#i realized that not a lot of people actually read the SR AU... maybe like one of you are caught up or whatever i don't know

[epickiya722]

I had an idea for a poll pertaining to my AU since I was curious as to what the results of it would be but given past experiences and coming to the realization about some things I decided to not to.

[phantomato]

Uber

Nottmort (Tom Riddle/Nott Sr.), Modern Muggle AU, ~2k words

Thanks to @yletylyf for kicking around this idea! Tom drives an Uber in the Bay Area. Thoros & co need a ride.

—

Abraxas and Orion are bickering over luggage in the background when your Uber pulls up. Black, of course, so it’s a Mercedes that will smell a little too much like leather cleaner when you get in, but none of you have ever ridden in an UberX or, god forbid, an Uber Pool, and you’re not about to start.

Your colleagues—never forget, you are not friends, no matter how much time you spend with them—slide into the back seat before you can even begin to help load bags into the trunk. You’re left alone with the driver, and though he offers to help, you haven’t let yourself sink that low as to make this man pile all of your shit in his car while you sit around and watch. And anyway, it feels like the polite thing to do. More than Abraxas or Orion, you’ve been raised to be polite.

So you fold yourself into the front passenger seat, too kind to push the seat all the way back and give yourself the leg room you need even if Orion, behind you, is just 5’8 to your 6’3, and smile at the driver as he confirms your destination.

He’s pretty. You’ve been in a lot of Ubers and you’ve never seen a driver this pretty. Is that classist?, you wonder to yourself, remembering something you read in Vox the other day. Probably. Nevertheless, you’re taken by the curve of his mouth, the sweep of his dark hair, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at Abraxas who you know must have also noticed.

“Traffic to SFO will be busy,” he says regretfully, and you roll your eyes. Orion refuses to take the early morning flights, unwilling to wake at 3 AM, and you’re always stuck with these long, miserable Uber rides down from the city to the airport. “And Terminal 2—right in the middle of it. There’s construction around those doors, if you haven’t been there—”

“We know,” Orion butts in rudely, shutting up your driver for the few minutes it takes to get out of your neighborhood.

You use those few minutes to swipe through your phone. Email—nothing important. Messages—you clear the notifications. Your Instagram is alight with people reposting the same infographic about voting rights and you make a mental note to kick some money to that non-profit that’s been all over Twitter lately. You close out apps and end up back at Uber, watching your car’s laggy progress through the San Francisco streets. Your driver’s name is Tom, the app informs you. It’s a nice name.

You clear the side streets and Tom offers amenities. “If you want any water, there are bottles in the cooler between the seats,” he calls back to Abraxas and Orion, “and mints in the cup holder. You can adjust the air conditioning if you like, and there’s a charging cable attached to the back of my seat if you need it. Would you like to choose any music?”

“No,” Abraxas says, and whether he means the music or the entire spiel doesn’t really matter, given his withering tone. You look back at him, trying to convey ‘Be nice’ with just your eyebrows, but Abraxas is fussing with his hair and ignoring you.

Tom’s one of the chipper ones, it turns out, because he takes the rejection in stride and shifts to the dreaded personal conversation. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Ah, we invest in companies, mostly start-ups,” you say, trying to avoid—

“Venture capitalists!” Tom guesses, and he’s right but you hate the term and its connotations. So what if you are all white men whose family money has bankrolled tech speculation? It’s what anyone with half a brain would do. You donate, you read the liberal news—at least, you think that’s true for all of you, though Orion was friends with that Republican mayoral candidate and Abraxas’ father sponsors that conservative think-tank and…

Ah, fuck. “Yeah, pretty much,” you agree, hating yourself.

Behind you, Orion digs his AirPods out of his pocket. You hear the snap of the magnetic lid as he closes himself off to the world. Abraxas is slouching, the hem of his third-favorite cashmere cardigan catching on the seat behind him, and you realize that you’re alone in this conversation.

Well, fuck it. If those two pricks are going to make you call the Uber, deal with the reimbursement paperwork, and sit in the front seat, you’re going to talk to the driver and make this car conversation as painful as possible for them.

As if reading your thoughts, Tom does the one thing that guarantees a terrible ride: he pitches his app idea.

“You know, I’m also a software developer,” he says, which is at least more promising than when someone isn’t, “and if I had the kind of funding that companies like yours provide, I would absolutely make this app.” He proceeds to describe something completely inane, the type of exclusive, niche social networking app that hasn’t had legs since before the Trump presidency and you would be content to let him drone on, to let Abraxas keep melting into his own seat and to let Orion channel his anger through a knee driven into the back of yours, but—

But for all that Tom’s idea is stupid, he has the energy of the best pitches you see. His energy is infectious. His eyes light up, he gestures with one hand, and when he stops to take a drink (one of those water bottles with a built-in straw, which you associate with joggers and your lamest employees but which does very different things to you when it’s Tom’s mouth wrapped around the top) you’re transfixed by the wet sheen over his chapped lips.

And so, yes, maybe it’s mostly lust, and maybe this is a sign that you need to download Grindr again, even if only to jerk off to the dick pics you’ll get, but you start to actually talk to him.

“There’s no future in niche social networks,” you say, halting Tom in his tracks. “There will always be new ones, don’t misunderstand me, but the broader landscape is saturated by the top names, and they’ll buy out their competitors if they need to. Perhaps you can topple Tumblr, but that’s not a path to profit. If you want to impact the social market, you need to pinpoint the novel interaction model that you want to offer and make yourself buyable.”

“Buyable,” Tom repeats, like he’s never been interrupted before. He probably hasn’t. The first rule of Ubering around the Bay Area or the Valley is to never engage the app pitches, and Orion has started kicking your seat for your transgression.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “You want to be bought out and brought in at a high level. The giant that eats you may or may not use your idea, but you’ll make a comfortable sum as a consolation prize.” You’ve helped companies through this before. You’re flying out to New York this week in part because one of your investments is considering purchase offers and you want to strategize in-person. The founder is dallying, sending emails about independence and integrity, and Orion will bully him into selling while you and Abraxas negotiate the best terms for the contract.

You can feel Tom’s eyes on you. Abraxas might be calling “Thoros…” from the back seat, and Orion might be attempting to annihilate you with his gaze alone, but you’re smiling at that handsome face behind the wheel and hoping for an accident on the 101.

Unfortunately, you make it through San Bruno without running into more than the usual level of traffic, and Tom’s pulling up to your terminal much sooner than you would like. Abraxas and Orion jump out of the car with uncharacteristic speed when it stops, Orion even moving to stand by the trunk in readiness to take his bags. You delay.

“Do you have a business card?” you ask, when it’s clear Tom’s waiting on you.

He fumbles to pull a wallet from his jeans. You can’t quite get a view of his ass as he does, but that doesn’t stop you from looking.

His card is bent at the corner, printed cheaply, and probably from his last job. You’re pretty sure that company doesn’t exist anymore. Tom taps the phone number. “I can be reached here,” he says smoothly, but his professionalism cracks when he adds, “by call or by… text.”

You know what sort of texts you’d like to receive from him.

Pulling out your own card case, you hand him your card. “Text me,” you say, your voice just this side of appropriate, “any time.”

Tom visibly swallows and jumps out of the car. You take your time getting up, and if your cashmere sweater—Margaret Howell, not that Elder Statesman piece of shit Abraxas is wearing—ends up in the footwell of Tom’s passenger seat, well, you’ll be back in SF next week, won’t you?

“Thanks for the ride, Tom,” you tell him as you take the handle of your luggage, letting your fingers brush his. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Yeah,” he nods, and you don’t care that Abraxas is snorting behind you, he’s been judging you this whole trip and he lost out on a hot guy’s number as a result. “It was…”

“Thoros,” you interrupt him before he can ramble and psych himself out. “My name is Thoros, and I really would like to hear from you.”

Tom looks at you then, and you see him pull together the same sureness that drew you into his initial pitch. “I’ll text you about the app.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it.

—

Bonus:

“You know,” Abraxas drawls as you sit in the United club lounge, gesturing lazily with his overpriced airport Fiji water, “if you tip him too much it’s like you’re paying him for sex.”

Orion looks up from his phone then, removing one earbud for the first time since he put them in. “I’ve paid more for sex with less attractive men.”

“Welcome back,” you say, “I didn’t realize you had paid any attention.”

“Someone would need to not have eyes in order to miss how hot that Uber driver was,” he bites back, returning to his phone.

“Well, I’m tipping him extra anyway,” you announce, confirming Tom’s five-star rating. Should you write a review? Is that too much?

Abraxas, with a grumble, declares, “I’m telling Alecto not to approve this expense.”

—

Bonus bonus:

Your phone buzzes at the end of dinner, the celebratory affair to close the sale which someone had insisted must be at Lilia, even though Abraxas doesn’t eat carbs and you would have preferred to grab a slice at Scarr’s rather than haul out to Williamsburg, anyway.

It’s Tom. Of course it’s Tom—you’ve been texting all week, and between a few late-night flirtations and one very bald statement of interest, you’ve got a date set for when you’re back home. You’re going to Mensho Tokyo, since he lives in the Tenderloin and you live… vaguely around the Tenderloin, at least, you tell people you live there when you want to seem cooler, and Tom is the type of guy that makes you excited to stand in line for hours to get seats. You’re already thinking about whether you might put your arm around him while you’re waiting, and you unlock your phone to see what he’s saying now.

It’s a picture message.

A picture of Tom, wearing your Howell sweater and no pants and oh god oh fuck—

“Was that Uber driver’s dick?” Abraxas whispers, next to you, and you curse your luck. “Remind me to call the next Uber, Jesus Christ.”

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.1

The Recruitment

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock x reader (no SR x MM x r)

Word count: 2120

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. Every hero has an origin story. Yours not soall that great. One more reason not to mention it during the first face to face meeting with DD. ...right.

Warnings: mention of death, mentions of violence, swearing, fluff, mild angst…?

Story Mastelist

────── ·❆· ──────

“No, no way. I’m not doing it,” you exclaimed resolutely, spinning on your heels.

Heavy, yet somewhat gentle hand fell on your shoulder, turning you back. You bit your lip and looked up at your boss and the closest friend in one person.

His eyebrow was raised in challenge. “Are disobeying your orders?”

You could hear his light teasing just like the serious note in his tone. And of course, Captain America’s authoritative voice was unmistakable. You just gaped.

“It’s a waste of time, St— Captain,” you bit back wryly and he made a disapproving face.

“Don’t pull that out, you know I-“

“Yes, Captain?”

His expression turned annoyed at the interruption and your snarky tone.

You knew you were being cranky, but trying to convince Daredevil, freaking Daredevil, the patron not-exactly-saint of Hell’s Kitchen, was not on your I’d-love-to-do-this list. More like the opposite. That guy was very obviously a lone wolf who loved playing on his own playground and you were not judgemental of that – he was dedicated to his home and that was fine. His way of saying no to joining the Avengers might be a bit rude, but given how many people – well, people – had been trying to convince him to step up to the plate and think on a larger scale than ten blocks, you couldn’t really blame him.

Steve’s hands caressed your shoulders and you bit your lip harder. His baby blue eyes were staring at the bottom of your soul, making you shiver. He had beautiful eyes, serious most of the time, getting incredibly charming when a spark of mischief appeared in them; and make no mistake, Captain America had a lot of mischief in himself despite the righteousness radiating from him to miles.

You blinked, trying to escape his gaze; it was annoying how it always sent your heart racing.

“Just give it a try. No one will be angry with you if you fail. I won’t either. But I believe in you,” he pronounced softly, making you swallow embarrassingly loudly when his thumbs caressed your shoulders.

Jeez, you were such a sucker for his ‘I believe in you’.

Of course, you had a good reason. His speech had been the one that inspired you to join the team. To stop pitying yourself and woman up – yes, that was exactly the term he had used, because his love for strong women was infinite –, to use your accidently gained powers to do some good. He had been the one to find you almost five months ago in the completely frozen lab – your work, not that you had intended it –, shaking, but not from cold. You had been scared to death – you had killed people. You had killed the people who had been trying to help you-- and he had come to you, slowly, putting his shield away despite your warnings and offered you a literal helping hand, promising he hadn’t been there to harm you and he had believed you wouldn’t have hurt him. That he had believed in you.

You fought tears at the memory – you always had. You had hurt him in the end – just a little frostbite really, nothing his super-soldier’s body couldn’t handle – and yet, you had felt almost as sorry as for taking the other people’s lives. But Steve Rogers hadn’t been mad at you. He had stuck around, helped you to get a hold of your powers and the two of you had become colleagues slash friends. Very close friends, actually. Also, you had a bit of a crush on him, but who hadn’t.

“Goddammit, Steve,” you whined silently and his face lit up as he realized he had won. Not from his boss position, no; he had won the way he always had, as a friend of yours.

“I knew I could count on you, Frosty,” he whispered, enclosing you in a short gentle hug.

You rolled your eyes. “You know, Rogers, for someone who napped for about seventy years in ice, you really are pushing your luck.”

Secretly, you loved the nickname he gave you. People called you Frostbite, but Steve never had, aware what kind of a painful reminder of what you had done to him and everyone else the first time using your uncontrollable powers it was. No, he called you Frosty or Snowflake, because he was a sweetheart. Tony, on the other hand, was a dick, calling you Elsa. The others called you either your first name, or your last name. And then there was Thor, calling you the Lady of Ice. You loved your team. It was a delight to work with them. A very exhausting delight.

“Nah, you like me too much.”

You scoffed. He was perfectly on point of course. “I still don’t understand why it’s not you coming, Captain Righteousness. I’m sure you would have handled him better, oh Star Spangled Man with a Plan.”

He let go of you, ruffling your hair to show how much he was still cranky about Clint showing you the videos, both old and rather recent ones. To be fair, you deserved that; but you couldn’t help but tease him about it; some of them were cute, while the others were just hilarious.

