#guess I have a lot more wips than I thought

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I'm feeling very Little Lies about this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So this is the reason you missed Thanksgiving," a butter knife jabs in your direction as you poke at the white turkey meat; this? You look up then at Lloyd as he nearly chokes. 

"Uh, yeah," he coughs behind his fist and swallows, "we were out of the country..." 

"Yes, why would you bother to stay. No use in seeing your mother at the holidays, or the rest of your family," she reproaches. 

"Mom," he groans. 

"For ten years," William adds from his wife's side. "Now you show your face and you look as if you're eating rotten apples." 

"No," Lloyd argues. "It's just... I'm busy and I don't get a lot of time away from work." 

"We all have obligations," Gwenyth argues. 

"Well, I took her away so I could propose," he explains as he presses his fork into the whipped potatoes. "And it worked out perfect, right? Cause now I can bring her to meet everyone." 

Gwenyth hums flatly, "I suppose." She clicks her tongue and takes a healthy gulp of wine. 

"So, Pixie," Lillian drawls from further down, "what do you do for work? Oh let me guess. A librarian?" 

You don't let the suggestion bother you. You don't see it as an insult even if she says it like one. You shake your head. 

"No, I--" you begin and Lloyd stomps your foot so you bite down on your voice.  

"She is a corporate consultant. International corporation," he explains.  

"Oh, wow, sounds busy," Gwenyth remarks. 

"Yes, how will you have time for children?" Lillian challenges. 

"I'm sure they'll find time to make them," Benson chortles over his snifter.  

"Ben, please," William rebukes. 

"We're focusing on the wedding before all that," Lloyd says. 

You peer around as you chew your cheeks in frustration. You're annoyed by how they speak of you as if you're not even there, and so intimately. Yet, you don't have much to say for yourself. This whole facade is tiresome and you really don't care what they think about a made-up job. Or marriage, for that matter. 

"That will be done with quickly," Gwenyth sniffs. "And she will need to quit that job if she wants to do her duty as your wife." 

"I can handle a job and a husband," you blurt out. 

The table quiets as if stunned that you can speak. You blink and Lloyd puts his fork down and touches your arm, "sweet pea--" 

"I highly doubt you'd be marrying him for any other reason than that nest egg promised to him," Lillian scoffs. "You don't need to play a saint with us, darling. Marriage is a transaction in more ways than one; affection, money, sex--" 

"Lilly," William warns and she laughs. 

"Well?" She shrugs. "You do know, the wedding only guarantees a twenty percent payout. He needs an heir to get all of it." She pets her stomach smugly and smiles. "I can assure you it's well worth it. Once you meet Lorelai, you'll see." 

"Oh? Maybe when you meet her, you'll consider being a mother too," Lloyd retorts. 

"Excuse me?" Lillian snarls. "I love my daughter." 

"Of course you so," he sneers. "I'm sure she feels all that love right now as she enjoys her turkey and carrots with the nanny." 

"I can't have her around adults and alcohol. You can't possibly understand," she snaps. "And maybe it's better that you never do. I could never imagine you as a father, especially when you are such a child." 

"Takes one to know one," Lloyd growls. 

"Enough," William barks. "Both of you." 

Ransom laughs loudly at the end of the table. Lloyd shifts and Lillian rolls her eyes. You sigh at your plate. You miss your family. For the first time in years, you truly miss them. 

"What the hell are you laughing at, Hugh? The only reason you're here is because your grandpappy exiled you." 

Linda gasps, "He's not exiled--" 

"Oh, right, of course not, Lin, that's why you're here breaking bread with the peasants. That's what you called us at great grandmother's wake--" 

"Lloyd, watch your mouth," William snarls. "Better yet, shut it." 

Lloyd recoils in his chair and stiffens. His features sharpen then he lowers his chin and picks up his fork. His jaw is stone as he stirs the gravy into his potatoes. You wouldn't call him humbled, more whipped like a dog. These people make you feel something for him you never thought you could; sympathy. 

"I don't care about money that much," you say. "It can't buy respect. Besides, I would never marry a man without a prenup. Whatever Lloyd has will remain his." You push your shoulders back as a yawn tickles in your throat. "At this point, he can keep you lot as well." 

You stand up and take the cloth napkin from your lap. You fold it neatly, "Gwenyth, you can tell whoever cooked dinner that it was delicious. I appreciate you all having me but I'm going to go find a hotel and some peace." You step around the chair and push it into the table, "happy holidays." 

You turn, your insides jittering. What are you doing? Where did that come from? You could say you're tired and not thinking straight, but honestly, you're just so repulsed by these people that your head could explode. They're lucky they only got a a few pieces of shrapnel. 

You march out without looking back. Your cheeks tinge hotly with self-awareness. You've messed it all up. After years of harnessing your emotions under Hansen's thumb, you finally snapped. You blew it all. 

"What she said," another chair scrapes as Lloyd speaks. "Mom, dad, good night." 

You enter the hall and head for the entry way. You hear him beside you. You're still foggy with disbelief. It isn't until you sit to put on your boots that you notice Lloyd. 

"I know, I'm done. Fired." You pull on your leather booties. "I'll take the severance and figure it out." 

"I didn't say so," he says as he grabs a coat from the closet. 

"Um..." 

"You're completely right. We can't stay here. They're all a bunch of pricks and they wonder why I didn't come home for ten years," he pulls on his coat as he speaks. He pushes back his hair then smooths his mustache. "We're better off at the hotel. We'll sleep better there--" 

"We? Lloyd, please. Stay with your family. I need space," you stand and reach past him for your jacket. "Besides, I booked a single queen and it's Christmas Eve." 

"Queen's big enough. You're tiny--" 

"Okay, no, no," you hiss. "It's not happening. Stay--" 

"But I don't want to," he whines. 

"Mr. Hansen," you say. "You're out of your mind." 

"Well, after your blow up, I don't think I'm welcome," he puts his hand on his hip. "So this is your last chance to save your job. You made the mess, you clean it up." 

"Me?" You exclaim. 

He hushes you and step closer, "Pix, you already made a scene, let's not do the encore. I'm gonna grab my bags, alright?" 

"You can't be serious." You say. 

"Hey, I gotta play the loyal husband--" 

"And why exactly is that necessary? Why couldn't you get one of those Tinder girls?" 

"Woah, woah, come on, someone will hear you," he covers your mouth with his hand and you turn your face away with a blech. "Go warm up the car. We'll talk on the ride to the hotel." 

You stare at him. He watches you, as uncertain as you've ever seen him. In the silence, you can hear the din in the other room. 

"Always was such a baby," Lillian laughs venomously. 

"He could've chosen someone without an iron spine," Gwenyth adds. 

You grimace and throw your hands up, "fine, get your things." 

"You're the best," he grabs your shoulders but before he can kiss you, you put your hand up to pinch his nose. He recoils and rubs the tip, "ow." 

"No more of that," you say as you pull your keys out of your pocket. "Thank god I only had one glass of wine." 

You stomp out the front door. The frigid winter air hits you like a bus. Once one even ground, the swirling snow flecks onto your shoulders and hair. Great, now you get to drive in the snow with an unwanted passenger. 

You get in the driver seat and push the ignition. You turn on the heater and the heated seats. At least Hansen pays enough for the add-ons. Still, you’re not sure there’s any compensation equal to what you just went through. 

You look over as the front door opens and closes. Lloyd rolls a giant suitcase with him, another smaller bag strapped on top, and a third in his other hand. You don’t move as you watch him descend the steps, easing the wheels over the edge one-by-one. 

He comes down the long walk and jerks as his loafers slip on the icy pavement. It would be funny if you weren’t so damn exhausted. You steadies himself and continues on. You should get out and help him. You don’t. 

You pop the trunk with the button. He loads in his bags as you check the rear view. He comes around the passenger side and pulls the door open. He lets out an obnoxious ‘brrrr’ as he drops into the seat next to you. You shift gears as he shuts the door. 

“Ugh, I feel so much better getting out of there,” he says as he adjusts the seat, making room for his long legs. 

“Why?” 

“Um, why not? My family is the worst--” 

“No, why did you drag me into this?” You ask as you lean into the wheel and squint over it. The dark, the snow, the unplowed roads, it’s like the universe can’t stop throwing you obstacles. 

“You want the real answer or the nice answer?” He replies. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you growl. 

“Right, I had no other choice.” 

“No other choice?” You repeat. 

“Look, those long-legged beauties back home, they’re fun, but they don’t got much else going on. I needed someone who could play along,” he explains. 

“Play along?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smart so--” 

“I’m smart...” 

“I wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t--” 

“Jeez, wow, Mr. Hansen, thank you so much. You think I’m so smart, so you should know I’m smart enough to know better than to believe you. You think I’m desperate,” you turn slowly onto the next street. “You think I have nothing else going on.” 

“No, that’s not--” he shifts in his seat. 

“It’s exactly what you think,” you huff. “Well, I do. I have a flight in...” you pause and check the time on the dash, “five hours so when we get to the hotel, I’m going to sleep and you’re going to let me. Then I’m going to catch my flight and the curtain can be pulled on this whole theatre.” 

“Your words, not mine. I don’t think you’re desperate.” 

You don’t respond. You’re tired. He just can’t leave things alone. He always has to say something. You wonder if he was truly left to his own thoughts, if his head would combust. 

“I’m actually impressed,” you says, “you held your own.” 

“Sir,” you utter. 

“It was good. Entertaining. I mean, all these years, you never once talked back to me but wow, that was... majestic, really. You didn’t even wait to see my mother’s face. Or my sister’s.” 

“Your family is weird,” you blurt out. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t mean--” 

“I mean, yeah, we probably are but I don’t really have anything to compare it to,” he says. 

You nod. He has a point. Yet, while that horde of entitled brats might explain his personality, it can’t excuse it. 

The hotel’s marquee shines like a beacon as you steer into the lot. You yawn and shut off the engine. You let yourself out and drag your feet around to the trunk. You take out your carry-on as Lloyd hovers at the other side. 

“All of your stuff, out,” you say. “I’m going straight to the airport in the morning. Checkout is ten so as long your gone by then, I don’t care what you do.” 

He’s quiet but he obeys. He takes his bags out and sets them on the ground. He pulls the rolling bag and slings his smallest bag on his shoulder. You snap the trunk shut and turn, shuffling across the icy tarmac. 

You enter through the automatic doors and cross the desolate lobby. You check in with your ID but as you look for your credit card, Lloyd flicks his between his fingers and offers it up to the clerk. 

