afraid XD 

I mean, it ended happily, eventually, but all his suffering, esp his angsting about how Harry would react after being made to feel unloved and unwanted for those years, and how miserable he made himself with it, was pointless and for nothing because Harry accepted him, even if they moved very slow after that to build trust (cos Harry is no idiot and Draco gave a lot away when they talked about soulmates even if Harry didn’t realise at the time Draco was talking about them)

I got so much fucking hate over that though, which is why that fic is not online and won’t ever go back online. and yeah. That actually might be my angsiest, just from the sheer pointlessness of his suffering, which was the point (lol), but very very unsatisfying for readers even though they got a happy ending, and oh boy they let me know and I was a wee baby writer only on my second fic so yah. Never written anything that angsty again actually, now that I think about it...

I mean, the technical writing of that fic was shit (no, really it was terrible) because it was only my second fic and I didn’t edit as I posted, but no one said a word about the writing quality, it was all hate for the plot and my handling of the characters and that damn ending, but everything they hated was intentional and what I loved about the idea myself soooooooooooo, awkward

Anyway, yeah that soulmate au is probably my angstiest thing, just cos the suffering has no purpose or meaning and could have been avoided if the character had just made different choices, and it dragged on for 7+ years. And it’s just delightful the way he shifts between loving Harry because of being soulmates and all the societal conditioning therein (but also knowing they’re soulmates making him really pay attention to Harry and see what kind of person he really is and all that) and then hating Harry and wishing he was dead, and then feeling overwhelming guilt for feeling that way about his soulmate, and then cycling back around to rage, and then relief to see him again after every summer of suffering, and just, ughhhhhhhhhhhhh that’s my kind of angst right there, so good.

Fuck I rambled so much. probably littered with typos and shit. ugh I’m tired I’m just gonna post it how it is XD

Send me a letter for this fanfic ask meme if you’re curious =)