“Careful, you still have a problem for saying a bad word.” You rolled your eyes. You had said ‘goddammit.’ Wuss. “And I do have a plan.”

You expectantly raised your eyebrows, curious. He winked.

“I have you.”

────── ·❆· ──────

‘This is ridiculous. I’m tracking a man in a Devil suit in, myself in an icily blue catsuit, Captain America’s voice in my ear. What is my life?’

“Still copy?”

“Yep.”

“He’s around the Piers 42/44, heading North.”

“Rogers that,” you mumbled, not fighting the smirk that always found its way to your lips when talking to Steve via comms, saying ‘Rogers that’ instead of just ‘Roger’. It was just too funny and you needed funny in your life. Even if you could basically hear him rolling his eyes at that. Rude.

You created an ice slide, rising and falling to help you to move faster. Tony had designed special shoes for you to move easily on it, while not giving yourself a shiner – it had taken quite a lot of tries and lots of black-eyes plus one broken radius, but hell if it hadn’t been worth it. Ha, hell.

Never mind. You had a task to complete.

You saw him now, the Devil. He slowed down visibly, which surprised you. He had actually managed to disappear on Tony in the sewers once. He had walked away in the middle of Cap’s recruitment speech, ignorant. Sure, he hadn’t shaken Natasha off, but hadn’t agreed either. Thor and Clint hadn’t tried yet. You wondered what Devil’s strategy was this time.

He stopped completely then and you landed few steps from him, a bit wary. You had done your reading on the Devil; he was fast, efficient and didn’t hesitate to break a bone or two. Or six. To be fair, you read about why he did it, on what occasions, and you truly weren’t judgemental.

“Wasn’t expecting any black ice tonight. It’s only September,” he commented nonchalantly, his voice deep. Not necessarily hostile though – you took that as a win.

Perhaps Steve knew what he was doing, sending you – you weren’t as notoriously famous as the others who had actually been present during The Battle of New York were, so maybe the Devil found it refreshing or something.

You wordlessly let your icy toboggan-bridge disappear. “Daredevil.”

“Why are you here? Have your teammates not gotten the message yet? Did you draw the shortest straw today?”

“Something like that.”

“The answer is still no.”

“Why?” you asked, already guessing the answer.

Because he belonged in the Hell’s Kitchen. Because he was a vigilante, not a hero, not an Avenger.

“I don’t really feel like fighting aliens. And someone needs to take down drug rings and smaller things that escape your notice,” he replied wryly and you sighed.

“You think we don’t see that?”

“Press harder.”

“Sounds like you don’t, given what your friend is saying,” he noted and you closed your eyes in defeat.

Steve’s voice was quiet, for you only, but it wasn’t news the Devil had extraordinary hearing. You couldn’t quite blame him for not liking you coming alone and not alone at all. You reached to your ear, turning your communicator off.

Daredevil tilted his head, seemingly confused.

“You think they don’t see that?” you corrected yourself, letting out the doubts you had despite the warm (ha) welcome the Avengers gave you. “You’re needed here. What you do matters, which is why they are letting you.”

“Why are you saying ‘them’?”

“Do I look like an Avenger to you?”

“You sure call yourself that.”

“Well, I don’t feel like one. But I let them talk me down. I’m a destroyer, yet, they convinced me I can help. And maybe I found a calling. Maybe I found a way to possibly redeem myself,” you whispered, being sure the Devil would hear you. He heard everything.

“I am answering a calling. By doing what I do,” he replied, aiming for firm, but failing. Could he tell the emotion behind your voice, the way you opened unexpectedly (to your own surprise too)? Could he hear the regret? Did he imagine what had caused it? Did it move him?

“And I understand that. Actually, kudos for aiming for achievable goal of managing ten blocks of Manhattan and not letting your ego get in the way too much. I mean, these guys are trying to save the world, talk about unrealistic goals,” you noted, lightening up the mood a little.

You imagined the man behind the mask frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m confused now. Are you still trying to get me to join, or…?”

You chuckled. “Doesn’t look like it, huh? I guess that’s fair.”

The corner of his lips quirked in an approximation of a smile. Your heart skipped a beat. You bet neither of your Avenging friends managed to do that. Not that this was a competition or a manipulation – you were being completely honest. Painfully so.

“I… I’m gonna be honest with you. Steve wants you on this one. And frankly, I have no idea why-“ you paused, realizing how it sounded. “I mean— I know why, we can always use some help saving the world and stuff, but... yeah. So just once for now, let’s team up. No strings attached.”

“That was quite a direct strike. Didn’t see that coming,” he chuckled and you blinked, your eyelashes brushing your eye-mask.

Did he just chuckle? Did he laugh at you? Not that he didn’t have the right, but it was still a bit incredible. His face returned to the mask of seriousness. For some reason, it seemed softer now. “It was… Steve, wasn’t it? You say they convinced you, but you mean Steve Rogers.”

You escaped his gaze – or you thought so. Escaped the way the glassy eye-covers of his helmet burned through you. Whatever.

“Yes,” you whispered. He didn’t comment on that. But you would swear he relaxed.

“How did you get your powers?”

You froze almost literally at the direct question. Well, he sure wasn’t beating around the bush. What was it to him? Was it a test? Did he want to know you before saying no? Was he considering a yes? Did he trust you?

You licked your lips, fighting a shiver.

“Untested treatment. I had a rare liver disease and they tested a treatment with some chitauri crap on me. I always had troubles with thermoregulation. The meds messed it up on a completely different level.”

“I’m sorry.” And he genuinely sounded as if he was, his voice dropping.

“I didn’t ask for this. I hurt people. I’m paying my debt, because I think it’s the only thing I can do apart from creating icicles and toboggans for kids and do some cold-drying of fruit for missions,” you said seriously and his shoulders slightly shook with laughter. You found yourself smiling too. Dammit, how did you switch from misery to joking so fast in one sentence?

“No strings attached?” he asked slowly and your mouth literally fell open. Did he just-

“Did you just-?”

“Yeah. How bad it can be? Plus, your friend is approaching with the jet, I guess he didn’t like you turning your comms off.”

“Oh I’m gonna be on detention for like a week, okay. Or until they need another cold-drying, Tony’s addicted to his dried blueberries.”

The Devil chuckled once more before a cute smile settled on his lips. He took several steps closer to you. “I’m sure they’re delicious.”

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 2

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags:  @murdermornings​ @mermaidxatxheart​

────── ·❆· ──────

Heya, people :) I decided to share one of my older fics with the tumblr, I hope a few of you will like it O:-) Whenever you want to be (un)tagged in anything of mine, shoot me an ask or a message or something like that. 

Thank you for reading :-*

[nikky-the-writer]

Come Home

Pietro Maxioff x Reader

Summary: AU

Will reveal of Pietro's secret tear his marriage apart?

Warning: cursing

___________________________________________________________

You were always one of those people who was called cynics as you would often say that true love or soul mates don’t exist. Mostly you said it because you believed that there was nobody for you; however you never even tried. You were a pretty reserved person and most would say that you were shy, but you didn’t really like the presence of strangers and that was why mostly you were alone. You had no parents, no family, not even a pet as your building didn’t allow them, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t go to the animal shelter when you had time to play with animals.

And as to most people you seemed unapproachable just as those you were working in a pastry shop however to one of them you didn’t seem like that. His name was Pietro, he was already working there before you got hired and as you would like to say that you hit it off immediately, you didn’t. You haven’t spoken to each other for more than four months and then one day Pietro started talking to you as you have been friends for years and you didn’t mind it. After that, a year of good friendship turned into a relationship which after more than a year and a half turned into marriage.

Now you were both married for eighteen months and you couldn’t be happier, you are both more than comfortable with each other and you love one another. You are also a good friend with his sister and everything was going great for you, you even opened your own bakery, so after all that happiness it was meant for the happy bubble to be pierced.

___________________________________________________________

You were watching confused as a young woman was talking to Pietro. She actually walked over to your table in the dinner a moment ago and acted as she knew Pietro. You weren’t jealous just confused, however, you soon realized what was happening and you almost got angry at him.

“God, I watched you almost every day, my friend and I were so sad when you stopped,” she said pouting before smiling again as she said quickly how much she liked his videos and she quickly excused herself.

During the conversation, you failed to notice how Pietro’s body stiffened and that his lips were pressed into a thin line as your attention was on the overexcite girl.

“You are really a jerk, you know that?” you said pretending to be serious and you notice how the color in Pietro’s face was drained now.

“What?” he managed to ask as his leg couldn’t stop tapping onto the ground.

“I have been talking about it for months,” you said thinking that he finally knew what you were talking about, but he somehow didn’t seem completely present.

“You…you wanted to do what?” his voice was like a whisper and you couldn’t understand the sudden change in his behavior he almost looked ashamed of something.  

“A baking tutorial, what else?” you said a bit more firmly than intended.

“No, no that’s what I was thinking, yeah…” Pietro said quickly before drinking water from his glass to calm himself down.

The whole atmosphere was changed during your meal; Pietro was unusually quiet and seemed as he wanted to run away from there. You also noticed that he kept glancing towards the table where that girl was sitting and you would think that he knew her, however when the girl approached the table she wasn’t sure if it was him and it didn’t seem they really knew each other. You were starting to freak out as Pietro never closed himself from you like this. He just stared at his food and ate not even once trying to talk to you. Finally, after you both finished and paid Pietro excused himself to go to the bathroom; he just needed to collect himself. You took the time of his absence to approach that girl. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, it was that he never lied to you and now the whole conversation seemed like a lie.

“Hi,” you said approaching other two girls at the table and the one from earlier smiled widely at you and you couldn’t tell why.  “I’m really sorry to bother you, but about what kind of videos were you talking about?”

“Cam boy,” she said. Her smile quickly disappeared as she realized what she said. She just assumed as if you were friends with him or whatever that you would know.

“A what?” you asked as you weren’t familiar with that expression.

“That is when people make videos where they are doing something sexual and they get paid for it.” The girl’s friend answered.

“So porn?” you asked already feeling the sting in your eyes as they were getting watery. Your fingers instantly moved to the ring on your finger.

“No, they,” the first girl started not finding really the right words. “In a way, yes, but it’s mostly one person in a video and th…Oh my God…” her eyes went wide as they fell to your hand immediately set on the wedding band around your finger. “Did I just destroy a marriage?” she asked quickly while her hand was already covering her mouth.

You could see that she was feeling guilty, but in your eyes, there was nothing that she did wrong, “When was the last time he did that?” you asked ignoring her question about your marriage.

“Look I’m really sorry…I don’t want to come in between…”

Tears were already rolling down your cheeks as something inside you told you that what you were about to hear won’t be what you need to hear. “Please…”

“Around a year and a half or more…”

“Oh my God…” you said as you realized that he was doing that behind your back as you were already in a relationship then.

“Y/N?” Pietro asked as he came closer to you, but you only stepped away not even looking at him. “Y/N, please talk to me,” he came closer reaching for you and you flinched from his touch.

“Don’t touch me,” you said loud enough for the whole dinner to hear. “Don’t fucking touch me, I can’t believe I ever trusted you,” you said disappointed before running away.

___________________________________________________________

It took you longer than you intended to get home and you were sure that he was already there waiting for you. You have stopped crying half way there and came to a realization that you can’t actually lean on anybody that you were destined to be alone and that was why you decided to leave him. You didn’t want to be in a relationship poisoned by his lies you didn’t need that in your life.

“Please, talk to me,” it was the first thing Pietro told you as you walked into your home.

You headed to your bedroom ignoring his please and grabbing your suitcase before throwing your clothes inside.

“Please, don’t do this,” Pietro tried to take the clothes away from you and you let go of it looking straight at him.

“You lied to me,” you said while observing his sad face, his eyes were red maybe even more than yours and he was still crying.

“I was ashamed of what I did, but I needed the money and I couldn’t lose you.”

“I don’t care what you did or why. You lied to me…you...you cheated on me…” you forced yourself to say those words as you still couldn’t believe that he actually did that to you.

“I have never cheated, please listen to me,” he begged you and his voice cracked at the end.

“When was the last time?” you asked wanting to give him a chance to say that he didn’t lie, you wanted to give him a chance so badly.

“Last time?” he asked a bit startled with your question.

“When was the last time you made a video?” you asked quickly and he looked away.

“A week after I proposed,” his voice came out as a whisper but you heard him and you only got even more disappointed and sad.

“I can’t believe this, the week when we opened our bakery together…” you mumbled in disbelief.

“I did it because of it,” he tried to reason with you although he already knew that he was the one wrong in the fight, he should have been honest with you from the start.

“Don’t put the blame on me, I don’t care what you did, you lied,” you said firmly before putting your attention in filling your suitcase.

“You have to understand that I never wanted to do it, but I worked a lot of hours at that bakery and I needed more money when Wanda got sick and to save for my own bakery.”

“For how long?” you stopped your actions looking at him, you would understand if it was for a few months to earn quickly, but his answered stunned you.

“Four years…”

“I can’t do this right now,” you zipped your suitcase with half of your stuff not inside and some peeking out.

“Please, I will tell you everything you want to know,” he said standing in front of the doors stopping you from leaving the bedroom.

“Don’t you think is too late now? I have your ring on my finger and I didn’t know what a random girl on a street could know about you. I...I can’t even look at you right now,” you said pushing past him leaving him broken, but he wasn’t the only one who was broken.

“Please don’t walk away,” it was the last thing he told you and that you heard. His number was blocked on your phone and only times he could hear your voice was while watching videos on his laptop of you two while letting his heat shatter more with every minute passing by.

He gave you time, the one thing that you asked for. And then a week passed by and another after it and after another one passed he start losing hope. He started thinking that there was no amount of time that could pass by and bring you back home.

___________________________________________________________

 A/N: Thank you guys for reading this!!!! Please leave feedback!!