“It’s on me,” he insists. 

You won’t argue. You really don’t trust him to leave by checkout. As you head for the elevators, he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak until you’re behind the sliding doors of the compartment. 

“You know, I’m still your boss so you can’t just order me around,” he says. 

You glance over at him. “Right, won’t happen again, sir.” 

“It could have been worse, you know? I could’ve actually had you come all the way out here just to drop off some gifts. If you think about it, you got a free dinner and some wine--” 

“Yeah, it was a great time,” you say dryly. “Mr. Hansen, I’m too tired to lie any more. Tonight was one of the worst nights of my life so no, I don’t think it could be worse.” 

The doors open and you stride out. You swipe the card at the door corresponding to the number written in the folio and let yourself in. He follows closely, nearly running over your heels with his suitcase. 

You take your bag to the bed and take out the cotton pajamas stuffed inside just for tonight. You bring them with you into the bedroom, doing your best to ignore your guest. Lloyd wanders along the wall and finds his way to the mini fridge. 

You’re in no rush to change, only to get to bed. You trade your dress and stockings for the cotton two-piece and emerge. You shove your bag and clothes beside the night table and slide under the blankets. You pull them up to your shoulders. 

“They got wine, tequila, beer--” 

“I’m going to sleep,” you insist. 

“The alcohol will help.” 

“No, it will make waking up even harder.” 

“After tonight, I think you need a shot.” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you grumble and cover your head. 

“Fine, more for me.” He snickers. 

You’re happy he can’t see the irritation on your face. You might just be better off to let him drink whatever. Eventually, he’ll have to pass out. At least, you can only hope he does. 

[pheedraws]

girl help she's having blorbo thoughts again

[cvnntagious]

♱ ⋮ fratboy!chris headcanons ⸝⸝

all my fratboy!chris blurbs, fics, and wips : here

⇢ SFW

✱ fratboy!chris who, of course, met you at a party his fraternity threw and instantly decided you were comin' up to his room at some point, even if it wasn't gonna happen that night

" y'look good "

" me? "

" yeah, you— wa's y'name? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's known all too well by girls at boston university, though, despite contrary belief, he doesn't actually entertain most of them... guess you got lucky?

✱ fratboy!chris who's BU's resident dealer, known by every fiend on campus and more

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't fuck with relationship labels whatsoever

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't mess with anyone else, and doesn't want you to either, even though you guys aren't really 'dating'

✱ fratboy!chris who has no problem letting everyone know you're his with pride

✱ fratboy!chris who would rather focus on his lacrosse career than "some shitty college romances", or at least that's how he explains it to you

" and why are you telling me this? "

" jus' thought y'should know... i'on want you gettin' any funny ideas about what we got goin' on here "

✱ fratboy!chris who avoids any conversations about the future, or anything that requires him to even think about committing

✱ fratboy!chris who constantly needs you with him, whether he's just lounging around, at practice/games, or out making moves. ironic, isn't it?

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't call you anything but mama, not even ma, no matter the occasion

" y'see how crazy you're bein' right now? mama, m'jus sittin' here, see? can't stand when y'do allat whinin' shit "

" don't call me mama right now, chris, i'm done with all your fake nonchalant ass games "

✱ fratboy!chris who, even with being admired for his outgoing and charming personality, has such a rotten temper, especially when things don't go his way

✱ fratboy!chris who always says what's on his mind - to you, his friends, random people, anyone - even if it's completely unnecessary

✱ fratboy!chris who absolutely relishes in the respect he has from not only his peers, but the staff as well. humble's simply not a word in his world

⇢ NSFW

✱ fratboy!chris who's big and knows how to use it

✱ fratboy!chris who favors doggy, but can also get down with some rough missionary

" nah, s'okay mama... we'll switch it up tonight, don't worry "

✱ fratboy!chris who likes giving, but loves receiving. the image of your lips wrapped around his length is what helps him to sleep at night

✱ fratboy!chris who's a huge hair puller and thigh slapper (as well as occasional cheek squeezer)

✱ fratboy!chris who will take any opportunity he possibly can to either roll up or puff his joints while you use him

✱ fratboy!chris who makes sure to leave marks. usually where only you two can see, but if he feels like a guy's paying too much attention to you, he'll mark you on your neck or something for him to see

" chris, it's so obvious. how am i even gonna cover this up? "

" don't cover it. i'd like to see m'try an' get in your pants again when he sees allat "

" he literally asked for the material in our class..? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's almost always down for trying something new, but isn't usually one to suggest it

✱ fratboy!chris who loves when you praise him, even if it's unintentional. simple things like "so big," or "so good," really get him going

" yeah, s'good? y'wan more of that good shit? "

✱ fratboy!chris who, to no surprise, is horrible at aftercare.

a/n : i fear this took a lot longer than i thought it would to make... but i'll be making at least one of these for each of my au's since a) i'm unmotivated/don't have time to actually write, and b) want to develop the characters (and some of their pairings) further

-love, grandma cvnty ☆!

[stevieschrodinger]

So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.

Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.

Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.

Eddie burns the envelope.

And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.

And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.

Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.

And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.

"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.

And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.

And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"

Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."

And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.

"Steve, I just...look-"

"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.

And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.

"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.

"What has that go to do with-"

Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."

And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .

"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

wip wednesday

tagged by @lemmeaskthedevil @rewritetheending @onward--upward

thanks darlins!

post 8x6 fic is finished and undergoing last edits! if you wanna be tagged when it's posted, interact with this post

“Shit,” Buck says when Eddie gives him a reprieve. “Y’re good at that.”

“Hmm? At what?”

“Kissing.”

Eddie giggles. Fucking giggles what the fuck.

Buck wants to bottle the sound. Wants to force Eddie to make it again. Wants to record it and use it as ammo in the future.

“Buck, why do you look mad about that?” Eddie asks, bruised mouth curved into a slashing kind of smile, once that could cut Buck wide open. He sort of hopes it does. Thinks about asking Eddie to try.

But Eddie asked him a question and Buck doesn’t really know the answer. He’s not mad per se, but…He can’t say he expected it exactly. Not that he expected Eddie to be a bad kisser, just–

“I don’t know. It’s just–I don’t know. I’ve kissed a lot more people than you have so I guess I’m wondering how you got this good.”

“Jesus, Buck. Ever thought that maybe it’s not about quantity?”

Buck frowns. “No.”

Eddie cackles, mirthful and amused and probably frustrated too based on the squint of his eyes. “Poor thing,” he croons, curving his back in a way Buck didn’t think possible and nudging their noses together. “Upset that I’m better than you?”

“Okay,” Buck scoffs, “you’re not.”

“Does it matter when you’re reaping the benefits?” Eddie asks, calm and collected though the rich throatiness of his voice gives him away. As does the little circling thing his hips are doing and the sweet little touch his thumb leaves behind Buck’s ear.

tagging @spaceprincessem @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @lemonzestywrites @spotsandsocks @shyaudacity @sibylsleaves @daffi-990 @queerdiazs @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @honestlydarkprincess @transboybuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @lonelychicago @bi-buckrights @monsterrae1 @absolutelybifurious @devirnis @colonoscopys @hippolotamus @dr-shortsighted-owl @hotshotsxyz and anyone else who wants to share!

[tkwrites]

Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know. 

Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue. So if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one. But it is setting up all of our off-season fics.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Summer Decisions

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Oh,” she said, voice quiet. 

“Is that not okay?” 

“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.” 

“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.

They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark. 

The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay. 

“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”

“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.” 

“Michigan? Why?” 

“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”

“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?” 

“Why?” 

“Because of us?” she gestured between them. 

“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.” 

“I can’t do that, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.” 

“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.” 

Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?” 

Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”

The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”

Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”

“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said. 

Okay then. 

“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.

“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.” 

“That’s not fair,” he said. 

“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?” 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved. 

“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.  

“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing. 

“What would you suggest, then?”

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow. 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?” 

“Because we won’t be together.”

“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?” 

“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them. 

“That’s not fair.”

He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face. 

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing. 

Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”

A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?” 

“Long distance?”

It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”

She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.

“What would that look like?” she asked, finally. 

“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”

“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”

“Probably, but —”

“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.” 

He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.” 

“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.” 

It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement. 

“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought. 

Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind. 

“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."

It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.

“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.” 

“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.” 

“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” 

“I know. I do too.” 

“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.” 

“Four,” he corrected. 

“What?” 

“Four months, I come back in September.” 

Well, that was a relief. 

“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin. 

He sat next to her, leaning in.

“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”  

“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.” 

“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?” 

“No, but it’ll be fine.” 

She shook her head. 

He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together. 

“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”

“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.” 

“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.” 

Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be. 

Quinn huffed. 

“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.

His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”

“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”

Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet. 

“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August. 

Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.

“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”

“I kind of thought you might move in here.”

“What?” 

“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.” 

She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?” 

“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.” 

Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.” 

“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.” 

“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

He beamed.

“But I can’t live here alone all summer.” 

Expression falling, he opened his mouth.

“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.” 

The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.

“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.” 

His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face. 

Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.

“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.” 

“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”

“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.” 

This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. 

Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back. 

“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt. 

Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.” 

“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day. 

“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.” 

He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.

“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.” 

Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?” 

“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.” 

She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible. 

Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again. 

The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.

“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.

Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?” 

“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.” 

His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”

“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked. 

“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.” 

“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?” 

“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.” 

“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?” 

“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.” 

Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?” 

“12,000.” 

“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.  

“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.

“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.” 

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.” 

 “So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.

“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up. 

She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.” 

She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water. 

Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together. 

Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face. 

She giggled and told him the story. 

“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together. 

“Every morning?” she repeated. 

“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.” 

Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.” 

“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.” 

His hands found her waist as their lips connected. 

A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”

Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.” 

The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.

“But they love you here.”

His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.” 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

“Its happened before.” 

“To you?” 

“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”

“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”

“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”

She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?” 

“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.” 

“How do you live your life like this?” she asked. 

He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.” 

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.

“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?” 

Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life. 

There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up. 

He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much. 

His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said. 

“I don’t know either.” 

A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.

“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.” 

He nodded, “me too.” 

Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap. 

Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers. 

The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?” 

Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed. 

As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease. 

“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself. 

“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”

A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him. 

“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.” 

Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later. 

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll. 

She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest. 

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations. 

Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him. 

“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”

Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.

“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.” 

Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[oneemasan]

"I... don't need a wish today - Being with everyone is enough."

