#post people is so stressful…. but damn I’m pretty proud of the face. I was really scared of doing it

[bleue-flora]

"He has friends, Tommy. I'm right here. I'm his friend... What are you gonna say about that? You think I'm not his friend?" — Punz —

Thought it was only fair that I do c!Punz after doing c!Dream, so here he is, ready to fight anyone who messes with his friend. And yes, just like with c!Dream all of his Minecraft skin elements and colors are apart of the design in one way or another.

[love4ab]

Like A damn fool. E.P.

prompt ; Elvis wasn’t going to let you get away with talking disrespectful to him in front of his friends, so he teaches his lil girl a lesson.

70s!elvis x fem!reader. ( you can imagine any era but i personally had early 70s E in mind with this one. )

Warnings ; daddy kink. spanking with belt. praise kink if you squint. crying (??). possible spelling errors.

guys this is the second piece i’ve wrote thats made it out of my drafts !! i get scared posting my work so i’m proud of myself for this. hope u all enjoy babes ! <3 :P

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Elvis wasn't one to take disrespect from anyone, especially from his own girl. The second that smart mouth of yours made a comment to Elvis that he didn't like, in front of his friends, he nearly threw you over his lap and spanked you till you couldn't sit. You made him feel stupid in front of his group, so you knew the second the guys stepped foot outside, you were getting it, and getting it hard.

You heard the group of guys saying goodbye to each other as you sat in your and Elvis' bedroom upstairs by yourself. Earlier, when you pissed Elvis off, he sent you upstairs to the bedroom and told you to wait. Of course, not wanting to anger him more, you did as he told you. 

When you heard the front door slam and the house become so quiet you could hear a pin drop, your stomach turned upside down in an instant. Your leg continued bouncing up and down, and you picked at your nails. You heard the heavy, loud footsteps of Elvis as he slowly made his way upstairs. You sat at the end of the bed just where he left you and didn't move an inch, just as he requested. 

The door flung open, and there was your beloved man leaning against the door frame, looking down at you with hooded eyes; his pretty blue eyes nearly looked pitch black. You sat quietly, waiting for him to speak. "Now, that little mouth of yours is suddenly quiet, hmm?" He muttered as he began taking slow steps over to you. He stood in front of you, his stare so dark and intimidating that you looked down at your lap, avoiding his eye contact, which you knew he hated, but you truly couldn't stand the look in his eyes when he was angry, especially angry at you.

Recently, Elvis has been having a lot of angry outbursts and has been a bit on the sensitive side, which you assumed was due to stress from work and touring. Earlier, you didn't think Elvis was going to get this angry when you were just trying to crack some laughs out of the guys, which you did, but just not from Elvis. 

"Makin' me look like a damn fool out there in front of people." He used his pointer finger and hooked it under your chin to force you to face up. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya', little girl." He demanded, and all you could do was nod your head, scared to say something wrong. "Stand up," he mumbled, You quickly stood up, his body still towering over you due to his height. He grabbed your shoulders and swiftly spun you around. He pushed you down against the edge of the bed. Your face was now shoved into the bed, and your ass was sticking out, just how he wanted. He scrunched your dress up to your waist, and he slid your panties off.

"We remember how this goes, right, hun?" He says this as you hear him unbuckling his belt. "Yes." You answer, but it comes out muffled due to your face being against the bed. "Repeat that for me, baby." He says, You turn your face and say, "Yes, daddy!" You correct yourself. "Good." was all he said before you suddenly felt a stinging sensation on your ass, you gasped, and your body jolted up from the unexpected whip. "How 'bout you count for me?" He tells you before laying another whip from his belt on your ass.

"Two, daddy!" You yelp out, tears already brimming at the water line of your eyes. He went on and on, spank after spank. You nearly lost count at 10, but you held through knowing he would start over from one if you dared to miscount. 

"fifthteen, daddy! "I'm sorry, please!" You feel your knees buckle, nearly giving up. You gasped as you sobbed and tears streamed down your face. "You're almost done. You're bein' such a good girl." He finally praises you, and you nod your head and grip the comforter of the bed with your hands as you wait for the last of your spanking. 

"Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, daddy!" He went back to back, barely giving you time to count on time. He set the belt down on the bed; he grabbed your shoulder, pulling you up, and helped you stand up. Once you caught your balance, you turned, facing him, and wrapped your arms around him. You sniffled and pulled him closer to you; he hugged you back and placed a kiss on top of your head.

"I'm so sorry, daddy. I promise, I won't say anything mean to you anymore." You hiccuped and stumbled over your apology. He sat down, and you straddled him. You hissed as your bare ass rubbed against the rough material of his pants. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck as you sniffled, "You took your punishment so well, baby. I'm proud of you." He praised you. He caressed your hair as he rocked back and forth. Your eyes fluttered close, and you found yourself dozing off in Elvis' hold.

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

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[miraakulous-cloud-district]

TES summer fest, day 7

Hi, hello. I had waay too much fun with @tes-summer-fest the other day and each and every like I got boosted my self esteem to write and post again, so here we are!

Prompt: Ceremony (fake wedding time!!) also this happens before Ravonna meets Miraak

Warnings: some inappropriate language

Word count: 2071

Characters: Ravonna, Lucien Flavius, Inigo, Rumarin, Maramal and the Temple of Mara priests and priestesses, Brynjolf and Maul (mentioned), Marurio & pretty much the whole Bee and Barb

People reading my stuff and leaving likes give me so much serotonin, I appreciate it very much. If you like what you see, maybe give me a follow. I’m definitely going to post more of Ravonna and her merry little fellowship. I’m also seriously considering writing this fic over the summer.

Sneak peek: “Earlier today, Maramal, the priest had one amulet on him. He came here preaching about Mara’s forgiveness and how we’re all sinning in this city. He went back to the temple with it. I don’t think he’ll give it to you willingly, though. He assumes we’re all thieves. Pfft, look at him, drinking spring water in a tavern with some of the best mead in all of Skyrim!”

“And this temple, where is it?” Ravonna smirked mischievously.

“You go to the market, and then cross the bridge to the left. You’ll see the statues of Mara, believe me.”

She grinned and he gave her a confused look. “Wanna do something weird?”

***

“Shit!” she said, between a whisper and a scream. The tunnel was dark and wet and full of skeevers. Not an ideal place to be sneaky.

“Everything all right?”

“No, Inigo, everything is not alright!” Lucien snaped. “We’re in Thieves guild territory, for Gods’ sakes!”

“Stop shouting! You’re going to attract all the filthy thieves and skeevers.” Ravonna said from somewhere ahead. “The last thing I want to do is deal with Brynjolf and his ‘Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, lass?’ again” she said, in a mocking tone and copying his accent, which made Rumarin chuckle and Lucien sigh. “Or worse! Fucking Maul.”

“Fucking Maul” echoed Inigo, agreeing.

“Do you think all the Thieves Guild members are that mean and frustrated?” Lucien wondered.

“Well, for the record, they have to live like this!” Rumarin gesticulated around him. “If I lived in a cistern full of thrown booze and skeevers, I’d be pretty cranky myself.”

“I’m sorry, guys, this is all my fault. I just – I can’t lose this amulet…”

“Hei, Ravonna” Inigo said, touching what he thought was her shoulder.

“Not Ravonna, mate” Lucien giggled and casted candlelight on him again.

“Damn! Ravonna!” he said, this time turning to her “It was not your fault. Don’t worry, we’re going to find that amulet. It fell right in this area. And us? We’re here because we chose to, because we want to help you.”

Her face softened and she lost all the tension in her body. “Thank you.” She said, softly.

“Besides, I see this as a perfect opportunity to see the wonders of Riften! Real undergound attraction, this one.” Rumarin said and there was a pause “Pun absolutely intended. No brochure or journal entry said there would be relaxing cistern bathing with the skeevers!”

At that, Ravonna finally laughed along with the rest of her companions. Oh, Rumarin lightened the mood like no other. Still, she couldn’t lose that amulet. It was but a simple amulet of Julianos, but it was too special for her. It was from her father. He bought it for her right after she cast her first spell, at the tender age of six. She remembers it like it happened yesterday. She was in their yard with Teldryn, of course; the dunmer was very proud when he found out that she looked up to him and wanted to learn magic, and so he quickly took her under his wing. Yes, she was incredibly young, and her old man was stressed beyond his mind, but she had potential, she had that sparkle in her eyes. Besides, Teldryn promised his brother that he would be extremely careful, so his adoptive daughter would be safe. And that day, she cast her first fire spell. She jumped and laughed in excitement as she ran to the tavern to show her dad what she’d done. As scared and fascinated as he was, along with the rest of the clients nearby, he was extremely proud, and reached for his pocket and pulled out this amulet.

“I bought it when you said you wanted to do magic, and promised myself that I would give it to you only after you’ve cast your first spell. Take it, it will improve your magic from what I know.” He told her, very proud. If only he were alive to see her wield magic now!

“This is pointless!” she said, snapping back to reality. “Maybe someone’s already stolen it.”

“I think I saw someone walk up the stairs on the other side when we got here.” Rumarin said.

“Well, why didn’t you say anything? Which direction did he go?” Ravonna asked, hope creeping up on her.

“I think towards the inn. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out. We’ve looked everywhere down here.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

As they entered The Bee and Barb, all eyes fell upon them. They didn’t exactly look like they had the best day. Soaked in cistern water, with clothes that have become ragged from the road and not a particularly pleasant smell following them. For now, though, they were just happy they were inside, safe from the coldness of the night. Ravonna saw the imperial wearing mage robes and eating plain bread. He caught her eye.

“Ah, another mage. Surely, he would want an amulet such as mine. I’ll talk to him. You guys see what you can find out about a lost amulet of Julianos with the rest of the people in here.”

“Sure thing” Lucien said, and went straight to the innkeeper.

She sat right next to the imperial mage, instantly realizing that the bench was too small for her to be comfortable. But alas, here she was. He gave her a look of worry combined with slight disgust.

“Rough night?” he asked her, taking another bite from his bread.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Perhaps you’d do better with a master of destruction by your side!”

“What, mate?”

“For a modest fee, I'll bring my formidable arcane powers to bear against your foes. What do you say? No offense, but it looks like you could use the help.”

“Um, thanks, but, you see there’s – there’s not a lot of room in the fellowship as of now.” She said, awkwardly.

“No problem, if you change your mind, seek me out here.”

“I actually came here to ask you if you saw any lost amulet of Julianos…”

“I had you figured for a mage!” he said enthusiastically. “But no, I haven’t seen any amulets of Julianos out here. Magic isn’t really appreciated in these parts of Tamriel…” sadness started showing on his face, giving Ravonna the hint that he may be feeling a bit left out, sitting all day in this corner, isolated and eating bread.

“Wait, I think I did see something.”

“What?” Ravonna’s eyes sparkled with hope

“Earlier today, Maramal, the priest had one amulet on him. He came here preaching about Mara’s forgiveness and how we’re all sinning in this city. He went back to the temple with it. I don’t think he’ll give it to you willingly, though. He assumes we’re all thieves. Pfft, look at him, drinking spring water in a tavern with some of the best mead in all of Skyrim!”

“And this temple, where is it?” Ravonna smirked mischievously.

“You go to the market, and then cross the bridge to the left. You’ll see the statues of Mara, believe me.”

She grinned and he gave her a confused look. “Wanna do something weird?”

After a bit of planning in the bathrooms, the fellowship sat at a table in the center of the inn, right in the spotlight. Minutes of trying to act normal have passed and Rumarin finally got up, and took Ravonna’s hands in his. After clearing his throat loudly, he began:

“My love, my darling, the fairest of them all!” He said, loudly, creating a scene as every eye in the whole tavern turned to them. He smiled at the success of his plan and continued: “You are as fine as the night with no clouds. Your hair as dark as the darkness itself and your skin as fair as the pavements of Whiterun! I was but a young, lost lad, milking cows and picking flowers for a living before I met you. AH! But no cow is as beautiful as you, my love, and no flower matches your cistern smell right this moment. But I would not have it any other way! For I love you with all my body and all my being! And what a fine night it is indeed” he said, getting on one knee. Ravonna, playing her part is now shedding tears, while her companions cheer loudly. “My sweetroll, would you do me the honor, of walking that fine bottom of yours down the aisle at the Temple of Mara tonight? For we shall be wed, as only true lovers do!”

“Yes! Oh a thousand times yes, my sweet honey-bear! Our love is truly like no other and we shall be wed! Tonight! I can wait it no longer! If only there were a priest here tonight…” she said, extremely theatric.

“You wish to be wed? It’s wonderful to see love blossoming in these dark times!” Maramal finally intervenes.

“Yes! We wish to be wed! Tonight! We wish to be wed right now!” Ravonna said, jumping with excitement.

“That’s good to see, but the temple is closed-”

“Actually, a temple such as Mara’s, the goddess of love and compassion, is to be open at all times, welcoming her children.” Lucien said, smug. He was right and he knew it.

“Well done, my son!” Rumarin said, clasping Lucien’s shoulder, earning a wide-eyes, shocked look from him. This was not part of the plan, but he loved improvising and making his friends as uncomfortable as possible.

“Very well, come with me” said the priest, defeated.

***

“We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?”

“I do, now and forever” Ravonna said in a very dramatic manner. Inigo and Lucien were sobbing on a bench next to them, blowing their noses and cheering occasionally. They were having fun with this.

“Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?” the priest now turned to Rumarin, and just as he opened his mouth to pledge his love to Ravonna, the temple doors flung open, and barging in came Marcurio, panting.

“Stop the wedding! Stop the wedding, for Mara’s sake!” he said, as he came running to the altar.

“You cannot marry her! I won’t let you go! Not this time and not ever again! Rumarin,” he said, taking both of his hands in his “I was a fool! I didn’t realize just how much you mean to me. I- I’ve never felt like this before, and so I ran. Because I was afraid. Afraid of the unknown, oh but now I know, my big, beautiful bastard of an elf! I know it and I feel like flying, and screaming, and telling everyone!”

“Tell them what?” Rumarin asked, his voice shaking.

“Tell them what I should have told you long ago. Tell them that I love you.” He said, and the whole temple gasped. “I love you. I love you so much, more than I can put into words.”

“What? Are you seriously considering giving up on everything we have for – for this guy? You never even told me about him!”

“You never told her about us?! I mean, in hindsight, I guess that it would have ruined your little relationship. Clearly, she can never be me.”

“Oh you pompous mage! I have had it with you. You come here on my wedding night, uninvited, on a quest to destroy my relationship! I’ll make you pay!” Ravonna said, through gritted teeth, and immediately launched herself at Marcurio. They started throwing fake punches and throwing each other to the floor. It was a wrestling match. All of the priests and priestesses were either looking in terror, or trying to stop the fight. Nobody even noticed Inigo slipping away to the chambers and retrieving the amulet.

***

Later that night, they were on the road, because they have all agreed that they caused too much of a stir to stay in Riften anyway. They were heading to Windhelm after hearing rumors of that Aretino boy. After what they’ve done, Marcurio has more than earned his spot in the fellowship, and happily walked beside Lucien and Inigo, talking to Lucien about Cyrodiil and Dwarven ruins.