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[kinixuki]

Answers for the “Questions about creating your ocs” thing, as a read more because it got REALLY LONG. There’s some AU rambling too because why not. The first time a character gets mentioned their name should be a link to their tumblr tag, just to keep track of who’s who because there’s a lot of them :v

1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

Kal – Kal came from a dream I had, he was an angry guy with muscles and 0 chill (this never really changed), I think the first conscious thing I did myself was trying to make a small backstory for the dream because I felt pretty strongly about it. I tried to get the look down at the same time but my drawing skills were terrible at that time, so the backstory got more attention. And then it turned into Fisher along with some other dreams I had!

Umbrella – Umbrella is originally from a dream as well, a different one but it had Kal in it too, so it tried to fit it into the story.

Shetla – she happened when I started writing shamans (which had no plan at all at first), I needed someone who would talk with Kwiri so I made her

Oqooto – Oqooto was born as random fish kid for a small comic, so they got a bit of backstory and appearance for the comic. I liked what came out of it and kept thinking about them :>

2. Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

Moru – I want to say Ishke, but other than trying to not have them look too similar not really. Maybe Yixi the bird, Moru used to have a hood with a nest, now she has falconry equipment.

3. How did you choose their name? 

Kal – playing with random letters, after he was nameless for a year or two. I think I first wrote it down into a German textbook when I was bored during a class :v His name is also one of the Czech words for mud, which I didn’t realize for a while, but it fits sort of.

Umbrella – in the dream he came from he was basically a ghost that came out of an umbrella, so he got to keep it, both as an object and as a name, because it sounded silly and he’s weird. It’s more of a nickname in the actual story, he so old that no one remembers his name and telling people would spoil the fun for him, and because he always carries the umbrella with him it’s how a lot of people refer to him.

Teeku – playing with random letters again. I think his name just popped into my head when I was writing and was like “hey, this shaman guy needs a name”. I wish this happened more often, I’m terrible with making names :l

Bronze – I had hard time understanding how naming characters with actual words one can understand works, so I tried it myself with Bronze. I don’t remember why I picked that anymore, but it had something to do with him being Fisher and Narya being gold in my head.

Oqooto – I think I saw something close to that in random word generator? It looked super weird, but also felt like an instant fit after like a year of not knowing what name I want.

4. In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts? 

Oqooto – it’s mostly based on the comic idea I had – a kid living in marshes that goes fishing, then I expanded from that. It’s technically part of Ishke’s world, but I haven’t really connected those two yet. There’s a lot of spirits in that world though, so after a bit Oqooto turned into something that’s closer to a shaman/medium than just a fish kid.

5. Is there any significance behind their hair color?

Narya – for a long time there wasn‘t, other than me thinking it’s nice, but now it’s an ethnicity thing along with the ashy skin color. I’ve been playing with the idea of that being the sign of a pureblood Fisher, but it makes some story mess with how easily they would be identifiable in the city. So it might be more general group of people, but still with them being known for their Fishers being crazy good. Bronze is another of those people, but not really directly related to Narya, despite the appearance. Most of them live in the forests outside of the city.

9. Are they based off of you, in some way?

Kwiri – ummmm yes a bit…. I started writing his story as an angsty teen with zero friends, and having a character dealing with similar problems felt nice because hey, finally a friend. It wasn’t really a conscious thing like “it’s me, but in another world”, just a character I wanted to understand and write well. After a while of writing I was probably more based off him than the other way around to be honest. For some reason Kwiri is also pretty close to how I look irl though, which wasn’t intentional at all xD

10. If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? 

Moru – I wanted her and Ishke to have fun together, so they’re both kinda rebellious, but Moru is still there to explain all the human and social stuff to Ishke. She doesn’t understand much either, but almost anything is better at it than Ishke. And she gets to learn about spirits/forest from him!

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

Kal – other than waiting few years for a name he’s tricky to draw for me, first he was the muscle guy when I didn’t know how to draw muscles at all, now it’s drawing him properly during fights and all the cool action scenes. He’s surprisingly easy to write to though.

Umbrella –having him not turn the entire plot upside down. I changed the entire thing at least three times because of him, he’s always been one of the major characters but having him fit into the story in a way that worked well was hard. He’s hard to write as well, it’s easy to get carried away and turn him into the carefully planning villain stereotype because most of his role in the story is watching from behind the scenes, but he’s supposed to be super chaotic. Well thought out plans are literally the last thing he would do.

Moru – I am. Really bad. With female characters. Guys? Cool. Nbs? Super cool. Girls??? Seriously I made her to have a girl character I would be comfortable with, it’s still not 100% it and I still don’t know what to do with her, so probably that. She needed over 5 years for a name too.

13. How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all?

Shamans – I wrote down a short story about how some late story events turned out differently and keep thinking about a lot of what ifs. Then I have a lot of things from when Teeku was younger figured out, some of them are important, some of them are just fun to think about, most of them don’t get enough space in the actual story though.

Then there’s several AUs, including one where Teeku is a grumpy farmer with an old smelly tractor and a straw hat. Kirta hates him there because of the hat, he’s a rich farm guy and has been looking for The Perfect Straw Hat™ for months. When he finally saw it across the street and fell in love, Teeku came and bought the first straw hat he saw, which was this one. There’s also a modern AU where Teeku owns a tearoom and his visitors are my and Sari’s characters from the other stories. There’s a lot of fun stuff happening there and it has quite a bit of stuff thought out, I wanted to draw some of it during the summer but didn’t get to it D:

Bronze – I have a ton of stuff from when Bronze was younger and didn’t live in the city, but that’s deep in the spoiler territory. In the tearoom AU he lives in Umbrella’s flat and works in his sushi restaurant, but kind of wishes he didn’t, especially when Umbrella (who despite owning the flat doesn’t really live there) decides to visit, eat every single thing in the fridge and then talk about all sorts of vaguely illegal stuff Bronze doesn’t really want to hear about before leaving again.

14. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

Isidor (the grandmaster of the Order who has no tag atm) – he’s elegant as heck, and his behavior is kinda human but also not really, he’s young for what he is but he doesn’t age/die naturally and is already older than normal humans get, so he’s pretty detached.

15. What is something about your OC can make you laugh?

Siva – okay so. At one point a friend asked what kind of food they eat in the Fisher universe. Part of the reply was that they also probably have some of the food we have here, like schnitzel. And the friend asked something like “so there’s gonna be someone coming to Siva and asking ‘Hey Siva, do you want some more schnitzel?’”. It’s Siva’s fave food now, because he’s a super srs person and this totally doesn’t sound super silly.

ALSO THE TEAROOM AU, Siva is a head doctor of a local hospital and Narya is a student with training there and Siva overseeing it. They don’t really like each other, it’s the same as the canon story. They both visit Teeku’s tearoom though, Narya because he either has a part time job there few days a month or just uses that as a study place, and Siva because he’s a tea connoisseur and Teeku’s tearoom is the best tearoom in the city when it comes to tea quality, but there aren’t many visitors because Teeku is super grumpy.

So Narya and Siva sometimes meet there. Siva comes in a pretty bad mood, because “this one student was supposed to do all this work at night and he didn’t and just kept talking back, I need some good tea to drink”. 5 mins later, Narya comes late for his shift, because “this one idiot doctor wanted me to do all this stuff at night, can you even believe it what a jerk, I didn’t even sleep”, and he gets to make Siva’s tea without knowing who is it for and then he brings it to him and they’re both like “YOUUUU”

Minghe – the main idea of his story is that he got stuck with exactly that one person he can’t stand at all (Sheon) and is forced to cooperate. It’s the sad kind of funny.

16. What is something about your OC can make you cry?

Siva – @sariannearies saying bad things about him and wishing terrible things to happen to him >:

Minghe – the fact that I still don’t have a single colored artwork with him except one speedpaint. He’s one of my faves D:

17. Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story? 

Kwiri – I’ve been rewriting his story for years and deleting thing I didn’t like, so not really?

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

Kal – he really really REALLY hates Siva, the doctor. It’s mutual, but Siva is way better at hiding it, though he sometimes “accidentally” forgets to give Kal painkillers and so on. Sometimes Kal regrets that he wasn’t successful with what he tried to do at the end of Roommates.

Bronze – he’s super obsessed with being independent, but because of that he ended up as the opposite and it took him forever to realize. With no real way out \o/

Moru – she likes birds. That was unexpected, right?

[dryasiulia]

August 21st: Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day

This idea is fantastic and I want to support it as best I can.  I’m constantly amazed that you guys take your free time to provide this for us; so this is quite literally the least I can do!  There’s a lot more below~~~~~~

I wish I had the time today to reread everyone’s work; AND to read everything I haven’t yet.  You all deserve pages and pages of praise; I’m sorry this is all I can do today.  In roughly the order in which they were originally consumed:

@claudeng80 Even if it hadn’t been my fanfic introduction (If you don’t count watching GoT), Noble AU would still hold a special place in my heart.  Honestly everything you’ve done is amazing.  I still haven’t made it through the RIDICULOUS amount of happy you made for us during bingo.  And that’s not even considering the ones I DID get to that I want to reread ASAP (omg that fairytale obi dragon one).  And of course Snowdrop~~~  No words~~~~  I even enjoy the stuff you do that is outside my wheelhouse *cough* star trek.  Plus, Akagami on the Bayou is literally perfection.

@sabraeal It’s lovely to see someone who is so talented spend so much time appreciating and supporting others.  The comments/reviews that you (and Joanna and Andi) leave in the community are literally as entertaining as the stories.  That said, obviously now I’m going to mention Seven Suitors because duh.  It is Canon But Better and I hope there isn't a sekrit counter somewhere that shows how many times Ive read it....maybe even with the Haki B-sides inserted timeline appropriately~~~~  And I don’t have enough time to get into Truth In Masquerade (Or In Which There Will be Ascots; yup, I’m pretty sure that was promised, even if it was just in my head it still counts), modern AU, OFC fae AU (why am I capitalizing AU?), high school, daemons, the kiss of life (I may think about randomly at times) all the bb obi backstory stuff, the amazing haki stuff, and the one shots!  Your 100 prompts was frankly, astonishing, and during a Very Bad Time for me.  It was so amazing to have something like that to escape to.  This workings of this site remain a bit of a mystery to me; things that are original and amazing frequently get missed or ignored; and a picture of a shoe with a cat in it like breaks the internet?

@superhappybubbleslove again with the “someone who is so talented spends so much time appreciating and supporting others” For me, watchtower is like “Uncomfortable RL Canon but Won’t Ever be Canon Because Shoujo”  You do such an astonishing job of like Easter Egg Multi Level Pains.  As if the over-arching pain isn’t enough; there are little poison barbs expertly sprinkled in specially designed for the utmost torment.  Of all the pains (main story pains; not touching the B-SIDE pains because I’m still recovering from Friday) the little ones stick with me the most.  Ugh, that part where he drops the spoons is honestly like the worst for me…..I’ve just upset myself again.  And likewise with the I REALLY REALLY don’t want to know my reread count xD  I don’t have the time to even get started on what Melt, the Mountain Lion au, and everything else deserves.  (Like, I’m still kind of angry about how much I enjoy the ballet au - I mean wut?!)

@infinitelystrangemachinex your commentary is ALWAYS +100~  Automation Heart……I love your Shirayuki so much.  She’s always a science badass.  And the chemistry with Obi, LITERALLY no matter what the set up, is ALWAYS perfect.  I’m not comfortable admitting 1. how many times I have read Analysand 2. how many times I then REREread it when you did Overflow — also rereading Overflow obviously and 3. How many times I read St Elmos Fire once I finally realized I hadn’t read it.  Let’s just leave it at….a lot….  There are still a few things from last year I haven’t gotten to; someone might point out that I MAYBE would’ve had more than enough time to read those I had I skipped a rererereread or two….don’t pester me with your logics~  I’m sure they are equally amazing; I can’t wait to get to them!

@nebluus Apparently I’ve missed a few things on the classic “you must read” obiyuki lists.  However, I have at least read Blizzard.  ~~~~A FEW times.  It most definitely belongs on the list.  Everything about it is perfect.  Ugggh….the part about how he would be a great father… “Are you the fire Obi?”  Dead.  Even though no true relationship stuffs happens it literally kills me every time.  

@xaphrin sometimes I worry from your tumblrs you don’t understand how awesome you are; but then I think surely you see how many people tell you your awesome….right?!?!  I can be a little bit of a cinnamon bun when it comes to reading sexy times, but I feel like you always try (nay succeed) to include it as part of the Whole Relationship.  AND AND AND can we talk about how phone sex AU obi is. the. hottest. obi.  Which is so weird…I mean if someone would’ve told me I’d love “phone sex” au I would’ve rolled my eyes.   BUT ITS SO GREAT.  And obviously diplomacy.  OBVIOUSLY.

@ruleofexception for me you are like a box of cakes.  (real talk, some chocolates are gross, all cake is delicious)  “dead obi with oxygen shirayuki” nuuu please don’t do that….omg that was amazing.  Hunger games?!?!?….moar pls all of the hunger games.  Disembodied voices??…..amazing yes please (I loved Knowing You so much!!!).  Whew and there are many things I haven’t yet said about Fall of the Crown….but I super love it’s gothic feels and I am super excite~~  (The knife naming/giving?!?!!)  And you have more I haven’t even gotten to yet; I can’t wait~

@akai-vampire you take the bare-bones of canon and breath life into it~  When the smallest obiyuki bit happens, my initial reaction is “oh god nina will make me pay for this shortly”  Late at Night is so lovely; I feel like “what happened if Shirayuki didn’t make it out” isn’t explored much~  And omg that blurted confession in Dreams…..  And honestly, if you seriously SERIOUSLY get to 50 in “The Fifty Times You Stole My Heart” you WILL kill me.  It’s only at 6 and I can barely make it now~~~ Srs.  All of it.  