Fairytale soiree event by @angelwishess - congatulations on 100+ followers and thank you for hosting the event, i had a lot of fun!!

this is my first time joining a fan event (and drawing an actual card for erice), design notes & clear file under the cut!

jfdghsfgjjksghfdj i didn't think i would have time to draw erice for the event any time soon, but for some reason i didn't feel like working on any of my wips today so i painted the background to relax a bit (and warm up) aaaand ended up with the card done 4 hours later - well, why not!

at the very beginning i wasn't even planning an actual background, but hey whatever happened happened alright (besides, i planned it as a r/sr, and then realized i was having a lot of fun rendering - but not enough motivation for a dynamic pose... we got an in between, i guess?)

at some point, i added firefly everywhere, and the piece ended up looking SO cluttered..... so i erased all of them except the one she's holding - and i feel like i lost a bit of what i wanted to convey, but it looks better than it did before, so it's fine!

on one side, i wish i spent more time polishing the pose, etc, on the other, damn i wanted this done today

actual design notes fr fr this time

my first thought was the yellow dress, and i was almost sure i'd go with it but still decided to do some other sketches for fun - and in case another idea popped up i don't usually ramble too much about her lore outside of dms, but the thing with erice is that she very likely doesn't believe this kind of outfit/event would suit her - since she's a bit more... brash than she'd like, among other things (read : as much as she wishes she could wear fancy dresses, she definitely doesn't feel comfortable doing so because of her usual temperament/sweet self esteem issues, kind of), so upon wearing such a dress she would probably go "wait, this is wayyyy too delicate for me, i need to change back into my usual clothes NOW"

so, i ended up going for the simple white, knee-length dress thinking it was what suited her the best - and here came another problem : it does look the right mix of formal and simple for her, but it very definitely doesn't look fairy-like, at all... at the same time, i wanted to keep the shape, to keep it simple - to have something she would enjoy wearing that would still fit the theme, so i added a butterfly pattern and transparent fabric over the dress - cute and simple enough that she can enjoy herself without worrying too much about how mismatched she thinks her looks and personality are... my daughter she's so precious to me

while i was drawing the actual piece, i ended up adding a bonus layer to her skirt because it looked a bit empty without it - it also helps making the dress shape look more.... logical lol

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Jan behind the cut; the one where Kon's soulmark isn't fake. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

The mark he’s got is just a lie, and that’s all he’ll ever have. 

“Are you hurt?" Clark Kent asks, because the asshole doesn't even have the decency to be an asshole, and Superboy feels like absolute shit. “Looks like you took a few hits in there.” 

“Uh–I guess,” Superboy says, resisting the self-conscious urge to try and hide the scorch marks on his jacket. He probably should’ve tossed it in the trash too, but–he doesn’t know, really. Maybe he can figure out how to fix it or something. The glasses were definitely a loss, but . . . maybe he can fix the jacket, if he tries. 

Like he even knows how to fix anything, Christ. 

“I’m fine,” he says again, because he’s not a crappy enough superhero to be concerning a civilian, dammit. Like, sure, he’s half-fried and feels like he got hit by a truck, but that’s not something you just tell the civilians. Especially not the civilians with press passes. 

Especially not the civilians who might be Superman’s soulmate and could tell him all about how bad you’d fucked up again the next time he came over to hang out or . . . whatever, exactly, Superman and Clark Kent do together. 

They must hang out, right? If they’re actually soulmates? Like–how could they not? If Superboy had a soulmate, he’d– 

He doesn’t have a soulmate. So like–it doesn’t matter, what he’d do if he did. He woke up with a fake mark that he was stupid enough to think was a real one at first, but that’s all he’s got. Just–that’s it. Nothing else.

So it doesn’t matter, what he’d do if he had a real one.

Clark Kent opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something, and Superboy can already hear the dude telling Superman how fucking weird he is later, and probably Lois Lane already has, and he just–he doesn’t know how he’d even explain it to– 

He needs to be normal about this, he reminds himself, and then does the most un-normal thing possible and just bolts straight up into the sky. Doesn’t even–say anything, or anything. 

He’d have been a lot less normal if he’d tried to say anything, though. 

Superboy takes off at full-speed and flies across town, and doesn't really know where he's going. Just–away, definitely. He wants to be away. 

He kinda just needs to, it feels like. 

It's stupid. It doesn't matter how far away he gets from embarrassing himself or fucking up or from Superman's probably-soulmate. It's not like it changes anything. It's not like it–matters. 

No matter where he goes, his own stupid self and own stupid issues are all ending up there too. 

Superboy ends up on top of a skyscraper, not exactly hiding up it but maybe not not hiding up it. He just–that's where he ends up. He sits on the ledge, and looks down at the cars passing on the street stories and stories below, and thinks about nearly getting Lois Lane killed and embarrassing himself in front of her and Clark Kent and being, like–stupid. 

Stupid enough to think he’d have ever had a soulmark. There's clones who do get them, he knows. Like–that's a thing. 

But he was supposed to be Superman, not anyone of his own, so he should've known better than to think he'd be one of them. 

He glowers down at his boots, then rubs the arm of his stupid scorched-up jacket that he doesn't know how to fix across his nose and mouth and just . . . 

Then he hears a familiar rush of air, and his first reflexive thought is fuck.

Superboy looks up to find Superman hovering in the air, like, a lousy ten feet away. Not even ten feet away. He tries not to cringe or look as pathetic as he feels, but he's sure he looks pretty fucking pathetic anyway. His jacket’s a mess and he's a mess and he fucked up something simple again and– 

“Kid?” Superman says with a concerned frown, floating in and down a little closer. “Is everything alright?” 

“Uh,” Superboy says, and then has the very weird thought that–like, maybe Superman isn't here to tell him he needs to be more careful or try harder, maybe he's . . . maybe he just came to, like . . . check on him, or– 

He crushes down that stupid thought, because what the fuck, like he's a fucking–like he's an actual kid or something? Like he can't take care of himself? Like he's really enough of an entitled dumbass to think that Superman would waste the time on that when he's got a whole city and a whole damn planet full of people without superpowers to worry about, and Superboy’s just, like, minimally scorched because of his own stupid fuck-ups anyway? 

And like, upset, he guesses. But that's also because of his own stupid fuck-ups. 

Fuck, he really is pathetic. 

“Yeah, all good here, man,” he says, and forces the usual grin he wears when he needs to look, like–confident, or whatever. Maybe it'll even work, if Superman doesn't pay too much attention to the scorch marks or how frizzy his hair probably is. “Uh–what's up?” 

Also, like, what the fuck are you even doing here? he doesn't ask, though he's kind of wondering about it. If Superman was anywhere near Metropolis when all that shit in the bank was going down, why wasn’t he in the bank? Like, Superboy is not egotistical enough to believe that Superman would not have gotten involved in that situation, with how bad a job he’d been doing at managing it. 

Honestly, on a day like today, he would’ve appreciated the back-up.

[itsmemuffy]

When I published my first post, wanted to keep the momentum going. It was my goal to post weekly and well.... it's been two weeks ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I abandoned all my little drabbles to focus on a full-length fic that is becoming waaay longer than I anticipated. Thought I'd post a little WIP Wednesday to make sure I don't go back into the ether. Can't wait to have this one finished, I've been having a lot of fun writing it.

Contents: Original Trilogy! Logan x fem reader, naive reader, obsessive Logan, suggestive content, Charles makes an appearance

Summary: You keep everything running as smooth as possible in the background while Professor Xavier keeps a very full plate of locating mutants, running the school, and leading the X-Men. A steady stream of mutants come and go through the mansion, but a certain one in particular makes it his mission to nestle his way into your life.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for Logan. He's the type of man that goes where he wants to go- and waking up in an infirmary on a small hospital cot after being round up like some sort of animal was not on his list of things to do that week, to say the least.

For all intents and purposes, his next plan of action was to get away from here as soon as he possibly could and get back to the life he lived on his own terms. His only home and form of transportation was totalled somewhere in the Alberta wilderness, sure, but he already had experience starting over from nothing.

When he first met you, a cute little thing diligently running errands to what was perhaps the one man who could have his answers, you immediately piqued Logan's interest. So sweet and so kind, and Charles put his trust in you?

He had barged in like he owned the place on you and the professor scheduling out the upcoming semester in his office. Charles appeared to have already gotten used to this type behavior from him. "This, my dear, is Logan. He will hopefully be joining us now."

Oh... so is he planning to stick around? You ponder as you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning onto Charles' desk with your hip. Logan immediately came off as brooding and dismissive, and he didn't seem like the type to settle into a place beaming with so much activity. Regardless, you extended your hand out to him as you told him your name.

It took him a second to register the gesture. He only now noticed how lost in thought he was, eyes caught below your neckline. With a clearing of his throat, Logan reached a hand back to you to shake it. The most formal of ways to greet someone, yet the feeling of your delicate fingers grasping his rough palm caused his mind to wander again. He forced himself back to reality.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around" Logan remained aloof in speech, hoping you didn't notice the way he devoured you with his gaze. He decided to promptly remove himself from the room, searching for the privacy to be alone with his thoughts.

A few interactions after your initial introduction, Logan started to feel something beyond sexual curiosity. You made his heart race, you made him nervous.

Not a single detail went unnoticed by Logan. The way your hips would sway, how you parted your hair, the lipstick you wore, the softness in your voice whenever you greeted him, your scent.

Life kept throwing change in Logan's way, morphing his way of living into something unrecognizable to him. For the last however many years (boy, is he ever bad at keeping track of time) he had filled them with isolation and taking whatever cheap pleasures he could find. Now he finds himself surrendering the space in his mind to a woman he barely knew. You brought warmth and light into a cold, dark place.

No, this wont fly, he thought to himself. The fact that he was losing control over the dynamic between you made him very uncomfortable. Logan made it his mission to learn more about you. If he could just figure you out, he could take the reins over again.

The two of you would always acknowledge eachother in a group setting. The tiny smile Logan would throw your way whenever you caught eyes made you weak. You couldn't help but to want to know more about him too. A rugged man who was a stranger not too long ago was showing you consideration? A man who nobody knows where he's been, what he's done, how old he is? It kind of racked your brain, but you tried not to let it trip you up.

Oh, but he would catch you trip up. It wasn't lost on Logan the times you entered a space with him in it, seemingly to forget what you came in there for. Maybe you were a little ditzy- your mind often racing too fast that you couldn't catch up with yourself, but it had happened too many times for it to be a coincidence. At least, that's what he told himself.