“Now that’s a fuckery! We did a great job tonight. Thank you again.” Ravonna told Rumarin.

“Don’t mention it. It was fun.” he smirked.

“Yeah, it was. And I never knew you were such an actor!”

“Oh please, I was raised by troubadours. Drama surrounded my life.”

“This meant a lot to me, I’m almost willing to ignore the fact that you subtly called me a cow.”

“Oh, it was for comedic purposes only, I swear! Besides, I can’t go full romance mode on you now, can I? My charms would be too much to handle.” And with that he earned a playful punch to the chest.

[christ0pher-evans]

Variety’s Actors on Actors

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader  Warnings: Slight Angst / Implied Smut Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is my first time writing a Chris Evans fanfiction. It it loosely based off of Variety’s Actors on Actors interviews with Chris Evans and Paul Rudd / Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson. It is pure fluff, hope you guys like it!!! Please reblog and like🖤

 ♡

When Variety had approached you to be involved in the ‘Actors on Actors’ style interviews, you knew that it could be really fun, a great opportunity and you felt immediate excitement for who they might pair you with. 

It was only a day later when they had told you that they wanted you to do the interview with Chris Evans. Normally, any time that you got to spend with Chris, physically or virtually, was fun; however you had no idea how you could possibly interview the man when you knew all there was to know about his life and career, I mean you’d only know him 16 years, and been together for the past 6 years, leading to your past first year of blissful marriage. 

You had spent the last month away from Chris due to the filming of your latest movie, and was missing him so much that your heart hurt. The thought of getting to spend a full 45 minutes doing this interview with him was making you jump for joy, because usually neither of you have enough free time simultaneously to be able to spend this length of time together. It’s often a fleeting text of “I miss you”, or a 5 minute phone call between scenes. 

You had spent the past week since finding out about this interview trying to come up with interesting enough questions that the fans would want answers to. You were also thankful for Variety as they had sent you a pre-made list of questions in case you got stuck.

It was finally an hour before the interview, and you hadn’t seen Chris’ face for the past two weeks so you decided to make a bit of extra effort to look nice for him. 

You were sat in front of your dressing table in your apartment that had be rented out for you whilst you were filming. Make-up was spread all over the table and you could see the reflection, several outfits littered all over your bed where you had yet to make your mind up on what to wear. 

45 minutes later and you had a light brown and glittery smokey eye, a subtle winged liner with a gloss over your lips and had given yourself a bouncy blow-dry. After looking through all your outfits, you had decided on one of Chris’ oversized jumpers that you stole before you left and some jeans - even though you wanted to look really nice for him, you knew how much he would appreciate seeing you in his clothes more. 

You had made yourself a coffee and set yourself up at the breakfast bar for the interview. Checking everything was set up and ready for the interview, you waited patiently with butterflies in your stomach for it to start. You were bought out of your excited daze by the noise of your phone, a message from Chris popped up.. ‘Can’t wait to see your beautiful face’ Boy, did he still make you swoon after so long together. 

Not long had passed before the sound of a video call was coming through on your laptop, and as you answered, a member of the Variety team was on your screen. “Hi Y/N, it’s so lovely to speak to you and thank you so much for partaking in this interview. In a couple of minutes, we will connect you straight through to Chris and you can just start chatting and asking your questions. We will record everything from our end and then edit it together to be posted online.” “That all sounds perfect to me. Thank you so much for having me and letting me do this with my husband.” You couldn’t help but grin, it never got old getting to call Chris your husband. You absentmindedly twirled your engagement and wedding rings round your finger.  “Okay, we will connect you now. Have fun!” 

And then there he was, bright eyed and grinning at you through the screen.

“Hi Sweetheart.” His voice made your heart flutter and your stomach do flips.  "Hi Chris, how are you?” you reply sweetly.

You made some small talk for the sake of the interview, before starting to ask each other questions. “So I have a confession to make..” you paused briefly, “I could not think of any questions to ask you that I didn’t already know the answer to, so I thought I would ask questions that I think fans would want to know the answer to.” 

You grin, proud of yourself and proud of the big laugh you got out of Chris because you had come up with such a good idea. “My first question is when you first got into acting, how did you navigate the work/life balance?”

Chris took a swig of beer, pondering his answer before starting. “Well when I actually booked my first bigger film that had a busy schedule, was on the film we worked on together, so previous to that I didn’t have much of a social life” he chuckled, “But when you’re filming for maybe 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, you have to quickly find a routine that works for you where you can still show up to work every day and give 110%. I also remember we used to take naps on set in between our takes all the time.” You couldn’t help but smile as you fondly remembered the first time working with Chris. “No but seriously, when you find a script that you are passionate about, and get to work with people that are truly amazing at what they do, you are happy to dedicate as much time as you need to to get that perfect take, to eventually make that perfect film.” 

“Okay, well let’s talk about Defending Jacob, which for you, was a completely different style of character for you to become. How did you prepare for that role?” 

“Yeah, it was definitely a new type of role to encompass, especially off the back of playing Captain America for almost a decade, even though he was considered a serious character, it’s a completely different league to enter. I remember doing a lot of work with real life district attorneys to understand the pressure and seriousness of the job role and I remember going through lines with you every damn day.” 

You zone out as Chris carries on talking about Defending Jacob as you remember the nights fondly. 

————————

You had just finished clearing up dinner as Chris comes bounding back into the kitchen with his script for Defending Jacob. Placing it down on the dining room table, he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.  “Sweetheart, pretty please can we run my lines again? I’ve been thinking about how I can add more passion into my character to really emphasise his emotions in those tough scenes.” 

You absolutely couldn’t say no to him. You was so proud of how much work he was putting into this show and how perfect he wanted it to be, but you also couldn’t say no to those gorgeous blue puppy eyes. 

It had been 45 minutes since you started running lines, you were now sitting on the dining room table swinging your legs back and forth and you couldn’t take your eyes off Chris pacing round the table, the anger and passion in his voice as he recalled his lines. You could feel the heat pooling towards the bottom of your stomach as he ran his hand through his hair, his chest flexing as he shouted his lines, the gruff tone of his voice only making your panties wetter. You were biting your lip gently as Chris pulled you out of your daydream. 

“Y/N are you alright, are you getting bored?” You shook your head quickly. 

“God no, course not babe. You’re doing great, I’m just slightly distracted.” 

Just like always, Chris could read your mind and knew exactly what you were thinking. He sauntered closer to you, placing himself in front of you and sliding your legs open so he could stand between them. Placing his script down, he used one finger to tilt your chin up to look him in the eyes. 

“Is there something you like baby?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he called you baby and ran his finger across your bottom lip before ghosting a kiss on them. He leaned down towards you, one hand running down towards your panties as he kissed along your neck and up to your ear, before mumbling..”I think we can take a break”. 

————————

You chuckled to yourself, remembering so vividly on how you both broke the dining room table that night. 

“Oh, is something funny sweetheart?” Chris bought you out of your daydream. Clearing your throat, you mumbled an apology before changing the subject straight back to the interview. 

“Okay, let me ask you a question now Y/N. I want to know how it feels to be like a superwoman as you managed to film and promote your latest movie whilst we were planning our wedding?” 

You giggle lightly and smile broadly, remembering the chaos that was your life the six months leading up to your wedding. 

“Honestly, Chris, that feels like a blur these days. Planning our wedding was much more work than filming and doing press tours, but somehow we made it work. Don’t make it sound like I did it so elegantly though, I was an absolute bridezilla those six months and I don’t know how you put up with me.” You smile at each other through the screen, remembering the fond memories of your engagement. “But in all honesty, it was just quite a strict schedule with minimal sleep. I loved filming and the press tour for my film was so much fun, as was planning our wedding so even though at the time, it felt like an impossible task, looking back and seeing how well the film did and how perfect our wedding day was, it makes the hard work worth every second.” 

Your smile falters slightly at the thought of some of the more stressful times during that stretch, but quickly returns at the look of love in Chris’ eyes as he hangs onto your every word.

————————

You had spent the day at home trying to organise the seating plan for your wedding which was quickly approaching in 3 months, whilst Chris had been out all day filming. 

Unfortunately before Chris came home, you had pulled your heels on, ready to walk out the door to your awaiting car to take you to your latest movie press panel. A sad sigh was all you managed before you hauled yourself out the door for the 2 hour interview with your cast mates. 

The panel had finished at 9pm and you had jumped straight back in the car, so the driver could take you home to Chris, silently hoping you could catch him for a bit before he went to bed. You knew he would be calling it a night quite early as you had woken up to his side of the bed empty and cold that morning, meaning he had left the house before sunrise. You felt a sudden pang of sadness about how little time you’d spent with your fiancé over the past 3 months. It was no ones fault, you were both busy but it felt like you were actively avoiding one another. You shook your head as a few tears fell. 

As a welcome distraction on the way home, you had opted to start looking at flower arrangements for the bridesmaids bouquets, but you could feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling so tired and drained from months of final filming and wedding planning. 

It was just after 10:15pm as you stepped out the car, thanking the driver before heading up the path to your house. You could see the lights were off, bar the hallway light that Chris had left on for your arrival home. You sighed sadly as you stepped in the door to the quiet abyss. You removed your heels, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise, knowing that Chris was up just as early tomorrow.

Walking through to the kitchen, you could see Chris had left you some pizza takeout on the side but you didn’t have the energy to eat, just wanting to curl up in bed. 

Heading straight into the ensuite to your bedroom, you quietly took off your make-up and cleansed your face to hide your tear-stained cheeks. Creeping back into the bedroom, you stood looking in the mirror of your dresser as you put on one of Chris’ t-shirts; you looked defeated and utterly glum. As you stood there for a moment longer, trying to collect your emotions and bottle them away, you heard Chris stir. 

“Babe, come to bed.” 

You felt your shoulders relax at the rough sound of his sleepy voice. Quickly wiping under your eyes once more, you turned round to see him holding the duvet up so you could crawl under and into his waiting arms. 

Immediately relaxing into the mattress, goosebumps arose on your skin as Chris trailed his fingers up your side to pull you into him. You let yet another tear fall from your eye at the fact that this was the first time you’d actually seen him today, frustrated that work and wedding planning was taking up all your time. This didn’t go unnoticed by Chris as he caught the lone tear with his finger, wiping it away. 

“I just want our wedding to be perfect and my movie to do well without having to sacrifice all my time with you” you whimpered, hiding your face in Chris’ chest.

“Sweetheart, I’m marrying you, it will all be perfect. Get some sleep, I love you.” Chris gave you a kiss on your forehead before falling straight to sleep, you dozing off straight after him, with heart full of love. 

————————

The interview was coming to an end and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness of getting to spend so much time talking to Chris but also dread of not knowing when you would get to see his face again before you finally got to go back home in a months time.

“Okay sweetheart, I have one last question and it is one that Variety suggested for both of us to answer. What is the best part about being married to someone in the same profession as you?” You smile at Chris through the screen, trying to think of only one thing to pick. 

“Well, it is difficult to pick one, because there are so many great reasons but also it is really hard being married to someone in the same profession as you. I always try to be honest with our fans and in interviews, so I don’t want to sugarcoat it. We have to go long periods of time not getting to see each other and always having such high pressured schedules doesn’t allow a lot of time for married life.” You sigh at the look of sadness that has washed over both your faces. “However I count my lucky stars every day for having such a supportive and understanding husband like you.” You notice Chris blush at your answer before nodding along with you, agreeing with what you’ve said. 

“I have to agree with you sweetheart. There is definitely some poetic justice in the fact that we met on set, both doing the job we love so fondly and here we are, 16 years later, married and getting to celebrate our achievements every single day together.” 

You have to told back the tears as the interview finishes and Chris disappears from your screen. Even though you have demanding jobs, you could not feel luckier to be married to a man like Chris and you couldn’t wait to go back home to him. 

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Runaway Ride

Fandom: Never Have I Ever Pairing: Devi/Paxton Rating: T Word Count: 4889

Summary: Kamala gets herself into a pickle, Devi needs to go to her, and Paxton has a car. Problem-solving has never been so simple, but that's how it is when your new boyfriend is Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Throw in a little hand-holding on the highway and this family crisis might just be the best date Devi will ever have.

When they finally took a break from dancing—disconnecting hands from hips and shoulders, lips from lips—Devi stepped away in a dreamy headspace. She almost collided with Jonah, but he didn’t tell her to look where she was going, only offered a shrewd, indulgent smile.

Actually, everybody was treating her like that; every eye that caught hers on her way to the table where she’d left her stuff was unjudgmental, admiring, straight up fairy-godmotherly. Devi hadn’t received this much notice since her dad’s death and her subsequent paralysis. And those looks had been pitying, freaked out. Positive attention was new and cool and she wondered, as she grabbed her phone out of her turquoise clutch, whether her socials would show more of the same when she opened them. Would people have snapped stealthy pics of her and Paxton dancing now that she’d been vaulted into the pseudo-celebrity strata of the high school hierarchy? Would the Insta posts be captioned with hashtags of their ship name? Paxi? Daxton? Vishwall-Yoshumar?

Devi never got to check.

Unlocking her phone, she found two missed calls from her mother. Maybe two wouldn’t have seemed like a whole lot to someone else, but Devi knew that, in order for her mom to risk rudeness by stepping away from the company she was hosting at home not once but twice, she’d need to be pretty frantic. Two missed calls from Nalini Vishwakumar were the equivalent of six or seven from any other mother.

Skirting the edges of the gym as she headed away from DJ Humanoid—that nit-witted saboteur of slow dances—Devi was about to call her mom back when her screen changed to an incoming call from Kamala. She pressed her other hand to her ear and answered it.

“Hey. Do you know what’s going on with my mom? She called me twice and, honestly, she knows I’m at the d—”

“Devi, shut up. Sorry,” Kamala sighed. “But I may have kidnapped your history teacher and now I’m panicking a little.”

Devi stopped in her tracks.

“You did what? Why is the sound weird?”

As she was trying to identify the background noise coming from Kamala’s end, her eyes swept over the crowd of her classmates and landed on Fabiola’s. Her friend had been smiling, mid-sway as she held Eve from behind and chatted with Sasha, but it fell off her face like Devi off Dr. Jackson’s roof. Fab disentangled herself from her girlfriend and crossed the room to stand with Devi. She was frowning, silently asking for an explanation for Devi’s distress, but Devi didn’t really have one yet.

“We’re in his car on the highway,” her cousin was saying. “He was a little drunk, so I’m driving.”

Devi had imagined that Kamala was exaggerating, but no, this was really starting to sound like a kidnapping.

“You better be on hands-free right now,” she lectured. Then, because she wasn’t exactly a paragon of road safety herself—barely an hour ago, she’d walked right out in front of Paxton’s jeep—didn’t wait for confirmation. “What the hell happened? Context, Kamala!”

“Well, as soon as I snuck out of the house—”

“But why did you sneak out?!”

“Devi, I can’t talk about that right now!” Devi’s eyebrows shot up at the clear and abnormal hysteria in her cousin’s voice. “I ran out of the house,” Kamala continued, “totally directionless, and the first thing that popped into my head was Manish’s invitation for me to come to karaoke…”

“Ew, what the fuck, don’t call Mr. K that.”

What? Fab mouthed at her, but Devi shook her head.

