#just finished the last story the other day

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Oh oh I can tell you how I handle this!

First, I must acknowledge that epithets are hard. When writing in a specific character's POV, you have to be careful about describing another character only using descriptors that they would use or it'll feel awkward and weird. (I don't generally think about my sister's height relative to mine and therefore wouldn't refer to her as "the tall one" or even "the taller one", for example, unless it's relevant in the moment. Talking? Not relevant. Her hitting her head on a ledge that I missed? Relevant. That wouldn't be true of someone I just met. If you're tall[er than me] I'm probably noticing it and don't have other ways to differentiate you from other strangers.)

Luckily, I don't usually have to resort to epithets in writing, because readers can generally follow pronouns and support way more proper name uses than you might expect! Pronouns by definition are placeholders for proper names. Where writing gets confusing is when it feels like the pronouns are floating free and unmatched. Reconnecting the proper noun and the pronoun is all you need to reset.

Within a paragraph, use a proper noun enough to be clear. Vague, I know, but it really is an art instead of a science and largely comes down to personal taste. Refining your personal taste can help a ton, and one way to do that is to look at works by people who you feel write these kinds of scenes clearly and cogently. I'm going to use my own writing as an example, just to make it easy for myself.

Structuring your writing so the subject is fairly consistent will help a ton, as will "checking in" with a proper noun when it feels like you've checked in on the other person more recently.

[alt: The muscles in Bruce’s face, Jason realized, were good at going completely still when surprised. That was useful. He had said intervened like Jason had done it on purpose, throwing himself into this nightmare to save Bruce instead of acting like a petulant, stomping child. He had just a moment to wonder if the look from Bruce was meant as gratitude or as an apology when Bruce turned his attention back to the others. “It should reverse in a few days.”]

In the snippet above, because I'm moving tightly between two he/him characters, I use their names just enough to stick into place who's being reference at any given point. If I had wanted to be extra careful, I could have changed "He had just a moment to wonder" to "Jason had just a moment to wonder."

Over multiple paragraphs, when you're sticking with one person, reconnecting (or what I mentally refer to as "checking in") can happen once a paragraph and really shouldn't be needed more than that.

[alt: He really didn’t have much of note to say. Dick narrated his way through the canned goods and the dry goods, making jokes about Wally’s Skittles stash and the cans of Spaghetti-Os Roy demanded be kept on hand but no one else ever touched. He talked about a TV show he had been watching and made a joke that elicited a hrmm from Bruce that would have been a laugh from anyone else. And the more he talked, the more he remembered little stories from his week that he had tucked away with a mental note to tell Bruce.

At last, though, Dick had finished his final story and let the call lapse into a pause that stretched into silence. He bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with the rolls of gauze, stacking them into pyramids outside the gutted medical kit. He could never tell with Bruce whether the silences were contented or an interrogation technique, the patience of an investigator applying pressure to a reluctant witness. In the end, it didn’t much matter.]

But really, truly, the TL;DR of it all is you don't need as many epithets as you think; as long as you don't go crazy with your subject and object switches and check in on your connections regularly, you can lean on pronouns way more than you think; and readers can handle way more uses of names than you might suspect.

Me writing a scene with two or more people of the same gender and trying not to get the readers confused, while also trying not to overuse the characters' names or epithets

[emsdevs]

saw you wanted luke hughes reqs, so ‼️

him coming back to your apartment after a game and just yapping to you because he needs to be close to feel better about how it went, but will never explicitly tell you that it helps him. you're just doing miscellaneous tasks, and he eventually starts whining about it, wanting to ay down and get head scratches/cuddles from you

(if this makes no sense, pretend i was never here 😭)

a/n: so so so sorry for the wait nonnie! i hope you still like it! i did in fact get carried away and wrote 1.6k words of mostly dialogue. is this a crack fic? possibly idk. anyway this was very much a lot of fun and my beautiful wonderful wife kirby helped inspire me

masterlist

Not-So-Silent Treatment

The Devils had an early game today, and although it was a Saturday, you had to this morning and couldn’t make it. That leads you to where you are now, finally home and in comfy clothes, cleaning as a way to pass the time until Luke gets home. Before you know it, you hear someone turn down the music you previously had blasting, whipping around to see who the intruder was after not hearing the door. When you turn, you’re met with your boyfriend, Luke, leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his face. He watched as you jumped, slapping your hand over your heart, hoping to somehow calm it down.

“You gotta turn the music down when you’re home alone, babe. What if I was a serial killer?” the smirk he’s still wearing tells you he’s not serious.

“Doesn’t mean you have to give me a heart attack,” you roll your eyes, walking over to give him a quick kiss. “How was the game, Lukey?”

“Oh my god. I have so much to tell you.”

“Yay! I’m gonna finish up the cleaning while you talk, okay?” you give him one last kiss before returning to your task of doing the dishes. In the background, you could hear Luke beginning his story of a crazy penalty that happened halfway through the first period. His favorite thing to do was talk. You weren’t sure why he likes to talk so much or how he always has so much to say, but it’s become sort of comforting to you. Instead of having some random song or podcast playing while you did something, you could have your boyfriend telling you everything about nothing. You suppose it’s so comforting because you enjoy hearing his voice, and it’s a nice reminder of the fact that he’s with you, even if you’re just talking on the phone while he’s on a roadie. Either way, no one will ever hear you complaining about your boyfriend’s talking habits.

Luke, on the other hand, knows exactly why he loves to talk so much. He enjoys talking in general, but when he talks to you, it’s just as comforting for him as it is for you. It’s a way for him to decompress after a long day, lay everything out, and get it off his chest. Then, he never has to think about it again. His favorite part of his day is talking to you, so he’s going to soak it up every chance he gets. Also, Luke is aware that he’s a clingy boyfriend. He’s not scared to admit that. Talking your ear off is just another way for him to feel close to you. It especially helps when he’s gone on roadies and can’t see you face-to-face. 

By the time you finish cleaning your apartment, Luke is on story number five. This one happened an hour or two before the game while the boys were messing around in the hallways, something about Luke almost getting taken out by a soccer ball while he was doing his pre-game run. You’re almost finished folding your last load of laundry when Luke starts whining behind you. 

“Baby, when are you gonna be done? You’ve been cleaning for hours,” he drags out half the words in the sentence.

“Luke, you’ve only been here one hour? Just let me finish this then I’ll come sit with you, okay?”

“Whatever,” there’s no real bite to his tone, and you know he’s just being dramatic. You finish up the last bit of your cleaning about twenty minutes later, not without some more whining on Luke’s end. Soon, you’re lying down on the couch, watching as Luke makes himself comfortable on top of you. He grunts a little bit when you don’t move, and you know that’s his way of asking you to run your fingers through his hair.

He lets out a big sigh before starting again, “So anyway…” You aren’t sure exactly how long you lay there with him, listening to him talk while you played with his hair. Soon, though, the sun has set, and you’re attempting to hold back yawns. “So Curtis decided to- oh? Are you sleepy, baby? We can go to bed.”

“Yeah, let's go to bed, hun,” the two of you make your way to your bedroom, immediately lying down and getting comfortable. Luke talked the whole way there. As you’re getting comfortable, you catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. “Luke, baby, it’s after midnight… can you maybe finish your story in the morning?”

“Yeah… yeah, babe, don’t worry about it. Just don’t be mad when I forget important details,” he mumbles the last sentence before letting go of you and rolling over so that his back is facing you.

“Luke. Don’t pout. I’m just sleepy, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not pouting,” you can feel him rolling his eyes even though you can’t see his face. “I’m just saying. You know I don’t remember stuff well after I’ve slept on it. All those important details will probably be gone from my mind. Oh well.” You sigh, deciding to let him pout in favor of getting some sleep. A few minutes later, he speaks up again, “Ya know, I thought you liked hearing me talk.” After getting no response, he tries again, “Dad always told me I’d never find a wife if I didn’t learn how to shut up sometimes. I guess he was right,” he let out a big sigh in between the two sentences. It goes on for you don’t even know how long after that.

“Jack and Quinn used to never let me talk. I’m starting to think you’re just like them.”

“I thought I was dating my best friend. Turns out you actually hate me.”

“There was a really funny part too. I guess you don’t want me to do my favorite thing. Make you laugh. I love your laugh, but you obviously don’t care.”

“I guess I just love you more than you love me. I would do anything for you, baby, even ruin my sleep schedule. Unlike some people.”

“I would never name names but some people like to tell me they love to hear me talk but they really only mean they like it when it’s convenient for them.”

That’s when the fake waterworks set in. Luke is a horrible fake cryer, but that doesn’t stop him. He’s slapping his hand over his mouth, shaking his shoulders, letting out the most unbelievable “boo hoo” you’ve ever heard. When he sees it’s not working, he changes his tactic again.

“Aren’t you gonna apologize? You made me cry!”

“It’s 2:00 AM, and you made me cry. Are you happy with yourself? This is the kind of relationship you want? The kind of relationship where I have to cry myself to sleep?”

“I bet if we got into an argument right now, you wouldn’t even let me plead my case. Because then I would be talking, and apparently, you don’t like that anymore.”