He replicated your behavior, scouting you out amongst the mansion. It wasn't hard for him to find you. Your trail had become so much bolder to his senses, overshadowing anybody else that could be in vicinity.

Logan always found what he was looking for. Excuse after excuse slipped easily from his lips. Obvious to everyone else what he was doing, you earnestly took the bait every time without fail. He marked the first time he had a conversation with you alone as a significant victory.

"Hey, didn't see you there. Have you seen Charles around? I need to talk to him." He had cornered you in the library, watching you read for a minute or two before making his presence known.

You flinched up in your chair, "Jesus Logan, don't sneak up on me like that!" The yelp that initially left your lips was definitely a sound he would remember next time he's alone.

"Sorry, doll. Didn't mean to scare ya," he chuckled.

The upset you felt towards him for breaking your flow state lasted but half a second. You couldn't be mad. After all, whatever he needed Charles for must of been important.

"No, Jean and him are off chaperoning a field trip in the city. He should be back sometime this evening."

Logan let out a little "hmph", trying his best sound to sound disappointed. Inside he was estatic he finally caught up to you again. Now with no one else around, his mind flooded with possibilities on how this could go. The odds of you immediately throwing yourself at him weren't zero, were they? If he were to take you and bend you over the table right this very second, there was a possiblility you'd let him... right? God, am I really this desperate? he thought.

After letting a moment hang in the air, he sat down next to you in the ajacet seat. "So, what are you doing here all by yourself? Got nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon, huh?" Good idea, Logan, change the subject.

"You're one to talk," your focus was now one hundred percent on him. Thighs spread as he lazily leaned back in the chair, rolling his head ro the side. To say he wasn't beautiful like this would be a lie. You've rarely seen him this relaxed. "Aren't you here too?"

"Huh." Logan did not anticipate you to call him out like that, "I guess you've got a point."

An awkward silence sat between the two of you. You pretended to divert your attention back to your book, not letting him escape the corner of your eye. Logan lit up a cigar he fished from his pocket. He desperately needed something to do with his hands.

"This is a library, you know that right?" You chide him after an annoyed sigh.

"Oh, is it now? I thought all these books were just for decoration." His lips sucked in another drag.

"Very expensive books, Logan. There's plenty of perfecly fine places to smoke around here if you just look."

He got up from his seat, "Then why don't you show me around, darlin'? Open my eyes a little." You couldn't quite tell if the pet name was to belittle you or to be affectionate. A hand reached out to bring you to stand. "I'll let you lead the way."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: another week...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Bucky leaves, you feel less than relief. It’s easier to breathe without him around but your heart continues to race. You don’t move until you see him drive away. You steel yourself with the manufactured lie before you go back inside. 

As you do, you’re surprised to find Roxie beside your mom, both of them close to the front window. You sigh. Were they watching? You guess you can be thankful Bucky hadn’t done more than talk. 

Your mom faces you with a sheepish grin, “so... did you get it?” 

You look between her and your sister. Roxie has her phone in hand and an arch in her eyebrow, “I’d die for a boss like that.” 

“I...” you glance the screen before she can hide it. Oh. She had a picture of him pulled up on Google. So, they both know exactly who he is. 

“He must be really hands on if he came all the way down here to offer you a job,” Roxie tilts her head. 

“That’s the sign of a good boss,” your mom insists.  

“Really, I think his eyes were the kicker. So blue.” 

“Rox,” your mom nudges her. “A man like him, he’s got line ups, I’m sure. Besides, she’s too young for him.” 

“Well, I’m older,” Roxie smirks, “maybe she can get me a job too.” 

“Er, uh,” you wring your hands, “I should start dinner.” 

“You didn’t say if you go the job,” Roxie challenges. 

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “I got a job. Just cleaning.” 

“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” you mom assures as she comes to you. She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Mom,” you try not to look pained as you return her smile, “it’s nothing. Really. A cleaner.” 

“We all gotta start somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Roxie scoffs, “most of us a lot sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” your mom lets you go to spin on your sister, “don’t rain on her parade.” 

“Whatever. I’d rather hand out flyers than clean toilets,” she rolls her eyes. 

You purse your lips and shy away. You feel worse that they believe you so easily and why wouldn’t they? No one would think that someone like you would merit such a preposterous offer from a man like Bucky. You still can’t really believe it. 

Maybe it’s just some twisted hallucination. You could wake up tomorrow and be just like you were before. You never thought you would long for that but now, being alone, being the loser, that feels safe. Being noticed, being someone, that’s terrifying. 

🃏

You take your time making dinner, a brief escape from reality. The distraction keeps you busy enough that your chest stops thrumming, yet your nerves are still spastic. You’re not very hungry once it’s done but you make yourself eat. 

Roxie heads off for work shortly after you gather up the dirty dishes and your mom goes to change into her pajamas. She startles you as you scour the pan you used to bake the chicken. You splash yourself and hiss. 

“Sorry, hon, I was just coming to check on you,” she leans against the counter, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?” 

You shrug, to fraught to answer. 

“You get restless, I can tell. You do everything just to keep from fidgeting,” she says, “it’s going to be okay. You’ll be just fine and you’ll see, it’ll be nice to have your own money.” 

“I know, mom,” you murmur, turning your face down to the sink, “it’s not that I don’t want to work, I just... I guess it’s the change that freaks me out.” 

“Change is good, even if it’s scary,” she says. “You’ll see.” 

“Mm,” you hum and try not to shatter, “I just want to help out.” 

“Hon, you worry about yourself. Please--” 

“No, I owe you.” 

“Owe me? I’m your mother. I just wish I could give you more,” she smiles and squeezes your arm. “If you’re not some busy working girl, we’ll celebrate on my day off.” 

“Sure,” you accept grimly. 

She leaves you and you’re silent as you finish up the dishes. You put them away and wipe the counters. When you finish, you shut off the lights. You say good night from the doorway and retreat into your room. Tomorrow. That’s all he said. That’s the only detail you go before he strolled off. 

You grab your phone and fall back on your bed. All you want is to lose yourself in a fic or a discussion board or even just scrolling mindlessly. You can’t. It’s like he’s taking over everything. There it is, that little icon you rarely see, a new message.  

You pull down the menu and stare at the preview. Two hours ago. You’re surprised he didn’t show up to check why you hadn’t answered. Again. You will at least need to send something before the night is over. 

‘Hey doll. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning at nine. Just bring yourself.’ 

You shudder and stare at the blue bubble around the text. Oof. Nine? That’s early for you. You suppose it’s about time you break that bad habit. 

‘Sorry. I was making dinner. Nine is good. Thank you.’ 

You hit send and put your phone down. You slide your laptop across the bed and open it up. You’ll watch something. That old BBC drama you found on the free streaming service has been pretty interesting, but you think you only have one episode left. That’s good, you can’t be up all night. 

Your phone buzzes. Shoot. Alright. You can do this. You have to get to it. You swipe up your phone again, surprised to find it’s still shaking.

Oh no. He’s calling! 

You panic and nearly hit decline before you manage to drag your thumb the other way. You put the phone to your ear, unable to muster even a squeak. What do you say? 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky’s voice drawls from the speaker, “hope I didn’t interrupt dinner.” 

“No, er, we’re done.” 

“Ah, and are you alone?” 

You frown, “yes?” 

“Good, good. Isn’t that sweet of you, cooking dinner for your family. That’s what I like about you. You take care of those you love.” 

You gulp. You don’t know what to say. 

“What was for dinner?” He asks as you hear a soft rustle. 

“Um, chicken and potatoes,” you answer bluntly. It’s an easy question. 

“You’re not busy or something?” He wonders. 

“Uh uh,” you shake your head even though he can’t see, “I’m just... in bed.” 

“Early night, huh?” He asks. 

“I guess, I was going to watch a show.” 

“Right, right,” he clicks his tongue as something taps followed by other indiscernible movements, “you in your pajamas? Bet those are cute?” 

“Not... yet,” you croak. 

“Mmm,” he purrs, “I just got out of the shower.” 

“You... did?” 

“Getting ready for tomorrow,” he explains, “gotta admit, I’m a bit impatient. You’ll see that about me, doll. When I want something, it’s hard to wait.” 

“Uh, oh...” you stutter out. 

“For you, I can,” he vows, “doll, do me a favour.” 

“A favour?” You echo thinly. 

“Mmm, yeah, I want you to get in your pajamas and send me a picture. Just to tide me over,” he coaxes. 

“A picture?” You open your eyes wide and gape at the wall. 

“Sure, just a taste. I wanna know what I should imagine next to me when I lay down.” 

“What?” You squeak, shocked by his insinuation. Imagining you?! 

“I can’t help myself. It’s lonely here.” 

“I...” you pick at your lower lip, “one sec. I... I gotta...” 

You put the phone on the bed and push yourself off the mattress. You trip on your own feet and hope he can’t hear you stumbling around. Your pajamas are kind of silly. You don’t really have any sexy ones. Maybe if he sees them, he’ll change his mind. 

The only matching pair you have have snoopy on the top and a large check bottom on the pants. You fish them out and change. It’s okay. He can’t see you at that moment. Still, it feels like he is watching you. Just as his presence has lurked around you all day. 

You go back to your phone and fumble around, “sorry, I... just... figuring out the camera.” 

You hear his timbre but can’t make out his words from the small speaker. You open the camera app and flip the camera. You move around, trying to take the pic, and lean the phone on the top of your dress. You angle it and mutter to yourself as you struggle to set the timer. 

You take several pictures before you’re not entirely discontent. You look awkward in all of them. The pants, like all your pants, are too long and gather around your feet. You don’t know how to pose either. Quite frankly, you look frightened in every single one. 

“Alright, I think...” you babble and find your way into the conversation and choose the least egregious frame. You hesitate and close your eyes as you push your thumb down on the arrow. 

You bring the phone back to your ear, “are you still there?” 

“Always, doll,” he assures and once more, the phone shifts around noisily. “Mm, Snoopy? I like it. More of a Woodstock myself but... Mm mm mm, you look good.” He pauses as you wriggle and your cheeks burn hotly. “Sexy.” 

“No,” you burst out without thinking. 

“No? You don’t think I’m telling the truth?” 

“I didn’t... say so, it’s... just pajamas,” you sniff, “sorry, I didn’t mean to argue.” 

“Doll, relax. Thing about you, you don’t even have to try.” 