@vivianwisteria okay, the “how Obi and Shirayuki met as kids” canon mystery is ongoing…  However, the way you handled it in Adagio Appassionato is my absolute favorite~  (Canon needs to retcon Violin Shirayuki if Sorata ever actually gives us the backstory there.)  I love it so much that when you dropped that bomb chapter I MAY have put off a serious work assignment to go reread everything IMMEDIATELY.   I LOVE all of Conductor Obi with Issues so much~ Okay, and Love and Other Monstrosities I mean WUT.  There are no other words for that…just WUT WUT WUT!!! Whew, and Impasse, the Damon Lindelof (but better) bad guys here are very mysterious and exciting.  And OF COURSE I love found in translation…. And obviously I am SO VERY EXCITE about Ex Gratia~

@jaygirl987 The “worldbuilding” for Neighbors is astounding.  For srs, you have fleshed out Bruce, THE CAT, more than most fiction manages to with human side characters.  I literally can not wait to see where this goes; everyone’s been established so beautifully.  I adore your obiyuki relationship one-shots as well.  I can’t wait to catch up on the bingo stories I missed!!!!

@meibemeibelline I haven’t finished all of Apple Red and Gold yet…I REALLY need to make a obiyuki “to read” list post it note.  However, I did get to Counting Coins and Motel on the Hill during Bingo.  I LOVE your storytelling.  Your descriptions and atmosphere are wonderful.  Counting Coins was adorable, plus Obi as a hot teacher yes please.  Motel on the Hill is so lovely~~~  It’s beautifully melancholy.  I can’t wait to read the rest; I’m sorry it’s taken me this long!!

@codango obviously the road to Clarines is gravel is amazing.  You succeeded where 18 years of my real life experience did not…you made the cowboy aesthetic attractive~  I adore your characterization of EVERYONE in this and I’ve been super excited for every chapter.  Seriously, the individual elements should not appeal to me, but your skill and ability made them in to something I love.  

@glitter-and-golden  Okay, I never knew that I needed a mithra obi, BUT I DID.  If I Walk It's With You Beside Me is a pleasure to read~  SO, I’m also a sucker for fictional food; and after I read this the first time I totally had to eat breakfast for dinner~  I love everything about this, Ryuu, their cottage, Zen, sassy mithra Obi.  I am so excite!

OMG this was supposed to be faster… -.- I’m past out of time, so please forgive my abbreviated loves:

@onoheiwa  - both your kiss stories were absolutely adorable~~ And I loved the amusement park; Obi’s disappointment when the park was closed was perfect.  I can’t wait to read the rest of your stuff!!  

@krispy-kream - I loved haki as the amyrlin and izana as forsaken SO MUCH.  My memories of early WoT are mixed to say the least….If you want to go ahead and redo all the early books I’d be %100 on board with that.

@another-miracle - your intermissions are beautiful~  your prose is also lovely in general,  I’m so sorry I’m behind!!!  I’m VERY MUCH looking forward to reading everything you’ve given us~

@littleaverill - your role reversal au was great~~~  I love the idea of obi growing up in the shop~ I can only imagine how he’d be different.  I REALLY love your style; there’s an element of the unknown and the implied that always leaves me like I just had a piece of cake that was EVER SO SLIGHTLY smaller that I would’ve cut myself — super delicious but if you even want to send me another slice I’d be okay with it! xD

@nonstopdoodle - The Spice of Life was so cute!   Ryuu as AI was perfect~~  There was something very nostalgically Firefly about it that I loved so much~  And just ftr, your ponies are SO SO SO CUTE

@rebeccaravenroth - okay, the balcony-plants story for bingo was so adorable.  I am fluent in passive aggressive post it notes.  I adore your writing style and storytelling~

I’m sorry I left out a few AO3 people that I don’t know their Tumblr blog name or may not be on Tumblr!!!

[vvardenfellcat]

SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog.

Stolen from uh...lots of people at this point. Took me a while to get to it. @aglitchinemotion finally got my booty in gear tho.

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE(S)?

I have a few... Though it’s more of ‘hey these two/three/etc would be cute and actually get along and heeeeyyyy that might actually work in canon! I wonder...

Nothing’s canon yet for TES!J’hasi, though Aldaril and Morwaen have a one-sided thing going on atm. Mori, pls...show the poor mer some mercy...

Modern!TES AU J’hasi, Maarzi, and Jeer-Rah are a thing, Al and Morwaen are a thing, Icarus and mead is a thing... All the ships. Welcome to my self-indulgent paradise.

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?

Depends on how well I know you. Unless you’re Paige I doubt it would go further than fade to black after smooches and whatnot. I’ve started writing the Porns™ to try and see if I like doing it/find it worthwhile, and while I enjoy the emotionally-connected ones, the stand of the night type ones aren’t fun to me. Still have to issue copies to Quality Control to determine their Hot Stuff merit.

TL;DR full blown prons are doubtful unless I’m really close friends with the mun first, else varies between No and fade-to-black depending on how well I know the mun.

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

Under 18 is a Hell No, TES is uh...weird with people living hundreds of years and yet some only 80ish or w/e so I guess it depends on how old they seem? Mer, man. Can’t get a good bead on em agewise. I suppose if there’s like a huge gap like Mr. 800 years old shacking up with someone around 400 that would be weird to me. A hundred years gap wouldn’t be too bad assuming the younger is like...30s? 40s? At least. Mid 20s would be the lowest I’d go with something like that, and even then that’s pushing it. Two hundred gap would be ehh...and anything beyond that is sort of a ‘how is each individual case like’?

Modern AU (aka not TES Modern AU) I guess like 10 ish gap is the most? Not much higher than that because then you get weird things of like ‘oh I was a teenager when you were born’ stuff and that rubs me the wrong way.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

I mean I’m a bit selective with rping, like...I can’t up and ship with someone if I don’t know them. And yes, that has happened in the past and it made me not want to ship ever again because someone didn’t know/didn’t care that it’s not cool to write my character for me. And horribly OOC too. Yuck.

Honestly we’d have to be mutuals for a while before I’d be okay with shipping. Especially if it was J’hasi because LET ME TELL YOU THAT BOY FEEL TOO GOTDAMN MUCH FOR HIM GOTDAMN HEART. And yeah they have to have chemistry. And while most of my characters are more easygoing with the romance and boinking stuff, J’hasi is one of those that’s hard to get to that point because Trust Issues and whatnot. Anyone’s welcome to try, just know that we’d have to know each other and the muses in question would have to have some chemistry before anything progresses beyond verbal sparring.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS.FW?

Once someone goes beyond the belt, that’s the point that I’d say yeah that’s nsfwy-stuffs. Smooches and whatnot are safes, making out, etc, but once someone starts digging around in the other’s pants then yeah that’s a decent marker. I’d likely readmore it once it got beyond smooches for sake of people who don’t want to read two muses fooling around with each other but it wouldn’t get the NSFW tag until aforementioned marker.

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?

I thought I was asked this before x_x UHHHHMMM usually it’s more of ‘who’s possible’, since I don’t set anything in stone until the characters meet in RP. I may misread a character and then the ship would be weird once I learn my mistake, so I tend to ask lots of questions of the person in question like ‘if x met y and they did z, how would they react?’ I do this with situations outside of shipping too because I LIKE LEARNING ABOUT CHARACTERS MANG.

Private ships are private ships, usually self-indulgent whatever to help me practice writing interpersonal communication and possibly sexytiems so I can learn what sounds natural because it’s a new type of writing for me, same as when I was first learning how to write actiony stuffs and MAJOR DOOM plots and whatever. The pronoun game kills me because 90% of it is gay. Maarzi and her gf Riheh is one of my fave ships because MAARZI IS SUCH A FUCKING TEASE AND THEN RIHEH CATCHES HER OFF-GUARD CONSTANTLY AND I LOVE THEM.

...I just realized I haven’t done any straight NSFW yet aside from that thread with Moj and Sham. I should...probably remedy that. Oops.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

I’m fine with your character feeling as they will, it’s your character, that’s how they do. It’s when you try to push it onto my character without asking for permission that I get irritated. Like by all means, a character can make passes at mine, flirt, w/e, that’s totally fine. It’s when someone thinks that because my muse reacts a certain way back that they think it’s canon then, which. No. You ask me.

Sometimes my characters flirt back because that’s just how they are. They might be trying to use your muse’s apparent interest to suit their needs. Muses may not explain their reasoning for acting x way, so it’s better to ask me to see if it’s genuine ‘ay let’s ship’ vs ‘my character is using yours to get out of a situation or for their own selfish gain’. Plus, if I don’t know you, a ship isn’t going to happen. I need to know the mun before I make any commitments.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?

I’m with Dust!mod on this one, when it makes sense. I’m not romantically inclined irl, so it’s not like I Need it, it’s just something fun and new to play with, like when you get a new toy. You have lots of other toys, and that’s yet another you have at your disposal. Say that you think that the situation would be more exciting if Mr. Dinosaur came in and interrupted the tea party with some dire news from the front, or maybe he wants to confess that he loves Mr. Sheep and doesn’t want Mr. Sheep to elope with Tonka Truck, or that Tonka Truck was actually using Mr. Sheep for his billions in assets to make war on the Hot Wheels regime. It could be integral to the plot, or just give another facet to it, adding some extra drama to the Shit Going Down. The world is your oyster, friend.

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?

Nnnnnnah. I tried AU stuff with other fandoms, didn’t like, and I don’t need multiple verses of the same TES verse to handle. Not to mention like...why would you multiship when you can have polyamory? Way easier imo. Imagine the cuddlepiles. The only exception I have for this is Modern!TES but that’s more of ‘this is my self-indulgent paradise, I’ll make everyone hold hands if I want to’, and that’s...kinda my personal verse since I haven’t really talked about it much and I don’t think other people would be into it lmao

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

If it’s friends, lovers, rivals, sworn enemies, whatever relationship a muse has with another, it’s all good in my book. It’s great to have character-developing interactions no matter how it’s brought about, if your friend is concerned about x habit you have, or if you got the hots for some new friend on the block, or if you can’t fucking stand your new co-worker/peer, or someone decided that You Need To Die For X Reason And You Just Won’t Go Quietly.

I don’t hold any over the others in terms of importance, like sometimes I’m more in the mood for rival battles, sometimes I just want nerds to cuddle and read together. It just depends on what mood I’m in for at the moment.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

Uhhhhhh I can’t think of any atm. I get a stupid grin on my face when me and @brothersofthedominion come up with ideas for our plots involving a giant golden boy and a srs golden girl, but my current favorite ship that I think about a lot is stuck in self-indulgent paradise world.

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

I gotta know who tf you are first. Ask interactions are good for this, because then it unlocks the possibility of rps, which then once I have a good idea of who you are, then there’s a chance of shipping. Else it’s gonna end up being your muse tryna flirt with mine with little chance of getting anywhere other than flirting back or in J’hasi’s case, likely a big fat |:/

[tobiologist]

swipe right (if you like me)

Keith/Lance // met on tinder!au // 7.8k+ // sfw // part 2/?

Summary: "I’m doin’ it. Lance giggles under his breath and drags the cat meme picture to the right side of his screen.

But this, friends, is why one shouldn’t tempt fate over Tinder.“

or: Lance finds the most unlikely match on Tinder and (might) gain a boyfriend in the process

Keith

He could strangle Pidge for making him download this stupid app.

It makes absolutely no sense. People rattle off a sentence or two about themselves and hope to lure others in with similar interests, shitty jokes, or a pretty face. Potentially all of the above. Keith doesn’t have the lowest self-esteem in the world, but his ego certainly isn’t in the best shape. When it comes to any of the usual Tinder criteria, he feels like an outlier.

Keith has no desire to hook up with strangers.

>> READ THE REST ON AO3 <<

No, Keith enjoys the idea of sex more than the actual act itself. His hypothetical ‘cherry’ still has yet to be popped, in most senses of the word. He kissed a couple classmates back in high school, girls and guys alike, but nothing more. He’s never seen it as a big deal. Really, Keith could care less about whether he’s getting laid.

School is his top priority at the moment and has been since his sophomore year of high school. Once he can start designing aircrafts, working on spaceships with his own two hands, it won’t be an issue anymore. But until then, he has to stay focused—keep his eyes on the prize.

So, he doesn’t go out of his way to get into the dating scene. It’s downright exhausting, and Keith is just as happy to go through college with a couple friends and a sometimes-nosy-yet-fantastically-compassionate brother. A boyfriend would just cause unnecessary trouble.

Of course…

Things changed a bit when he took an interest in Lance. But it was just that, okay? An interest.

It was hard to ignore the loudest person in every lecture hall. Sure, he quieted down once class started but, before the professor walked in, he chatted with anyone in the general vicinity willing to listen. In the beginning, Lance’s enthusiasm annoyed the absolute shit out of Keith. The guy talked your ear off, whether you wanted him to or not.

But, as time went on, Keith realized most classmates enjoyed Lance’s crazy rants. They were off-the-wall, no doubt about it, but they were interesting. Keith learned they were more like conspiracy theories than rants, which… well. That may be the real root of the problem; Keith lives for conspiracy theories.

That’s what first captured his attention. Lance never engaged Keith directly, but he had no qualms with eavesdropping on Lance’s conversations with other classmates. And, once he took notice of Lance, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

The jerk was amazing. He spoke, moved, breathed as if he were born to tell ridiculous stories and persuade people. He’d be talking to someone and, surely enough, more students would hop into the discussion with their own input. Keith refused to partake—mostly because the thought of embarrassing himself in front of Lance and showing any sort of weakness sickened him—and sat quietly.

Listening.

Lance filled the silence with outrageous stories and theories, ‘fun facts’ and ‘words of wisdom.’ Keith wished, more than anything, he could’ve clamped his hands over his ears and forced himself to tune it out. It was no use, though. It was too late.

Keith liked listening to Lance.

His excitement and passion for what he loved, the timbre and inflection of his voice, every detail sucked Keith in. He’d rather be struck dead than acknowledge it out loud, but he might have developed the slightest bit of a crush on Lance.