At this point, you know you’re not sleeping any time soon, so you let yourself answer, “Luke, you’ve been talking for the past six hours.”

He’s quick with his reply, “See! I just can’t do anything right.”

“Ya know, you always call me your baby, but is this what you would do to a baby? Let them cry themselves to sleep?”

“Yeah, Luke, it’s called self-soothing. It’s actually a really common soothing method these days.”

“Torture method, more like. Poor kids. Is this what you’re gonna do to our kids? Tell them to shut up because you aren’t in the mood for them to express their thoughts and feelings?”

“Luke, we’re both freshly twenty-one, and we aren’t having kids any time soon?”

“Oh so now you don’t see a future with me? I guess I should return the ring in my sock drawer then, huh?”

“You have a ring?” you nearly shout, shocked at his revelation.

“Nah, I just wanted you to feel bad.” You quiet down after that, relieved that you won’t have to turn him down because you’re not ready, not that he isn’t the one you want to marry. He very much is, just not right this second. The exhaustion is setting in, so you don’t say much for a while. Apparently, that makes Luke really nervous. “I’m so sorry, baby. You know I was just playing, right? I’ll buy you a ring one day. I’ll do all the research. I’ll even stalk your Pinterest if I have to. I’ll buy you the perfect ring. Then I’ll give you the perfect wedding. Then we can have the perfect kids… Do you hate me now?” You can hear how sad he is, knowing he’s probably tired, and it’s probably heightening his emotions and dramatics.

“I don’t hate you, Lukey. I could never. I’m just sleepy, baby. I need to sleep, and I think you do too. Besides, I don’t wanna get married right now anyway.”

“Oh, so you don’t wanna marry me?” it was his turn to almost shout, his dramatic side getting the better of him in his sleepy state.

Eventually, you manage to wrangle him into laying his head on your chest so you can softly drag your fingers through his curls just the way he likes. Soon, it gets him asleep, just like you knew it would. Finally, you’re able to get some much-needed sleep as well. The next morning you hear it from Luke. He won’t shut up about how he has to finish his story but can’t remember half of it because you made him sleep. He loves to get on your nerves, but you wouldn’t trade a single moment with your favorite drama queen.

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 10, A Saturday well spend

Masterlist Word count: 2.8 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Yes, I HC Simone as a lesbian. Fight me.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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Zayne watches you intently at the breakfast table. He can tell you're nervous to see what mindset Sylus will be in when he gets here, but he's proud of you for insisting on him joining or you going home. With past boyfriends you had never cared this much. It was never because you didn't like or love them, more so because they did not care the same way about you, and you were tired of giving them everything while getting nothing back. 

That being said, he doesn't like that you're just poking around at your breakfast without taking a single bite. They've got a full day ahead and with Sylus joining them, it may become emotionally exhausting. That's not a problem of course, but you should eat. 

'Please eat,' he mumbles. You look up from the table with wide eyes, just now snapping back to reality. Thoughts had been flooding your mind. Everything that could've happened to Sylus runs around your head all at once. You are terrified of what you might see when he gets here. 'I know it's nerve-wracking to sit here and wait, but you need to eat. We've got a long day ahead of us.' 

'You're right.' Of course he's right. He's always right. You finally take a bite. The food is absolutely delicious as it always is when you let Zayne choose the hotel. For a second he revels in your satisfied expression before turning back to his own meal. 

'How do you want to do this?' 

'Hm?' 

'Do you want to take Sylus along for everything or do you want to chance the schedule?' 

'Let's just keep to the schedule. I really had to fight him on coming here so I think the last thing he would want is to feel like he's keeping me from doing what I want,' you explain to Zayne, who nods along with your words. 

'Sounds like a plan.' He gets up from his seat and you notice he's already done eating. 'If you're okay with it, I'm going make a reservation for a restaurant.' You nod. He's got a point. Most places can usually squeeze in two people but three becomes a crowd. 'Make sure you finish your breakfast. Doctor's orders.' Your lips pull into a smile for the first time today as you nod in agreement once more. 

'Thank you, Zayne. For understanding.' 

'Of course.' He walks off, heading back to the room while you finish munching on your breakfast and staring out the window. Your phone is next to your plate and you've been waiting for Sylus to send an update on his whereabouts. He was texting you very early this morning that he couldn't sleep so that he would just head out so he could be there in the morning. He could be arriving at any moment. 

That's when you hear the rumbling of a motorcycle outside. Excited, you quickly shove your breakfast into your mouth and run towards the lobby where you wait for him to park his bike and head inside. It just takes a few minutes before he come sauntering in wearing his motorcycle gear, his helmet swinging in his hand, saddlebags thrown over his shoulder. You almost have to take a moment to compose yourself. Your man looks so handsome. 

'Sylus,' you call. He looks over and smiles, seemingly shedding all his worries the second he sees you. You run over to him and hug his waist. His free arm wraps around you and you feel his lips on top of your head. 

'Thank you,' he whispers as you feel his body soften underneath your touch. Whatever happened must've shaking him up quite a bit for him to be so tense. You decide against asking about it for now. 

'Come on, let me show you our room.' You take his hand and start dragging him towards the elevators. 

'Our room? I thought you would be sharing a room with Doctor Zayne?' 

'No, Zayne likes his privacy, so we get separate rooms.' 

'I like the sound of that,' he teases, shaking your hand off and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 'And Doctor Zayne is truly alright with all this?' You nod enthusiastically as you press the button to the sixth floor. He smiles ever so slightly and leans down to press a kiss on your lips. 'You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me.' 

'Sylus, you are wonderful. You deserve everything good that comes your way.' 

'You are too kind, sweetie.' The elevator dings at your floor. 

'I am,' you agree. 'Come on, let's drop your stuff off and tell Zayne that you're here.' He stiffens up a little bit again but does let himself be led by you. You notice his hesitation and stop in your tracks. 'Sylus, I don't know what your history is with Zayne but you should know that he takes patient confidentiality very seriously if it has anything to do with that. He hasn't told me anything nor will he ever tell me anything that goes on inside hospital walls.' 

That seems to do it and he follows you inside the room. 'This is nice,' he notes as he drops his things and looks around the room. 

'Oh, you know, maybe get changed first. We're going on a hike in a bit. I'll go tell Zayne you're here.' You almost rush out of the room again but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest like you're light as a feather. His eyes look at you so intensely, so full of love. 

'Let me just hold you for a second.' You give him your consent by wrapping your arms around his waist once more and holding him as close as you physically can while resting your head against his chest. You feel him lean his head on top of yours as his breathing slowly becomes steadier and his heartbeat slows down as he slowly sways with you. 'Thank you.' 

'You already said that.' 

'I know.' 

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The only thing you did not account for when inviting Sylus along is that you are now not on a trip with one tall man, but with two. The hike feels like a run, walking around town feels like a hike, and your neck fucking hurts. But at least your two favorite people are getting along great. 

You groan as the three of you finally sit down at the restaurant. Your legs are tingling from all the walking and running. The two men sit across from each other, and you sit at the head of the small table. Zayne picked a fairly nice restaurant but nothing to intimidating. It's something that you would have picked too. 

'Doctor Zayne, I want to thank you again for letting me come along,' Sylus says as if he hasn't said it at least five times today. Zayne shakes his head with a laugh. 

'Please, just call me Zayne.' 

'Sorry. Hard to get it out of my system.' He looks over at you, sitting there with a self-satisfied grin while looking at them interact. 'You're enjoying yourself.' 

'It's hard not to. My two favorite men get along. That's something to enjoy,' you tell him. He huffs a laugh in response. Zayne chuckles and pats Sylus hand. 

'I'm glad I finally have someone to take her off my hands.' 

'Hey, don't say it like that. I am lovely,' you playfully argue as you gently nudge Zayne's shoulder. Sylus can't help but stare at you with a lovesick look on his face. He just loves watching you, loves seeing you happy, loves you. Despite all of that, there's a stinging in his chest. His situation changed yesterday, which might mean changing the relationship you have with each other. He'll enjoy it for as long as it lasts. 

'It's no trouble,' he replies to Zayne's joke, 'I'd gladly take her off your hands any time.' 

'You two need to stop talking about me like I'm a burden,' you warn with a teasing grin. You quickly notice the mischievous glint in Sylus eyes as he leans his elbows on the table and folds his hands together, pretending to exclude you from the conversation. 

'Say, Zayne, how did you deal with her constantly being at your door?' 

'Excuse me,' you exclaim, pretending to be offended. 

'Oh, I was barely home because of work so she was barely at my door. The texts though,' Zayne goes along with the joke, a small smile playing on his lips. 

'Rude,' you huff. 

'See, the texts I can handle. It's the constant knocking.' 

'I don't knock at your door all the time.' 

'Well, it's your problem now.' 

'You guys are being mean. How about I leave you on your date and I'll go home,' you suggest, keeping up the offended act as you pretend to get up. Sylus quickly grabs your wrist as you are standing and pulls you down far enough to press a quick kiss on your lips. 

'I'd never betray you for some man,' he whispers to you. It's a joke, all of it is still a joke, but the words come out so sincere. You sit back down with a pretend pout and cross your arms. 'Alright, what will it take for you to smile again?' 

'Nothing. I'm never smiling again.' 