You don’t reply. You have no idea what to say or even if you should believe him. You saw the picture, you look in the mirror every day, you know what you are. It still feels like some weird game. 

“Here, gimme a sec,” he says from his end. 

More rustling and the noise of a digital shutter. Your phone vibes shortly and you pull it away from your cheek. You squint at the screen as it lights up and an image buffers in the conversation. 

“Huh, uh, it’s not loading. My phone is--” you nearly swallow your tongue and gasp. 

Oh gosh. It’s a picture of him in almost nothing. Just a towel. His long hair is damp and pushed back and his dark beard contrasts his bright blue eyes as he aims the lens of his phone at himself in the mirror. His stomach is ridged with muscle, his chest trimmed with hair that trails down, and the towel hangs low, giving a generous hint of his pelvis. The vee above the fabric feels overly salacious. 

“Doll?” You hear the low tone of his voice and make yourself look away. You raise the phone again to your ear. “Everything okay? You got really quiet.” 

“I...” 

“You like what you see?” He asks coyly. 

You put your hand to your forehead, your flesh is fiery. It’s so much so fast. Just that morning, you’d convinced yourself you would never see or talk to him again. And now he’s sending you pictures like that and... flirting with you? 

“Yes,” you eke out then cover your mouth. He snickers and you clear your throat before you peel your hand away, “sorry, I mean... you’re... you... you must work out.” 

“Doll, you’re too adorable,” he says. 

You don’t say a word. You’re mortified. He knew you saw that. He knows you’ve seen him like that. He sent it! 

It’s all too much. You’re lightheaded. You rub your chin and shiver. 

“I should... sleep.” 

“Mm, me too,” he says, “hopefully I dream of you.” 

You giggle nervously, “really?” 

“Sure, doll. All I can do is dream. Until tomorrow,” he sighs, “and what about you? You gonna dream about me?” 

You squeak and stammer, “I... I... I...” 

He laughs again, “you really are so cute in those pajamas.” 

“Please,” you blurt out, “delete it.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” He challenges. 

“I don’t... know.” 

“I love it,” he insists, “you’re not deleting mine, are you?” 

“N-no, no, I’ll keep it.” 

“Hm, good,” he intones, “it’s all for you so don’t you go showing me off to all your friends.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Promise, I won’t.” If only he knew you don’t have any friends to show. 

[nicestgirlonline]

sneaky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Summary: You and Bucky decide to keep your new relationship a secret with somewhat disastrous results…

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: Here’s my entry for @the-slumberparty week 2 challenge blast from the past! I don’t really have an old WIPs, I was trying to jumpstart my writing again with this sleepover. So here’s a little sequel to dumb dumb, since you guys really really seemed to like that one! Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome! <3 

part 1

That Valentine's Day was possibly the best night of Bucky’s life. He had finally gotten to express everything he had been feeling for you. Friday night bled into Saturday morning, neither of you getting much sleep. The months of yearning and pining all finally erupted into passion, lust and love.

Saturday morning quickly became Saturday afternoon, with lots of pillow talk, telling each other little secrets about yourselves, sharing childhood stories. A simple Postmates order and quick text to Steve meant no one to bother you, and no reason for you to leave his bed. 

Saturday night, or what Bucky was calling round two became Sunday morning and that brought about a little thing called the Sunday Scaries.  

Amidst the bliss and happiness there was a lingering thought that kept bothering you. The two of you lounged in his bed, enjoying each other's quiet company, the moonlight of the early morning making the room glow blue. 

You bit your lip. Time to rip the bandaid off. Real life was going to be starting too soon again. 

“Bucky I’ve been thinking…about us.”  

“Really? Me too.” He started to pepper your face with kisses. “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can have fun with my girlfriend.” You giggled as he started to tickle your sides. You wiggled your way out of his grasp. You propped yourself up on your forearms and did your best to put on your serious face. Which was very hard when Bucky was being so cute. 

“I mean it! I’ve been thinking, maybe we should keep this private? For a while?” You tried your best to keep your voice soft, the face Bucky made broke your heart, which was what you were afraid of. He looked extremely scared. 

“What’s wrong, what’d I do? Was girlfriend too soon? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, ” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close against him. 

“No, no, you’re my boyfriend now.” You assured him. You took his face in your hands and he leaned into your palm in relief.  “I am really excited to be with you but we do work together. And there’s HR and office gossip and I don’t want that to affect us when we are still figuring out us. I guess I’ve never really thought about the power imbalance between us.” 

Bucky nodded albeit a bit reluctantly.  He untangled his arms around you so you were both lying on your side looking at each other. 

“I mean…I understand. You know I don’t really think of myself as a big superhero or something, but it is a ‘power imbalance’. Does it…bother you?” He asked scratching his face to avoid eye contact. You sat up, suddenly very confused. 

“What are you talking about, I’m the scientist who’s studying you? I’m the one abusing my authority here. It's all very unethical!” You exclaimed. 

“I don’t feel taken advantage of here, Doll. If anything, people are going to think I’m taking advantage of you.” Bucky chuckled. 

“Why?”

“I’m a bit older than you. I’m sort of famous for not so great reasons. I’m also literally more powerful than you?” He held up his left arm as if to show you proof. You dismissed it with a hand wave. 

“You don’t know that you’re more famous than me. I’ve been published in many academic journals.” You pointed out. Bucky shook his head. Gosh he liked you so much. He couldn’t even believe this was really happening to him half the time.  

“There were weeks of press coverage for my trial.”  You just rolled your eyes at that. Bucky was always so afraid that everyone saw him as a villain, but you’d never once felt any sort of danger from this sweet man. 

“Well, agree to disagree. But I still think maybe for the first two months we should just keep it quiet. So we don’t have to worry about anyone but each other. Just lowkey.” He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Yeah. You’re right, you’re totally right. We will keep things low key.” 

X

“Hey Steve, uhhh we’ve got a problem.” Bucky rushed into the breakfast room, thankful that Steve was the only one there. Steve queried his eyebrow at his panic stricken best friend. 

“What’s up Buck?” He asked. Bucky, seemingly slightly out of breath grabbed the side of the cabinets, he closed his eyes to try and get his 

“So you know how I told you about…on Valentines Day…and then we…so the weekend was…” He waved his hand to emphasis his pauses and Steve nodded along.  

“Of course,  I’m happy for you two, Bucky!” He said brightly, of course this must be some sort of post confession bliss the two of them were in making his friend act so strange.

“Well that's just the thing. Did you…tell anybody else about it?” He asked, his voice a bit strangled and his tone grim. 

“Uhhh was I not supposed to?” Steve asked, his face falling immediately. 

“Can you answer my question?”

“I told Sam about it. The two of you have been dancing around it for so long that we’re all just a little excited for you.” Steve started to explain but he could practically see the fury radiating off of Bucky in waves. His signature death stare was fixed on him. 

“Look, I really appreciate the um, support for my relationship. But here’s the thing, she doesn’t want anyone to know we’re dating.” He ground out, his teeth still clenched. “So we are going to be low. key.” 

“Look who it is. We were about to put out a missing person alert .” Natasha had slunk her way into the breakfast room, her voice dripping with self satisfied condescension.  “Getting provisions for the love nest?”

“God damn it, you told her too?”  He cried out. She shrugged, innocently looking away. Bucky grabbed his head, he was going to throttle Steve. 

“Oh come on, Y/N loves Nat. I figured she already knew.” Steve held his hands up in surrender, the captain certainly hadn't thought this was how his morning was going to go. Bucky turned his attention back to the super spy who was a bit too pleased with the unfolding drama. 

“Nat, did you tell anyone about this?” 

“Please, I’m a spy. I don’t just go around giving out important gossip with nothing to gain.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Romanoff!” He snapped back. 

“I’m still a bit confused why she doesn’t want anybody to know? Is that a modern dating thing, not telling people you’re dating?” Steve asked. It didn’t make much sense to him, what exactly did she think was going to happen if people found out? 

“She just doesn’t want the gossip and the pressure of everyone knowing about us to color the beginning of our relationship.” Bucky explained but his tone belated his true feelings. He absolutely did not want to keep this a secret. “So I told her I wasn’t going to tell anybody but I forgot I already told the biggest blabbermouth on the team.”  He quickly turned back to anger at his teammates. 

“I’m not the biggest blabbermouth…hm crap wait I forgot, Clint knows too.” Steve closed his eyes, wincing, ready for the smack upside the head he sorely deserved. 

“Loose lips sink ships asshole! ” Bucky was exasperated. 

“I didn’t know this was top secret information!” Steve countered. 

Nat stayed at the breakfast bar watching the two super soldiers argue, it was amusing but she had her limits. She had to intervene before Bucky had an aneurysm. 

“It's not so bad, we can do damage control. Tell Sam and Clint to keep quiet about it.” Nat said before taking a sip of her coffee. “And Wanda.”

“AND WANDA--” Steve looped an arm around Bucky’s waist before he could lunge at Natasha. 

x

Bucky Barnes: Hello Sam,  I am texting to inform you that Y/N and I are NOT DATING and please disbelieve the rumors to the contrary. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: please learn to text like a normal person

Sam Wilson: You know I saw you making out with her in the elevator on Friday right? 

Bucky Barnes is typing…

Bucky Barnes: Sam, please disregard my previous message and meet me in the training gym on level 5 ASAP. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: You don't have to sign your name I know it's you 

Sam Wilson: forget it

Sam Wilson: yeah I’ll be there

X Something wasn’t quite right. Your love life had never been better, Bucky was an amazing boyfriend, it was all you could do to not spend all of your time with him. The two of you would meet up after work hours and spend blissful hours back in Bucky’s apartment. But the rest of your work life, well it was starting to feel like people were avoiding you. 

Like the other day at lunch, you were sitting across from Bucky which wasn’t too unusual, you had been friends before you were seeing each other. The very tips of your shoes were touching, a special little secret way of holding hands. The two of you were discussing movies that were coming out, a totally neutral non flirty conversation. But then Steve walked in, looked at you then immediately spun on his heel and walked away. You furrowed your brow. That was a bit weird.

Or when you had bumped into Bucky at the gym on level 5. It had actually been a happy coincidence, you decided to do some yoga as you sorely needed to stretch your body out after being hunched over a microscope all day.  Bucky had been working out with Sam, Bucky lifting weights with Sam on the treadmill. You waved to the two of them and made your way over to say hi and Sam without saying a word jumped off the treadmill and started to jog out of the gym. 