Even when tests were passed back and Lance flashed him a look of pure hatred, Keith couldn’t bring himself to dislike the guy. Although Lance never confronted him face-to-face, he had heard about their ‘rivalry’ from Pidge countless times.  And—maybe he’s fucked up in the head—but the very idea of a competition between him and Lance stoked a fire deep in the pit of his gut.

It was absolutely thrilling.

Keith found himself working even harder in class. Of course, he also got distracted more often, what with his gaze drifting to a certain seat, usually a row over, whenever there was a lull in the professor’s lecture. He enjoyed hearing Lance speak, enjoyed listening to the way he regarded the universe as something special, something vast and begging to be explored—

Yeah, Keith had a pretty good feeling he had a crush.

But that didn’t give Pidge any reason to set up a Tinder profile for him. It’s a total trainwreck of a profile, in his opinion. The pictures are… okay, granted, the only picture he wishes she hadn’t included is the knife cat meme.

(Not that he’ll admit that to Pidge.)

So, the pictures—he doesn’t have a big issue with them. It’s the bio he really wants her to change.

He’s stared at those same two lines of text on multiple occasions and still can’t come up with anything else to include. How does someone even decide what to put in a Tinder bio? Most people are there for hookups anyway so what does it matter?

Keith hardly uses his own account. Pidge and—horrifyingly enough—Shiro do most of the swiping for him.

Tonight, however, Keith is bored.

He glances over at the small stack of textbooks propped against his leg. Fuck. In theory, he could work on an assignment instead of putting things off another day. But he wants to make the most of his free time before he confronts the metric fuckton of schoolwork headed his way.

Keith props his feet up on the table and sinks deeper into the couch. Shiro won’t be home tonight so he has the entire apartment to himself. It isn’t all that uncommon for Shiro to spend the night at Matt’s place or, occasionally, Allura’s. But this early on in the semester, when Keith hardly has any homework—he can’t pass the opportunity up.

For the first couple hours, he watches Westworld. When he catches himself drifting off, he disconnects his laptop from the television and reaches for his phone. It’s only 11 o’clock, which is way earlier than he ever goes to bed.

“What the hell do I do now?” Keith asks the empty apartment. Predictably, no one answers him.

Keith groans and tips his head back, fixing his eyes on the ceiling fan overhead. It turns at a leisurely pace, just fast enough to keep him from feeling uncomfortably warm. He tracks the movement of the blades and lets his mind wander.

He could always text Pidge and ask if—dammit. She’s over at another friend’s place tonight. Hunk? Keith is almost positive that’s the guy’s name. And his roommate… Keith swears he knows the roommate, too.

Suddenly, it hits him. He does know the roommate.

“Of course that’s who it is,” Keith mumbles. Because Hunk lives with the same guy Keith has been silently creeping on for the last year or so. Yes, of all the people Hunk could live with, it’s Lance. Fucking aerospace engineering Lance. Who just so happens to also be friends with Pidge.

Keith’s plan to text Pidge is shot down in an instant. Although it does give him an idea.

A totally fucked and uncharacteristic idea, but, again, Keith is bored.

Cautiously, Keith unlocks his phone. His eyes flit across the screen, from app to app, until he spots the one he’s looking for. An app, mind you, he’s only opened and used a handful of times since downloading it. Which Pidge had done two months ago.

There’s a small circle in the center of the screen with his bike picture. Red concentric circles start there and spread outwards, while a message displays underneath. “Finding people near you…” it says. Keith almost wishes it wouldn’t.

Eventually, a profile appears. The guy looks vaguely familiar. Shoulder-length blond hair frames his round face, green eyes glinting promisingly. His pictures show him standing in front of easels—his own art, most likely—or surrounded by friends.

Keith is about to swipe the picture to the right when he realizes he doesn’t remember which way to swipe for people he likes.

“Idiot.” He settles for clicking the little green heart at the bottom of the profile.

Tinder has the decency to remind him which direction to swipe, depending on whether he’s interested in the person or not, and Keith sighs a quiet sigh of relief. He was right about the directions after all. Fantastic.

He goes through about fifteen more profiles—most of which he swipes left on because, wow, there are a lot of fuckboys at their university—before he comes across another familiar face.

But this familiarity hits Keith like a punch to the gut.

“What?” he cries, voice echoing off the thin walls of their living room. “No, no, no.”

There’s no mistaking the flawless skin and golden brown hair, begging to be ruffled. The wicked smirk and dangerous glimmer in his eyes, drawing attention to himself in every picture Keith scrolls across. In one, he wears a baby blue t-shirt with the word “peachy” screened across the front. Keith is almost positive he has class with the guy standing to Lance’s left—maybe that’s Hunk?—while Pidge stands proudly on the other side with an arm around Lance’s waist. The party pictures are easy to spot, considering the large groups of people, as well as the wide array of nonsensical stuff Lance chooses to wear, like a bra made from two red solo cups and beer box over his head.

Just like the Lance that Keith has come to know from class, the Lance in each picture has a certain charm Keith can’t even begin to explain. Even with the plastic cup bra pulled tight over his white crop top.

Just swipe left, he silently urges himself. Nothing good would come out of swiping right. Of course, the chances of Lance finding him attractive enough to want to match with—or the chances of him recognizing Keith and trying to match as a joke—are awfully low.

Keith looks off to the side and then back at Lance’s last picture. He’s at a museum, standing alongside an SR-71 Blackbird, sleek and beautiful. He seems absolutely ecstatic to be there and, for some strange and horrifying reason, Keith is reminded of his father, the man who preferred spending his days rocketing through the sky then down on the ground.

His hands move of their own accord and—

The phone nearly falls out of his hands, and Keith is sure his neighbors must hate him for the noise that comes bursting out of his mouth. Fingers quivering, he stares at the screen, dumbstruck.

“It’s a match!”

No, it can’t be, he wants to tell the stupid app. That’s impossible You’re wrong. He can’t even imagine Lance wanting to swipe right on a social pariah like him. Keith Kogane, the hotheaded and cocksure student who’s always questioning his professors and authority figures. The boy who hates loud and crowded places, like parties or clubs, and finds it difficult to make new friends. He’s the antithesis of everything Lance stands for so why… what the hell could’ve possibly influenced Lance to swipe right?

Keith shakes his head and sets the phone on the table, just of reach.

He’ll watch more Westworld, that’s what he’ll do. After the recent plot twist, he has to watch more and see how events unfold. And avoid thinking of Lance or the fact they matched on Tinder.

Everything is perfectly fine.

But, after one episode, Keith can’t stay away. “Fucking idiot,” he growls at himself and snags his phone off the table. To his horror, he has a message waiting for him. Lance sent you a new message!

“The fuck he has,” Keith exclaims, voice cracking unpleasantly somewhere in the middle of his outburst. Tentatively, he unlocks the screen and presses the notification.

is your mom an alien? because dat ass is out of this world

Keith doesn’t care how cute this asshole’s smile is; he wants to punch him. But the comment is so fucking… cringey that Keith can’t help but let out a short laugh. And the messages don’t stop there. He only has to wait a few minutes for the next couple.

the aliens made me swipe right

hey baby wanna take a ride in my flying saucer?

Keith is definitely laughing now. He’s finding it hard to believe Lance thinks any of this garbage will work. How the fuck could someone as smooth as Lance score hookups with lines like this? Not that Keith has any idea whether Lance hooks up with people he meets on Tinder. It’s just a hunch, alright? A totally unbiased hunch that has nothing to deal with how obnoxiously adorable he finds Lance’s face and quirky fashion sense.  

He deliberates locking his phone, possibly turning it off for the rest of the night to avoid this nonsense Lance calls “flirting,” when the last message arrives.

well you seem cool as fuck

A rush of tingling warmth spreads through Keith’s body. He reads the message again, just to be sure he didn’t imagine it, but it’s real. The social butterfly he’s been dying to talk to for months just told Keith he thought he was cool. Him. Keith.

“Me? Cool?” Keith’s thumb hovers over the blank message bar.

He’s never had anyone say that to him before. ‘Freak’ is one he heard often back in elementary school. And, as he grew older and recognized his sexuality, there were a slew of other insults. Compliments were few and far between, unless they were teachers praising his grades and intellect. Which never lasted long. Once he snapped and turned on a classmate for insulting his family, the teachers went back to giving him a wide berth and avoiding him like the plague.

Keith catches his reflection in the television screen. He speaks again, enjoying the taste of the word in his mouth. “Cool.”

His entire body feels warm, pleasantly so, down to the tips of his toes and fingers.

As planned, Keith turns off his phone for the rest of the night. But he vows to at least say something to Lance the next day in class.

 Lance

-present day-

Phase 1 doesn’t go as well as planned.

The first time Lance asks Keith out, he’s met with obliviousness. Because of course life would be too easy if Keith understood the situation right off the bat. No, the universe has to spice things up a bit for Lance.

Lance heaves a sigh, back propped up against the wall. His laptop whirrs softly, a warm presence on the top of his thighs but not nearly as warm as Keith’s presence beside him. The bed is actually quite small. It used to be problematic whenever Lance had someone spend the night, but, ever since he and Keith started hanging out, there’s only been one guest in his room, other than the occasional Hunk.  

He’s been drowning in thoughts of their ‘rivalry’ for the better part of the day, and, for the life of him, Lance can’t remember how it even started. “I’m such an idiot,” he mutters, seemingly out of the blue.

“No comment,” Keith deadpans, blinking at the laptop screen.

“You’re not supposed to agree with me on that one, dude. But, uh. Yeah, I kind of feel like one right now.”

“Why?”

“Because this ‘rivalry’”—he motions between the two of them—“has been going on since, like, freshman year, and I’m finally starting to ask myself what happened to kick it off.”

“I mean, wasn’t it an issue over grades or something? Every time we got a test back in class, I noticed you glaring daggers at me.”

Lance wishes, more than anything, he could shoot that excuse down. But alas…

“No, nope. That’s not it. Way too petty. I never would start a legendary ‘rivalry’ over something dumb like that.”

“Pidge told me you said ‘I won’t rest until I outscore that stupid hotshot,’” Keith recalls drily. “I would assume I’m the ‘stupid hotshot.’”

Did I really call Keith stupid? He knows he never would’ve meant it seriously, regardless of his competitive nature. “I was just joking!”

“The way Pidge told the story, it didn’t seem that way. You used to shoot me dirty looks in class so I wouldn’t be too surprised.” Keith tries to put a few extra inches of space between them and—Lance panics.

“You’re not stupid at all!”

“You sure about that?” Keith’s voice drips with skepticism.

“Positive! Okay, just— just hear me out.” Lance maintains the space between them, worried he may spook poor Keith. “But you can’t laugh at me or anything.”

“You didn’t laugh when I told you about the alien thing so” —Keith shrugs and continues, albeit grudgingly—”I’m not a dickhead. Go ahead.”

“Alright, well, I was jealous.” There you go, Lance, just bite the bullet.

Keith’s nose scrunches up. “Jealous?”

“Yeah, I was jealous. Because you always got good grades and acted like it was no big deal. I slaved over my assignments, but I was lucky to get a B on anything I turned in. Pick a class, any class. You were always way ahead of me.”

Keith pales, like he’s just seen a ghost or run into the Demogorgon from Stranger Things.  

“Um. Oh,” Keith eventually stutters out.

Lance quickly snaps his mouth shut. He definitely said too much. Keith would want nothing to do with him after a selfish excuse like that, and Lance wouldn’t blame him.  “I’m sorry, I... It sounds pretty messed up, when I put it like that, huh?“

And then Lance remembers.

The plot. Hunk and Pidge’s brilliant plot to get Keith and Lance together. It may not be the perfect moment to ask, but it’s not the worst either. They’re talking about grades, right? And what does someone have to do to maintain their grades? Study.

Which—drum roll, please—gives Lance an opening. He could totally ask Keith out on a study date. Lance pictures how the whole conversation will go down in his head and barely quells his desire to preen like a proud peacock.

“Here, I have an idea. To make it up to you.” Lance carefully flips his laptop shut. To his credit, Keith makes eye contact instead of staring intensely at a random spot on the wall, like he had been doing. “How about we study together?”

“I don’t study well in groups.”

Holy mother of-

“I promise to behave myself,” Lance insists, fluttering his lashes. “I’ll stay on task the whole time.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about…”

“What are you worried about then? Is it the whole ‘memories getting trapped in your mullet’ thing? Because—“

“No, Lance.”

“Is it… because you hate me?”

Lance doesn’t know why he says it, but immediately regrets doing so when Keith’s expression twists into one of pure fear. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then what is it?”

“I… I’m worried I won’t be able to focus.”

Pieces of the puzzle slot clumsily together in Lance’s brain; they aren’t quite meshing together, though.  

“I told you, I’ll only ask relevant questions. No sidetracking, no gossip. I swear on my model aircraft collection that I’ll be the best study buddy you could ask for.”

Keith snort-laughs. “I know that.”

“Then why?”

“It’s just that…“

“Hm?”

“I, uh, you see…”

“Keith, dude, seriously—“

“It doesn’t matter if you sit quietly and read the fucking Dictionary to yourself, Lance, I’ll still be distracted by you!”

Lance is totally unprepared for the surge of emotions. The words turn over in his head, faster and faster, and Lance starts to gain a loose grasp on what Keith is saying. Is he… is he saying he would be too busy watching me?

There’s no way—absolutely no way. But it’s the most viable explanation. Either the slightest noise disturbs Keith or he’s concerned Lance’s very existence will serve as a distraction.

“Just to be sure I’m not going crazy here,” Lance starts, hesitantly, “are you implying that you’ll be too busy ogling the goods to focus on studying?”

And now Lance is getting shoved. Not enough to send him toppling off the bed but enough that it smarts a little where Keith jabbed him. Curious, he glances up and— Keith, the poor dude, bears an uncanny resemblance to a tomato. Lance can practically see the smoke pouring out of his ears.

“Shut up,” Keith growls. The laptop tips precariously to one side, and Keith steadies it. “Forget I said anything. Let’s just—get back to the movie? It’s been so long since I last watched it.”