'You sure?' You notice his hand inching closer to your stomach. He is going to try and tickle you. 

'Woah, no, stop, don't do it. I'll smile. Look, big smile.' You pull the biggest smile on your face. Zayne chuckles as Sylus grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. 

'I prefer you like this,' he whispers, hoping that Zayne can't hear it. He can and he is truly happy for you and Sylus. He's almost gleaming seeing that you have found someone that truly loves you and that Sylus has found someone to love him unconditionally. It's perfect. 

'Hi, my name is Simone. I'll be your server. Did we know what we want to drink yet?' All three of you look up at the waitress a little dumbfounded. Well, except for Zayne. He's the only one who's been looking over the menu. 

'A bottle of still water for the table please. She'll have a glass of vermentino. What do you want Sylus?' You notice the way the waitress is looking between the two men you are with and then at you. She's very pretty and you trust Sylus, but you really don't feel like seeing him get flirted with all night. While Sylus quickly glances over the menu, you take his hand that was laying on the table. 

'Do you want to share a bottle of wine, Sylus?' He leans towards you so the waitress can't hear your little conversation. 

'Sweetie, you are drunk after three glasses of wine, besides I prefer red,' he says with a grin. Clearly he has noticed the way the waitress was looking at him and your slightly possessive nature. It feels like a whirlpool of mixed emotions in his stomach. He remembers how possessive his ex used to be and he knows you're not like that, at the same time he kind of likes it when you do it. He has to remind himself that it's a completely different situation. 'And I only have eyes for you.' He turns back to the waitress. 'I'll have a glass of the Hacienda Monasterio.' 

'I'm sorry, that wine only goes by the bottle.' 

'Can we take the bottle if we don't finish it?' 

'Yes, but I do have to note it's an expensi-' 

'Then it's not a problem.' You try to glance at the wine list to see the price, but he returns it to the waitress before you can see. 

'Alright, I'll go get those drinks and I'll take your food order when I come back.' The waitress almost turns, but decides she has one more thing to say. 'Also, I saw you get a bit uncomfortable so I feel the need to say this,’ she says as she looks at you with a kind smile, 'I am a lesbian.' 

Zayne almost bursts out in laughter, Sylus puts his hand in front of his mouth to hide his smile, and you just sit there catching flies with your mouth. Zayne pinches your thigh to snap you out of it and you quickly apologize. 'I am so sorry. It's just-' 

'No, no, I get it,' Simone says with a smile, 'he's very attractive, as are you. I was just trying to figure out if you were friends or a polycule.' Sylus can't hold it anymore. He tries to bite down on his teeth to keep his laughter from coming out but it fails terribly, as is Zayne. You don't quite know what to say but you suddenly really like this waitress, and you will be flirting with her to tease Sylus. 

'We are not a polycule. He is my boyfriend and that is my best friend,' you explain. She nods and bites her lip a little. 'Why? Were you hoping there was space for one more.' 

She chuckles, seeing where you're going with your joke. Teasingly, she brushes a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. 'I mean.' The two of you burst out laughing together at the dumbfounded faces of the men at the table. 'Okay, okay, I'm getting those drinks because I might die of laughter if I stay here.' 

'Thank you Simone.' You turn to Sylus, who now looks a little conflicted. 'What?' 

'Are you also into women?' 

'Why do you ask?' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Sylus paid for the whole dinner as a thank you to Zayne for allowing him to come along. Also, he did not want either of you to pay for an expensive bottle of wine he planned to finish at home.  

When you came back to the hotel, you had a long talk about sexuality and boundaries in the bathroom while you shower and he brushes his teeth and does his skincare. Normally, Sylus and you shower together. That's what you have been doing for the past few weeks at least but today feels different. There's a distance between you two that you can't quite put your finger on. You figure it has something to do with what happened to him yesterday, but he won't tell you anything. 

As you sit on the bed dressed in one of Sylus’ shirts that you stole recently, reading your book, you listen to the shower turn off. You wonder if he'll feel comfortable sleeping with you in one bed if he doesn't feel comfortable taking a shower with you. It's almost as if you're meeting him for the first time all over again. 

The words on the page you're reading don't seem to come through in your mind. You keep rereading the same passage, trying to keep your mind on the page. It doesn't help. Thoughts are racing through your mind faster than you can keep up with. Worst case scenarios keep popping up and you have to convince yourself he'd tell you if it came to that. 

Not that it works. He has barely told you anything about his past, nor why he had a panic attack a few months back. It seems he keeps his secrets close to his chest where they can only hurt him, but he should know by now that nothing could make you run away. 

The bathroom door unlocks and Sylus steps out. He's only wearing boxers and is lazily drying his hair with a towel. For a second, he stops in his tracks when he sees you in his shirt and you notice the slightest twitch of his lips into a smile. 

You close your book as he throws the towel in a corner and approaches the bed. The worries you had melt away when he slips under the covers with you and pulls you into him. His arms wrap around you like you're his safety blanket and his head is against your shoulder. You instinctively start scratching his head with your one hand and put the other on his skin as your legs slot between his. 

It takes mere seconds for his breathing to slow down. He must've been exhausted. He did tell you he couldn't sleep last night but he didn't let it be known that he was tired all day. 

'Sylus?' He hums in response, the rumble going through his chest. 'You know there is nothing you could tell me that would scare me away, right?' He doesn't respond, but his arms tighten around you. 'I love you.' 

It's the first time you've said it and you've been scared to do so. The last person you told you loved them thoroughly explained that they didn't love you back, so not hearing him say something right away is nerve-wracking. Sylus looks up at you and presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, pulling you impossibly close as if he wants to absorb you into his very being. 

'I love you too.' 

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[causenessus]

in every universe. | nakahara chuuya

chuuya x gn!reader

written in 2nd person :3

"i'd give the world to her, as long as my heart's still beating, as long as she's next to me, because I like her." -> 20191009 i like her by (mac demarco)

2.7k words

notes: use of pet names sweetheart/doll (for reader) and love/darling (for chuuya), established relationship, a lot of flirting and teasing on both ends because they love each other and can handle it, chuuya cursing, chuuya being head over heels for reader, gifting giving as a love language taken to the MAX, just two people being bookworms :3 i hope you enjoy! the bookstore they go to (spoiler alert) is very much based off of a bookstore i went to while visiting my mango anon, so i dedicate this work to her <3

nakahara chuuya who never had time to read or stop to take a breath until he met you. in the sheep, even when he was first taken in, he soon began to help on food runs. once they found out about his ability, there was never a day he got to catch a true break. then joining the mafia kept him busy, and what he few things he did read were half-assed reports or those typed by someone who obviously should have been a novelist rather than a mafia lackey.

for him, there was no middle between never reading and reading something that made him want to set the paper in his hands on fire. but that didn't mean he outright hated the idea of it. he liked the idea of books and the stores and libraries that were filled with shelves of thread-bound tens or hundreds of sheets of paper from every decade of the world; some having recently found their way onto a shelf while others had been printed, placed on shelves, and traded hands for centuries. he liked the idea of the worlds each of the books contained, the different stories they all told, and the inferences and messages people would take with them after finishing a book.

once, he’d been trailing a target who'd entered a nearby bookstore to browse their selection. he'd done his own bit of wandering, mainly to fit in with the atmosphere until it became less of an act and something more genuine—a few covers would catch his eye and he’d felt tempted to pull them off the shelf and buy them right then and there before he remembered what he was here for. but that interaction had been his first experience with the allure of books; it wasn't really something he'd learned in that moment, but, more precisely, from you.

you, who would get too caught up in a book until he'd called your name for the umpteenth time, not angry, but worried about why you weren't responding to him. he'd feared you were purposely ignoring him and was unsure of what he’d done until you’d silenced his concerns with a laugh. when he'd settled onto the couch next to you after finally getting your attention, you'd climbed on top of him, pressing a kiss to his lips, "i'm not mad. i was just reading a good book, i promise."

a book had the ability to distract you that much?

"i just get lost in books sometimes—too focused on what’s happening in the world within them. that's what a good book does," you explained further, his hands trailing down to settle on your sides, pulling you close and flush against him.

he hummed, processing your words. it sounded like an interesting experience and anything you liked he was bound to like, right? the only kind of book he didn't want to read was a mystery. he had enough of that kind of shit in his everyday life when he had to figure out where the hell his rookies went off to every day–not to mention that cursed book he'd been trapped into by that detective boy from the agency several months ago.

a few days after your explanation, he was taking you out on his day off when you both passed the bookstore he'd previously found himself in on that last mission. recognizing the sign that hung on the wall above the store, his feet almost stopped as if he was feeling a pull to return back to the store before he ignored the feeling. noticing his interest in the bookstore, you’d squeezed his hand. "hey, I wanna go in there. can we?" you asked, tilting your head while pointing to the store.

he'd never been able to resist that sweet smile of yours and this is–of course–his day to spoil you, but he still can’t help but tease you a little bit first, "huh? you don't have enough books already?"

you pout, already settled on your decision as you begin tugging him towards the entrance of the store, "how rude! never say that to a bookworm. there's no such thing as having too many books."