Even Nat, which hurt the most, flaked on the movie night you’d wanted to have in the TV room. Then it was the domino effect, Steve dropped out then  Wanda and Vis dropped out too and soon it was just You and Bucky. 

“Oh nooo. What are we gonna do, watch the movie by ourselves? Just the two of us?” Bucky whispered in your ear as you were pouring popcorn into a large bowl. He grabbed you by the hips and waggled his eyebrows at you. You let out a little sigh and snatched the bowl before heading to the TV room.  You weren’t in the mood to flirt with him. The tv room was ready for what you had thought would be a big group. The lights were already dimmed and there were plenty of blankets and pillows around. 

You and Bucky settled next to each other on the couch. He grabbed a big fuzzy blue blanket and draped it over the two of your legs. He gave your leg a little squeeze beneath the blanket and winked. You just let out a sigh and grabbed the remote to fire up the Roku. Bucky frowned, this was certainly not what he thought their movie night would be like!

“What’s wrong Bambi? You seem down.” He asked, concerned. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his body. You let him cuddle you, resting your head on his chest 

“It just feels like all of our friends are avoiding me. I mean I thought we were friends. Co-workers I guess, you know I’m not great at reading people.” You sighed and buried your face in his chest. Had you grown more annoying these past few weeks ? He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking up at him. 

“Honey, you’re great at reading people, don’t let your insecurity tell you otherwise. I’m not really a people person anyway so I was excited that it was going to be just us. Nobody’s avoiding you I promise. Want to just reschedule this night?” He offered. 

You shook your head. Rescheduling wouldn’t make you feel any better. Besides it was nice to be able to spend time with Bucky out in the open like this.  You still felt like your friends were all acting weird, but you trusted Bucky enough that you decided to let it go. 

“Well since it’s just you and me, we still have to watch The Princess Bride.” You relaxed into the couch, already pulling it up on the screen. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

X

You were working away in the lab, it was a little past lunch time but you simply couldn’t stop in the middle of your project. You could push yourself just a little bit and finish this in time to actually leave at a normal time tonight. You had a date tonight. You smiled to yourself. A secret date.

You were deep in the process, so much so that you didn’t even notice the secret date, arriving hours early in the lab. He gave your sides a squeeze making you yelp. You spun around to see your smirking boyfriend. 

“Bucky! Um, what are you doing here!” you asked, trying not to sound too excited. 

“I'm here to help you out with those samples you had requested from me.” He projected his voice around the lab. But it was for the benefit of no one, you were the only two there. You smiled, happily playing along. 

“Oh right! Those samples I requested.” 

“Those spit samples.” He grabbed the back of your head and crushed his lips to yours in a sloppy wet kiss. You slapped his chest as you pulled away from him giggling.

“Ew! Bucky, that's so gross, why would you say it like that!” But you couldn’t stop giggling. He smiled, clearly feeding off the laughter. 

“You’re the one who wants us to have this clandestine affair, I’m just trying to keep up appearances.” 

“"Why are you even here? You’re a little early.”

“It's my lunch break and I wanted to say hi and give you a kiss.” He took  one of your hands in his. You reached out and grabbed his vibranium hand as well so you were holding both. It made his heart flutter, how unperturbed by his arm you were. When he was with you it was like he was just a normal guy.

“Hi.” He murmured, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Hi.” you breathed back. This time when your lips met it was sweet and soft. He slowly moved his lips against yours, you opened your mouth just slightly enough that his tongue could slip inside and ---

“So I’m pretty sure the Erskine notes were in here.” It was Bruce! Bucky felt a sudden rush of fear. Bruce wasn’t one of the inner circle who would just pretend not to notice their closeness. They could actually get caught!  

You quickly as hard as you could pushed Bucky away and he clamored backwards. You wiped your mouth, hoping somehow that would disguise yourself. Bruce poked his head in.

“Just looking for the Erskine notes. Uh, everything ok in here?” He took stock of each of you, freshly shoved apart. 

“Yeah, just leaving!” Bucky cried as he raced out of the lab. 

“I’m indifferent to him leaving! I’ll go grab the notes for you Dr. Banner!” You raced to the file cabinet not looking at anything but the ground. 

Bruce cocked his head at the strange interaction he just encountered. 

X

“Good morning Bucky!” You greeted cheerfully as he entered the breakfast room in the morning, Steve and Sam in tow. “Morning Steve! Morning Sam!” You quickly added as they filed in. As not to raise suspicion. 

“I get a good morning? Wow. Don’t I feel special.” Sam said with a smirk. 

“I say good morning to everyone. I’m just a morning person like that. How are you doing Sam? I feel like you’ve been so busy, I barely even see you these days.” You asked, trying to sound casual. You still felt like everyone was acting so weird around you. 

“Oh you know, mission after mission. None of them were in Hawaii either, it's all been Nepal, Siberia, whatever frozen wasteland they can dump me in.” He sat down next to you. You nodded along as he continued talking about his missions, eager to connect with your friend again. 

“Good morning troops. Ah and good morning Beaker. Didn’t think I’d see you this early on a Monday.” Tony Stark, sunglasses still on, his closes wrinkled like he’d just come in off a jet. It had been awhile since he was on at the Compound.  

You hoped you weren’t blushing at the comment. Bucky had talked you into another Sunday night sleepover, you were trying to be subtle about it but you were a morning person, it didn't make sense to pretend to show up later.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you at all Mr. Stark. It's been awhile, since you’ve hunkered down with us mole people in the lab.” You always had a professional but good natured relationship with Tony. He was your boss after all, which is why you found it a little weird to call him Tony. 

Tony let out a chuckle and started to make science small talk, about the lab and the projects you’d been working on. 

Bucky and Tony were not great friends. They had buried the hatchet, sure, but it wasn’t like the two drank beer and watched the game together. Cordial coworkers are best. 

Except Bucky didn't feel very cordial with Tony right now. Considering he had taken the only open seat next to you. He gruffly sat down at the table next to them with his coffee. 

You wanted to invite Bucky to come sit with you, or go over to his table, but that would probably be a bit too much for just friends. You peered over Tony’s shoulder to your grumpy boyfriend darkly having breakfast. You tried not to make it too obvious and still listen to his anecdote about building a mini laser. 

The two of your eyes would catch more often than not. Quickly turning back to whatever they were doing. Tony picked up on this immediately, he looked over his shoulder

“What do you keep looking at?” He spun around to look directly at Bucky who was frozen in place.  “What’s going on here? Are you two fucking or something?”

It was like everything happened all at once.

“Tony -- out of line.” “Uh HR?” “No no no you misunderstand.” “Which one of you told Tony?”

Everyone burst into action, all speaking over each other.  Wait what? You swung your head from pleading with Tony to your secret boyfriend.  The three soldiers froze. Sam took a deep breath. 

“I’ve had enough of this! Nobody told Tony. You two idiots are just so obvious that anyone could see it.” Sam said. As soon as he did Steve let out a huge sigh of relief, his shoulders rolling forward like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.  

“I won’t have this, no way, not on my watch. Y/N. My beloved employee. With Mancurian Candidate? Under my nose, in my own lab?” Tony said indignantly,  putting his hand over his heart as if he was scandalized. 

“Tony! That’s really not very funny. You shouldn’t call him that.” You said your face a hard frown. and Bucky felt his heart burst with happiness. But then your gaze turned to him and he felt your icy stare.

“I--I can explain. You see I had actually texted Steve before we decided to be lowkey. It was before so really if you think about it. I didn’t do anything wrong. And Steve and his big mouth told a few people. But it’s just the people in this room. And Nat. And Clint. And Wanda. But that’s all.”  Bucky tried to explain to you as best he could. His eyes were pleading, he felt weak in the knees. You remained silent, your arms crossed. 

“Yikes, you’re in troooouble.” Tony taunted. 

“So basically everyone! Everyone I see on a daily basis. I can’t believe this. So they’ve all known the whole time?” You looked at Sam and Steve who both sheepishly nodded. You turned back to Bucky, you let out a shaky breath. People knew, and nothing bad had happened. Your friends had actually gone out of their way so you two could have some privacy.  “Well I guess there's no point in keeping this up then.”

“Hm?”

“I'm having breakfast with my boyfriend now, so if you don’t mind gentlemen.” You grabbed your breakfast bowl and moved your chair so you were sitting next to Bucky. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lap. 

“Ugh, I'm nauseous you two are so fucking cute. Guess that’s my cue.  Come on, Commandos, take a hint.” Tony got up signaling to the other two who also rushed out of the room, more than happy to get out of the tense atmosphere. Once you were completely alone, you finally spoke. 

“I can’t believe everyone knows. Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

 Bucky let out a deep sigh. 

“I mean I kept it a secret from some people. Tony being one of them. I just…I wanted to give you what you wanted. But I mean to be completely honest I did want to tell everyone. I’m all in.”  

“I’m all in too!” You cried clutching his hand and kissing his knuckles. “That's why I wanted to try and slow things down so I couldn’t mess anything up. Now it just all seems so silly. I tried so hard to be sneaky too!” 

He took his hand off yours and gave your thigh a squeeze. 

“I mean…we can still sneak around sometimes. If you want. ” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “I mean, I had plans, Doll, a lot of plans. I was fully prepared to take you on every inch of that lab table.” 

“Sergeant Barnes! ” You gasped. “I think we may be a bit too loud for that level of sneakiness.” He took your chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb down your lip.

“I’m sure we can find a way to keep you quiet.”

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

A big ol' fuck you to @rmd-writes for the tag xoxo

1. How many works do you have an AO3? Lol. Lmao even. 289.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 914,620 on AO3, but that includes co-writes as well as things I've podficced where the fic and pod are in the same work. My actual personally-written wordcount, per my Batshit Spreadsheet, is 771,819.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly RWRB these days, though most of my back catalogue is Schitt's Creek. Also The Pairing and various other things scattered about.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Kinda think that I might be his type aka Alex and Bea fake date coming in at the top spot, which will never not bewilder me. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely fic!! But I am always surprised that it was a few hundred more kudos than:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), the Much Ado actors AU. My magnum opus, my beloved.

We were supposed to find this - baby's first soulmate AU and my first RWRB fic. The brainrot really took hold with this one lmao.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, in which Henry takes 'open mouth insert foot' to a whole new level.