Keith has a point. It’s been ages since Lance watched The Last Starfighter. He fell in love with the film the very first time he watched it, sitting in his family room with his younger siblings crowded around him. As a young boy, he’d spent hours searching through his father’s expansive sci-fi collection, watching more movies and televisions shows than he’d care to admit.

When rumors were being spread around the engineering department about the prodigal new student and pilot, Lance couldn’t help but be reminded of Alex Rogan. The kid never expected to be put behind the controls of an actual spaceship, but he was born with the skill necessary to do so. Rewatching the film, Lance can’t help but imagine Keith in a similar scenario.

He’d totally be the kind of guy capable of saving the world.

In reality, as Lance grew older, he developed a bit of a celebrity crush on the young Lance Guest. Bonus points went to the guy for having the same first name as Lance. And, okay, he wasn’t as cute as young Harrison Ford, but he was still pretty high on Lance’s list of ‘Sci-Fi Actors I Would Climb Like A Tree.

“Yeah… yeah, okay,” Lance concedes. He pulls the laptop over until it sits comfortably between them again, half resting in each of their laps. “You’re lucky I love this movie, or I’d ask your stubborn ass more questions.”

Keith merely sighs and flips the laptop back open, reaching out to press the spacebar. The movie resumes, and Lance is left with his thoughts, torn between gushing over space dogfights or devising new plans to ask the most oblivious person in the fucking world out on a date.

--

Lance

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” Hunk grumbles, adjusting his protractor before sketching another line.

Lance sits in the floor of their living room, an open textbook in his lap. Like a cat, Pidge lies stretched out on the couch. She fits perfectly, whereas Lance and Hunk both have to tuck their legs or prop them on the armrest when in her place. Fingers flying across the keyboard, she pays little to no mind to Hunk and Lance’s discussion.

“Are you kidding? It’s Keith.”

Or not.

Lance groans. He’s recounted the whole story of his failed attempt twice now. Between homework problems, Hunk tries taking the situation apart, piece by piece, in search of Lance’s mistake. Pidge butts in with a comment every now and then.

“I know, but still,” Hunk huffs, “That idea seemed pretty foolproof to me. Kudos to you, by the way, dude.”

“Thanks,” Lance mumbles half-heartedly.

“You have to be straightforward with Keith. Otherwise, he thinks he’s imagining things. Or that you’re trying to trick him.”

“Paranoid, much?” Lance flips the page of his textbook, staring aimlessly at the pictured airfoil. “How would I trick him with a study date? Feed him the wrong answers? That’s fucked up, rivals or not.”

Hunk curses under his breath, and the distinct sound of an eraser, pressed hard against paper, fills the apartment. “You ruined my mechanism sketch, dude.”

Lance shoots him a classic ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look. But Hunk merely nods. “Spouting that garbage. You and Keith never really were rivals in the first place, but you’re definitely not now. You’re friends, at least. More than friends, if things go your way…”

“Anyway,” Pidge drawls, “I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to study together. He comes over to our place sometimes to work on stuff. Says it’s quieter than his place when Shiro invites Allura and Matt for dinner.”

So… Lance might not have told Hunk and Pidge the entire story. The last bit of their talk—when Keith revealed he wouldn’t be able to focus with Lance in the room—remains a closely guarded secret. It’s  definitely better that way. If anything, Pidge would tease poor Keith and, well, Keith would punch Lance in the dick for sharing something so personal.

Lance would deserve it, of course. No question there.

“Not a clue. Maybe he thinks he’s too good to study with his ri—“ Hunk tosses his eraser at Lance. The worn, white block smacks into his cheek, and Lance squeaks. “Hey!”

“Chances are, he’s too shy,” Hunk explains, fixing Lance with a frustrated grimace. “You should know by now that Keith isn’t an academic prude or anything. I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Oh, he has his reasons alright.

“Yeah, he can be pretty, uh, eccentric sometimes. He obviously likes spending time with you, though, so I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it,” Pidge adds, tone matter-of-fact.

Other than his own brother, Pidge is Keith’s closest friend. They bonded their junior year of high school over conspiracy theories and alien abduction, if Lance remembers correctly. Shiro and Matt were already close friends at the time so the two older brothers were encouraging them to get to know each other better. According to Pidge, she’d been a little reluctant at first. Keith was quiet and sometimes snapped at complete strangers. But, the more time they spent together, the closer they became.

Now that Lance knew Keith better, he could see why their personalities meshed so well. In the past, he’d wracked his brain for reasons why the two got along and always came up with zilch, nada. Not anymore.

As Keith’s closest companion, Pidge knows nearly as much as Shiro. Enough for her to judge whether Keith actually likes Lance or simply tolerates him for the sake of keeping up appearances. He obviously likes spending time with you, she says.

“So, what should I try next?” Lance prompts. It’s a welcome diversion from his homework. And, well, he really doesn’t know where to proceed from here when it comes to Keith. “Do I try asking him out again?”

“Maybe?”

“Or—or, you could always ask him how he feels about dating,” Hunk suggests. “Not you specifically but, like… dating in general? Maybe that’ll get him to share some valuable information. If he’s interested in dating anyone right now, if he has any crazy exes, if he’s already talking to someone.”

Ugh. The last suggestion leaves Lance feeling queasy. Keith wouldn’t have someone special like that in his life and not tell Lance… right?

“Eh, I guess.” Lance smooths his fingers over the lines of text on the page. “That could work. You really are a genius, buddy.”

Hunk grins, wide and genuine, and pats Lance soundly on the back. “There he is, Sir Lancelot.”

“Defender of the universe!” Lance doesn’t even shut his book before he stands, placing his hands on his hips. If only he had a cape. “The resident sharpshooter, the tailor himself!”

Pidge objects loudly from her place on the couch. “Hunk, no, why do you encourage him?”

The two go back and forth—making judgments on which nicknames should stay and which have to go—but Lance is only half-listening. The man of action has a new plan of action now.

The next step in Phase I will now commence.

--

Keith

This is weird.

Actually, ‘weird’ doesn’t feel quite right. It doesn’t encompass the full magnitude of ‘what the fuck is happening’ Keith experiences when he’s around Lance. Emotional vertigo, to be honest.

Let’s just say Keith hasn’t mentioned the real reason he matched with Lance on Tinder— to anyone. No, it wasn’t Pidge who made the decision. Keith’s very own finger swiped Lance’s profile to the right. Completely sober, completely in control of his actions, Keith had been the one to kick himself in the ass and shoot for a match.

And it’s only progressively gotten worse now that Lance pays attention to him.

“You certainly seem like you’re in a good mood,” Shiro calls out from the kitchen. Past experience tells Keith the remark is supposed to sound offhanded; it doesn’t.

Keith glances up from his textbook, brows raised. “Really?”

“Well, you seem to be smiling more often.” Shiro’s lips pull up into a soft smile of his own. “It’s nice, seeing you happy.”

“I don’t… feel any different.”

“I’m used to you bursting through the door, full of complaints. Usually about that boy in most of your courses. Oh, what’s his name…”

Shiro is so full of shit. Keith groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes falling shut. “Lance. His name is Lance.”

“Yes, that’s the one! But you two seem to be getting along a lot better now. Is that right?”

“You’ve been talking to Matt… haven’t you?”

Keith watches, just to catch the guilty expression on Shiro’s face and catalogue it for later. “Uh, well. We had lunch the other day, and he—he might’ve brought it up.”

“And what’s ‘it’?”

“Your friendship with Lance! He says the two of you started sitting next to each other in his aerospace structures class.” Shiro fiddles with a couple spoons as he pulls them from the dishwasher. “He also mentioned that… it almost seemed like flirting to hi—“

“No, no,” Keith quickly interjects. “Definitely not. Lance and I are friends now. So we talk? Nothing weird about that, right?”

Shiro turns to fully face Keith. He leans back against the kitchen counter. The scar along the bridge of his nose is far more noticeable when he’s like this, gaze fixed intently on Keith, forehead creasing just the slightest bit. Keith has grown over the years, but Shiro still has a few inches on him. Plus, he works out consistently and has the stocky, solid build to show for it. It doesn’t take long for him to switch from ‘sweet older brother’ mode to ‘intimidating father figure’ mode.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve discussed Lance in the past few weeks. You’ve started hanging out with Pidge and ‘her friends’ on the weekends. I know that Lance is one of those friends.” Shiro narrows his eyes. “I also know how fidgety you were the first time you came home, after hanging out with them. Fidgety but also… kind of… giddy?”

“Giddy?” Keith feels his cheeks start to pink. God, he hates when Shiro does this to him. “That’s the word you’re going with?”

“I can’t think of a more appropriate one,” Shiro laughs. “You could barely sit still and kept checking your phone. Especially with the way you were acting the night before… I was suspicious.”

Shit. Keith had really hoped Shiro hadn’t noticed his odd behavior the night he matched with Lance. The night. The cursed night.

“Like I said, we’re just friends,” Keith stresses again. He knows it won’t be the last time he has to tell Shiro. “He’s a huge pain in the ass, but he’s also a nice guy. That’s the only reason I’ve probably seemed happy. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever…” Shiro whispers the words under his breath, but Keith hears him. He turns and strides over to where his briefcase sits, propped against the table. “Anyway, I have to get to work. These homework assignments need graded, and I haven’t had a chance to hand them off to the TA yet.”

“Yeah, alright. Is it just going to be you tonight for dinner? Or are Allura and Matt coming?”

Shiro chuckles faintly, shaking his head. He fixes the lapels of his shirt and adjusts his tie. Keith is eternally grateful he doesn’t have Shiro as a professor. Not only has he seen the sort of homework he hands out, but he’s the kind of person who would love calling on his “genius little brother” for questions during class.

“Just me.” Shiro finishes inspecting his outfit in the mirror and makes for the door. “I’ll probably be busy, though, so I may bring back Chinese takeout. If that’s okay?”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t mind. You’re the one who likes to cook.”

Translation: Keith is not the world’s best chef.

Shiro flashes a fond smile in his direction before stepping out the door. A rush of cool air filters into the room, and Keith shivers. He’s not looking forward to going out in this weather. Plus, the bus will be packed with the usual crowd plus people who normally walk to campus.

Keith can only hope this isn’t foreshadowing for how the day will go

--

Lance

This will work—this has to work.

His second attempt? Yeah, as expected, that went to shit. The two of them had been sitting in the library, eating lunch, when Lance decided to bring it up.

“So,” he’d drawled, amidst chewing. “You wanna go to the arcade tomorrow?”

“Uh, sure. Is Pidge going?”

Lance almost choked on his sandwich. “I don’t… know? Why?”

“You better make sure you invite her. She’s been dying to go,” Keith says, motioning at Lance with a carrot before crunching into it. “I promised I wouldn’t go without her.”

Of course, Lance had thought about begging Pidge to lie and pretend she had plans. But there were too many loopholes, and Lance would feel bad about robbing Pidge of her opportunity to ‘destroy noobs’ and scrape up some decent cash in the process.

So, back to square one.

A couple days later, Lance settled on a different approach. And his third attempt? You guessed it—also a real bummer. He took yet another L.

“Hey, you wanna go to the movies this weekend?” Lance prompted. He and Keith were walking down to the bus stop, swaddled in thick layers of clothing. “Like, maybe Friday?”

Keith let out a noncommittal noise. It was barely audible past the scarf around his neck. “What movie?”

“I’m not sure… anything you’re interested in seeing?”

“Eh, not really.” Keith paused for a moment before continuing. Lance buried his gloved hands deeper in his pockets. “To be honest, I’d rather just watch something at your place.”

Normally, Lance would’ve danced and cheered because, hell yeah, watching a movie all alone with Keith. But not this particular weekend. Because Shay was staying over and the awkward atmosphere would kill any chance of Lance making a Move.

The initial three attempts in ‘Operation: Woo Keith’ were unsuccessful. Not much of a surprise there. But this idea? His latest idea? Fourth time’s the charm.

Lance scribbled the plan down yesterday, during a break between classes. The chairs in the engineering lounge were crazy comfortable and, curled up in his personal favorite of the bunch, Lance outlined his idea on a scrap piece of paper. Finished, he’d tucked it in his backpack to carry out the following day, when he would have class with Keith.

In a bit of a rush, Lance scrambles to put his lunch together. He spent a decent amount of money on drinks for their last party and needs to pinch pennies for the next few days. Sliding the fridge door open, he reaches for the blueberries.

And, with his fantastic luck, drops the container.

The blueberries roll everywhere—under the fridge, behind the trashcan, managing to even reach the couch. Lance screeches and bends to pick a couple up.

“What are you—oh my God, the fruit killer strikes again!” Hunk freezes just next to the counter. A baggy orange shirt stops just above his knees, hair sticking up at weird angles on top of his head.

“I’m not the fruit killer!”

“Yeah, tell that to the pineapple you sacrificed last week. And the countless other victims in the past!”

Lance scrapes up as many blueberries as he can and dumps them in the trash. He needs to leave soon or he’ll be late for his usual shuttle. And if he’s late to catch the shuttle, he’ll be late to class.

Which means—yep, that’s right. He’ll have to wait to talk to Keith.

Now, that doesn’t completely spoil his brilliant plan. But it deviates from it enough to make Lance anxious. That’s what will throw things off. Because once uncertainty comes into play, Lance freaks out and has been known to sabotage himself.

“The fruit killer has to hurry the fuck up,” Lance says, jamming notebooks and a binder into his bag. He snags the lunch he somehow managed to throw together. “Or he may screw himself over.”

Hunk stops, a few blueberries cradled in his open palms. “This is your last chance to ask him or we’ll have to fix things and reschedule.”

“I know, I know. It’ll all work out, okay?”

Lance is out the door before Hunk can say anything more.

--

Keith

Tap, tap.

Keith glances down at his phone, pressing his thumb lightly over the home key. 8:58 AM.

Tap, tap.

Lance is hardly ever late to class. As a matter of fact, he usually beats Keith there.