"yeah, yeah, sorry." he rolls his eyes half heartedly, but he doesn’t put the effort to tease you above making it to the door before you do, holding it open before walking in after you.

the bookstore is worn, the small bell at the edge of the door more of a dusty bronze than a gold, showing its age. the floorboards have started to bow with how many seasons of cold and warm temperatures they’ve been through and they creak loudly, flattening back into their original flush position whenever he steps on them. there's a large dark walnut wooden ladder reaching the shelves of the store's abnormally high ceiling, looking as cliché as it gets, yet it was the first thing he noticed upon entering the store weeks ago and it’s one of his favorite touches to the store even now.

he almost protests when your fingers slip out of his as you run off to admire in awe a row of books that adorn the top of a piano, but he smiles at the look of wonder in your eyes that only grows when you turn to the left to see a staircase descending down.

"chuuya! look! they have a lower floor!" you say, straightening back up to point at the stairs, looking at him.

he's shoved his hands in his pockets, finally making it back to you after you’d run off and now he's staring you down with a look in his eyes that makes you melt and drop your arm shyly under his adoring gaze, "yeah, you just noticed, sweetheart?"

"well– not a lot of bookstores have something like this," you purse your lips, looking down at the floor, "you're acting like you've been here before."

"i have," he replies, arm coming around your shoulder to guide you to the staircase, where he knows you want to go. you look up at him in surprise as you begin descending the broad wooden planks and he shrugs, "was following someone last week and they came in here. spent like an hour walking around...they must've been a bookworm like you."

you giggle at his words, leaning closer into his touch, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw, nuzzling your nose into the side of his neck before pulling away. "well, now you're going to have to watch me wander around this bookstore. don't go too far, alright?"

"says you," he sighs, shaking his head as you run off the moment you reach the bottom of the stairs to the nearest bookshelf. while you spend a few minutes observing every spine lined up in front of you, he begins to wander around on his own, trying to find the books he'd looked at last week. there was no harm in it, right? it looked weirder if he just stood around in the middle of the store waiting for his sweet partner to be done. although, another unique touch to the bookstore was a small projector that hung from the ceiling of the basement of the bookstore. it was casting an old black and white film onto a side of a wall, where a few rows of seats had been placed for anyone wanting to sit for a moment.

but he didn't need to pretend he was here for a reason, he’d wanted to come in here just as much as you did even if he wouldn’t admit it. he soon found himself searching the shelves too, gloves trailing along the edges of several book's spines, ever so often stopping to pull one that stood out to him.

a blow against the shell of his ear makes him jump and he spins around to face you, his cheeks a little pink, "shit, you scared me, doll."

you only give him a teasing smile and laugh, your eyes flickering down to the book in his hand, "did you find something you liked?"

he turns the object around in his eyes, looking at its back as if the answer to your question was supposed to be there. the entire cover was made out of blue thread, and the gold text that had been etched into it had grabbed his attention. "i don't know, i think i just liked how it looked. what about you?"

he can see you holding your hands behind your back and at his prompt, you flash him a grin before revealing a pile of books balanced nicely on top of each other.

the large stack isn't what makes his eyes widen and lips part slightly–it's how familiar all the covers of the books look to him. "did you–?"

"you fell right into my trap, chuu," you keep teasing him and it pieces together.

you had plenty of books, and yeah you could always have more but you hadn’t wanted to come here for you. you'd noticed his slight trip up at the sight of the store, and brought him in here for him. so that he could look at books. you'd been secretly paying attention to what books he'd picked up out of the corner of your eyes. and once he'd finished talking himself out of buying a book and placed it back where he found it, you trailed behind him to pull the book right back off the shelves.

you'd snuck up on him at the end of an aisle, where there were bookshelves on all three sides of you both besides the way you'd come from. he used that to his advantage, suddenly pulling you in by the hip to press you against the bookshelf facing the opposite end of the aisle. to anyone else, he probably only looked like he was browsing the selection this shelf (unless they were unfortunate enough to look just a little bit closer, to the pair of shoes trapped between his own).

you'd exclaimed at the sudden pull, tightening your grip on the books, shuddering when you felt his breath on your neck.

"you're sly, you know that? when'd you start behaving like this?" the words went straight to your stomach where you felt a flutter, and you reached out a hand to grip the sleeve of one of his arms.

"well, i learned from you, of course," you fired back, your mouth immediately going dry at the trail of kisses he left down your neck.

"you're too cute for your own good, you know," he murmured, pulling away, leaving you a blushing mess. "are you done? should we keep going?" he asked, looking at you like nothing had happened.

"i– um– just want to buy these books and then we can leave," you fixed your clothing, trying to cool down.

he quirked a brow, "were you actually interested in those books too? in that case, let me pay–" he reached for the books in your hands but you dodged his attempt, shifting your arms to hold them out to the right.

"no, i'm buying them for you, silly!" you teased, already walking past him before he could process your words and catch you.

"[y/n]—"

"i know what you’re thinking. you didn’t want to buy them in the first place because ‘i’ll never have time to read them... what if I don't like them... blah blah blah…’ but that all changes today. starting now, i'll be taking you on reading dates at least once a month. got it?" you turned to face him on the stairs you were climbing back up and he stopped behind you, a look of surprise on his face. "you'll never know if you like them until you try, chuu."

"i–"

"good, it's settled," you winked before turning back towards the top of the stairs, walking over to the counter.

once you got there? chuuya fought with you to pay, the both of you whipping out your cards while the cashier in front of you continued to stare forward with a smile on their face as if the couple in front of them wasn't shoving at each other, cursing one another out as their arms got tangled up, grabbing at each other's wrists.

your card won in the end, and you laughed triumphantly before placing the books in his hands while he muttered something you couldn't quite catch. when you made it out the door, he'd pulled you by the waist to bring your back flush against his chest again, face pressed into your shoulder, his new books still held at his side. "thank you, doll," he whispered, face slightly muffled by your shoulder.

but you heard it still, turning to place a gentle kiss to the side of his head. "of course, love," you smiled, reaching your arm back to find his free hand, intertwining it with yours. "now, where were we going again? before we got sidetracked by the books?"

"i was going to treat you to coffee," he came back to your side as you both began to walk again.

you bobbed your head at the reminder, "ah, right! although i think you're mistaken. i was going to treat you."

he looked at you from the side, brows furrowed, "hell no. especially not after you paid for these books. you're not gonna win this time, i'll pin your feet to the ground with gravity if i have to."

"you wouldn't dare," you stuck your tongue out at him before looking forward and refusing to say anything else. and he didn't argue back, because you were right. he'd much rather wire his entire savings into your account or pay you back a hundred times over before ever even thinking about using his ability on you in such a way. "hey," you suddenly perked up again and he hummed in response, waiting for you to continue, "do you wanna read at the cafe? or just go home? don't tell me it's up to me, tell me what you want."

he sighed at how quick you were to shut down his default answer, taking a second to think through his answer. "i think i just wanna go home. don't wanna hear anyone's voice but yours."

the way he smirked at you afterward, seeing your face warm at his comment told you that he was flirting on purpose to get a rise out of you. but you also knew by this point that his compliments came from an honest place, it was just for his entertainment that he’d word them in such a way to leave you a blushing mess.

"alright then," you mumbles back, cheeks flushed, "we'll grab something and go home."

and that day off had started a routine. "reading dates" as you had called them.

you.

you.

he loved you.

he loved coming home, no matter the time, and seeing you on his couch, knees pulled to your chest where a book was nestled. he loved the way you beckoned him with a hand and a soft call of his name, carded your fingers through his hair as you changed your position, just to accommodate him, so that he could rest his head in your lap.

sometimes you seemed to read his mind and had the current book he was reading on the other side of you and would hand it to him so that he could read as well. sometimes, you simply rubbed his scalp, telling him, “just rest, darling. how was your day?”

maybe it was because he was always so busy, always on the move, always out of the house and returning home late, but he much preferred staying inside with you on his days off to going out if you didn’t want to. he liked it when you both lay against opposite sides of the couch, legs intertwined where they met in the middle, or when he was nestled between your legs, head resting on your middle as you both read in a peaceful silence. 

he liked best when neither of you even made it the couch, but woke up in each others arms, and stayed in bed the whole day. or when he woke up, an arm still slung around your front, keeping you close, but you were sat up, resting against the headboard of his bed, book in hand.

he loved you, it was that simple. it was the root of his life, his purpose for living, the feeling in which everything else could stem from.

perhaps you were a kind of book yourself, always able to take him to another world, where he could be separated from his problems and just focus on the beauty of creation and humankind. and he could do that all just by tracing the side of your face every morning.

[evelyns-envy]

𓂃୨ 🎀 ୧𓂃 daisuke smut hcs 😼

overview! - you and daisuke love having competitions to see who can last the longest... if 'ya know what i mean ;)

warnings! - SMUT, pegging, other crew members overhearing daisuke get fucked out of his mind, multiple rounds, seeing who can last the longest, and idfk how to do ts

• young, and COMPETITIVE.