Warm like the glow that you feel head to toe, the age gap fic with older Senator Alex and younger Prince Henry. This is probably the only one in my top five that really surprises me, considering age gaps are... divisive.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always always always.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I mean I did write that one MCD fic in Schitt's Creek, though I maintain the other five parts in that 5+1 are in fact angstier than the MCD ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Uhhhhhhh, the rest? The Doylist answer is any of my fics where the HEA is literally forever rather than 'till death do us part'; so, the Schitt's Creek afterlife AU and the RWRB zombie!Alex AU. (Is that all? Am I forgetting one?)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yeah, sometimes. Weirdly, more through tumblr anons than on the fics themselves? A lot of them I just delete, sometimes I'll give them a bit of a public scolding etc. Frankly at this point if you come into my ask box to be a cunt on anon I'm going to assume you have a public humiliation kink and will indulge you accordingly.

9. Do you write smut? Who's to say.

10. Do you write crossovers? I'm more inclined towards a fusion than a crossover (love a good media fusion) but I did write a short RWRB/The Pairing crossover for VoiceTeam.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Someone did ask recently, so we'll see!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? HEAPS. @ships-to-sail is an ongoing collaborator, but I also did a bunch of "each write a chapter" type collabs in Schitt's Creek. Currently co-writing something truly fucking incredible with @indestructibleheart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? IDK if it's a WIP by the strictest definition, but every day the likelihood of the SC kink!verse series being completed slips further away lol.

16. What are your writing strengths? Rae, you're the worst.

Smut, I guess? Giving people new kinks, apparently. Character voice. Also a very specific type of world-building where I explain nothing because the characters already live in that world and let y'all infer how it works, which came up a LOT on one of this year's Kinktober fics in particular and led to my spouse saying "okay so you're basically the Brennan Lee Mulligan of tree fucking", which is sure not a sentence I expected to ever be directed towards me, but here we are.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Anything original, apparently. Good thing I didn't quit my job to be a writer or anything OH WAIT.

(In all seriousness, though, I am genuinely shit at, like, plotting. And action sequences.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If it makes sense for the character, sure! I'm enlisting someone who speaks it for anything more complicated than, like, a pet name - I've seen what Google Translate tries to spit out for my second language and therefore don't trust it lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for? terf queen mcgee's property.

20. Favourite fics you've written? The RWRB fic specifically based on the episode The Husbands of River Song from Doctor Who. Hands down the best thing I've ever written.

I also fucking LOVED the Much Ado actor AU. My love letter to Shakespeare and theatre and queer joy.

-

Tagging @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @notspecialbabe @orchidscript

@piratefalls @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! 

[tgmsunmontue]

I never knew I was missing you 5/? WIP

Jake is just trying to find a connection. Shame the guy he connects with the most is lying about his identity online; because he sure as hell isn't A-list Hollywood star Bradley Bradshaw.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR

PART FIVE

                They have a date. Legitimate plans with an actual day and time to meet in less than two days’ time. He doesn’t get why he’s so nervous, because they can clearly talk each other’s ears off, and find each other attractive. But there’s the fact that Bradley could have anyone. Jake’s never been one to lack when it comes to self-esteem or confidence, but he’s pretty sure he’s allowed to feel a little intimidated. He’s good at what he does, but he isn’t rich and famous. His lifestyle and career don’t lend themselves to being a present boyfriend. Not that he’s ever really tried before.

                He’d said he was looking for something a bit heavier than a one-night stand, but he’s not sure what he and Bradley are going to achieve in under four weeks when his leave is over. He guesses they’re probably going to have to talk about it, which leaves his stomach feeling unbearably queasy. Trying a relationship with a normal person has never worked out for him before, trying one with someone whose lifestyle is so vastly different from his own, that can only be more challenging. Not that he ever backs down from a challenge, but…

                Shit.

                He’s going to end up spiraling. What he really needs is to talk to Javy, have someone to either bring him back to Earth or slap some sense into him. Maybe both. Except he doesn’t want to share the fact that he’s been talking to the real Bradley Bradshaw without checking with Bradley first and he hasn’t even gone more than an hour without wanting to call him. Maybe a message is better, won’t disturb him if he’s busy doing something. Although, if what Neil had been grumbling about Bradley has been haunting his own house and mooning over his phone.

                Mooning over Jake.

                Okay. Maybe things aren’t as dire as he thought. What is Mama Machado always telling him, not to go borrowing trouble?

>>Can I tell me best friend about you?

                He goes and makes himself something to eat, refuses to stare at his phone just waiting for Bradley to answer. It buzzes on the coffee table and he lets himself ignore it for all of ten seconds before he’s rushing to pick it up, can’t help the grin when he sees it’s Bradley messaging him back.

>>Didn’t you already?

>>Yeah well, but now I can tell him it’s actually you. For real.

>>Oh. Yeah. Of course. Tell him I say hi.

>>Okay?

>>Only polite.

>>I want your friends to like me.

                Jakes snorts and then he’s flushes with the realization that Bradley thinks this, whatever it is, is going to last long enough that they’re going to meet each other’s friends. Sure he’s meeting Bradley at his house, and meeting Neil and Callie because they live with Bradley, but… Okay. He’s no longer catastrophizing everything in his own head. Bradley is worried about making a good impression. That’s fucking adorable.

>>They’ll like you fine. Probably think you’re too nice for me.

>>Well.

>>They’d be wrong. I can be an asshole when I want to be.

>>I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

>>Me too. 36 hours or so right?

>>Yeah. Bring an overnight bag.

>>I have plenty of spare rooms.

                Jake’s grinning at his phone, his reflection distorted in the screen and he doesn’t fucking care. Bradley has a lot more to lose than him and he’s just laying it all out on the table.

>>And if I don’t want to?

>>Don’t want to what?

>>Sleep in a spare room.

>>Is it the sleeping part or the spare room part you’re having issue with?

>>Both to be honest.

>>Well, I’ll see what I can do about those when I see you.

>>Well, now I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

>>Good. I’ve got to go, Neil is making me do a workout and says I’m wasting precious seconds talking to you.

>>Go. Don’t want you getting in trouble.

>>Yeah. Not like he can ground me, but he does know where I sleep.

                Jake bites his lip and feels like he’s so glad no one can see him right now, because soon he’ll also know where Bradley sleeps, will be sharing the space with him. His stomach has gone from feeling queasy to sheer unbridled excitement, the adrenaline high of knowing something good is coming his way. He feels a lot more settled having had the brief conversation, his cheeks aching a little from the fact he’s been smiling so much. He thumbs through to Javy’s contact and presses the call icon.

                “Jake. Hey man. Everything okay?”

                “Yeah. Everything’s great. Fine. Peachy.” There’s nothing on the other end but silence and Jake pulls a face, because he does actually mean it, and he doesn’t need Javy to talk sense into him any more, but he does want to share this new development with his best friend. “How are you?”

                “I’m good. Waiting for my best –”

                “I have a date with Bradley Bradshaw,” Jake interrupts, unable to hold back.

                “Uh… you mean the guy pretending to be Bradley Bradshaw right?”

                “No. The actual real one.”

                “Jake. I can’t tell if you’re trying to take the piss or you’re actually meeting up with this weird guy you’ve been chatting with…”

                “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Both. It’s both. Wait. No it’s not. I’m serious. The guy is actually Bradley Bradshaw and we’ve been, uh, you know, chatting, for the last couple of weeks…”

                “Chatting? Flirting you mean…”

                “Yeah. And more.”

                “Oh holy shit… wait. How do you know it’s actually him?”

                “Video call. And then another video call…” Jake supplies, thinking back to

                “I… don’t think I’m going to ask for details.”

                “Good call,” Jake says with a slightly hysterical laugh, because he hasn’t felt this happy in a while.

                “Holy shit. Are you serious?”

                “Yeah. I was kind of freaking out a little. Not any more.”

                “Oh my god. You really like him…”

                “So what if I do? I just…”

                “Yeah. He already likes you back. Enough to be chatting with you for over two weeks.”

                “Yeah.”

                “So, you need to stop freaking the fuck out. He already likes you.”

                “Yeah, he does… but I’m not freaking out. Not anymore.”

                “Only you though. Getting a date with a Hollywood star through a fucking dating app. Pure dumb luck.”

                “Pure talent all the way through.”

                “Yeah. Talent for bullshit.”

…            …            …

                Bradley has to work, interviews and some media appearances which is why they’ve had to delay meeting until tomorrow. He’s been gifted with Bradley’s home address, surprised to find it in Capistrano Beach, which makes him less than an hour away. It means Jake doesn’t have to fight through LA traffic. He adds it to his list of questions he wants to ask, although it’s behind the list of things he wants to do. Of course, he’ll follow Bradley’s lead, but if it’s up to him he’s going to shoot for the stars. Or this one star in particular.

                A knock to his door startles him, because he’s not expecting anyone, plus he’s in temporary base housing so it’s not like a lot of people know where he is. He opens it to find Maverick standing there, peering at him through the screen door which Jake pushes open with his other hand.

                “Maverick. Hi. What are you doing here?”

                “Just thought I’d pop in and surprise you…”

                “Uh. Okay. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?” Jake offers, stepping back and watching with a little confusion as Maverick takes his boots off and shrugs off his jacket.

                “What have you got?”

                “Uh… not a lot to be honest. Some beer or water?”

                “No bottles of vodka or whiskey lying around?”

                “Uh, no. Sorry?”

                It’s not even midday. Why the fuck would Maverick want vodka or whiskey. Hell, even beer at this time of day is unusual.

                “Hmm. So… what have you been doing during your leave so far?”

                Jake opens his mouth, blinks, shuts his mouth.

                “What?”

                “What have you been up to?”

                “Just… hanging out. Why?”

                “No… drug fuelled orgies or parties which you don’t remember the next day?”

                “What the fuck?”

                “Huh. Kids these days are so boring.”

                “Mav, are you okay?”

                Surely Mav is too old to be having a midlife crisis? Jake wouldn’t know, not being that fucking old.

                “I’m good. Fine. Just… thought I’d come and get to know you better.”

                “Uh…” Would it be rude to ask why? And why it was alcohol and drug fueled parties he asked about first? “What did you want to know?” Jake asks carefully.

                “Did you know I have a godson? Little bit older than you.”

                “No. I didn’t know that.”

                “Do you have a good relationship with you parents kid?”

                Jake grits his teeth and reminds himself that Maverick doesn’t mean to be disrespectful by calling him kid. To Maverick he is a kid probably, and he just said he had a godson older than Jake. Also Jake does not have a good relationship with his family and he really prefers not to talk about it.