“That is his name and what he asked me to call him. Anyway,” Kamala said, sounding strained, “I went to your school and met up with him and now I’m driving his car and I think I might have shut my sari in the car door, but I’m scared to pull over and check because if I stop the car, I’m going to have to confront things and I think I’d rather not do that yet.”

“Kamala,” Devi said in a heavy, careful voice. “You have to pull over. I totally get what you’re saying because it sounds like something I might do—minus the part where you kidnapped Mr. K—” Fabiola’s eyes went dramatically wide as she was adjusting her tiara. “—but this isn’t you. You don’t run away from your obligations and elope with my teachers!”

“Manish and I didn’t elope. It isn’t in any way romantic.”

“For sure though? It’s not?” Devi heard another voice in the car ask.

“Mr. K, back off! Kamala’s in the middle of a crisis!” she shouted. “And please be drunk enough to forget that I yelled at you.”

“Devi, what should I do?” Kamala asked, sounding desperate in a sad way now.

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ok, well, which direction are you heading in?”

“Um, either north or south.”

“You’re a disaster,” Devi muttered.

“What was that?”

“Uh… I said, don’t drive any faster. Try to read the next sign you pass so you can tell me where you are.”

“Alright,” Kamala said.

Devi tilted her phone away from her mouth so her cousin wouldn’t hear her frustrated sigh. She locked eyes with Fabiola.

“Kamala panicked at her engagement dinner and ran off with Mr. K. They’re either headed for Mexico or Canada, but I’ll know more in a minute.”

Fab blinked.

“Wow.”

“I know. It’s a lot. And this is me talking,” Devi emphasized.

“I don’t know if you would do anything this big. Mainly because you don’t have a driver’s license.”

“True.”

“Santa Barbara in twenty-six miles,” Kamala said in her ear.

“Damn, you made good time.”

“The traffic was quite manageable.”

“Try to calm down a little and get off the highway when you can. Don’t go past Santa Barbara. I’m coming to talk you down in person,” Devi said. “Oh, and don’t answer any of my mom’s calls; she’ll just stress you out.”

“That doesn’t seem very responsible. How about I send her a text when I stop to let her know I’m ok?”

Devi rolled her eyes.

“Suit yourself.”

“Thank you, Devi. But how will you get here?”

“Let me worry about that. Text me when you stop so I know exactly where I’m going.”

“I will.”

“’K. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Devi hung up and sighed massively, slumping into the wall and feeling a streamer crumple against her back. She and Fabiola stared at each other.

“What are you gonna do?” Fab asked.

“Be the hero my family needs, but not the one they deserve.”

“Are you misquoting Batman to justify doing something reckless?”

“First of all, rescuing Kamala isn’t reckless, and second of all, the movie isn’t called Batman, it’s The Dark Knight. Young-ish Christian Bale, hello.”

Fabiola pointed a finger at her own face.

“Young-ish out-of-touch lesbian, hello. At least I was close.”

Devi sighed again while Fab smiled sadly at her in obvious sympathy.

“It’s after ten at night. How am I gonna get to Santa Barbara?”

“Assuming you’re not going to ask your mom—”

“No.”

“Then you need a ride.”

“You need a ride? I’ll drive you.”

It was Paxton, walking up and tentatively taking Devi’s hand while darting uncertain glances at Fabiola. Devi felt her entire face light up.

“You don’t want to know where or why?” she teased.

His expression said those were insignificant details. Wow. Devi’d never had a fantasy where Paxton joined forces with her, bounty hunter-style, to track down a flighty Kamala, but this felt oddly romantic. Passionate even? They’d see where the night took them.

“You wouldn’t wanna leave the dance unless it was serious,” Paxton reasoned. “So, I’ll drive you. You wanna go now?”

“I guess we better. Lemme just grab my…”

“I’ll get it,” Fab said, raising a hand like the nerd she was as she volunteered.

She darted back through the dancers to grab Devi’s things and Devi watched their classmates part for their Cricket Queen. She was so proud of Fab. Also, she felt kinda bad for ditching such a momentous occasion. But Kamala needed her, and would totally do the same for her if she ever went off the deep end and kidnapped a dude while fleeing a proposal. Not that Devi could see herself fleeing a proposal (she glanced at Paxton as she thought this, then quickly away, thinking, Way too soon!). Carrying out a kidnapping? With a sufficiently convincing pro-and-con list, anything was possible.

“Basically, Kamala freaked and drove to Santa Barbara with a drunken Mr. K,” Devi said, because Paxton might not have asked to be informed, but she wanted him to know what he was getting himself into. Beyond that, she wanted to give him the chance to say, No way, Devi. I came here to look hot and dance up on you, nothing more.

“Oh shit,” was what he said.

“Damn right, oh shit. You still want to drive? This is going to take a while.”

She should probably have felt guilty about trying to subtly persuade him with her eyes, but not only was Paxton the least complicated option, he was also her first choice. If she maintained eye contact long enough, Devi figured it might trigger some kind of boyfriend override that made going for a long drive at night just as appealing as staying here and dancing with her butt pressed thrillingly to his groin when the teacher-chaperones weren’t looking.

“As long as we can hit up the bathrooms first. I was going to, but then I got talking to Trent, and then Marcus was doing a handstand…”

“Definitely,” Devi assured him. “Good call. Empty the tank. Oh, actually, that reminds me… how much gas do you have in your jeep? If we need to stop at a gas station, I’ll have to factor that in to the ETA I give Kamala.”

Paxton shook his head at her, smiling in what she liked to think was affectionate amusement.

“I filled it up on the way here. I needed a minute to, uh…” To her epic astonishment, he ducked his head self-consciously, cheeks pinking. “You know. Get my shit together. Up here.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “I wanted to show up for you, like, completely. You know?”

Right as Devi was at dangerously high risk of sagging to the floor in blissful bonelessness, Fabiola sprang to her side, shoving the rest of her possessions at her.

“Ok, ok!” Devi said, harried.

She had to dump it all on the bathroom counter a minute later anyway, but after she’d done her pre-road trip pee, she came out and gave Fab a better thank-you.

“Your Highness,” Paxton told Fabiola with a nod.

Fab nodded back, smiling wryly.

“Prosecutor.”

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Devi assessed, “but we gotta go! Say congrats to Eve for me again!”

“Sure. Drive safe!”

Devi and Paxton pushed through the doors together, striding quickly with his hand wrapped around hers. In the parking lot, she glanced sideways to see him digging his keychain out of his front pocket.

“Oh,” she said, “so I wasn’t just feeling that you were very happy to dance with me.”

Until they got into the jeep, it was too dark to see whether she’d gotten him to blush again, but she liked to think that she had. He was definitely smiling.

They got in and Devi carefully tucked her skirt around her legs, mind on Kamala’s cautionary tale. At least it was until Paxton leaned forward to shrug out of his jacket and she saw his shoulder muscles jump beneath his fitted button-down, his narrow black tie swinging forward. Dang. Fifty shades of Hall-Yoshida.

“Santa Barbara?” Paxton double-checked once he was settled behind the wheel, steering out of the student lot.

“Santa Barbara.”

Until they were on the highway and heading out of Los Angeles, Devi did her best to keep her worry about Kamala’s situation contained to the way she flapped her phone against her thigh. Usually, she was stressing about the problems right in front of her (when she wasn’t blatantly ignoring them, only to have that approach bite her in the ass later), but with whatever was going on with Kamala, she kinda had to look ahead.

Had she wanted Kamala to get engaged to Prashant that badly? Well, the best thing about Prashant was that you never knew when having additional hot relatives would be to your benefit. (Devi was already hoping that Mr. K would get over the more nerve-wracking elements of this night and just remember having fun with her stunning cousin… and that this could possibly translate into at least a month of generous grades, if she could somehow spin these shenanigans as an intentional blind date arranged by herself.) However, an engaged Kamala was wholly different from a married Kamala. She wouldn’t be around to watch nonsensical episodes of Riverdale, or be duped into hijinks, or listen to Devi when her mom was too tired, or bitch about her shitty lab-mates in exchange for sitting through Devi bitching about her complicated feelings on the subject of Aneesa dating her ex. She wouldn’t live with them anymore, and the family that had begun to miraculously fill out after her dad had died would be back down to three. And the other two members of it would be old (Sorry, Mom, she thought) and not at all prepared to champion her dating life or the cleavage-accentuating formal dress currently buoying it.

So, yeah, Devi was looking ahead—eyes glazed over as the yellow lights of cars slipped around them to prevent her vision from fully adjusting to the blue-black sky—and feeling more than a little nervous and scared of the Kamala-shaped hole she’d have in her life if her dazzling, dorky cousin left her house for one she might eventually fill with the most beautiful children the world had ever seen.

Thankfully, Paxton was there. It startled her when he took one hand off the wheel and felt across her lap to grab hers, loosely interlacing their fingers. Devi quit hitting her phone against her leg. She sent off their updated location to Kamala and then let her phone fall flat.

“Did she say where she was?” Her boyfriend’s voice was quiet in the car and she realized for the first time that her head had been too crammed with thoughts to put on any music.

“Carpinteria State Beach. Do you know the exit?”

“We’ll find it.”

“And if you want me to drive while you rest on the way back…”

Paxton laughed.

“No way. Safety first.”

“Says the guy driving one-handed,” Devi countered, not that she was eager to surrender the hand warming hers.

He turned his head just long enough to shoot her a look.

“Whoa, pal, eyes on the road!” she said. (She had a half-baked plan to call her boyfriend ‘pal’ a few times and thereby de-weaponize the word in a memory that still felt like a fading bruise, an almost-gone sore spot in who she and Paxton were before they were openly a them.)

“Sorry,” he said, staring out the windshield again. He grinned. “You look gorgeous.”

“Really?”

“So gorgeous.” Paxton’s voice was softer this time, the underlying laugh it had carried since she’d offered to drive his jeep drained out of it. It was nearly a sigh.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“You know, I feel fucking awful for hitting you with my car, but I still think I mighta felt worse if I’d walked in and seen you dancing with somebody else.”

Devi twisted their hands, touching the back of his to her thigh so she was sandwiching it between leg and palm for a moment, aiming for reassuring.

“I wanna say I would never be that flaky, but my previous offenses speak for themselves.”

“So does doing this with me.”

“Uh,” she droned, “to recap, you left a fun thing to do a huge favour for me. You’re talking about it like this is my act of redemption. I feel like if you examine it for a sec, you’ll see how I’m actually kind of a dick for accepting your help.”

“I want us to be together,” he said bluntly. “Here we are. Together.”

“It’s that simple?”

“I don’t see why it can’t be.”

“Huh. I think you’re really gonna be good for my tendency to overcomplicate a situation.”

Paxton laughed and unthreaded his fingers from Devi’s. But it wasn’t to release her for pointing out that this date was, in actual fact, the coordinated response to a family crisis; his fingertips moved lightly over her palm, momentarily trapped when her fingers flinched inward in reaction to how it tickled, then traced along the thin skin of her inner wrist. He wasn’t trying to pull away. He was lingering. Though his touch when he sunk his hand into her hair or drew her closer by her waist had always been fairly gentle, it had often had the faint aggression of hastiness to it, clutching her as they made out in her room, always listening for footsteps in the hallway. How Paxton touched her now was pure, exploratory tenderness. It made the hairs on the back of Devi’s neck stand up as a wave of shivers rushed up her spine and crested somewhere around the nape of her neck.

He must’ve felt that wave break, the foamy aftereffects in some tic of her arm or quickening of her pulse while his fingers skimmed gradually up the inside of her arm towards her elbow, because he chanced another quick glance at her.

“That feels good,” she explained.

Paxton looked forward, nodding slowly, and shifted in the driver’s seat.

“Good.”

She thought it must have felt good for him too, knowing he’d made her shiver.

—

The miles were flicking past for Paxton—another, another, another, as fast and steady as the dashed lines painted between the lanes, his arms cutting the water on the front crawl. He wanted Devi, beside him, to believe that he was paying attention to his driving, but he was honestly kinda zoned out. Like that time he’d swum to San Diego, he let his body go through the motions (in this case, twitching the wheel, putting on cruise control when traffic thinned so he didn’t have to focus on the pedals) while his mind floated freely.

Where it floated was to his girlfriend.

At ten years old, he’d been the last kid in his swim class to jump off the 10m board. It was optional—a treat after getting water up their noses turning somersaults below the surface and doing egg-beater legs in between—but all the other boys in the group had done it eagerly, shrieking on their way down to sloppy pencil dives. Paxton had climbed the stairs all the way to the top easily enough, even stepped onto the wide platform, bordered by metal railings and rough under his bare feet. He’d walked out to the end and frozen to find himself so high above the pool.

He hadn’t feared the water, he’d feared the air. Being so exposed on his own at the end of the diving board. Eventually, he’d retreated, then surprised the coach waiting down at the poolside by turning around and taking the jump at a run. Few memories felt as good as the sensation of giving himself back to gravity and letting it reunite him with the water. He’d just had to get past the exposure.

Same thing tonight, going to find Devi at the dance. Holding her hand in his had been him reaching the platform, but when they stood together, just inside the school’s doors, Paxton hadn’t known for sure whether he would take the leap or retreat. And not just for a running start this time, but in a way that turned his sixteen-year-old present self back into one of those nervous ten-year-olds who wimped out and had to take the coward’s way down—descending each step they’d climbed. He might not have run, and yet he hadn’t needed to back up and race into their relationship either. Momentum hadn’t carried them inside for everyone they knew to see them. It had been a calm approach, even if he’d been shaking on the inside when he saw Trent staring at them.

So maybe Paxton had learned something in the last six years, or maybe it was harder to feel exposed with somebody right next to you.

She really did look gorgeous, like he’d said, and because he didn’t want her to worry about his focus if she spotted him gazing at the side of her face while she texted her cousin, the glances he stole were of the knee region. Her dress’s overlay sparkled when the high lights of eighteen-wheelers passed them and the specific teal of the dress itself reminded him of a river he’d swum in once during an out-of-state family vacation. Natural and deep and fresh, and exasperating for his parents because he’d accidentally doggy-paddled himself all the way to a small waterfall and hadn’t heard them calling him back for dinner around the campfire. He felt all that about Devi, except for hoping for a different reaction from his parents when they met her.

Holy shit. He was going to have to introduce his girlfriend to his embarrassing hippy parents. But then, she’d already met Rebecca, so maybe they were set? A sister’s approval should count for a ton.

No, no, no, Devi would have to meet his parents. He was doing this. The two of them were doing this. Paxton exhaled determinedly through his nose and made himself concentrate on the remaining miles he needed to cover. His mind, anyway. His hand continued to stroke and search, covering his girlfriend’s hand with his until he had her fingers tucked away protectively under his own, and then caressing all the way up to the crook of her elbow so suddenly that she made a noise between a laugh and a yelp because he’d unintentionally tickled her. Man, she was cute.

The very end of their journey required the most concentration from Paxton; he finally took back his hand to have both on the wheel as he steered them off the highway and Devi’s got lonely or something, because it chased across to where he was sitting and landed on his thigh. His jaw clenched. He could feel the heat of her palm through his pantleg and congratulated himself on being a driving legend for driving smoothly to where they needed to park for beach access.