• likes to try and see who can last the most rounds/climaxes

• since you’re both young, there’s a LOT of stamina between you two

• it depends on the day on who wins said competition (it’s usually you 💋)

• you two probably start out with a heavy make out session, most likely w you palming him through his jeans bc he’s so pathetic

• he cums once from that, and then the fun begins 😼😼

• now… riding him is a whole other story

• writing your name with your hips, while making sure to not stop bouncing

• daisuke is a whiner, whimperer, and sheet grabber argue w the wall

• he’s meeting your bounces halfway as he makes the prettiest and most ungodly noises you’ve heard

• he finishes like twice from you riding him, and he thinks it’s over and you’re tired

• *comically loud incorrect buzzer*

• pegging the mf.

• daisuke literally isn’t even on earth anymore. moans and whines play like a broken record as you stroke him in time with you thrusting into him

• he’s mumbling “wait- nghhh.. shit slow down- mmmm..”

• fucking him absolutely DUMB

• at one point you do slow slightly, but he looks absolutely fucked out of his mind and you can’t resist speeding up (if that’s possible damn)

• hitting his prostate on every thrust

• cums once more from the pegging, and it was is first dry orgasm

• lowkey concerned abt why no cum is coming out lmfao bro is not experienced (argue w the wall once more)

• pulling out of him slowly, and wrapping the EXHAUSTED boy in your arms

• shyly asks you to explain wtf happened on the last orgasm

• you have to tell him what a dry orgasm is and bro is astonished

• he eventually grasps the concept and his eyes suddenly go wide

• “i just realized that these walls are really thin…”

• realization sets in that everyone on the shit show of a ship js heard daisuke get fucking wrecked

• oopsies (he cannot show his face again omfg)

(hehehehheheheheh i've never actually written smut i apologize if these are a wee bit questionable lmfao forgive me)

[academicdisasterfic]

Writing Interview

tagged by the inimitable @lqtraintracks 💗

What’s your total ao3 word count? 181,945

Your top 5 stories by kudos?

- Sourdough with 3692

- Half Awake with 1333

- In the Shape of Things to Come with 1133

- A Melody of You & Me with 1023

- Career Day with 866

Do you respond to comments?

I try, but honestly, I’ve spent the last two years so burnt out and exhausted that it’s fallen to the wayside. I read and appreciate absolutely everything and try to respond when I have the energy; I still get flutters at Ao3 comment notifications in my email and I am fervently hoping one day to make up the slack.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

lol I absolutely am allergic to anything but a happy ending: I’d say a tolerance for pain but it has a sequel so not quite! Some of my microfics are quite angsty.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

All of them lol - I think the one that makes me the happiest is Half Awake. Objectively A Melody of You & Me or Sourdough is much fluffier but something about the way H&D learn each other in Half Awake feels closer to my own idea of what finding happiness feels like.

Do you write crossovers?

Not yet! Never say never - I’m thinking all the time of how much fun it’d be to write Drarry in various other universes.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes and it’s hilarious to me every time. Girl who’s got the energy

Do you write smut?

I try but I am absolutely no connoisseur. I tend to write sex scenes more quickly & with less detail than I intend, but it’s something I’m working on!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes and it made me so happy! It’s such a huge compliment.

Have you ever co-written a fic?

An absolute banger that will never see the light of day with @cavendishbutterfly

What’s your all time favourite ship?

There’s Drarry, obviously, but Wolfstar is equally as sacred to me.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I started writing a longer fic about three years ago that was intended to be a very slow burn friends to lovers and was kind of processing my own divorce. I think I just moved on, both in my own life and as a writer. I ended up using some bits of it for When the Flood Comes - the description of Hogwarts at the start and the Golden Trio’s dynamic is from that other fic, particularly the part where Ron wakes up and has to reassure himself that Harry came back from the forest.

What are your writing strengths?

I’m definitely a character focussed writer - I love writing dialogue and emotions, and I think that’s probably what I’m best at. I also love writing setting & atmosphere but I’m not quite where I want to be with it yet - that being said, none of my writing is where I want it to be, I’m chronically dissatisfied with all my words.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I am not a plot guy. I struggle with holding suspense over longer works and I think I rush too much. Sometimes I worry about being autistic and the way I express thoughts and emotions: I’ll read other work and think mine is too simplistic. I’m not very good with descriptions either, I don’t tend to describe appearances too much.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

Big yes!!! So many fic writers speak English as their second language and have to write in English all the time; I love seeing mother tongues being written in. I probably wouldn’t feel confident enough to write in a language I didn’t speak but I’ve seen people do it really well with betas who can translate.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I think I’ve written everything I really want to - perhaps one day a short angsty Narcissa/Pansy, I’ve loved the idea of them for a while but I’ve not had the time.

What’s your favourite thing you’ve ever written?

My favourite fic I’ve written is When the Flood Comes - political intrigue was a new beast for me, but I loved writing it, and I also love Harry and Draco’s dynamic in it. Outside of fic, my original novel is my favourite overall, and I’m so proud that I finished it. I didn’t really believe that I’d be able to write a full novel until I actually did it, and it changed how I thought of myself as a writer. It’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

Tagging @cavendishbutterfly @saxamophone @saintgarbanzo @nv-md @sleepstxtic @oknowkiss @basicallyahedgehog @moonmanateee and anyone who wants to participate - I love reading these, please tag me!

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 9

Summary: Y/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

A/N: If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Not beta'd so any mistakes are my own. I don't write smut, but there are allusions to smut in my stories.

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1822 (approx.)

GIF by dazedandkaitfused

A week later, you were in the lab with Tony & Bruce, ready to go again on the flashback program, albeit a bit unsure if it will give you any more results.

“I’m frustrated Bruce, these memories are coming in little bits, and they aren’t in any logical order either” you told him.  You felt like a whiney little bitch, because so many people had it worse off than you, but this was your life and if you weren’t going to get any more memories back, then you wanted to just move on and hopefully start making some new memories.

“It’s not an exact science Y/n” Bruce explained. “We have to be patient with it and try not to put too much pressure on your brain, it’s been through a lot.”

Bruce sets you up for another round of the flashback program.  Lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to all the wires and probes, you really hoped that today was the day you’d wake up with all, or most of your past back.

You see Steve walk into the lab just as you go under.

“How’s it going Bruce?” Steve asked, hopefully.

“She’s just gone under Steve, I’m hoping today is the breakthrough.  In fact, her seeing you as she went under may be a good thing, it might trigger her subconscious to remember those specific memories that include you and, by association, Noah.”

“Me too, I don’t know how much longer I can handle this if it doesn’t work.  Do you mind if I wait here for her to wake up?”

“Not at all Steve, pull up a chair and get comfortable.  Last week she was under for about 3 hours, so I’d expect this session to last about the same time.”

Steve grabs a chair and pulls it up beside the hospital bed you are in. Over the next few hours, he sits and watches, he gets up and paces the room, he finds a paper and pencil and doodles to pass the time.

“Is it normal for it to take this long?” Steve enquired of Bruce.

“Like I said, last time it was about 3 hours and she recovered a good chunk of memories.  I’m hoping that this is a good sign that there’s a big portion of memories coming back to her.

Suddenly, your body starts shaking as if you are having a seizure. Steve knew you didn’t have epilepsy or any other seizure like issues.

“Bruce, what’s happening?  Stop it now.  I’m serious Bruce, get her out of this trance or whatever it is she’s in.” Steve was panicking because there was nothing he could really do to help right now.

Bruce stops the program but you don’t wake up immediately.

“Bruce?” Steve asked quietly, worried that some permanent damage may have been done and that you’d never come back to him and Noah.

“Umm, I’m trying here Steve” he replies. “The program is finished, she’s just not waking up.  I’m double checking her vitals but everything seems stable, I’m just not sure why she won’t wake up?”

“Do something Bruce.” Steve shouts.

“I’m not sure what else to do Steve” he says. 

“Bruce this is your program, this is your knowledge.  This is on you to fix it.  We can’t lose her Bruce. Noah needs her and so do I.” Steve is so distraught he was almost crying.

For the next few hours, Bruce and Steve sat and paced and did everything they were doing when you were under earlier.  Tony came and went, monitoring your status and researching things that he and Bruce could do to help bring you out of the state you were currently in.

Steve was beside himself, he felt exactly as he did when you were in the hospital originally.  He hoped that this would have a different outcome in that you’d wake up with at least some of your memories.

All of a sudden you stirred.  The first person you see is Steve.

“Bruce, she’s awake.” Steve sighs with relief.  “Oh thank god you’re awake Y/n.  I was so worried we were going to lose you.”

You looked at Steve, sudden realisation in your eyes.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked him.

“Tell you what Y/n?” Steve asked you, then it hit him.  He knew exactly what you were asking.  “You.. you remember?”

“Yes, I remember Steve” you responded.  “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that we were together?  If I’d known that I wouldn’t have gone off for weeks, or been such a bitch towards you for cheating when you clearly weren’t?”

“I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you but you didn’t want me to explain anything, you said no explanation would change what had happened.  On top of that..”

“No on top of anything, Steve” you interrupted him, anger in your voice.  “I deserved to know the truth.”

Steve sighs, exasperated but understanding of your outrage.  “I tried, I really did” he reiterated quietly. “All I wanted was to hold you and have you know you were mine, but the doctor told us not to and every time I tried to explain you shut me down.  I just wanted to see you with Noah, he’s really missed you.”