                “No. I don’t. They’re… it’s complicated. Lets just say it’s best if I don’t darken their door.”

                Maverick’s eyes snap up at that, he sees a flash of something, wishes he knew Maverick better so he could figure out what it was.

                “Is it the gay thing?”

                “Definitely doesn’t help,” Jake sighs, wonders where the hell this is going and is suddenly linking it with the alcohol and drug fueled orgy questions and he pulls back slightly. “Uh. What’s with you? Why the sudden interest?”

                “Oh. Well. Cards on the table I guess. I was thinking of setting you up with my godson.”

                “Oh. Uh… Thanks but…” Jake starts, already shaking his head.

                “He’s a good looking kid –”

                “Mav, I’m kind of… not available.”

                “Really? Since when?”

                “Uh. It’s new, but I’m… really looking forward to seeing where it goes.”

                “Really? Who is it? Do I know them?”

                “This feels sort of weird, you asking me all these questions. But no, you don’t know them.”

                “Hmm. Interesting. Come on kid, let's go get some lunch and you can tell me all about it.”

[mangodoodles000]

Remember Me, Remember Me Not…

Hihihi, this is an au I have been working on for awhile now. The above is just concept art I made for the idea, but if you want more details then feel free to read below !!!

RMRMN au is about Missa and his job as grim reaper

Well… at least he thought that’s what his job was at first. His title would soon be revoked after Sir Reaper found a better replacement to take care of the mortals/life on earth

After a few moments of sadness, He would soon be taken to his newly assigned job.

As you may know, the grim reapers job is to collect the souls from earth and make sure that they make it to the afterlife on time, but what happens when the soul finally reaches the afterlife? That’s where Missa comes in, for his job is to make sure the soul finds eternal rest. (I’m still working on a name for his job)

His job sounds easy at first, but of course there are some challenges. Memories are what make a soul for what it is. The more happy memories the soul had in its lifetime, the easier it is for the soul to reach eternal rest. Not all souls have many happy memories, which leave them restless with anger and fear. Sometimes it is possible for an angered soul to find eternal rest but it’s very rare. If a soul can not find eternal rest, than it is bound to be reincarnated into a form of rage on earth (explaining why monsters exist in the over world)

The way he helps souls find eternal rest is in the afterlife itself.

The afterlife is just a mirror of earth (or the entirety of qsmp in this case) but it’s a wasteland. Every building feels like it’s been abandoned even though on the other side, it’s probably still in use. The only kind of life that exists in the afterlife is nothing but the souls that are brought here and Missa (or at least he thought…).

Missa would guide these souls to a place that seems familiar to them or that would at least bring comfort in a way. Once the soul finally feels at ease, it will go to sleep for one last time and fade to dust afterwards

——————-

That was a lot of writing rhesgshakahsgsjsn

If you made it down here, then I hope you enjoyed reading all of that

This is still a wip but it’s close to the idea I want it to be so I guess that’s a good sign.

I’ll keep adding more to the story when I have the motivation but for now enjoy what I offer

[meyerlansky]

for wip title meme - Stalag shit pretty pls!

tagging @sluttyhenley and @redbelles since you guys asked about it to AND ALSO

bell you're getting called OUT 😈

sooo this is actually the first thing i started writing for mota and it was an unclog-the-pipe kind of idea and is self-indulgent with regards to wanting more bucky whump. i may actually never post it in totality for... a couple reasons, but i actually did a fuckton of research into how the stalags were run and kriegie culture inside of them, so it was a good exercise on a lot of levels even if it never sees the light of day. because it's sort of backburnered, that means i feel more comfortable posting BIG CHUNKS OF IT 🎉 but uh, that said, this one IS going under a cut because in addition to there being a lot of it, it's. dark.

cw noncon and psychological torture, you can probably guess where this is headed. the structure i settled into with this one is gale POV for the first part, wherein Something Is Wrong With Bucky:

Bucky shrugs, a quick, smooth shuffle of his shoulders that’s as big a lie as what’s coming out of his mouth. “Krauts get a little rough sometimes. Nothing anyone else didn't get.”

“They didn't do anything to me,” Gale says, every word feeling heavier than the last, pulling him down. “Just asked me some questions.”

Two things happen then. Something in Bucky’s face twitches, a flinch stealing over it so quick Gale barely catches it. But his shoulders drop, just a bit, some tension leaving him. Gale for the life of him can’t make sense of it.

“‘Course not, Buck,” Bucky says, light, easy, like Gale doesn't have a pit the size of the Atlantic opening up in his gut, cold flooding in. “Who'd wanna damage that pretty face of yours?”

From any of the boys, there might be some bitterness in it—it’s not like Gale doesn't know some of the goons cut him a break, ’cause of rank or coloring or whatever else. From John there’s just… relief. It feels wrong. The pit yawns wider, and the water gets higher. “Roughed yours up, though,” he says, the words feeling distant as he remembers the black eye John was sporting, that first day. The way John had grabbed his chin, tilted his head around, looking for something. Something like the beating he got, maybe.

That's what Gale had thought at the time. Now he’s not so sure that’s where it ended.

Bucky’s eyes go dark again, as distant and near-drowned as Gale feels, so he claws his way back. Tries, anyway. “Yeah, well,” John mutters, “better me than you.”

and what's wrong is not only was bucky sexually assaulted post-interrogation, but the guards told him they did the same to gale when he passed through the dulag, and he spends months beating himself up about not being there and being able to take it instead of gale, until he says something about it and gale's like ??? and bucky realizes it WAS instead but now gale KNOWS. second part's bucky's POV of the assault, so it's not chronological, and maybe it doesn't need to be shown/written at all but i wanted to because i like whump.

He’s got a headache the size of Texas, blood��his own, his own, not some kid in a cart’s, they let him wipe that off, so what's left is just his own, thank Christ—itching as it dries behind his ear, and a pit in his chest every time he thinks about Bremen and London and Russelheim and the way the woods smelled when he was running through them, clean and green and endless—

The door slams open, and Bucky gets two seconds to berate himself for jumping, for being so in his own head he didn't hear them coming, before one of the goons grabs his arm and yanks him up, spinning him to face the wall. Turns his head to the window on instinct, but the light spilling in catches him off guard and sends a new wave of pain spiking through his skull.

“Heya, fellas. Couldn't get enough, huh?” He shoots over his shoulder, hands up but grinning like nothing’s wrong, like he’s back at Thorpe Abbotts joking with the boys.

(Later on, he’ll wonder if that was what did it. If he’d just kept his eyes forward, his mouth shut, if they’d have—)

and the third part's gale POV again, after their little yard spat and is........ kind of recovery? inasmuch as one is capable of recovering while still stuck in a POW camp and going crazy with fear because no one takes your warnings about needing to get the fuck out seriously, and also your best friend punching you in the face is the most normal you've felt in almost a year:

“I’m sorry.”

The noise that comes out of Bucky’s bunk is barely human, a snarl more suited to Meatball, or the Kraut’s dogs. “You’re sorry,” Bucky snarls. “You are a real piece of work, Buck.”

He rolls over, kicks his legs out of the bunk, boots on, to glare up at Gale. “Saint Cleven,” he sneers, and he’s just pissed and it's nothing Gale hasn't heard before, but it still stings a bit. “I pick a fight and you’re the one who's sorry.” His eye’s already swelling up, purpling a bit at the edge. Again. Gale’s stomach roils looking at it. “It’s not bad enough that’s the first time you’ve treated me like normal—”

“Hittin’ you ain’t normal,” he bites out, before he can stop himself. He scrubs his hand over his eyes, just for a second, and when he looks back John's anger has dimmed a bit, banked coals instead of the inferno.

“It’s better than whatever the hell you’ve been doing the last few weeks.”

How’s that?” Gale says, sharper than he means to. Whatever he means, there’s nothing better in hurting Bucky. Not when he’s already had plenty more than his fair share.

“You won't touch me, Buck!” It’s hissed through John’s teeth but it hits him with all the force of a baseball bat to the face. It sits between them for a moment, heavy.

“That's not true,” he mutters, but there’s no strength in it, and John barely dignifies it with a scoff.

He tries again. “I didn't think you’d want…” He trails off, feeling stupid even as the words come out of his mouth. Bucky can't go ten minutes without slinging his arm around a pal’s neck, a clap on a shoulder, an elbow in someone’s side to get their attention. He couldn't, anyway. Before all this

“The hell d’you know about what I want,” Bucky snaps, like he doesn't wear every thought on his face clear as day. “I'm damaged goods, I get it, but I’m not some china doll—”

“You’re not damaged goods,” Gale shouts, the words bursting out of him like water from a burst pipe and loud enough to make John flinch back, shock all over his face.

sooo yeah! that's stalag shit! if i do ever get it done, i think it'll need some revisiting on the characterization, but honestly probably not that much. it is however the only purely-clegan wip i have, which means it would probably do better than alllllllll my other stuff even WITH the caveat that it's dark content. which is very funny to me in a bitter sort of way.

[yourloveaton]

Same anon from earlier who requested the info dump

So does anyone ever figure out who Trickster is??? And what does Snowdin (or wherever he lives) think of him???

His design is so crunchy and squishy and I LOVE IT he’s just a fella ur honor he’s just a fella.

Hrmm !! I still haven’t thought up this far yet, but I did think Gerson could’ve figured it out in one glance at Trickster and he would’ve laughed and joke about it while Trickster’s surprised out of his poor soul when he just wanted to buy stuff from the shop HAHAHA

Other than that, I don’t think many monsters figured his identity out (since he’s very careful with keeping his identity hidden, he uses his mask a lot when there are too many monsters in the area around him) other than some of the dog guards that were on duty at that era, I’d like to think Trickster and the older generation dog guards (maybe some of the the current ut dog guards) had a good relationship with each other and actually worked well together!

For Snowdin, Trickster is a local hero, troublemaker that they don’t know much about but have probably seen him at the distance before, some complain about him, some admire him, some roll their eyes away from him, some just want to curse him but also thank him for the tricks he pulls and the help he gives and hahaha so much more! What’s common is that they all love him in their own way hahaha (I’m still thinking about it, It’s still pretty much a WIP hehe)

I’m glad you like his design! I tried to make him look cool but cozy at the same time, with that mysterious but also mischievous look I guess?? IDK LOL I rlly tried to make him look whimsical at times :’D He’s just a fella fr hehe..