Devi had a pink sweater that she put on, but Paxton grabbed his jacket out of the back as well in case she needed it. It was almost midnight and a breeze rolled up off the water, rippling his tie and swishing Devi’s dress. He didn’t have to ask what they should do next—there was just one other car parked nearby and Devi’s cousin was already standing outside of it, raising a hand to wave sheepishly as they got out of his jeep.

“Here,” he said, holding out his jacket for his girlfriend to put her arms through the sleeves. “You guys talk. I’ll be down at the beach.”

Devi turned her back to him as she accepted the jacket, but she glanced over her shoulder with a look of concern.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You’ll want privacy. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

“Just don’t swim away, ok?” she requested. “I don’t think I can handle more than one rescue mission per night.”

Paxton could tell by her expression that it wasn’t entirely a joke. He grinned and gripped his lapels, now on Devi, reeling her in.

“I promise. You’d probably take the opportunity to try to drive the jeep home, and I don’t want to risk that.”

“Me committing grand theft auto or me getting hurt?”

“I bet they tested you for smartness,” he said, “but you think they have a test for being a smartass? You’d score high, Vishwakumar.”

“I know, I know, you don’t want me to get hurt.”

She was so infuriatingly flippant, rolling her big brown eyes at him.

“That’s right,” Paxton said plainly. There he was, up on the platform again.

Devi straightened his tie and let her hand rest flat on his chest. He remembered how overwhelmed she’d looked the first time he’d placed her palm there, right on his skin. Even now, it almost made him laugh.

“Ok,” she said, and he was surrendering himself to the sweet strength of gravity, propelled down to the beach while Devi stayed to talk to Kamala.

—

Devi had heard that there were tidepools here, and she was nervous about stepping into one and spearing some aquatic animal on her high heel. Well, she couldn’t magically improve her night vision, but she could take her shoes off and remove the possibility of impalement. They dangled from her fingers as she picked her way down to the beach.

Her boyfriend was sitting in the sand, staring out at the ocean. It just looked so romantic—with the stars the sky was too bright to see at home, and the waves, and the back of Paxton’s white shirt in the moonlight—that Devi decided to slip into the scene without saying anything at all.

A mistake. Paxton gasped and jumped. Apparently, he hadn’t heard her over the noise of the water.

“Sorry, sorry!” she said.

He sighed and smiled, getting to his feet.

“How’d it go?”

“I think it went well. She was feeling calm enough to drive, so she’s on her way home now. She’s gonna cover for me until we get back.”

“That’s good… but what about Mr. Kulkarni?”

“He was passed out in the passenger’s seat,” Devi stated. “I guess he’s kind of a lightweight? Kamala said she’s going to drive back to our school and leave him and his car in the parking lot. She’s planning to call my mom for a ride home. If it were me, I think I’d take the bus and try to sneak back into the house as quietly as possible, but Kamala still has a lot to learn about how to thoroughly dodge your problems.”

“And maybe about how to climb to the second floor of your house from the outside?” Paxton suggested with a meaningful smirk.

She did her best to return it, but the odds were that it didn’t look nearly as sexy on her. Then again, she had moonlight and midnight and well-displayed cleavage on her side.

“How’d you learn to do that so quietly anyway?” Devi asked, tossing her shoes to the sand and stepping forward to boldly wrap her arms around Paxton’s waist.

He’d had his hands in his pockets, but as soon as she’d begun to move towards him, he’d pulled them out. His arms encircled her, his hands on the back of his own black jacket. Although Devi wanted to offer him the jacket back—he felt slightly chilly through his shirt—she didn’t want the two of them to separate. Besides, body heat was a thing. This was practically what it was for. So Devi just pressed herself closer, breathing the scent of the ocean and Paxton’s fading cologne.

“Trent,” he said.

“Yeah, actually, that checks out.”

Were there boundaries between warming someone up while having a conversation and just hugging them? It wasn’t clear to Devi, but it felt good when they both went quiet for a while. She stood unevenly on the cold sand and listened to the thud of Paxton’s heart.

“You never said yes,” he said eventually, quietly.

“Yes to what?”

“I told you I came to the dance as your boyfriend and you never actually agreed to be my girlfriend. We kinda just started making out.”

Devi lifted her cheek from his chest so she could look at him. He didn’t appear disappointed, more like he was making an observation. Maybe he’d been reflecting, out here in the dark, while she and Kamala had talked.

“In my books, that’s an obvious yes,” she said, grinning. “What more do you need?”

She could see him trying not to smile.

“A little atmosphere would be nice,” Paxton said. “Maybe a long drive, or the beach. A full moon. Romance me, Vishwakumar.”

Devi vibrated with silent laughter. Or her heart was just beating really, really freaking hard.

“Sounds like you’ve got some pretty big expectations there.”

“And stars,” he added. “There should be a shitload of stars.”

With that, he took one hand off her back to point far above them. Devi tipped her head back, the light of the stars a friendly blur as she tried to pick one to settle on, just one. Paxton’s face coming forward to hover over hers blotted them out. Her boyfriend kissed her, light and ghosting and then firm and slow.

“On the other hand,” he said, pulling back a little, “I think we were onto something with the making out.”

Devi smiled and dug her toes into the sand to make herself taller, lips at the ready and realigned with his.

“We did set a precedent.”

[simtanico]

Hi! I don't know if this is an annoying/difficult question, sorry if it is, but do you have any advice at all for modelling sims based off real people? Your sims are SO crazy good. When I try to make them they end up looking... eh... Vaguely like the person? But there's a huge gap between that and some kind of 'spark' some simmers seem to manage to capture.

Hello! Definitely not annoying. Difficult, as in how difficult it is to answer? Maybe. I'm gonna go off on a couple of tangents. But I'm gonna try my best to explain the process. Which isn't really much of one sorry.

There's a handful of tutorials and tips out there regarding reference photos and like... proportions and all that so I won't cover that.

I use that as a general guide of course, but mostly I just save some photos of the person at various angles and focus on one feature or two at a time. Literally going back and forth between reference photo and my game. I think if you try to get everything at the same time, it really makes it easy to get frustrated with whatever your sim looks like at the moment. Making sims in general is a combination of a LOT of things depending on your style.

I can point out ALL the flaws with my sims based on real people. In my experience, it’s about getting the defining features of a person close enough to the real thing so that it resembles them. I don't think you need a complete copy to get the point across, however i do think some people and features are harder to emulate than others. I've been working on some sims for YEARS, and they still don't work out lol

and take a look at this progression on my sim based on Z4ne H0ltz starting back in 2015!

that first screenshot:

Personally, I get a little lost if I work on a sim too much all at once. I find some time away makes me less tired and frustrated. Just pace yourself :)

Also if you need any help, shoot me a message here or on discord. I promise I don't judge or anything.. it's sims who cares lol

TO START...

I suggest starting with the head and its shape. Starting off with a game-generated sim, the first slider I get to is head width. It's usually too dang wide for my tastes. And then adjusting the general position of the the features. You can always change things later, so you don't have to know exactly what you're going to do, but as I've mentioned before, sculpting sims up in CAS is just practice with sliders! Also in the long run, you may want to use Pu+Chi House's Smooth Face Normals slider! I attempt to explain and show what it does here. I've uploaded the slider here: https://simfileshare.net/download/984204/

This is gonna be a doozy sorry in advance if the read more doesn't work

SLIDERS SLIDERS SLIDERS

Big sliders like Pu+Chi House’s face shape sliders dramatically change the face shape, and it could save you a lot of time! I highly suggest using these to get rid of the weird large jaw sims can get.

Play with different sliders and how they interact with one another! Example: jaw width and Cheek Fullness affect the same area. if you need a wide jaw and don’t want cheek distortion, you can use cheek fullness, lower the jaw width slider and then edit the cheekbones from there

 Knowing what sliders move what and how it can work to your advantage is key! I cover this in my reply post about noses.

For visual reference:

I start out with my nose but I want the nostrils to sit further on the outside

so i go in and use the nose width slider and raise it to widen the lower nose:

Then lower the nostril scale slider

Comparison:

as you can see, i kind of achieved what I wanted, but also widened the nose tip too! Welp, that takes another slider I have, Tip Width. And I'll adjust that accordingly! It's really just a matter of what you're going for and what you're going to have to compensate for as a result!

That said, our community has made some awesome sliders that open up so many possibilities and even eliminate the need to do that multi-slider tango. I wouldn't even know where to begin (wish I wanted to make videos because I could talk for an hour about sliders)

For example @pitheinfinite made sliders that can make sims look better and more realistic, I'm jealous at what they've achieved!

They have their Inner Corner to Nose slider that moves an area of the sim's face hat make eyebags and the shadows and lines appear farther out from the inner eye. It saves you from having to use cheek sliders to mimic the effect and thus ruining the face shape you have going

It's truly an INDISPENSABLE slider. One of many!

Since I make sliders, I usually just make some to specifically fix whatever issue I'm having. Granted they're made with general function in mind, which makes my cheater-y way of making things happen more useful in the future. I have about 50 experimental unfinished sliders in my game and can tell you that all my current sims use them for some reason or other. So I'm not working with nothing, I guess?

EYE SPY 👁

The best way to really get nice accurate looking sims is the eyes.

Pay attention to the slant of the eye, the shape and position of the upper and lower eyelids. you can use the game’s Eyelid Height slider, and AWT’s Eyelid width and height sliders (and many more)

and especially where the iris (green) sits relative to the eyelid. getting that shape and eyeball positioned correctly really makes a HUGE difference

I do suggest Bloom’s Eye slider (left and right) that rotate the eyes left and right. That along with their Lazy eye sliders can give your sims a less symmetric face and position the eyes to be FAR more accurate and realistic than the default.

I also recommend their vertical sliders (Eye lift or drop) to help with eye positioning.

I can't stress the importance of the right contacts or eyes for your sims. Of course it all depends on how you make your sims's eyes and all that. Take the last sim i posted about. It took forever and a half to find the right contacts that didn't need severe or intense editing to capture the same vibe the person he's based on. The problem is pretty persistent for me, and I am just speaking for myself when I say this is necessary. Iris size, shading, recolorability, detail, catch lights, and pupil position are things to consider for your play style and preferences.

In addition to seeing what eyes will do the trick, I do edit the catch lights in the screenshots to give the eyes a different emotion or look. (I use defaults that get rid of the game-generated catch lights, and supernatural eye glow.) It's nice when that's all it is and I don't have to go in and photoshop things in and out to make them look human lmao

Perfect, schmerfect

And just know that as long as you have the same vibe or look going on it doesn't need to be perfect! Things will evolve over time, and you can change and perfect things as you go along, but close is better than trying to achieve an exact replica. We are working with the limitations of sliders and the optimized meshes they work on! So yeah there might be jagged bits or the profile might not exactly match and some things might not be accurate, but that's okay! Considering what sims look like at their default, you should be proud! I use the same mf eyebrows on all my sims basically and I tell myself they're just placeholders (yeah, right), but I manage to make them work with what I have!

Sliders, Makeup, and Skins, oh my!

a good base skin is critical, but not the end of the world if you pick the wrong one. They determine kind of definition and types of features highlighted on a sim 100000% and you might lose a feature you like or dislike when you change them! Feel free to switch up between skins you have to find the best fit.

Makeup can be a game-changer though!!! Any details you can add and help make your sim look the most like the person you're basing them off can go MILES.

In some cases, I've actually gotten really interesting results trying to get my sculpt as close as possible to real life references so the makeup makes a difference but don't define the features by themselves. Still, though, I utilize makeup up a LOT. [remember that if you use Nraas, you can layer makeup. Right-clicking makeup will also remove it if it's applied :)]

Here's the last sim i posted about when removing makeup:

no nosemasks really replicates the face-claim's nose (too shiny at the lower part) but it'll do 🤷‍♀️

Freckles, eyebags, highlighters, face shadows, pores, nosemasks, etc are all great!!

The way you move your sliders WILL effect how these look, so don't rely on makeup that adds super-specific detail or goes over an area you know is a jumbled mess because of sliders!

I do have a mess of recommendations and wcifs for skins and makeup. replies tag | wcif tag

[also I love compiling wcif cc lists for my sims it's great]

Finally, I appreciate your comment about my sims, mainly because I know they're not ever really exact copies or as close as I want to be to their real life counterparts, so thanks!! I've seen fellow simmers get really good results without messing as much as I do and I love when people can make really good maxis match likenesses because it's just so damn cool! It's truly a talent. I'm not one of those lucky few, but I like to try my way at it anyway. After what feels like some good progress I'll post a pic here. Even after doing this forever I don't feel like I'm an expert or can get good results in a shorter amount of time, but it's just fun to see the progression (or regression) of how my sims look.

[turtle-steverogers]

she is very long so. enjoy😌

- Steve n Bucky going to the bodega down the street from their apartment. it’s open till like 4am and they go at all hours. sometimes they’ll go separately but they always go together when they go in between 12-4 am and no one who works there questions why

- they get a cat that they treat her like their child. it’s Alpine ofc😌 steve loves her so much but he knows it’s Bucky’s Cat and he’s fine with it

- you know how some siblings or partners or friends can communicate with their eyes and basically have telepathy? they totally have that and it annoys the shit out of every single person they meetjdksndks. someone will be talking to them and they will just make eye contact with each other bc it reminded them of an earlier convo they had or they both got annoyed by the other person or it reminds them of an inside joke or something and it just irritates EVERYONE. no one is able to intercept it and it’s just a thing that no matter what - even though they don’t mean to - you’ll feel a little left out when you’re with steveandbucky. it just comes with the gig. i like to imagine that depending on if it’s an au or not, its either really obvious or not. like in an au then yes it’s obvious they can have non verbal conversations, but if it’s not an au then it’s not entirely obvious bc they’re enhanced humans and they know how to hide their secret conversations. but everyone they talk to is essentially an enhanced human or has special abilities so it’s obvious to them and they catch them in the act LOL. if they’re interacting with regular people then it’s not very obvious though

- DATE NIGHT!!! yes they’re old yes they have date night. when they go out it’s usually to places in their neighborhood, but a lot of the time they like to stay in bc. they’re old men <3 steve is better at cooking and bucky is better at baking bc you can get creative with cooking and steve likes that more. he enjoys baking a lot too but he thinks bucky’s stuff tastes better. whenever they stay home though there’s ALWAYS a movie. always. they alternate choosing but there is always a movie to watch. bucky usually falls asleep nearing the end and steve plays with his hair😌 he rolls his eyes cause it happens every time but he actually likes when it happens bc he can braid strands of hair together

- pet names oh my god. so many pet names. every single one. mainly from bucky. steve uses them but maybe like two. he favors sweetie and buck and that’s it really. sometimes he uses hon. bucky though oh my god. every single pet name under the sun. so many variations of doll you wouldn’t believe - baby doll ofc, dolly, stevie doll. sweetheart. sweetness. blondie. pretty boy. hot stuff. stevie. baby. hon. honey. sunshine. angel. it’s just so many. and it’s like very sickening insane twisted etc but hot at the same time. most people are like jeez barnes do you ever shut up… but most of these people secretly think it’s a little hot theyre thinking damn where is that affection for me…. i need me a bucky barnes :| steve is the only smitten kitten outwardly even if he huffs and puffs sometimes but it’s obvious he enjoys it. like they are so annoyingjdkssn for real they aren’t a pda couple really but the petnames….. so many. so so so many it’s sickeningly sweet but bucky dgaf! steve is his sweetheart his dolly his baby his angel so he’s going to call him these things!