“Steve, Who’s Noah?” you ask, confused.

Steve looks at Bruce, thinking, how can she remember me and not Noah?

Steve wonders how to answer that question.  “Umm, well…”

You get agitated with what seems to be more secrets that people won’t tell you “Just tell me goddamit!  I’m sick of things being kept secret.  I’m a big girl, I can handle whatever you’re going to tell me.

Steve looks at Bruce and shrugs.  He’s had enough of this pussyfooting around and not telling you important things.  Regardless of what the doctor had said, Steve thought maybe it was time for you to learn everything you were still missing and as he’s about to answer you, Tony walks in, interrupting everything.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

Bruce smiles at him “Well, she finally woke up.  And we had a breakthrough.”  He points at the bed where Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding your hand and looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky just for him.

“She remembers?  Thank god.”

“Not everything” Bruce answers. “But she remembers him and their relationship. There’s only one thing left.”

“Noah?” Tony half asks, half states.

“Yeah, Noah.” Bruce answers sadly.

Bruce and Tony watch you and Steve, happy to see you back together, and positive you’ll remember Noah soon.

The next morning, you wake up in bed, snuggled into Steve’s chest.  You look up and see him awake.

The previous night, after Bruce had let you go, you and Steve had stayed up late, talking through a lot of things and working through everything that had happened and your reaction to it all.  You now accepted that it was partly your fault that he hadn’t told you the truth earlier, you’d been particularly bitchy towards him any time he'd tried so you can’t really blame him for giving up.  At least you know he kept trying, even when you shot him down, time after time.

Despite his determination last night, he hesitated every time he thought about telling you about Noah.  Mainly because of what it could mean for Noah if you took the news badly. 

“Morning Captain, how long have you been awake?” you asked.

“A while.” Came his answer.

“You know it’s creepy to watch someone sleep?” you laughed.  He didn’t so you asked “Hey, is everything ok?  Is this about Noah?”

Steve looks at you with surprise that you mentioned Noah.

“What do you remember about Noah?” Steve asked, hoping you were remembering him as well now.

You sigh. “Nothing, I don’t know who he is, but your reaction yesterday when you mentioned him and I didn’t know makes me feel like I should.”

“Well, I can tell you but it’s one of those big things the doctors said we shouldn’t just dump on you.  I don’t want to make things worse but oh god, I need to tell you.  It’s up to you.”

“Maybe we should talk to Tony and see what he thinks?”

“Sounds good, but I’m going to be selfish right now and say I don’t want to move, I am just enjoying being able to hold you again, and have you know that you’re my girl, not someone else that I’m cheating on.”

“Well, there’s something else you could be doing with your fiancé and we can talk to Tony later?”

Steve looks down at you and laughs.  The laughter fades and his eyes darken with desire.  He leans down to kiss you, shifting so you are on the bed and he is half on top of you.

“I love you Steve.  I’m glad I remember.  Please, I need you.”

“I love you too Y/n.  Always and forever.”

Some time later, Steve wakes up to an empty bed.  He panics for a moment then hears you singing in the bathroom, which brings a massive smile to his face. 

He goes into the bathroom, finding you soaking in a massive bubble bath, eyes closed, singing away.  He stands watching you for the longest time, you don’t seem to sense him standing there.

“Oh dear”  You exclaim, the water sloshing in the tub as Steve joins you.  You turn around so your back is against his chest and lean into him.  He wraps his arms around you and you stay that way for what feels like forever.

“Steve?” you turn your head and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah babe?” he lands a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m a prune. I need to get out of this water.”

Steve laughs “Well, the water is getting a bit cold anyway.  Do you need any help getting out sweetheart?”

“Haha, it’s my brain that’s busted Steve, not my legs or arms.” You joke with him.

“Just offering a hand if you need it, my love.” He says. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy with the view as it is.”

“You’re terrible Rogers.  Actually, there is one thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Ask away sweetheart, I’ll tell you pretty much anything you want to know at this point.”

“Do I have an engagement ring - I mean if I was, or am, your fiancé, I’m guessing you liked it enough to put a ring on it?”

Steve almost chokes with laughter at you quoting a Beyonce song. “Oh yeah, I sent it away to be cleaned and it needed a couple of new hook things on it, I don’t really know the ins and outs.  I should talk to the jeweller about getting it back.  By the way, keep tonight free, because I am taking you on a date.”

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash @mrsnikstan @harrysnovia

[halestrom]

oh my god PLEASE i need to hear about the hockey au

@iprefervillains you also asked about this! BUT

this is straight up my hockey au. as simple as that. basically san diego gets a whole new team as part of an expansion and there is DRAMA between jake and bradley ofc. and maybe spoilers for the whole story since i doubt ill ever finish it BUT the reason jake and bradley dont get along is they dated on the DL in jr's and when they both got drafted they made an agreement to come out. jake did before camp. bradley got terrified even with his family and didn't and they broke up and jake is salty about it and made it bradleys problem and he never backs down from anything so it gets worse even though bradley kinda wants to make up but jake wont let him in but now they're on the same teammmmm.

anyway here's the first part of it i wrote which i am happy about.

Beau rubbed a hand over his face as he leaned back in the chair, already knowing it was going to be a long day. They had just finished their first year and needed to do something to try and prove to the NHL that giving a team to San Diego had been the right choice over one of the other cities who had been trying to get one. He knew the bitching the rest of the league had been doing. Another California team, and another one in Southern California. But they had the population and money talked a lot more than passion did.

He grimaced as he thought about the stupid nickname that had instantly started circling when it had been announced. The Tri-Tip Rivalry.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, dropping his hand when he heard a chair pull out and lifted his head. Natasha “Phoenix” Trace was the new General Manager for the San Diego Daggers. She had been the leading scorer for the six years she had played professionally between the CWHL and the NWHL before retiring. She had an Olympic gold and silver medal, and multiple gold and silver medals from Worlds. She was a star in her own right, and that was before she had accepted the job as GM.

Beau knew she was a PR gimmick, something to get more fans into the arena, especially female fans, and from the way Trace had stared him down at their first meeting, she knew it as well. The Daggers had been the last place team the last three years since it’s inception, and the fans were few and far between. She was there to try and drum up support, especially in the middle of a rebuild. But she knew her stuff, Beau couldn’t deny that.

“Phoenix,” he said, inclining his head.

“Cyclone,” she replied, inclining her head as well. “Or do you refer Beau? Simpson?”

Beau snorted. Cyclone was an old nickname from when he had scored the Stanley Cup winning goal by doing a spin-o-rama around three players and then scoring with a backhand of the third spin. “Whatever works for you.”

“Beau it is. Call me Nat. I think Phoenix might be a little on the nose for what we’re trying to do.”

That made Beau chuckle. “Fair.”

Nat nodded. “Alright, walk me through what we have.”

“A brand new team,” Cyclone said, picking up the remote and clicking. “Through a combination of, honestly I’m going to go with luck or a deal with a devil for you to get what you got, we have nine new potential stars.”

“The old one wasn’t working,” Nat replied, watching him carefully. “And I didn’t make a deal with the Devil. Most just assumed I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing until I made it happen.”

Cyclone kept quiet at that. He had been one of the ones confused as he watched Nat make trades leading up to the deadline, and then as soon as the off season started she made more. Everything seeming at random until suddenly all the trades came to an end and they had nine new players, all rising stars in their own right and now all on the same team. There had been an outcry when she had traded away the first round draft pick for the next season, but the return had been worth it.

It had been stunning to go back and see what she had done, tracing the trades and deals and it was the sort of move she was known for on the ice.

“Right. First up. Goalies.”

Cyclone clicked a picture. “Robert Floyd, mostly goes by Bob. Went sixth over all and got bumped down to the AHL almost immediately where he’s a solid, if boring goalie. Finally made it to the NHL, carried his team to the finals and lost in triple OT on a rebound. Got the Venezia as well as the Jennings. He’s a hell of a goalie. But, boring.”

“Boring isn’t bad,” Nat said.

“No, especially when the other goalie you got is Billy Avalone, nickname Fritz on account of how spastic he looks every time he makes a save,” Cyclone said, clicking to the next picture. Cyclone had seen more than one meme of Fritz making a save intercut with videos of cat’s spazzing out. The similarities were…obvious, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Fritz is also the only goalie to score two goals in one game and get a shut out,” Nat reminded him.

“He’s also weak on the left side and all the other team knows that,” Cyclone replied. “But, in theory, the new D-pairs should take care of that.”

He clicked the remote and two photos appeared. “Mickey Garcia, drafted fourth over all and Ruben Fitch, fifth overall same year. They were a D-pair out at Boston and their plus minus record is still unbroken. They got split and both of them are playing decent, solidly second or third line, sometimes first depending on injuries but nothing special. Fitch has a bit of a temper and is known for going after anyone who hits his goalie, which is where he got the nickname Payback.”

“They’re excited to work together again, and are assuming they’ll be on the same line,” Nat said.

Cyclone nodded. “I saw the Instagram post. I’m not going to promise anything until I see them work together.”

“Fair.”