Tap, tap, tap.

Keith squeezes the pen in his hand. He’s almost positive the guy he used to sit next to is glaring at him. Obviously he doesn’t appreciate Keith tapping his pen on the edge of his desk. Calm the fuck down.

This isn’t the kind of class you’d want to be late to either. The professor has a strict attendance policy and doesn’t take kindly to people walking in late. There have been a few students who walked in ten minutes late and were ‘politely’ asked to leave. Not that Keith thinks Lance will be that late.

Just as he’s about to text Lance and beg him to get his ass to class, the man of the hour comes crashing into his usual seat.

“Dude—“

“Yeah, I might’ve sacrificed some blueberries to get here on time.”

Keith blinks at Lance, watching as he quickly digs through his backpack. He tugs the desk over his lap and slaps down his notebook. “At least you spared the pineapple this time,” Keith points out.

“You and your love of pineapple.” Lance clicks his pen and turns to the next blank sheet. He pauses, eyes flitting to Keith. “Did you just make a joke?”

Bastard. He can feel the heat creeping across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “Professor Coran is going to walk through that door any second now and bitch at you for talking and interrupting class.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll ignore the fact that super serious Keith Kogane, envy of all mullets, cracked a joke.” Lance throws Keith a wink. He can practically feel his insides turning to mush. “Also, I know I probably don’t have to ask at this point but, uh. You wanna come to our party tonight?”

“Oh, it’s tonight?”

“Yeah, but that’s not a problem, right?” There’s a hint of desperation in Lance’s tone that piques Keith’s curiosity.

“No, no. It’s not. I’m just used to them being on Saturday’s.”

“Yep,” Lance answers with a nod, “Just come over at eight. A little early so you don’t have to deal with the rush of people.”

Keith cocks his head to the side. There’s something strange about Lance’s demeanor. He almost sounds… nervous. Which makes no sense whatsoever. This certainly isn’t the first time he’s invited Keith. More like the fourth time—not that Keith’s keeping track or anything.

“Are you okay?” Keith is momentarily distracted by Lance’s fingers, fiddling with the cover of his notebook. “You seem more… jittery than usual.”

“Totally fine, dude,” Lance answers, “just trying to calm myself down after sprinting here from the bus stop.”

If not for Coran charging through the door like a man on a mission, thick pile of papers crammed under his arm, Keith would’ve interrogated Lance further. But he knew better than to open his mouth once their professor entered the picture. The man would definitely call Keith out. He may spare Lance, but Keith… yeah, maybe he deserved to be called out.

“Alright, class, how is everyone this fine morning?” A collective groan fills the room, and Coran scoffs. “Now, now, it’s lovely outside! This weather reminds me of the time I spent up North. I bet this is what it’s like to live on Europa, hm? “

Coran has a reputation for his bizarre anecdotes, random sound effects, and mild obsession with space and alien life. At the mention of Europa, Keith can already tell today is going to be an entertaining lecture.

“Anyway,” Coran singsongs, claiming his usual place at the front of the room. “Today we’re going to discuss the dihedral effect and how we model…”

Keith sighs and writes the date in the top left-hand corner of the page. For the rest of the lecture, he blocks out his surroundings and focuses on the strings of complicated words coming out of Professor Coran’s mouth. This isn’t the sort of class he can afford to ignore.

He makes it through a solid hour and fifteen minutes without dwelling on Lance or his peculiar behavior or the party later that night—

Ugh.

Seriously, Keith puts it all out of his mind until he’s free to go home. That’s when he’ll sit and worry over everything. Which, once he slinks through the door and throws himself down onto the couch a couple hours later, is exactly what he does.

—

Lance

Lance pouts his lips, watching his reflection mimic the gesture.

“You got this,” he tells himself. He checks his shirt for wrinkles, running his hands over the front of his navy blue flannel. It used to belong to his dad, and Lance has always loved the way it hangs on his frame. He wears the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, exposing the long lines of his forearms, and the shirt offers a nice glimpse of his collarbone. A sturdy belt holds his khakis in place, tan fabric hugging his hips and waist in all the right places. He usually reserves these pants for class presentations and interviews, but a date with Keith seems like a worthy occasion.

“Keith used to be your rival, and, sure, he has a mullet. But he’s the coolest, and you’re not going to fuck this up.” Lance jabs his finger into his reflection’s forehead. “I repeat, you will not fuck this up.”

Yes, the mantra is new. He’s never met anyone he legitimately needed a pep talk to approach. Not that needing positive words of encouragement to talk to Keith is a bad thing! It’s more like an ‘I really need to impress this person and convince them I’m worth the effort’ sort of thing.

“I won’t fuck this up.” Lance straightens his spine, standing tall with his hands poised on his hips. “I won’t fuck this up. I won’t, I just won’t. I, Lance McClain, will not fu—”

There’s a hesitant knock at the door, just loud enough that Lance hears it from down the hall. And, oh God, Lance shrieks like a teenage boy who just discovered a spider hidden in the bottom of his boot. He mumbles reassurances under his breath and hastily smooths his hands down the front of his body for probably the millionth time that evening. There’s a slim chance his ministrations only serve to wrinkle his shirt further, but he doesn’t give a flying fuck because Keith Kogane is waiting at his door.

“C- I’m coming!” Lance calls out. He almost trips over a stray sock but catches hold of the doorframe before he can actually fall. “Gimme a second!”

Keith doesn’t answer, but Lance easily conjures up what he must look like. Standing there, likely dressed in his usual dark jeans and cotton red shirt, the worn sort that looks soft to the touch. He’s almost definitely wearing his leather jacket, a pair of scuffed combat boots or, maybe, his red Converse sneakers. Quite honestly, Lance has a soft spot for those stupid shoes.

Lance comes to a screeching halt in front of the door, nervously tugging at the hem of his flannel for several tense seconds, before cracking the door open. His eyes flutter shut, and he repeats the mantra once more. I won’t fuck this up.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for what awaits him on the other side.

Hair— that’s the first thing Lance notices. Dark strands are swept back into a low ponytail, strays framing Keith’s face, the shortest hairs curling at the nape of his neck. The style draws more attention to features Lance had never allowed himself to contemplate before. A barely visible mole near the tip of his left eyebrow, the grey-purple hue of his irises, a tiny pimple hidden alongside the bridge of his nose. Every detail, every minor flaw, leaves Lance riveted. And steals the words right out of his mouth.

“Hey,” Keith, the cute bastard, has the nerve to say. As if nothing about his appearance is weird or hazardous to Lance’s health. Lance seizes the opportunity to give Keith a onceover and, yeah, of course he’s wearing the Converses. Shit.

“Uh, oh, hi,” Lance responds, oh so eloquently.

“Hey,” Keith repeats, the barest hint of a smile taking shape on his lips. “Can I… come in?”

“Uh, yeah, duh, of course.”

Keith takes one step into the apartment and falters. “You’re still doing it.”

Oh crap. “Doing what?”

“Acting all weird and jittery. What the hell is your deal?”

Lance is going to burst. If he holds the truth in any longer, he might literally explode and spray his guts all over their nice, clean walls. I won’t fuck this up, I won’t fuck this up, I-

“There’s no party tonight!” Lance gasps, like the confession is punched out of him.

Keith stops mid-stride and turns on Lance. He stares blankly, uncomprehending, silent questions hanging between them. The motion is quick, sharp. A few extra flyways join the other stray bangs hanging around Keith’s face, tickling his cheeks. Lance distantly wonders if they actually tickle.

“...What?”

“Surprise!” Lance holds his arms out to the side. He’s genuinely shocked his heart hasn’t climbed up his throat yet. Plastering on his best confident grin, he gestures at the entirety of the apartment. “It’s just the two of us tonight!”

Keith’s lashes flutter wildly, and he spins, surveying the empty living room and kitchen. “Uh, did you— just the two of us? You and… me?”

I won’t fuck this up.

“Keithy, boy, what would you do if I told you this was a date?”

[durenjtmusings]

What if humans weren’t the only supernatural ‘hunters’?

Welcome to my first full story published online ever. It is meant to be an Introduction to a new type of 'hunter’ character in the SPN universe - one that will, eventually (hopefully), interact with Canon characters. She is drawn from ideas created by Seanan McGuire in the Incryptid and Sparrow Hill Road books*, but is wholly new - her own person, providing an alternative approach to addressing spiritual problems in the world of SPN.

2,657 words

No actual SPN characters or canon settings IN the story

Content notes: death, abuse, LGBT issues

I have a bunch of these stories outlined, with other ‘hunters’ of this type in the works as well. I would WELCOME anyone interested in writing fic in this AU, co-writing with me or beta reading future stories. Contact me @durenjtmusings​

Last Chance

“Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell [me] a story. Make some light.” — Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux

Southeast Tennessee Early summer, 2003

As usual, she began catching rides just after dawn, following the pull of the Road – this time south and west towards the Tennessee/Alabama border. She wore her hair blonde and short today, in a blunt cut just past the jawline. Given the accompanying snow white complexion, she decided that a low cut lacy tank with wedge sandals and tight faded jeans formed a believable compromise between suggestive and sun poisoning. She was thin, a natural result of abuse and self-neglect, but still attractive enough that travel was predictably swift. Her first ride, a refreshingly earnest elderly couple, helpfully provided a light scarf-like wrap, “…to protect your lovely shoulders from all those nasty UV-rays, dearie.” When she hit SR-64 around noon, however, traffic became scarce and she was forced to walk miles in the unrelenting rays of a clear blue summer sky.  As the scarf became glued to her skin, both the heels and the jeans were loudly and thoroughly cursed as phenomenally stupid decisions. Given all her years traveling the region, she certainly should have known better. Despite it all, of course, she still felt frigidly cold at her core. She was always cold – or almost always, anyway.

Twelve years ago, she had wished desperately for a better life. When she ran away, she hadn’t just been running from the abuse, she’d also been running towards something. With nothing but her purse and the clothes on her back, she’d been heading for California - the pacific coast – as FAR away as she could get by stolen car. Unlike many, she didn’t have a specific goal in mind. She didn’t want to be a star; she didn’t want to be famous or rich. I just wanted to see new things, go new places, do different work, and meet new...people.

When she realized where she was heading, however, she rolled her eyes and allowed herself a loud resigned sigh. Oh hell, it’s Freddie. Again. Well, Freddie  had been something new, she had to admit.

As her final ride dropped her off at the 97 junction, the Road’s level of anxiety filled her with dread. Goddammit! I’m too late, she cursed inwardly. Freddie’d always been odd, but he had recently taken to lying in the middle of the road in broad daylight, causing havoc with lunchtime traffic patterns. When it was just an occasional car run off the road at midnight, she’d let him go with a stern talking to and a fierce glare. He’d disappear and sulk for a few months and then be at it again. They’d kept this up for a couple of years …but she’d seen that he was getting worse. His horizontal antics had slowly slid from juvenile trick to depression to malice. Now, according to the Road, Freddie’s weird aggressive passivity had caused a fatality. Now, sadly, she’d have to do something more final.

As the ambulance passed by, red lights flashing and siren blaring, she slipped the scarf from her shoulders and slid off the pavement to search the late afternoon shadows. He turned out to be an easy find. Just standing by the edge of the cornfield, Freddie had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his bell bottoms, with his face turned towards the ground. As she approached, his shoulders twitched defensively underneath his tattered Star Wars t-shirt. She knew he knew what was coming. She’d warned him, time and time again. Man, I HATE this part of the job, she thought. He didn’t look up as she stopped beside him.

“Freddie, dude…” she said sadly.

“I don’t wanna go, Susan.” He still wouldn’t look at her. His tone was flat, his body posture tense. She recognized all the red flags for resistance. Great, just great, and now on top of it, I have to fight a 14-year-old boy.  Around them swirled the lights and buzz and hum of the accident - police cars’ flashing lights, the EMTs rushing about, bystanders milling around making exclamations of horror, etc. Officers were busy directing traffic around the crash and, as always, rubberneckers were staring. Susan and Freddie ignored the chaos, focused only on each other.

She didn’t know a lot about Freddie’s background. She hadn’t been the one to meet him - to explain the options and help him through the transition. She’d only met him a couple of years ago when he’d started creating problems. She knew that he hadn’t grown up around here, that he had been a more urban boy transplanted to this rural life. She knew that he’d been gay - or questioning - before it happened and that he hadn’t been accepted here. And while she was certain this had something to do with his depression and self-destructive behaviors, she didn’t know his story. She didn’t know WHY he did what he did. She’d tried repeatedly to get him to sit down and tell her - to share his private anger and grief - but he always refused, making a joke, or just laughing... harshly. She didn’t have many failures on her record and it nearly broke her heart that Freddie would now be added to the list.

“Freddie, it’s time to go now. You have to say goodbye now. You know that.” She was careful to talk softly, trying one last time to convince him to take the easy way out.

“I don’t wanna go, Susan.” Threatening this time, clearly holding back anger - likely years upon years of carefully hoarded anger. “I didn’t WANT this. I didn’t ASK for this. I just wanted to live my life but they wouldn’t LET me.” Finally, he turned towards her, his good eye startlingly blue in the mangled mess of his face. “I want them to PAY for this.”

And there it is, the final nail in the coffin (so to speak). There in his voice was that shift to vengeance - to lash out at those responsible. And at this point, he saw anyone living as responsible. Susan sighed, knowing, just knowing that this was going to be a bad day. A very bad day. Thank the Powers that I’ve lost the sandals, she reflected. She took a tiny step forward, tentatively reaching for his hand.

“I can listen, Freddie. You know I can listen. I can listen and I can tell your story. I can make sure everyone knows what happened, so that, maybe, just maybe, it won’t happen again…for someone. Wouldn’t you like to try to SAVE someone?” She’d made this appeal to him every time. She was obligated to make it again, even though she had little hope of success.

“I SAID, I DON’T WANT TO GO!” Freddie exploded into action, lunging to grab at the collar of her jean jacket with both hands extended, his face further contorted by rage.