- steve knows his body is what is considered “perfect” but he still is insecure about it around most people and bucky knows this so when steve lounges at home in bucky’s boxer briefs and his own tee shirt or he kicks off his pants when he’s too hot at night in bed bucky is reminded of just how much steve loves him and feels comfortable around him which is something he always strives for - to make steve comfortable. not baby him because steve bitches at anyone that does that to him but to make him feel comfortable

- and on the subject of feeling comfortable i imagine that they always check in with one another but it’s very subconscious they hardly realize they do it. like steve will bitch at bucky to pick up his shoes from their doorway or to clean his hair from the shower drain but the next second he will ask him if his back still hurts from being kicked by sam and from where steve AND alpine scratched him (in very different ways)

- steve is the sweater husband and bucky is the sweatshirt husband. they trade off a lot but that’s just how their closets look

- steve takes a liking to crop tops 😌 but ONLY around the house bc again he’s really truly only comfortable around bucky. he wears em with boxer briefs or sweatpants but you can guarantee that the briefs and sweats usually just end up on the floor 9 out of 10 times

- hair ties everywhere. they can be found on the floor in the laundry in their bed in the couch on top of the fridge on their fire escape. they are literally everywhere. steve just picks them up and puts them in the bathroom but they always make their way back. he doesn’t say anything to bucky until he finds alpine chewing one and she ends up smacking herself in the face with the hairtie

- their fridge is always full with leftovers and food from sam or clint’s or whoever’s house or takeout. they always eat it all but they get and make a lot of food so the fridge is always full

- subconsciously bucky always has a hand on the back of steve’s neck. like it’s not ENTIRELY a possessive thing but he used to do it a lot when steve was small because it was easy and it was comfortable. for him and just for him and steve. it was like swinging an arm around steve’s shoulders or putting a hand on his shoulder. it was just natural and easy so he did it. a part of him back then prewar did it possessively too, but he always tampered that down bc steve wasn’t his. now he does it without shame

- steve really likes tofu and vegan meat, non dairy milk like almond and soy, and overall a lot of non dairy vegan foods, and a lot of fruits. he gets made fun of for a lot specifically about the vegan stuff but his reasoning is that there’s so much food accessible for people with allergies in the future that he wished existed a hundred years ago so he’s going to try it and stick with it if he likes it. people shut up after that

- he also tips a little more than he needs to everywhere he goes. everywhere. like it’s cool when steve rogers walks in to a restaurant bc he’s a superhero or whatever but its REALLY cool because he leaves a generous tip and that’s what really makes peoples day

- before they get legally married they are still very much married. like “i packed you lunch, meet me at the restaurant instead of me going to pick you up bc it’ll take longer, i got takeout let’s bitch together while we watch shitty reality tv, let’s bitch at EACH OTHER through the phone in public, let’s send each other ugly pictures of each other or funny texts while we’re right next to each other, i’m out with a group and you’re not there and i say multiple times ‘i miss steve/bucky’, let’s yell at each other from opposite ends of the apartment instead of getting up to see each other, steve i’m going to fuck you on the couch bc our room is too far, etc.” they are just very much married without the documents and legalities and it’s very obvious

okay all of these were ABSOLUTELY wonderful and im really going to restrain my urge to respond to each and every one but that might be futile

-okay YES they definitely go to that bodega at all hours, and usually it's for normal things when they go separately: milk, cereal, toilet paper. but when they go in the middle of the night, they almost always purchase some like odd assortment of candies and deli meat. also, they're always in their pajamas. like bucky's in plaid pj pants and a star wars sweatshirt, and steve is in like 5" shorts and a huge crewneck and they're both in slides and they definitely only speak russian to each other when they're in there after hours

-yes alpine! they also have a dog, that is more steve than bucky's!! his name is norman in my headcanon (and a couple of my fics) and he is best boy

-okay i need more of this in my general stucky life: steve and bucky being like,,, best friends as well as lovers and being so seamlessly close. like yeah, they definitely talk with their eyes, or just one glance, or half-sentences ("hey, did you ever get to--" "yup, on the way home. it was so--" "yeah, good. glad to hear") and they know exactly what the other is saying.

-yes to the date nights!!! and when they stay in to watch movies, they make Tons of popcorn. and they Have to make separate batches, because steve will Only eat his with like half a bottle of that powdered white cheddar on his

-YES we share the same fucking headcanon for petnames on god

Steve: love you, buck:)

Bucky: love you, pumpkin

-Steve definitely has body dysmorphia, probably even post serum (I have lots of thoughts on this, that might be a different post) and yeah, Bucky definitely knows its Big that he feels comfortable enough to be exposed around him (and he's even more honored that steve lets him be intimate with him, because that's really hard for steve, too)

-yeah! and easy check ins like "ur stomach still bothering you from last night?" "oh, no it was just a little bug turns out" or like "my head hurts:(" "i have meds in my bag. you want?" "yeah, just two" or like subtly checking on injuries, yeah

-yeah the sweater versus sweatshirt tracks tbh i picture steve in a lot of crewnecks so yeah

-STEVE IN CROP TOPS STEVE IN CROP TOPS and i raise you they're often ones he's cropped himself and he's also painted on! or bleach painted!! and theyre so cool and bucky never wants to make a big deal out of it, but he's so proud of steve for expressing himself like that

-ALPINE SMACKING HERSELF ALKFJALSDKFJA also steve always has a hairtie on HIS wrist in case bucky forgets one for himself

-they also always have Steve Staple Foods cuz i headcanon steve as a picky eater (adhd!steve + serum enhancements, it's down to a formula) so they have a lot of Kraft mac and cheese and easy heat up meals and lunch meats around for when he's having bad food days

-OMG and steve absolutely MELTS i raise you, too, bucky will especially hold the back of his neck when he needs to get steve to Chill Out. so like if he sees him stressing he'll put his hand on the back of his neck and squeeze and literally feel the tension drain from him or like if steve is having a panic attack, he'll hold the back of his neck while they breathe together

-yes and also any time that steve is Choosing food for himself and feeling motivated to eat it, it's a win, so people learn to back off there, too

-yes! he tips generously, but never awkwardly or offensively. he's also super kind and patient to food service workers!

-this last point is so perfect i cant. like yeah, back to steve and bucky just being,,,, the best of friends. ugly selfies galore, shoving their feet in each other's face, flicking each others ears. and yes, all the fucking gossiping. on the phone gossip, venting, fun gossip from around work. they talk about it all. and it's so great for them

thank you again for stopping by! your thoughts are impeccable!

[braunbakery]

salvation, maybe (i)

☞ reiner braun x reader [fem bodied] [chapter word count: 2.5k]

☞ sfw, angst, fluff, post-season 3 [after 4 year time jump], season 4 spoilers

☞ cross-posted on ao3 (very much ahead on ao3, just wanted to bring it to tumblr)

☞ fic plot: you have walked these streets many times before. you have passed this bench many times before. you have seen this man (lost in his thoughts, always drifting, always looking lost) many times before. but this time, this time you take a seat.

next

i. hero

the wind blows your long skirt against your legs as you make your way down the street, shoes tapping against the cobblestone of the ground. liberio is reasonably busy and you find yourself accidentally knocking shoulders with a multitude of people. the slightly chilly late morning air nips at the skin on your face and you instinctively wrap your jacket a little tighter around yourself, repeating the list of what you need to get in your head.

eventually, you reach the less populated part of the market street. you know that you don't really have any business being here - all of your necessities lie on the busier side of the street (probably all running out at this point, judging by the ever-increasing crowd.) but, you have become so accustomed to making your way to the quiet end of this street to see if he still sits on the bench in front of the broken fountain, slumped over and staring at his knees. sometimes, on sunnier days, his long off-white jacket is crumpled next to him. sometimes he is leaning back, his neck tilted back towards the sky and his arms tightly crossed across his broad chest.

but the constant remains, he is always here.

since he had returned from wherever the previous warrior mission had taken him, every morning he sat at this bench in such an obvious amount of distress that you wondered how come no one else ever said anything. did his comrades never take notice of his seemingly permanently furrowed brow, or his fists that somehow were always clenching and unclenching? or were they all also fighting their own battles, sitting on their own benches and being watched by their own strangers?

his name is reiner braun.

you know this name, everyone knows this name. everyone knows his close-cropped blonde hair, his broad build, his sullen face (you wonder if he only smiles on command). he and his comrades bring honour to liberio and offer an excuse to marley for why you and your neighbours deserve to live. you want to feel grateful and proud, but as you watch him stare mindlessly into the distance, hands absent-mindedly playing at his uniform collar, all you can feel is pity.

sometimes you feel yourself slowly gravitating towards him, your feet moving before your mind even realizes it. today is one of those days when his sorrow is contagious, radiating out of him and into you, and suddenly you really are moving. it has been almost a month since he has been coming to this bench and sitting in silence. it has been almost a month of you idly watching him, wondering if you should say anything. if there's anything you can even say. but, he is a soldier. if you don't act now, he will be whisked away to whatever new conflict marley has conveniently found themselves in. you just want to say something. anything.

and before you know it, you have somehow planted yourself a few inches away from him on the other side of the battered wooden bench. reiner shifts in his seat, but doesn't say a word. your thoughts are racing and you contemplate whether or not it's too late to back out now. whether or not you can sit in silence and pretend your feet were just tired and you needed a rest (despite the fact you have only been outside for all of fifteen minutes.) if you seemed as melancholy as he seems to you, would you want someone to offer you solace? to acknowledge your struggle? you don't know, you don't know, you don't know. and before you know it, words of no real value are tumbling out of your mouth.

"not too bad of a day, huh?" you awkwardly say, eyes flitting towards reiner quickly to see if he will acknowledge the stranger trying to making a conversation about the god damn weather. reiner shifts in his seat, his dazed stare cut short as his body slightly slowly turns towards you. he still doesn't actually look at you. but, to be fair, you still haven't actually looked at him.

"i suppose," he mumbles, looking around the street as another gust blows through liberio, sending papers flying into the air.

"it's a shame the fountain doesn't work. maybe it would've made the day a little better," you comment, your eyes glancing back at the battered fountain behind the bench. it is years old, the white stone now faded into different hues of brown and green, and vines hooking and wrapping their way all around the structure. you suspect that maybe it had never actually worked at all.

"maybe," reiner replies. his head turns towards you, watching you crane your neck behind you to see the fountain. secretly, you don't want to turn your head back and witness him probably ignore your efforts of conversation. can you blame him? he has seen war and has been through hell, from paradis to the endless conflict between the mid-east allies. why would he decide now that a fountain no one actually cares about is what peaks his attention? "but, i think we'd have a bunch of kids jumping in if it did work. so, could be for the best."

realistically, the fountain is too small for anyone bigger than a toddler to attempt to climb in. but, you still find yourself slightly smiling in relief at his response, realising that maybe you weren't completely hopeless and maybe reiner didn't truly want to be completely alone.

"i suppose," you echo his earlier response back to him, no longer craning your neck and returning to face forward with him once more. your smile grows even wider as you notice the corners of his mouth softly curling upwards. much better. your eyes meet his for a moment and you can't look away from the deep hazel, the warm welcome. he is the one to break the stare, eyes glancing off to a passerby.

"you have a thing for fountains then?" he jokes. but, as you stay looking at him, you can see that despite his attempts at some kind of humor, his gaze is still crestfallen and his fists are still clenched at his sides. you don't know what to say.

"no, just for nice days," you retort, offering another toothy smile. like reiner, it doesn't particularly reach your eyes. maybe this is a mistake. maybe you are just bothering him and tiring him out from making him have to put up some moderately pleasant facade. maybe this is just for your own gain. because you are alone. because you are lonely. you grab at the empty woven basket next to you, wondering if you should just leave.

but the truth is the truth, and you are alone and so is he. is it such a crime to maybe want to be alone together?

"are you just out getting groceries?" reiner casually inquires, shoving his balled fists into the pockets of his long jacket. he looks at you again. everytime he has ackowledged you so far, a part of you feels that maybe this is okay. that maybe the small moments where he isn't lost in his own head and instead spares looks at a stranger makes it all okay. in the end, you don't really know him, and he doesn't really know you. but do you need to know someone to want them to feel okay?

"yeah," you say, leaning foward to take a peek at the busier end of the street, "but i think i'm a bit late. everything other than maybe bread is probably gone by now," even though this is going to be an inconvenience, you don't find yourself regretting it. you're happy to sit here next to reiner, even if it means another morning of trying to wake up early and make your way through the masses.

"huh," reiner huffs out a small chuckle, eyeing your empty basket, "you should probably go grab that bread then."

you slowly stand up, slinging the basket at the crook of your arm and turn to face reiner. he looks up at you questioningly. there was no way you had waited almost a month just to have some measly conversation about nice days and a century-old fountain.

"do you want to come?" you ask, trying to feign at least a fraction of the confidence you wish you held in this particular moment, "to the bakery, i mean." obviously he knows what you mean. why would you say that? reiner slightly raises his eyebrows at your invitation, but deep down, you are adamant that this is not the last time you talk to him. you are not going to let him sit on that bench until the next time he's shipped off halfway across the world.

"which do you go to?" he asks after a pause.

"the one by the tailor's," you answer.

"i don't know...technically, i did just meet you. you might be out to kidnap me and force me into building a fountain." you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips.

"i don't think you have anything better to be doing," again, reiner responds with another raised eyebrow, "accept the pretty girl's invitation to buy some bread with her, reiner."

reiner laughs. a real, actual laugh. and you know that you aren't going to regret the sudden burst of confidence when you get home.

"how do you know my name?" reiner asks through his smile, getting up as he dusts off his warrior uniform.

"doesn't everyone, reiner braun, warrior of marley, hero of liberio?"

"hero," he repeats after you, standing a little closer and once more gazing into the distance, "i don't know about that." you both slowly start walking back along the way you had originally come.

"how come?"

"i think heroes are supposed to be good people."

his honesty stuns you, but you try not to let your composure falter as you both make your way down the cobblestone path, maneuvering through the crowd that seems to finally be clearing away as the morning breaks into afternoon.

"well," you pause, trying to think of something that will mean anything to him. that will relax his brow a little, or soften out the stress on his face, "i don't think you're a hero." you can feel reiner freeze for a small minuscule moment, his face turning toward you.

"oh, really?" a small, teasing smirk makes its way across his face. he can't hide the confusion painted on his features. maybe he's not as taken aback or hurt or offended because you really are just a stranger. maybe's it's easier for him to be honest because you really are just a stranger. maybe he is speaking freely, with the knowledge he may never see you again, because you really are just a stranger. and, even though, deep down, a part of you wishes you were something more than a face he would eventually forget, you are grateful for the modicum of anonymity that somehow seems to evaporate an unspoken boundary between you.