He clicked the pointer. “Logan Lee out of Yale, and Brigham Lennox out of Harvard. Both drafted 10th in subsequent years. I don’t know how this is going to work since the two of them got into a fight every time they were on the ice together. To the point their previous teams healthy scratched them each time they played against each other.”

“Think they can play together?”

“I think it’s a crap shoot so we’ll see what happens. I know Garcia and Fitch want to play together but if Lee and Lennox can’t get their shit together they may not have a choice.”

“Do you know what caused the rivalry?”

“Lee lost his edge and took out Harvard’s goalie, knocked him out for the season with a concussion. Lennox took offense and it ended up with a line brawl on the ice,” Cyclone explained. “Which is fine, except the next time they played, Lennox high hit Lee’s D-partner and knocked him out, starting another line brawl.”

“Was it on purpose?” Nat asked, head whipping around to look at Cyclone.

He waggled a hand. “Lennox is tall, so head high hits are something he needs to be aware of. People are split fifty-fifty. Looking at the replay he wasn’t coming up into the hit, which is what Yale was screaming about. Personally, I think it was an accident and it would’ve stayed as one, if not for the previous game.”

“Good,” Nat said, looking back at the screen. “We can work with that.”

“Fingers crossed,” Beau said, clicking the remote again. “Javy Machado, mostly know as Coyote on the account of he’s the only player most people can name from the Coyotes. Current holder of the Hart, Lady Byng and Ted Lindsey trophies. Doesn’t score a lot of goals but he’s a team player and has no issue getting assists. He’s a solid offensive player and doesn’t shy away from playing hard. He was the leader in everything for the Coyotes for the past three seasons and the fact that you managed to dig their claws out from him is a minor miracle.”

“Luck,” Nat said, her smile small and Cyclone didn’t want to know what she had bribed or threatened people with.

“Right. He’s a fantastic player, on a team that can never find their footing and I think he would have the makings to be a star player if you didn’t get these two morons,” Beau said, clicking to the next pair of images, the headache he could already feel forming as he stared at the photos.

“Jake Seresin, drafted first overall. Got the Calder, Art Ross, Rocket and the Conn Smythe his first year. Led his team to a Stanley cup victory, scored the most goals and points in the playoffs and got the game winning goals in 12 of the 23 games they played, and the game winning Stanley Cup goal. He’s also the only player to even come close to Gretzy’s goal record with seventy-three his first year,” Beau said. “On the ice, when he’s playing, he is the best, there’s a long list of players people liken him to. But off ice?”

Beau went silent and looked over at Nat who shrugged one shoulder. “Off ice rumors have said he’s hard to work with. Constantly criticizing, judging and will often get into arguments with coaches over the right thing to do. Most of his former team calls him Hangman on the account of the fact he’ll happily hang them out to dry in the press. His only redeeming quality is if he’s an ass to his teammates, from my understanding he’s twice as hard on himself. Or so I was told.”

“You were told?”

“His old Coach and I go way back,” Cyclone said before he sighed. “He’s also the only player in the NHL who is currently out, and he’s been targeted for it more than once. So, I’m willing to give him a little leeway until I see how he is in person.”

“He’s the only player in male pro sports who is out,” Nat corrected.

“He is. And he runs his mouth so the fact he doesn’t get into more fights has more to do with how hard he can hit back. Seresin doesn’t shy away from the physical aspects of the game, even if he prefers to score goals as a fuck you to the rest of the league.”

Beau looked back at the screen and nodded to the second photo. “Bradley Bradshaw. The only child of Nick “Goose” Bradshaw and Godson of Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He’s a legacy kid, raised in the Kazansky-Bradshaw-Mitchell along with all their friends. There’s photos of that kid ice skating before he could walk. He’s got his Dad’s level head, Maverick’s hands and Iceman’s eye for the game. Drafted first overall, got the Hart and Calder his first year. He’s also the current holder for the Selke. Solid player, not prone to antics like Maverick is, and doesn’t score big goals like Iceman and Goose. He’s amazing at the tip in, which is why most people call him Rooster because he’ll perch himself in front of the net and tip anything that comes his way in.”

“What do you think of him?” Nat asked.

“I think he’s a solid player, but if you’re looking for something to draw a crowd he’s not it. He’s not flashy, and aside from a couple of fights here and there he almost never takes a penalty.

“People would say that’s a good thing.”

Beau was silent for a moment. “Hockey is a physical sport, if you’re not taking penalties I’m wondering how much you’re actually playing. Even if he’s not actively doing something, bad calls happen and he rarely even gets those.”

“You think he’s playing because of his parents?”

“Fucked if I know. I don’t give a shit why he chose hockey. All I care about is that he gives me a hundred percent when he’s on the ice.”

“Fair. Now for the elephant.”

Beau sighed, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. “Seresin and Bradshaw have a rivalry that makes the Canadiens and Bruins look like a bunch of kids fighting in a sandbox. The two of them have never said one nice thing about the other, and Seresin doesn’t get into many fights, but the majority has been with Bradshaw. It’s a miracle the two of them were on different coasts and only played each other twice a year.”

Nat folded her hands and looked at him. “You think it’s because Seresin is gay?”

Beau shook his head. “Nah, Bradshaw doesn’t have an issue with that. He was the ring bearer at Iceman and Mavericks wedding.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that recently?”

“Yep,” Beau said. “He had that quote.”

“Right,” Nat said, looking down at her notes. “’He’s gay. Congratulations. So are my Uncles. But unlike them, he’s a dickhead.’”

“Right,” Beau said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And they’re on the same team.”

“Think it’s gonna work,” Nat asked, looking back at the screen.

Beau thought about it for a long moment before he shrugged. “With the way Coyote plays and Bradshaw plays the two of them could make a hell of the team. Coyote getting the puck, making the shot and Bradshaw tipping it in. Seresin is the wild card, which isn’t a bad thing. But I honestly don’t know how they’re going to play together and won’t know.”

“Camp starts soon.”

“It does. And we’re going to have all eyes on us with Seresin and Bradshaw on the same team. Half of them are expecting for them to get into a fight on ice even though they’re on the same team.”

“Can you get five for that?”

“No fucking clue.”

Silence fell for a second before Nat tapped her fingers against the table, the two of them looking at the pair of photos for a long moment. “Do you think this has potential?”

“It does. I just don’t know if it’ll happen, and if it does? It’s not going to easy. Kinda makes me wish I had asked for more money.”

“We’re paying you as much as we can, take it up with the NHL if you want more,” Nat replied before jerking her chin up at the photos. “Do you know how that rivalry started?”

Beau shrugged. “No one does. Hell, I had Bates ask Maverick about it and even Bradshaw’s family doesn’t know. All we know is that from the first time they were on the ice they had issues with each other. They didn’t go to the same college, they didn’t play together growing up, hell, they don’t even play the same position. Didn’t get drafted the same year, nothing. As far as the world is concerned, they never even met until that first game.”

The first game. Where they had dropped gloves five minutes into the first period and had gotten major penalties for fighting by the end of the first period. With both of them scoring two goals each in the same period. It had fueled a new rivalry and started a hundred rumors. Rumors and questions that Bradshaw and Seresin refused to acknowledge.

“Some people just don’t get along,” Beau said finally.

“We’ll they’re going to have to learn,” Nat said, voice steely.

Beau nodded. “Easier said than done. But I’ll do what I can.”

“I’ve talked to both of them, and they understand they need to get along. Understanding and doing are two entirely different things.”

“Think they can?” Beau asked.

“They can. I just hope they will.”

[balrogballs]

Omg I just saw you were part of the Narnia fandom and Ms Balls, thou art a woman of impeccable taste. Gun to your head, Lewis or Tolkien?

Hahaha no no, I wasn’t part of the fandom in a traditional sense aka I wasn’t on here, I just wrote a couple of fics for it in my mid teens because I really enjoy the books!

Also re your question, the choice would have been harder if Lewis stopped just before Horse and His Boy + The Last Battle lol. I absolutely adore all the other Narnia stories, and I read them at a way younger age than Tolkien so it would have been an easy choice…

… but till now I can remember the day 10 year old me finished reading the Calormen/Tash/Tashbaan storylines and the very slow unravelling of complete disgust in me — a non-religious child with Muslim and Jewish parents — at how these books, which had such depth even in their simplistic prose, did such a deliberately horrid, revolting, and frankly lazy portrayal of “the Muslim country” and “their demon god” that as much as I loved Narnia and still enjoy the other books, the memory of that first read means I’m frankly never going to put them in my faves list.

Like it’s not that I was an oversensitive child or even solely because of the mixed faith family thing, I was not even a very observant reader re diversity stuff, I was ten. Tolkien may have been a man of his time and there are tons of biases and stereotypes in LOTR but Calormen was just. Fucking mindblowing.

Like to me it went way, way past the general Genteel Orientalism of Tolkien and pals, and it was completely unnecessary — the rest of the narrative had a relatively simplistic style as its a kids book yet an empathetic set of morals, but the Calormen bits were so viciously visceral that little me was just like oh. Oh my god you specifically hate them, don’t you? Like you hate these people don’t you and then realising I was, technically, these people 🥲

Sorry about the extended answer lmao you can see I have a lot of thoughts but yeah, I’d pick Tolkien no matter how foundational Narnia was for me, not even because I hate it or whatever, it just makes me SAD!