She had time to think, “Better at me than at them,” and then her years of experience took over. The fight took longer than she expected, for what Freddie lacked in skill, he more than made up for in power. He’d had years to build up that power – especially since he’d used so little of it when playing his tricks on the road. She was careful to keep the fight away from the crowds, as this kind of wild energy was highly likely to have negative effects on the human psyche. Particularly when they couldn’t see the cause.

“Stay DOWN, Freddie, give it up. You’re DONE.” Finally pinned, Freddie struggled in her hold as Susan began to say the words. She detested these words, the ones that summoned the Dark Takers. The ones who came to collect twisted and involuntary souls always leered at her, making her skin try to crawl off of her body. And they stank. They stank of decay and agony in horrid places and grim defeat. She gritted her teeth to hold back the tears. She hated the very idea of this young boy with those horrors but she had no choice. He’d made it clear that he wouldn’t stop and the Road was adamant that no more lives could be lost.

“STOP! Stop Susan, please…stop.” His body had stilled as he cried out, his words quickly turning into a plea. Freddie remained tense, but no longer fought her hold. Susan immediately halted her chant, but held herself ready to continue at the first sign of another of his tricks. “Please…I just want…” Freddie’s voice choked off, as he attempted to grapple with expressing an avalanche of pent up emotions and desires.

“Hey, hey...” Susan said soothingly. “Take it easy. It’s a lot, I know. There’s no rush, we have all the time we want.” She carefully began to relax her hold and let a bit of a smile creep into her voice. “I’ve got nowhere else I need to be. How about you?” Thankfully, she felt his body slump and then begin to jerk with sobs. “It’s ok, kid. It’s ok to mourn the life you wanted, the life you could have lived.”

He told her then, in between sobs, about the girl and the teasing and the misunderstandings. All perfectly normal teen angst until they found them - with him dressed in her borrowed clothes. How it escalated so quickly to ugliness and threats from peers and adults alike. Each day an almost unbearable new torment until her parents took her away – his only ally. They caught him alone soon after, took him into the woods far from prying eyes, and terrorized him for what seemed an eternity. Freddie was calmer by then, his voice stronger, the anger returning. “They were wrong. I was not a freak. I am not a freak.”

“Of course not, Freddie.” Her voice was firm, and matter of fact. “You were discovering who you wanted to be – simply exploring the facets of your soul. Not a damn thing wrong with that.” She was holding him in her arms by then, both of them curled up by the side of the road, Freddie with is head buried in her t-shirt.

“Sadly, they were too limited to accept anything beyond their own expectations.” Her voice softened. “They were afraid of you Freddie. You scared them, badly, and they…well, I can’t begin to explain or excuse their actions.” Susan sighed. So many people, so many stories, so full of hurt and sadness.

“But you got away, didn’t you Freddie?” Susan prompted. “You ran until you found a road – this road.”

Freddie looked up, his good eye wide with surprise. “Yes, how did you know? I was hurt...bleeding...and I just wanted it to stop. I ran and ran, trying to hide in the corn, but it wasn’t tall enough, and they just…they just kept coming. It was getting dark and I couldn’t see well without my glasses, but when I found the road…” His face, full of hope, crumpled as the memories found him. Whimpering, he curled up tighter within her arms.

“You thought for sure you were saved. And then someone did come, but they didn’t see you, did they, Freddie? And then you…” And then you died, Freddie. You died horribly, with your face smashed in and all your possibilities cut short. “And then you ended up like this.” Susan patted his shoulder soothingly. “I know about you finding this road, Freddie, because, like you, I belong to the Road. It tells me where there are troubles and I try to help solve them.” And you’ve been troubled for a long time Freddie. Twenty-four years is a long time to be stuck at 14 years old, holding on to all that anger and pain.

“What happens now, Susan?” Freddie pulled himself out of her embrace and turned to look into her face. “Do I still have to go?” His expression was a painful mix of hope and fear. She hated the answer she had to give.

“You took a life, Freddie – an innocent life. That’s where they draw the line. You can’t stay here anymore.” At his panicked look, she softened her expression, reaching out to take his hand. “They say you have to redeem yourself, Freddie. You know that, don’t you?” At his rebellious expression, she gripped his hand more tightly. “It’s better if you go voluntarily, kid, trust me on this.” The threat of the Takers skulked again through her thoughts. “If you choose to go, they say it can be a point in your favor – a step towards your eventual release.”

“My release? How long will that take? And who are they anyway?” Freddie’s voice was dangerously edged with both sarcasm and despair.

Susan struggled to find the right tone - the right words to convince him – and then gave up trying. “I don’t know, Freddie, sometimes I think the Road doesn’t tell me shit.” She sighed and found herself wondering, once again, why they had picked her for the job. Because someone has to do it or the world would be chaos. She knew the answer – sort of – but that wouldn’t be much help to Freddie.

Susan turned his hand over and watched her own fingers trace idle circles in his palm. “I guess…in my job I’ve talked with a lot of folks, Freddie. And from that, I know a lot of it is about chances. Chances and what you chose to do with them. And all that pain and anger you’re holding on to? It makes you powerful, but it doesn’t help much in thinking about your options.” She tipped his chin up, forcing him to look her in the eye. “You gotta let it go, hon, you just gotta.” Susan let go of his chin and brushed a bloodied lock of his hair from his forehead. Her voice softened even further, as her hand slid down to lightly cup his shattered jaw. “I’ll tell your story – you know I will, I promise you that. I’ll write it and put it out there on the net where god and everyone can see it.” She could see it in his face, he wasn’t convinced. Like so many his age, the reality of the internet was a thing beyond conception. He needed something more concrete – more real. “I’ll tell them, Freddie, I’ll tell all the others I meet. You won’t be forgotten, I promise.”

She had him then, she could feel it through his skin. It wasn’t easy, though. It took time to convince him to say the words – time and lots and lots of talking. If it was easy, Susie-Q, she reminded herself, they wouldn’t call it work. By the time the night was spent, Freddie was still resentful, but however grudgingly, he agreed to go. The road was clear of all human activity by the time she passed Freddie over to the solemn and solitary guide in the thinning shadows. She felt herself relax for the first time since sunset. She had not been too late; there had been one last chance. She waved a silent farewell as his image faded away, to wherever it was they sent him, for however long they decided it took.

She’d wanted a better life. What they’d given her was a different…existence. And that had provided new things, new places…certainly different work, and new…stories.

So, not so bad a day at that. Not exactly a win, really. I’ll call this one a draw, I guess. She eyed the sky, estimating the coming dawn. Sensible shoes this time, dammit, she thought. As always, she was cold - all the way through to her bones. Time to find a willing rube and a ride, she thought. And hopefully, a good meal at a high end truck stop with terminals and a free connection to the net.

She had a new story to share.

Notes:

*If you liked this, I recommend the following free online Seanan McGuire stories that helped inspire me:

Good Girls Go to Heaven  

The Ghosts of Bourbon Street (pdf)

Bury Me In Satin (pdf)

And, of course - you could always BUY Sparrow Hill Road

Image Sources:

Opening Road image: http://s3.favim.com/orig/46/alone-countryside-girl-road-sun-Favim.com-423773.jpg

Girl on Road image:  https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3713/11698693665_ef58987edb_o.jpg

[nikky-the-writer]

Comfort zone

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is posted from the Queue!!

Summary: AU

Reader is an anxious person that feels comfortable only in the company of her dog and sometimes her best friend. She was adopted by Tony and his wife and she always has to stick to her weekly schedule, when she doesn’t she gets the feeling like everything is falling apart. So, what will happen when her friend persuades her to have a one night stand?

Warning: cursing, anxiety, depression, mentions of a bad first time, light smut, nsfw ….

Masterlist

There were a lot of things in your life that you couldn’t understand because you have never experienced those things. The same thing was with sex or lovemaking as some people would call it. To you, that was something not understandable because from your first experience it was something terrible, something that you never wanted to do again.

However, you reluctantly agreed with Nat, but not because of the same reasons, of course, that it wasn’t the same reasons. She wanted you to do it because she believed that it will help you to get loose or to get more relaxed with being next to other people, but your reason was doubt. You doubted your first experience because at that time you weren’t in the right state of mind, you still weren’t but you were getting better, Nat helped you, your dad, Alfie, and your psychiatrist.

What happened to you the first time was merely caused by your lack of judgment and you being oblivious to the fact that you couldn’t control your anxiety no matter what you thought or your then friend told you. You weren’t even interested in him in that way and till this day you didn’t know why you did it. This time it was a bit different from the last time, this time Nat did push you to do it, but you were genuinely interested in Bucky. You were aware that person much more different and more social than you would try to be something more to the guy like him, but you couldn’t see that kind of scenario with yourself. It was something that deep inside you, you wanted, but you knew that it was unreachable for you. That was why you let yourself to be with him. You wanted at least a normal experience with someone and it seemed that he was that someone.

He didn’t push you on doing anything like your friend did, which you knew was wrong from your friend, but since the moment you two started you wanted for it to finish, however, you were too uncomfortable to even tell him to stop. With him, you couldn’t even raise your voice and that was why you started crying and having an anxiety attack which resulted in your friend leaving not even making sure that you were alright. But Bucky….

Bucky was gentle and slow wanting to savor every moment with you. From the second you entered his apartment and from your first kiss, he would ask you if you were comfortable. He would slowly caress your skin with the tips of his fingers while kissing you. He made you feel special and precious which nobody ever made you feel in that way. He made you smile even giggle a few times and the moment was never broken. Not even when you tried to hide from him a bit ashamed of your body only for him to tell you that you were beautiful or him being self-conscious about the scars he got in the accident. You didn’t even know him, yet it felt like you knew him your whole life.

He was special and maybe if you were like anybody else he would even become something to you, something more than he already was. However, you couldn’t let it happen because there was no way that a man like him would ever love you.

And all those thoughts lead you to this moment. You just woke up realizing that you fell asleep which was never your intention, but what fazed you the most was an arm that was holding you pressed close to his chest. It only made you ask yourself why? You couldn’t understand why he would even bother to hold you that close, nobody does that and now you actually realized that you like that. It was comforting, but at the same time, it made you more anxious than you already were. The thoughts that made you feel low were already dancing in your mind and the tears were already dropping onto the sheet. In this moment not even his warm body could bring you back from your thoughts, not even he could calm your breathing that was getting worse with every second that passed by. You felt a bit proud of yourself when you manage to get out of his bed without waking him up or to get dressed while searching for your bag. Your sniffles were silent as you tried to hold the whimpers inside a few escaping your lips. But after few minutes when you finally found yourself outside his doors you let yourself to sit on the ground dropping the content of your bag on the cold ground before you. Your body shook as you tried to grab the pill bottle with your medications. Forcing yourself to swallow two pills without any water you leaned your head against the wall as your legs rested on lower stairs. You felt awful not only because you were in the middle of a panic attack, but because you were leaving behind a guy that you could love if only you tried harder.

When you came home Alfie was already there waiting for you after Nat brought him back home an hour ago, but you didn’t even give him a second look. Your whole body was doing everything that you needed automatically while your mind wouldn’t stop screaming at you. Dropping your bag to the ground you kept walking to your room. You were already only in your underwear as you let everything else to fall to the ground. Stopping in front of your mirror you reached with your hand to your collarbone and you thought to yourself that maybe if you close your eyes you could still feel his lips on your skin; however, you didn’t close them. You only unclasped your bra and removed your underwear stepping into the shower moment later.

Feeling of the hot water on your body would usually relax you however now it felt like some sort of punishment. Your forehead was pressed against the cold tiled wall the same as your palms as you sobbed quietly. You spent more than an hour in the shower not even noticing when the water turned cold and not even when Alfie started scratching with his claws the door to get to you. There was the feeling deep inside you that made you sadder than you have felt recently. It made you feel broken like something was wrong with you and like nobody would notice if you were gone. But you couldn’t let those thoughts to cage you because you wanted to get better. You needed to get better, if not for yourself than at least for the people that were close to you.

Putting the towel around your body you opened the door for your dog who instantly licked your palms and wouldn’t leave your side the whole time. He could sense that something was wrong and you were grateful for that. You were also grateful that nobody else was now with you because you didn’t want to talk about what happened and Alfie never asked.

After texting Nat that you won’t be coming to the office today you lay on your couch with Alfie lying next to you.

˝You would like him,˝ you smiled at him while he kept his head on your chest with his nose pressed against your chin.

˝I feel guilty because I just left. That’s a rude thing to do and he didn’t deserve that nobody has. And I just don’t know should I try to apologize to him, or just leave it alone, right. It was a one night stand, I mean. He knew that, he did˝ You kept your eyes on the ceiling while you kept talking not bothered that there was nobody else to give you a response. ˝But did he knew? Yeah, he did. I mean guys like him; Nat told me about guys who look like him. They only date girls that look like cover-girls and nobody else; they only have one night stands with others. I mean I don’t know. Those were Nat’s words, not mine. I know that he will be alright, for sure relieved that I’m not there in the morning. I heard that it can get awkward really soon if you overstay at someone’s place, that never happened to me. You and I Alf, we always leave first or we don’t even show our faces.˝

Alfie exhaled loudly and you moved your hand to his head just to rest it there.

˝And we will be alright, right?˝ After a few moments of silence, you tried to reassure yourself once again.

˝Well, at least until tomorrow then we will ask our psychiatrist.˝ Closing your eyes after that you had a hard time in falling asleep because your thoughts constantly drifted to Bucky you could only hope that the memory of him will fade quickly because you weren’t sure if you could handle something like that right now.

A/N: Thank you for reading!! 😊 Tag list is closed for this series, but it's open for others

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[epickiya722]

It was an idea I had for a while, like weeks, too...

Anyways, I do have an idea of how many chapters I want to write left for His Following.

I had an idea for a poll pertaining to my AU since I was curious as to what the results of it would be but given past experiences and coming to the realization about some things I decided to not to.