"heroes die," you say, bluntly, "maybe i think there's more for you than that." and that was the truth, or as much of it as you could force yourself into saying. reiner stares at you blankly, his teasing demeanor fading away as he stops in his path. maybe you had said something wrong, or reminded him of something he wishes he could forget, but you are glad that in some weird, confusing way, you managed to express that he needed to live.

you had walked on for a few steps before realising he had stopped, and turn back to find reiner still staring at you. people walk between you and around you, but his gaze doesn't falter. his face is unreadable, but eventually, he is cut out of his moment of stillness and crosses the distance between you.

"that's a bit grim, but thanks, i guess?" he laughs, scratching at the back of his neck. you are a couple of steps ahead of him as you both turn the corner, getting closer to the bakery stall. you look back at him, watching as he strides on behind you, arms swaying by his sides and hair being lightly blown by the wind.

"you know," you start, stopping in your path again. reiner follows suit, waiting for you to continue, "that doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person."

reiner looks up at you. he doesn't look back down. you think you can feel yourself sinking into the ground.

"really?" he says, after a pause. you can hear the chatter of the bakery up ahead, the footsteps of more shoppers walking past you, the faint howling of the wind in your ears, the playful cries of children weaving through the hoards of people littered throughout the street. and you look at him. really look at him. you know, for sure, for definite, that you don't want to be just a stranger. you want him to remember your face and your words. you want him to think he deserves something more than desolation. so, you repeat.

"it doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person."

you take a few steps towards him and grab the sleeve of his jacket, gently tugging him towards you as you continue walking towards the bakery. you walk side by side, a little closer now. this time, the silence is comfortable, and when he looks down at you as you ready your basket to collect the bread of your choice, you're already looking up at him and offering a smile. as you grab the money out of your purse, you stare at reiner's hands which hang at his sides.

you don't want to be a stranger. you will see him again.

it doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person.

you hand the money to the vendor, thanking her and steadying your grip on the now filled basket. reiner silently tries to grab it from you, even though it weighs practically nothing, but you move your hand away, eyeing him threateningly.

you have nothing else to buy, but you keep walking. your hands brush accidentally on purpose (more so on purpose on your behalf.) reiner doesn't ask where else you need to go, he just keeps walking with you, and you are grateful. you grab a roll of bread from the basket and break off the end of it, dividing it into two and offering a piece to reiner. he takes it from your hand and offers you a smile. you want to see that smile again.

no, you want to see him smile because of you again.

it doesn't mean i don't think you're a good person.

it just means i want you to live.

[floralovebot]

Helia and Tecna friendship headcanons? -lambofzenith

AHHHHHHHHHH okay so

helia is really bad at technology right? pretty much anything that isn't covered in red fountain lessons, he's a complete no-go at. tecna takes it upon herself to try and help him understand basic technology a bit more and it goes so wrong. helia is literally the mom that squints their eyes and holds their phone away from their face while using One pointer finger to type everything. tecna hates it so much.

helia naturally doesn't understand a single thing that comes out of her mouth when she's talking technology but he still supports her nonetheless

helia is surprisingly rational most of the time! he's a firm Push All My Emotions Down And Then One Day I'll Die kind of person so even during really stressful missions, he's good at keeping a level head about things. tecna really appreciates this and it's not rare to see her, helia, and timmy discussing mission-related strategies During The Middle Of A Fight

tecna has a tendency to talk while she works (only noticeable around people she's comfortable with though) but she gets a little self-conscious about it. she knows it's not Bad or anything, but it doesn't seem Right either so she tries to keep quiet most of the time. helia on the other hand is so used to working while it's noisy that he's totally chill with it. they've gotten used to just vibing in the same room, working on their own things, and not actually talking to each other during it. they're comfortable around each other :) helia doesn't mind when she rambles out loud and tecna doesn't mind him pacing around the room every five minutes. symbiotic relationship.

tecna doesn't like talking about what she went through in the omega dimension, even with timmy. however, she does occasionally draw things out when she really needs to vent and can't think of any other way how. she's always been good at sketching due to her background in designing gadgets so this wasn't a weird transition for her. helia told her about this anonymous place for artists to submit their art with absolutely no names attached and after checking to make sure it was legit and she was completely safe, she started to submit one or two a year. she doesn't like to do it often but it does help to sort of "get it out" without actually talking about it.

while helia is notoriously Bad at video games, he does actually like the more "physical reality" ones (think that virtual reality tecmy scene!) mainly because it feels close enough to real life that he doesn't need to rely on just technology to do it. tecna and helia often have very competitive gaming matches but specifically within those kinds of games otherwise, he's really bad at it and she gets annoyed that he can't remember any of the buttons.

speaking of competitions, helia has an inner bet going on of How Much Can I Pretend To Not Know Jackshit About A Specific Technological Topic Before Tecna Notices. what he doesn't know, is that tecna knows he does this and has her own inner bet of How Long Can I Explain This Specific Topic Before Helia Gets Bored And Moves On. so far, the score is mostly even, with helia only winning because timmy isn't aware of this mental battle and will often jump in to explain things too. helia is very smug about this and tecna can't say anything to timmy otherwise she loses the fight that no one actually set firm rules on.

timmy is just really happy that his two best friends are also friends and sometimes he tries to invite helia and flora on their dates. tecna is okay with this only because she thinks it's funny. florelia were also okay with it but started to not be because they realized that their version of a date and tecmy's version of a date was extremely different. they've started to come up with increasingly ridiculous excuses for why they can't go and so far timmy is the only one that hasn't noticed. poor timmy, he genuinely thinks flora's best friend cactus is sick and needs care 😔

when timmy isn't available, helia will call tecna for any technology related issues he's having. on one hand, she likes that he trusts her and can rely on her, on the other hand, she's told him ten separate times not to leave his computer running all the damn time. (tecna: please turn the computer off when you're not using it. this will immensely help solve all of the problems you've been having. helia: okay so i'm gonna leave it on all the time?). he's not trying to be difficult though. he just forgets everything and assumes it should work regardless (he a little stupit).

roxy gets so much gender envy from both of them and it confuses her all the time. they have no idea what a gender envy is though and they're mostly just wondering how they stop giving it to roxy since it seems like it agitates her??? help please???? researching the matter doesn't help and it ends up becoming a meme on winx stan twt because tecna made a very official and serious post asking about the severity of "gender envy" and needing to know how contagious it is. now whenever either of them posts, earth teens just comment gender envy at them. helia still doesn't know what it means.

they don't watch movies/tv together but they will binge-watch the same shows and then talk about them later on. tecna's formatting is still very formal and functional meanwhile helia bounces off multiple points and forgets to make a conclusion. he stresses her out so much.

helia notices when tecna has stayed up too long for too many nights and will occasionally send her a "please sleep" message when he knows timmy is already asleep and can't do it. she doesn't always listen but sometimes she will, but not before sending the same message back because why the fuck is he up at this hour huh dumbass?????

tecna has a pet bird and helia has multiple cats and they absolutely cannot be in the same room together. her bird is constantly trying to fight his cats and while they're usually well behaved, he's genuinely scared they're gonna try to eat it (tecna: stop calling my bird an "it"; helia: stop putting your bird near my cats 😐)

they actually don't like hanging out when one of them is upset. they both have a hard time talking about their emotions (for different reasons obviously) and they always end up feeling like they have to say something when they're together. they just really prefer hanging when they're both in a good mood or at least calm. whenever one of them gets upset, they stop hanging out together until that person feels better.

connected to the last point, you'd think that would mean they don't know a lot about each other, but they surprisingly do! they're both relatively observant people (tecna gets better every year) and they're actually really good at figuring out why the other is upset and what would help. they just don't talk about it.

although, on a similar note, the one time they did have an emotional talk, it was about timmy. tecna was feeling upset again and worrying over whether or not she's "too logical/not emotional enough" and it was the one time where she actually allowed herself to hang out with him while being upset. they had a genuine heart to heart about things and especially about how she's way too hard on herself. they thought it would be awkward since they actively avoided this kind of thing but it wasn't! it went very naturally and helia even teared up a bit. he's very proud of her and the effort she makes every day and since that talk has been much more vocal about it.

when they went to earth in s4, they both spent way too much time learning about Earth Things; tecna about earth media (canon), and helia about animals since that's what flora was talking about. he started calling tecna "chip" after that because chipmunks reminded him of her. she disagrees with this assessment and he refuses to admit he mixed up chipmunks and squirrels. he still calls her chip to this day, and fortunately, it's grown on her. unfortunately, he calls timmy "chip" too, and now it's a hassle to figure out who he's talking to.

helia is surprisingly interested in zenith technology despite not understanding it all! he enjoys walking through the streets of zenith with tecna while she proudly points things out so he can go "ooo aaa" at everything. sometimes she tries to explain how things work and his mind starts playing elevator music automatically. tecna has gotten really good at knowing when helia is just. brain empty no thoughts because she recognizes the Empty look in his eyes. she enjoys catching it live and trying to figure out why he's just. not thinking (usually it's because he either doesn't understand something or got bored) (this happens often when sky starts talking) (sorry sky)

tecna is one of the winx (besides flora of course) that helia trusts the most. not in an emotional or friend way, but in a physical, we're on a mission way. she has good control of her magic and knows how to use it. she's good at thinking of strategies and applying them properly to the situation. and after the omega dimension, he had a newfound respect for her previously unknown to him survival skills. if he were even in severe danger, she would be the first winx he'd call (depending on the situation, she is occasionally ahead of flora).

helia is really bad at sharing details. he tends to go straight to the conclusion but doesn't share how he got there (adhd king 😌) and tecna is the best person to call in when this happens. her logical questioning makes it seem so easy because she has the patience and knowledge to connect the dots and ask the right questions. when anyone else tries its more like (helia: i'm sitting in a pool of blood; person: uhm do you know where it's coming from?; helia: probably the stab wound; someone: did you get stabbed??; helia: oh yeah definitely.)

[bondsmagii]

Chris Chan has got to be one of the most documented people in the internet. I can't imagine having almost every detail of my life for the whole world to see even though I haven't done horrible things like Chris has

god I know right. the idea of everything being that documented... it's honestly eerie as hell. no matter what Chris Chan does or tries, it's all being watched and documented and analysed and man. to think she could have avoided all this if she had just unplugged the internet in like, 2007.

right now I'm still in the early stages, like 17 videos in or so. at the moment I just feel desperately sorry for her. I'm not sure what fucked up shit she might do going forward, and of course I know about the incest charges which is yikes all on its own, but at the moment I can't help but feel desperately sorry for her. like, it's funny in a car crash way, but it's also really not funny at all. right now she's just this autistic young adult living with two abusive parents, who's being harassed by dozens of people online. because of her autism she's incapable of being able to identify trolls until it's far too late, and then more trolls befriend her and she falls for the exact same tricks again because she's inherently too trusting and can't tell when people are being sarcastic or when they're actually ridiculing her. at the moment her closest friend is a girl named Kacey, who's trying to give Chris "advice" to better her life, and on the surface it's all solid advice -- get a job, exercise more, eat healthier, etc -- but it's all designed to set Chris up for more ridicule, and no matter what progress Chris reports, Kacey twists it and uses it to ridicule her and trash her confidence. earlier on I listened to a phone call recording where Chris's mother was caught berating Chris and emotionally manipulating her in the background, and when Chris got back on the line to Kacey, Kacey took Chris's mother's side and started also berating Chris for the same thing. it's honestly so fucked up -- like underneath all the inherent hilarity that comes from a situation so fucking weird, it's impossible to ignore the fact that this is an account of the long-term emotional abuse of a deeply vulnerable adult. whatever Chris might have done in the future, I firmly believe that there's a strong case to be made for the fact she was driven to this point. the constant trolling and the fact that she cannot trust anybody in her life to be who they say they are has created a deep rift between Chris and reality, and I wouldn't be surprised if she's been driven to honest to god clinical psychosis because of all the stress and torment.

if it had just been brief -- a spate of the earlier trolling at the beginning, where they teased her a bit about Sonichu and convinced her she was in a chat with Billy Mays or whatever, that would have been fine. everyone was getting trolled like that back in the day. but at some point it veered away from trolling and went into literal torture. like, I'm going to go under the cut here because this got suddenly serious on an ask that's pretty casual (sorry about that), but it's been bothering me since I saw it and I have to mention it now. sincere warning for anyone reading my Chris Chan documentary chronicles just for the lighter parts, because in my mind what I'm about to discuss is literal, actual torture of a disabled person.

the other day I watched the video where the trolls hacked into Chris's PlayStation account, which had a lot of games and progress she was obviously proud of. being autistic, she's obviously much more attached than these trolls can appreciate -- video games are clearly one of her special interests, and she understandably gets very distressed when the trolls threaten to sell the account. there's a whole bunch of convoluted stuff that happens, but the main event is that they use the leverage of the account to get Chris into doing shit to "win" it back. they end up making her cut her Sonichu medallion (a comfort item that she wears constantly) into four pieces, and stick the pieces up her ass. on video.

the video isn't shown on YouTube, obviously, but the audio is. in it, the trolls can be heard urging her on, insisting she stick it properly up there ("until I can't see it anymore", is how one of them put it). also captured on the audio is Chris, making sounds of pain and also apparently crying, which she is then ridiculed for.

I mean. I was genuinely disturbed by this, as I'm sure most people with even a smidgen of a conscience would be. this is sexual abuse. this is torture. this is not trolling, this is not doing something "for the lulz". this is a small group of genuine psychopaths banding together long after the regular trolling is done, to torture a person who is incapable of defending herself and who has no responsible adult in her life to protect her from people like this. this shit, when compared to legitimate harmless trolling like Liquid Chris, who winds Chris up but never actively harms her (at least to what I've seen so far) and is so ridiculous that everybody can see through it (even Chris herself, who knows that Liquid Chris is a faker and isn't being deceived by Liquid Chris in any way), is night and day. Liquid Chris is genuine trolling, the kind that aims to get you mad and then goes no further. what these other people are doing is abuse and torture. they're clearly a core group of individuals who realised they had an easy target and decided to take advantage of it, and they're all honest to god sociopaths. they should face charges for this shit.

I apologise for getting serious on this post, but I need to be honest here. as much as I'm enjoying the drama and the more ridiculous and admittedly hilarious bits of this story, between all the tamer pieces of legitimate trolling is a serious case of ableism. vulnerable adults like Chris are abused like this every day, and the fact that this can be so well-documented online and still nobody did anything to help her is absolutely astounding. because Chris is "cringe", everybody seemed to collectively decide that she deserved this treatment, when really at the end of the day she began as an autistic teenager who was super passionate about her OC and wanted to upload comics about him online. like. that was her only crime, and it ended like this.

just... god damn.

[chenziee]

Thank you @kerowyn-fr​ for the cute prompt :D I hope you like it :)

[READ ON AO3 OR UNDER THE CUT]

----------

When Garp handed him the newspaper with a stupid grin on his face, former fleet admiral Sengoku already knew he wouldn't like what was written inside. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unfolded the papers and immediately, the huge, bold headline punched him in the face, making him nearly choke on his tea.

Somehow, he wasn’t even surprised that Morgans found out about Kaido’s defeat faster than the navy but goddamn it, this bunch of kids really did it. Sengoku honestly didn’t think he’s see the day of Kaido’s fall, much less for it to happen thanks to some stupidly young pirates—the words ‘Straw Hat - Heart - Kid Alliance’ seemed almost mocking at this point. Damn brats doing the government’s job for them again.