[springtimesdaughter]

Nico Di Angelo's and consequently Hazel Levesque's Age

It's more complicated than you think.

I'm using the 'actual' timeline for the sake or using the years to track age better. Rick has said his birthday is either January 28th or May 16th. The one that makes the most sense is January for this tineline and the more fandom popular, so it is the one I will stick to.

We also have to address the fact that Nico spent time in the Lotus Casino and that there is no guarantee that he and Bianca left at the same time of the year they went in which means that theoretically his birthday would not be acurate. But let's assume that he did for this story.

Now let's address his age.

Grover says that Bianca and Nico are 12 and 10, and this is accepted as canon information. Let's assume this is correct and not a best guess.

That would mean

Titan's Curse is December of 2007, so Nico would be 10 until a month after this book finishes.

Battle of the Labyrinth takes place in the summer of 2008, which makes Nico 11.

Sword of Hades takes place in December of 2008, which means Nico is still 11.

The Last Olympian is in the summer of 2009, which means Nico is 12.

The Lost Hero is in December of 2009, which means that Nico is still 12, and because he brought Hazel out in September (page 99 of SoN ebook) and is actually younger than Hazel who is 13. [Let's ignore this I'll address this later]

The rest of the Hero's of Olympus series Nico is 13 because it takes place in the late spring to late summer of 2010.

The Trails of Apollo is said to start in mid-January, which means at the very latest the book would end with Nico being 14 at the beginning of 2011.

The rest of the Trails of Apollo series Nico would be 14.

The Sun and a Star takes place a couple weeks after ToA as Nico mentions the prophecy being a couple of weeks before. It's the end of the summer session, so it is still 2011 and Nico is 14.

Please don't get me started on Un Natale Mezzosangue [Percy, not liking shadow travel when in Last Olympian he does.] The mentions of Covid either mean this is December of 2020 or some other earlier December. Nico at the youngest is still 14.

The problem? Rick said Nico was 14 during HoO, which would make him 15. Do either leave the Lotus Hotel, causing Nico to age a bit faster for a while, Grover was wrong about Nico's age. This would also make Nico back to being older than Hazel.

-

Hazel turned thirteen on December 13th, 1941. It was also the last day that she lived in New Orleans.

She died in mid summer in 1942, so she spent about six months in Alaska.

She was brought to camp Jupiter in September of 2009 and is 13 1/2.

She meets Percy in mid-June 2010, which is 9 months afterward, which puts Hazel at 14 1/3.

Frank, whose birthday is June 5th, would have just turned 16.

[The age gap doesn't seem as bad anymore. with this knowledge. It's better than 16 and 13, though.]

The problem is that all sources regarding Hazel as being 13 during SoN.

-

So we have several problems here, and I am going to go the path of least resistance and change both the ages to reflect this. You don't have to like it, bit it works.

We assume Hazel is 14 1/3 in Son of Neptune and that Nico is 15 (making him even older than Rick stated he was so let's retrofit this timeline so that they can stay older sibling younger sibling.

December 2007: Nico is 12

Summer 2008: Nico is 13

December 2008: Nico is 13

August 2009: Nico is 14

September 2009: Nico is 14 ; Hazel is 13 1/2

December 2009 Nico is 14 ; Hazel is 13

March 2010 Nico is 15 ; Hazel turns 14

June 2010 Nico is 15; Hazel is 14

At the end of January 2011, Nico is 16 ; Hazel is 14

At the end of the summer of 2011, Nico is 16 ; Hazel is 15

The problem now? Bianca is said to be 12. This is an easy fix. Grover got the ages wrong. Bianca is 13. Fixed. She's still the older sibling.

Again, though, this relies on the idea the idea that when Bianca and Nico get removed from the Lotus Eaters that it is close in time to when they went in and that it is a small disparity.

Also, let's not get started on when the di Angelo's were put into the casino and the contradictory information Rick has written on that, and when they were born.

[spotaus]

Ink and his quiet companion!

I think that Cross (in this era) still uses the armor he ran off with. It's a little small on him, but it works for his and Ink's devices! He *also* still uses some of the clothes, namely his drapes (the things hanging off his belt) and he just ripped off the portion with Ritten's crest.

Ink, on the other hand, is a little menace. He wears a lot of earthy tones but also. Just like. SUPER bright and obvious pops of color. Also, fun new lore for him! Ink does that thing where he remembers his new kills by painting/tattooing himself. Not out of any weird sense of accomplishment tho. Just because in his early days he kept forgetting when he finished a job. His solution was to start tattooing his ribs, and when those got full he moved onto his arms and spine. At some point in the story his arms will be fully tattooed like his og design!

Last note: Notice the cloth on Ink's hip? Cross has the purple one that usually hangs there :] but his canon design is missing it. Cross's stuff (armor, scarf, coin-purse, *sword*, everything) is still at Dream's encampment. I think it's stored in Dream's cabin somewhere, because Ink didn't want to risk losing any of it, and they had to repurpose the tent Cross had stayed in. After Cross' betrayal Dream just shoves it on some unused shelf and leaves it. (Maybe when young teen Nightmare is kidnapped he finds the stuff (he recalls Cross' confession about working for Dream) and he takes comfort in having the items nearby/on-hand. Until, of course, Ink spots him with Cross' old scarf and gets angry. Because that's Cross'! No one is meant to wear that but him! And that causes tension between Dream and Ink. Maybe that's part of why Ink surrenders so quickly upon seeing Cross.)

[chamerionwrites]

There are a number of specific personal anecdotes I could cite here. But many years later, the one that (sort of ironically given how it ultimately turned out) hacks me off the most is this:

In college, walking in a park at dusk, with my friend and his two roommates (all dudes). We came over a hill, heard a yelp, and silhouetted against the fading sunset we saw the shadow of a large man throwing what was clearly a much smaller woman to the ground.

My friend and I sprinted down the hill, shouting and clenching our fists, fully prepared to try to fuck this guy up. It’s at this point that I should probably mention that in college I was all of 130 pounds (at 5’9”). My friend Mike was a little Filipino guy several inches shorter than me; I quite possibly outweighed him. (Also he happens to be gay, which is not an indicator of somebody’s prowess in a fight, but you know. Plenty of people sure think that it is.)

This story has a happier and more anticlimactic ending than it may initially appear, because as it turned out this was a guy and his girlfriend goofing around and we jumped to the worst conclusions because it was dark and nobody else was around. She thought the whole thing was hilarious. He was extremely red in the face, but also kind of sheepishly grateful to us for intervening. A minute later Mike’s roommates came down the hill, also looking sheepish and a little wary, and everything was explained and no harm was done.

Afterward one of the roommates playfully took me to task for it. What did I think I was going to do, against this guy who was twice my size? I told him I didn’t really have time to think about it, I just reacted, but I wasn’t going to do nothing. “So you started a fight that I would have had to finish,” he told me. Still playfully, but I thought I could sense some real frustration there. “I’m the one who would have had to intervene, to keep you from getting your ass kicked.”

Like I said he was being playful, and at the time I didn’t react as strongly as I wish I had in hindsight. But the older I’ve gotten and the more I’ve thought about that situation, the angrier I’ve become. I signed him up for a fight? He and the other roommate were the ones waffling at the top of the hill. There were four of us and one of the other guy, and he hung back like a coward, and then he tried to frame that as a failure on my part instead of a failure on his.

This is what I always think about, when I hear that kind of who-will-protect-you-if-not-for-traditionally-masculine-men whining. As a person who tends to get along pretty well with men, whose most beloved and admired friends are and always have been mostly men, who frankly has always had a bit of trouble making friends with women and fitting into women-only spaces (and there is A LOT to be said about the whys of this, much of it about toxic femininity and women as enforcers of misogyny and the gendered violence they will aim at other women who don’t Do Gender correctly - so don’t clown in my notes)….I have enormous respect and admiration for my male friends! I get as annoyed as anyone when people are unnecessarily shitty to or about men.

But also, I’m gonna be real with you guys. When the chips are down far too many of you - white straight cis men especially - are abject self-centered cowards who will not raise a finger to defend anyone more vulnerable than yourselves. Who actively loathe vulnerability, in fact, because you have been taught to have zero compassion for it in either others or (tragically) yourself. Who would not last even a single day in the shoes of the women and queer people that you secretly or not-so-secretly consider soft.

Possibly THE most obnoxious misogynist talking point to me personally is the whining about how only a good guy with a gun patriarchal masculinity can stop a bad guy with a gun patriarchal masculinity, so you stupid women had better stop shit-talking men (complaining about misogyny) because who will protect you otherwise?

Uh, statistically? Not you.

Anecdotally, in 9 out of 10 cases the person who intervenes when a man is being violent/threatening/creepy/etc is a woman or a queer dude, so. Also not you.

[fycoren]

my experience playing through shadow the hedgehog (2005) /hj

[dawdlecentric]

As the world caves in

[mellowthorn]

that's 200k done which means only ~50k more and then i'm finally finished with this terrible terrible draft (and get to start editing fuck yeahhhh)

[skid-the-mighty-poet]