Although, he did have to admit he would love to see Sakazuki’s face when he found out about this.

Looking at the attached photo of the apparent post-victory celebration, Sengoku’s eyes zeroed in on Trafalgar Law’s blurred figure and despite himself, he smiled. The kid might be a pirate, a member of the worst generation no less, but Sengoku still couldn’t help but feel proud of him, proud of the child Rocinante died to save. When he had talked to him on Dressrosa, he was worried the pirate was going to burn out, or completely lose his way after getting his revenge, but his lively—if annoyed—expression while he ate his rice ball and shoved at an equally annoyed Eustass Kid’s face with his foot… It gave Sengoku the feeling that instead, he had found himself somewhere along the way.

With the ruins of Onigashima behind him, he really looked like he was about to own the seas  and Sengoku hoped Roci was watching and was happy about the man his adopted son had grown into, about the great things he had managed to accomplish.

Just then, Garp moved to stand right behind Sengoku, reaching over his shoulder to poke at the photo. “Can you believe these three? They can’t even celebrate beating two of the emperors at once without fighting. I bet you Luffy started this,” he said, before bursting out in loud laughter.

Sengoku had to laugh as well. It really was ridiculous; they were like three little peacocks showing off their tails to see whose is the prettiest.

Wait, three?

He frowned, looking at the photo again. Now that he thought about it, Law really wasn’t the type to shove at someone with his bare foot, judging from how reserved he always acted during warlord meetings—all two of them that he actually bothered to show up for anyway. But he could only see Law and Eustass so where was the little Monkey?

Now that he looked closer, he could see that the foot in Eustass face was twisted at an unnatural angle that could only mean the ankle was either fractured several times over, or it was made of rubber. Following the limb with his eyes, he finally noticed another body splayed on the ground in between Eustass and Law, and soon he also found the arms that held up a plate stacked full of rice balls. It looked like the little Monkey was trying to keep the plate as far away from Eustass as he could and Sengoku was sure those rice balls were the whole reason of this scuffle. Then, he finally reached his head resting against Law’s thigh, clear threat in his eyes as he bared his teeth, looking like he was ready to bite Eustass’ metal arm off.

Sengoku shook his head in disbelief. It was no wonder he didn’t notice him at first; for one, his black hair was blending almost perfectly with Law’s dark coat, and two, who would look for the little Monkey in someone else’s lap? Certainly not Sengoku, and certainly not in Law’s lap.

Suddenly, the reality of what he was seeing downed on him.

Someone had a few questions to answer.

—————

As the Polar Tang pulled up to the Thousand Sunny one sunny afternoon, Law was surprised to see another small ship already there, swaying gently in the waves next to the Straw Hats’ ship. He didn’t recognise the vessel so at first he assumed maybe Straw Hat’s brother came to visit but then he noticed the navy flag and froze.

Listening carefully, he couldn’t hear any fighting; it was completely quiet, almost eerily so. But Law couldn’t see any damage anywhere, and the navy ship seemed too small to be a threat in the first place. The more he thought about it, the stranger it all seemed. He gripped Kikoku tighter, gesturing to his crew to wait at the Tang for now before he called forth a room and teleported himself onto the Sunny.

His anxiety wasn’t eased when he opened his eyes to see absolutely no one on the ship. Looking around the deserted deck, he tried to at least find some signs to tell him what in the world had happened but there was nothing except something that looked like a half-eaten newspaper page.

He was almost starting to panic when he noticed some movement in the direction of the kitchen and when he looked, he found all the missing Straw Hats in a huddle by the door, the movement he saw apparently being Tony climbing over everyone else to get as close to the door as he could.

Law sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He swore he would murder all these people one day—if they didn’t manage to stress him out enough to kill him first.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked when he made it up the stairs to stand behind the Straw Hats, making everyone turn around to stare at him.

“Torao, hi!” Tony whisper-shouted from where he was hanging onto Nami’s shoulder, the only one who bothered with a greeting.

A long and heavy silence filled only with the crews judgmental, accusing stares followed. Honestly, this crew was so damn lucky their doctor was so cute or he would have beheaded all of them and stuck them to the mast.

“Well?” he prompted, raising an impatient eyebrow.

Several glances were exchanged until finally, Roronoa looked at him. “We were hoping you would explain why Luffy is getting a lecture.”

Law only gave him a blank look, trying to let his silence speak for itself but before the intended effect could arrive, Usopp interrupted, “Yeah, you could have warned us. Why didn’t you tell us who your grandfather was?”

What?

“For real. I almost had a heart attack when he got on board,” Nami added with a glare at Law as if it was somehow his fault.

“Right? Between Sanji, Luffy, and Torao, I can’t tell whose family is crazier.” Usopp shook his head before continuing in a disappointed tone, “And the fact neither of them bothered to tell us is ridiculous.”

Black Leg clicked his tongue then, lightly kicking Usopp in his shin. “Don’t lump me in with them, my only family is in East Blue.”

What?

“What the fuck are you people on about? My whole family is long dead,” Law snapped, his fingers flexing threateningly as his grip on Kikoku tightened again.

A beat of silence passed. Then Robot slowly raised his hand and pointed at the kitchen with his thumb. “Explain why this guy came here demanding he talks to his ‘grandson’s super boyfriend’, then.”

“And why he then grabbed Luffy and dragged him inside to talk about you. They’ve been in there for about half an hour now. I only hope Luffy isn’t getting squeezed to death,” Nico Robin added oh-so-helpfully.

Law’s head was spinning. First a nonexistent grandfather, now he was suddenly Straw Hat’s boyfriend? Ridiculous. He might have liked being around him, maybe his heart even fluttered when Straw Hat smiled at him in that blinding way of his, and perhaps he's been letting Straw Hat touch him more than strictly necessary, possibly even holding his hand once or twice but they weren't dating. Hell, Law hadn't even confessed yet.

He shook his head to make himself focus on the matter at hand. This 'grandfather' was a more pressing matter than his unaddressed feelings. "I'm going in," he sighed, then paused, looking around the eavesdropping huddle of people. "And get the hell out of here or I'll toss you in the sea."

"Sure you will," Nami muttered with a roll of her eyes, a smirk on her lips.

Law shot her and all the other grinning idiots a glare, which finally made them all shuffle away. Law was sure they’d be back the second he closed the door behind himself, though. With a sigh, Law gripped the handle and pushed the door open.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, two people and a goat turned to look at him and Law did a double take. Straw Hat was one thing. A random, actual, live animal on board was weird, but he’d seen much weirder on this ship. The old man who was sitting opposite of Straw Hat, however, that was a completely different issue.

“What the fuck?” Law muttered, unable to say anything more coherent.

“Hello, Law,” fleet admiral Sengoku said with a nod.

“Torao!” Straw Hat greeted as well, grinning and waving at him before he pulled out the chair next to him. “Come sit, your gramps has really good rice cakes!”

Law slowly turned to stare at Straw Hat instead and, a short moment later, moved forward as if on autopilot, too stunned to do anything but comply. Only when sat down and Sengoku tilted his rice cake packet towards him did Law manage to break out of his trance. “You're not my grandfather," he blurted out, eyeing the rice cakes suspiciously.

Sengoku hummed. "Technically not but you are still Rocinante's boy so I feel responsible for you."

Law blinked; it was true Cora-san was like a father to him and Sengoku did say Cora-san was like a son to him but that seemed a little shaky a connection to warrant the old man going around claiming he was his grandfather.

"We've been chatting about you," Straw Hat said, stretching his hand out to grab a handful of the rice cakes Sengoku was still holding out, then offering a few to Law.

At that, Law finally conceded and accepted the snack. He had to admit they were pretty tasty. "What about me have you talked about?" he asked, doubtful, yet almost afraid of the answer.

Straw Hat pursed his lips and frowned, quite obviously trying to remember the actual contents of the conversation. "Just how cool your powers are and that I shouldn't break your heart or something. It's not like I'm going to do that though, why would anyone do that?"

"Break my—" Law sputtered, his eyes going wide as he stared at the pirate who seemed like he didn't understand the implications of such a statement.

"I was just making sure your boyfriend was aware of the worth certain people place on you and your devil fruit and the danger that puts you in. Also that I will feed his precious hat to Baarbara if he makes Roci cry,” Sengoku explained, pulling out a rice cake of his own.

Ignoring the use of Cora-san’s name over his own, Law took a slow, deep breath before responding curtly, “I can take care of myself—”

“That’s what I said,” Straw Hat next to him announced proudly.

Law paid him no mind, simply continuing— “and he’s not my boyfriend.” He frowned, then added one last question, “Also who the hell is Barbara?”

“Baarbara is my goat,” Sengoku said fondly as he glanced at his pet, who was by his side happily chewing on something that looked suspiciously like one of Nami’s maps—Law really hoped he was wrong about that one. “But are you sure about that?” the former fleet admiral asked with a raised eyebrow, his eyes dropping down’t Law’s body to pointedly stare somewhere just above the tabletop.

Only when he followed his gaze did Law realize the position he was in. Somewhere along the way, Straw Hat had turned to the side in his chair, putting his legs over Law’s lap and, for some reason, Law had apparently put his own hand on his knee without even noticing. It was… yeah, it felt pretty damn intimate and Law felt heat raising to his face.

Slowly, he looked up at Sengoku, who looked like he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Then, his gaze slid to the side to glance at Straw Hat.

The other pirate was grinning back at him, looking entirely too amused by Law’s mortification, and Law scowled. “You’re not my boyfriend,” he said quietly, sounding uncertain even to his own eyes.

“I kind of am,” Straw Hat said, his grin widening even more. “Torao, you can be so stupid sometimes.” As soon as he was finished speaking, he started laughing in that cute, contagious, absolutely maddening way of his and Law…

Law has never felt so dumb and mortified in his life.

Yet, he still couldn’t find it in himself to push Straw Hat away when he leaned forward to give Law a messy, loud kiss on the cheek. Somehow, this had turned out to be simultaneously the absolute worst and best day of Law’s life.

He was still not showing his face around the Sunny again for a while though.

[hyucksong]

nct dream as roommates

a/n: *romantically calls you bro* 

lee mark 

the roommate that walked in on you taking a shower on the first night you moved in and avoided you for a week afterward

he even went as far as browsing different apartments to live in because baby boy was too afraid to face you

sometimes wakes up before you and he always prepares your coffee or tea and sets it by your bed for you when you wake up…sometimes sits on the edge of your bed to watch you

asks you to do his laundry because he doesn’t know how to separate the colors

you’re fine with doing them because he tries his absolute bestest with everything else, and it’s so cute

the first time he did the laundry you were sick…and you got a whole new wardrobe of pink clothing the next day

always does the dishes and you do the laundry…he’ll clean the living room and kitchen if you clean the bathrooms…he’ll go grocery shopping…only if you go with him

asks you to do his hair when he meets up with his friends, and if you say no he says “okay” and then pouts until you agree

you really like photography but hiring models is expensive so you always ask mark to model for you

and he always agrees, blushing while doing so

make-up artists are expensive too, so you also get him dressed up and add whatever you want to his face

(once you did a fairy photoshoot and he had freckles and pink cheeks and your heart did the thing) 

this time you need him to sit still for hours because it's supposedly a big photoshoot with a few other photographers coming too, so there’s a lot of looks to get through 

you do the first look before you get to the photo site to save time

he thinks nothing of you curling his hair until he looks up at you and time slows as his heart stops…

because you smell like vanilla and your nose is scrunched in concentration…because your breathing is heavy as you run to the bathroom to get more things before you’re late…

because you’re biting your lip while looking at him, admiring your own work, proud of the way the make-up came out, but a little disheartened because it looked like you put a little too much blush (even though you only put a little) 

and mark thinks,,, oh no

fuck

huang renjun

your best friend since you were a child

you’re used to ‘living with him’ because you practically lived with him as a kid; you were always at his house spending the night or vice versa 

he wakes you up an hour after he gets up because ‘he needs his peaceful time’

claims that ‘you’re the worst person to live with’ but refuses to look for another apartment because ‘no one else can handle you but me’

(in reality, he knows that there will never be anyone else he’ss comfortable with as you) 

he wakes you up by throwing a pillow in your face and or flopping on your bed next to you and bouncing a few times

once got really scared because you weren’t waking up no matter what he did, and when he started to tear up you opened your eyes and pushed him off the bed 

you just didn’t want to be woken up that day and tried to ignore him, but apparently, you ignored him for too long because he genuinely freaking out on the inside

he’s watched ‘what’s eating gilbert grape’ okay he was SCARED

he didn’t talk to you for three days after that....only started to wake you up again because you made the effort to wake up before him and make him breakfast in bed with hot tea

he expected you to leave his room after you gave it to him, but you just looked at him for a minute before sitting on the bed next to him, getting under the covers with him 

he focused on the fact you were taking up all the space instead of the now-familiar thrum of his heartbreak against his ribcage

(he’s felt it for the past fewyears, he’s gotten used to drowning it out) 

“y/nnnnnnn what are you doingggggg”

“shut up i made the breakfast, can’t i at least sit next to my favorite boy?”

...he’s your favorite boy?...okaythatwasreallycutebuthe’llneveradmitit

“o...kay...”

blushes when you lay your head on his shoulder in bed, watching whatever he’s doing on his phone, because your cheek is warm against his shirt and its bleeding through onto his skin and weiowioegfhowieh

but also yells at you when you take a bite of his toast and bolt out of the room, giggling

“yAH y/N”

lee jeno

the roommate that was awkward for the first month because he didn’t really want to room with a girl because then he can’t spend saturday with the boys 

then he brought them home one day without telling you and was expected to get his ass Whopped but you were drinking vodka and crying while watching Cars so

yeah you were the perfect roommate for him

you drink together

saturday may be for the boys but sunday is for drinking your problems away with your roommate 

can’t cook but will make BOMB desserts for you both every friday...also fridays are pizza nights and you both order a large cheese pizza with ranch on the side and a pint of dr.pepper

yall have the same diet but he has a six-pack and you don’t so you call bullshit on health and everything it is

both of you fall asleep on the couch all the time, TV still playing the game soundtrack with the controllers on the floor, blinking from low battery

jeno alwayswakes up before you, and he doesn’t admit it, but he loves to watch you sleep

you just look so...ethereal 

even with the drool

ANYWAY

you are one of the bros...he’s even taken a shit when you took a shower before -- that’s how close you are 

then one day you get dressed up real pretty and he’s making fun of you, laughing “you never look this nice who’s holding you at gunpoint”

“i’m going on a date jeno hop off my DICK”

“,,,what”

immediately felt defensive and was questioing who could like you and why you were going on a saturday night when it was busy on the streets and also please call the guy and cancel the date because he wants to watch toy story with you and eat pasta why are you going out with someone has he met him why haven’t you told jeno about this guy you know what you should just not go

and it’s when you walk out the door rolling your eyes, promising to be back home before 9pm with a cute shirt on and nice perfume on when jeno realizes 

that damn he hates to see you leave,,,but he loves to watch you go

(and he might have the teeniest, weeniest crush on you) 

lee donghyuck

the type to never clean the dishes and always makes you do them even if he cooks because he hates the feeling of wet food

then one day he sees you v e r y stressed over school work and he just...cleans the whole house

you come back from the library and you’re like,,,the fuck where’s haechan and what have you done with him

in turn, you buy him a headset that he’s been wanting for the past year...and you think he’s about to propose to you after you give them to him

but in all reality he’s just so happy that you even remembered something so trivial...like he talking about them once (1) and you remembered?

...cute bitch

he’s a big prankster, but in an endearing way, so whenever he goes too far you never really stay mad because he’s just a little unaware of the anger his pranks cause

plus you always get back at him 

always :)

you both are basically the same people; you’re passionate about your studies and he’s passionate about gaming and dancing

yall are the bad bitches that no one messes with 

BET that yall wear matching fits whenever you two go out together

you get together to watch his favorite youtubers do let’s plays of popular games

one day yall sit down to watch some outlast 2

and boy

did you underestimate the scare factor

so now you’re three episodes deep into the let’s play and your head is buried in haechans stomach because you’re laying down facing away from the TV, clinging to the poor boy

he doesn’t know if his heart is beating so fast because of the jumpscare or because of the way you look up at him when you ask if the scary part is over yet

he doesn’t like seeing you scared with tears in your eyes...but the way you’re clinging to him makes him want to watch a thousand more scary episodes...

...if it means you’ll cuddle with him

na jaemin

the best roommate you could ever ask for

he loves to clean and cook, not to mention he’s an absolute sweetheart!!!!!!!

you started to live with him because you had posted an ad on a website for a roommate and he sent back a reply

but the texts used so many of (=｀ω´=) these emojis you just assumed it was a girl

he was not

every night before you go to bed, he’ll walk into your room and whisper “good night, sleep well” to you before petting you head and walking out

people always wonder if you’re dating, but you always reply that it’s just the way he is

until one night you invite your (asshole) project partner to your apartment and she flirts with him endLESSLY,,, not doing her work or anything, just talking with jaems

like it’s pissing you off, and you think it’s pissing him off, and you’re about to send her home when you notice the storm outside and you realize,,,, you’re too good of a person to do that

so she sleeps on the couch, and you do the same, just so you can keep an eye on her and so that she isn’t left alone with jaemin at any point (poor boy looked like he’s about to combust if she tries to talk to him again) 

and jaemin does his usual routine even with the extra company, stroking your head and even going as far as to place a kiss on your forehead

“what about me, do I get a kiss” the girl annoyingly asked

“no, you’re not yn” and hE WALKS AWAY AND CLOSES THE DOOR TO HIS ROOM 

there’s silence in your head as you process his words, a little shocked and confused as to what he means, but most of all, your thoughts consist of;

oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

you might have just fallen for him (let’s face it, you’ve been in love with him (just not as long as he’d been in love with you)) 

zhong chenle

not going to lie, you two did NOT get along in the beginning

you were each other’s first roommates, and you knew he was extroverted, but you underestimated the differences between your personalities

like,,, no please don’t invite the dreamies over again for the eighth time this week I can’t focus on homework with all the screaming

but even with all the head-butting, the chores are split evenly because he’s practicing to ‘be marriage material for his future wife’

you don’t care as long as he just does what he’s supposed to, and you two aren’t exactly the closest

but there are times when you connect, like on lazy Sunday afternoons where you both just relax on the couch...anywaY

and he always rolls his eyes, telling you that ‘you need to stop being a hermit and make some friends’

‘get some confidence’

‘why don’t you put any effort into how you dress’

it hurts a little...you know you’re not the prettiest and you don’t really try anyway

but to have it pointed out to you just...stings

and after a guy rejects you (after you built up courage for a whole years to confess to him) your confidence is at an all-time low (he said no because ‘you were too bland’ like wtf fUCk you)

and you’re just crying and eating spaghetti o’s, telling chenle as oon as you walk into the door that you’re ‘too sensitive for his bullshit today’ 

to which chenle doesn’t care... then he sees your puffy eyes and asks wha happens

you tell him, and he just gets...angry

(and jealous?)

he goes on a tangent, mocking the guy, saying that ‘you’re the most doen-to-earth natural beauty’ he’s ever seen and that ‘any guy who doesn’t fall in love with your cute sarcastic personality’ is dumber than a rock

he grumbles for the rest of the night, sitting and watching movies with you; it makes your heart swell that he’s getting so mad for you

and at the end of the mini-movie night, and he strokes your hair saying  that you’re ‘his little introvert’,

you decide that ‘opposite attract’ is 100% true

(and chenle notices that you have very pretty lips)

park jisung

you two are dorm roommates at a dance school, and y’all are so cute all the teachers LOVE you

like you both just spend so much time together it’s ridiculous

yall walk to class together, then from class to class together, eat lunch together, after school activities, walk back to the dorms, meet each other’s friends, go out on the weekends together...everything

it feels weird to not be with him

(the teachers have a bet that you’ll be dating before your senior year)

the dorm is just a studio apartment with two bedrooms (your parents both pay a lot for space) 

so chores aren’t too hard, in fact, you both usually spend the last few hours of daylight on Sunday nights straightening up your apartment from the hectic week before, to start off completely fresh and new

nothing big ever happens on Sundays around the home, but one day jisung (who went to hang out with chenle (he invited you but you pouted and said you had too much hmwk)) found a little puppy on the side of the road

and then proceeded to sneak into the dorms with it, hiding it under his shirt

when he showed you what he found, you couldn’t be mad...it was just so cute (both jisung’s little smile and the puppy) 

but you noticed it was shivering, and you whined, ‘jisung you didn’t even notice it was cold oH My GoD, go get it some water and food’ while you set up a nest of blankets for the little guy

hours later when the puppy had eaten and subsequently fallen asleep in your lap, you turned to jisung

‘let’s name it mousie’

‘what that’s dumb’

‘it’s not dumb! i wanna name it that because it looks like you whenever you sleep! it's so cute hehehe’

you thought jisung was WHAT when he slept

jisung didn’t talk for a whole minute, drinking in your words and thinking about them over and over again, in the meantime you were just smiling down at the puppy

your cheeks were red with happiness and your nose was a little red from sneezing (because the puppy was covered in pollen from being outside) and your gaze was filled with such love that jisung shivered

you let out a sigh and plopped your head on his shoulder, and all his feelings he’d ever had for you exploded in his chest, and he tensed (though if you noticed, you didn’t day anything)

you just kept and petting the dog

and damn did jisung want to be that dog

[libsterslobsters]

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

Here's something different. Before I ever thought about posting fanfic here, I used to write things inspired by fanfic I found by some of the incredible writers I found on tumblr. I've never posted any of them but I've really felt like writing something for Aleister Black/ Tommy End lately.

So I reached out to one of my original favourites on this site, @ghostofviperwrites and asked her if she'd mind if I published this sequel I wrote to her story Whisky Secrets. She gave me the ok (for which I thank her very much).

You absolutely have to read her piece first or this won't make any sense. It picks up literally at the point where hers leaves off and the entire premise is based on what she wrote. I think this goes in a very different direction than what she had in mind, though.

Since this is an old story, some of the characters are very different than they are now. It was set at around the time I wrote it. Based on events in the story, it's pretty clear when that was.

It's a bit dated but I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Aleister Black x OFC (hints of Roman Reigns x OFC)

Word count: 7,031

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, language, incidental roughness that some might find stressful

You rested on the sofa for too long, knowing that you had to get to work, that you were already behind on an assignment that was due that afternoon. As much as you desperately wanted to cling to the scent and the feeling of him being there with you and the idea that he might someday want to be there with you for longer, you knew that you were only wasting time by indulging in a fantasy. Once again, you reminded yourself, he saw you as a friend, a landing pad after he was finished his adventures. And so you dragged yourself to the computer and tried to focus.

It was a fluff piece you’d been hired to write: places for new residents of Orlando to meet people. You’d accepted it because the pay was good and it had seemed easy. But what the hell did you know about meeting people? You’d barely met anyone and the only ones that you’d call friends were the ones you met when you’d done an in-depth profile on the WWE and their development territory NXT. Of those, only Aleister had remained close and even then, you couldn’t say that the two of you had ever properly opened up to each other. Nevertheless, you’d stayed in touch with a number of them, occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks. None of this was in any way useful when it came to recommending locations to connect with strangers.

You’d tried to start the article the day before but now when you opened the file, you discovered that you’d only come up with a half a dozen corny titles and one word of text:

When?

The word was too painfully appropriate.

When were you going to run out of luck and be unable to find further work as a journalist?

When were you going to admit that what kept you here, rather than moving to another state and pursuing more secure work, was the fact that you were in love with a man who was only interested in your capacity as a friend and caregiver?

When was your hopeless love going to break you beyond repair?

Annoyed with yourself, you deleted the word and tried to start again. You could meet people at the gym classes that were ubiquitous in this city. You could meet people at get-togethers for shared hobbies like hiking or pottery or basically anything. No one had to meet people by getting thrown into their orbit and being unable to extricate themselves.

About half an hour into your resentful hammering on the keyboard, you were startled by your doorbell. For one sweet instant, you imagined that it was Aleister dropping by to pass some time with you. Then you realized that he never came to you without an invitation unless it was dead drunk in the middle of the night. Even when you invited him, it was only every fourth or fifth time that you asked that he agreed to come over and watch a movie or go for a walk in the nearby park. There was no way it was him at your door at eleven o’clock in the morning.

In fact, the person at your door was Bayley, chipper and warm as always, returning the spare laptop you’d lent her a few weeks before.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed, thrusting the computer into your hands. “You are a lifesaver. I’d have lost my goddamn mind if I hadn’t had this while mine was in the shop.”

“It was nothing,” you insist, smiling at her unconstrained warmth even though you didn’t feel very positive about your life at that moment. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded cheerily and stepped across the foyer. You never really knew how you fit in with the women of WWE, even though you’d spoken to many of them in depth. Bayley stood out because she was determined to be your friend despite your introvert’s reluctance. And, indeed, she was irresistible. Much like her in-ring character, she cast sunshine wherever she went and her glow was contagious, even in your darkest and lowest moments.

You motioned her into the kitchen, offering her a choice of lemonade, iced tea or water. Her eyes immediately fell on the empty whiskey bottle you’d left on the counter, her expression growing more serious as she focused on it.

“Getting started early?” she cajoled.

“A friend left that here,” you replied guiltily.

She narrowed her dark eyes as she looked at you. Sweet and optimistic as she was, Bayley was not naïve. She knew exactly what friend had left the bottle behind and she knew how you felt about him.

“I’ll have a glass of lemonade,” she said, the smile slowly returning to her face.

You joined her and the two of you jokingly touched glasses before drinking.

“So, a few of us are getting together tonight,” she said hesitantly. “I thought you might like to join us.”

Your first instinct was to ask if Aleister would be there, but you thought better of it. Instead, you responded, “Well, I have an article I need to finish.”

Of course, your article was due by the end of the afternoon, which meant that your evening was free regardless, but part of you wanted to be at home in case Aleister came staggering over again.

Bayley’s jaw set in a determined expression you’d only seen from her in the ring. “We’re having a party for Roman, to celebrate him going into remission.”

Well now you felt like a bit of a bitch for making excuses and didn’t know what to say.

“It won’t just be wrestlers there. Some other journalists are even coming. And I know that it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

When you’d done your article on the WWE, you’d interviewed Roman Reigns and he’d been incredibly generous with his time. He’d even contacted you after your interviews to confirm that you had all the detail you needed. He was the face of the company and had done everything possible to make sure that the company had provided what you required. He’d clearly wanted to make sure they’d left a good impression and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his PR skills. Although you knew it wasn’t true that it “would mean a lot to him”, you were touched by the idea that he remembered you and might like you to be there to celebrate his great news. At the same time… you needed to be there for Aleister.

“Look,” Bayley insisted, “I’m going to text you the details for the bar where we’ll be. It’s not a big deal, just a bunch of us getting together to be happy for our friend.”

There was no way that you could refuse that, so you shyly thanked her as she gulped the rest of her lemonade and made for the door.

“I’m serious,” she said as she departed. “You work so damn hard you deserve a night off. Finish what you’re doing and come have fun with us.”

As soon as she’d left, you once again sat down at your computer. Before you could return your attention to your work, however, you couldn’t resist checking Instagram.

Someone had tagged Aleister in a photo on Instagram.

Yes, you were that pathetic that you always checked.

With trepidation, you clicked the link to look at what was there. As it too often did, the notification came from an airbrushed-looking woman, her collagen-enhanced lips pressed against his. She looked arrogant and proud, while he looked smug and inebriated.

“Guess who I got to hang with last night?” the caption gloated.

You knew damn well what “hang” was a euphemism for. He never cared that the Barbie dolls he hooked up with advertised their conquest on social media. He was single and hot. Why should he care if people knew that he always scored with the sort of women other men lusted after? Why should he care that it ripped your heart to shreds every time you saw him with another woman so unlike you in every way?

The woman had posted a few other photos of the two of them together, embracing. Every part of her magazine-ready body was on display, save those parts that would have gotten her in trouble. Her artificially perfect breasts were spilling out of a tiny tube top while her endless legs were shown in their full glory between the edge of a skirt that likely required her to trim her pubic hair and the sky high heels that raised her enough to press her lips to his without having to stretch herself awkwardly. She was nothing like you, with your unkempt hair and loose, bohemian dresses, your comfortable ballet flats and blandly natural face. She had all the glamour that you lacked and he ate it up.

The images of the two of them cut into you like a laser and, for once, all you desired was to break free from the pain of feeling. A few minutes later, when Bayley sent the text she’d promised with the details of where you could find the party tonight, you immediately responded.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

To hell with Aleister and the designer women he adored, you told yourself as you returned to your article with a vengeance. Tonight you were going to do whatever it took to break the spell he had cast over you.

*

It was just after nine when you found yourself teetering to the entrance of the bar where the party was taking place. It was marked only by a subtle sign, no words, just a stylized anchor, and it was hidden away on a tiny street that was hardly more than an alley. In your fit of pique, you’d finished your article two hours before your deadline and then, having examined the options in your closet and found them wanting, headed out and spent entirely too much money on a new dress that clung perfectly to your breasts before flaring out to highlight the movements of your body, while covering just the bare minimum to maintain decency. You’d also picked up a stylish pair of ankle boots with heels higher than you were used to and that posed a legitimate threat as you made your way down the roughly paved road to the speakeasy-style bar.

A little further down the alley, you see a couple leaning against a car, taking turns swigging from a liquor bottle. The woman is one of those glamorous animals that makes you so insecure, laughing in drunken delight in a way that only confident people can. In one quick movement the man spins her around and bends her over the hood of the car. He immediately takes out his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he thrusts into her, one hand on her back while the other holds the bottle that he continues drinking from. And it’s a moment before you realize that it’s Aleister, fucking away at a woman whose name he won’t remember in a few hours.

The sight makes you want to curl up and die, makes you want to say that you’ve made a mistake and run along home so you can bawl your eyes out while you wait for his inevitable drunken arrival. But, if nothing else, the damage that you’ve done to your credit card in order to make yourself look just a bit more sexy and edgy than usual, as well as the glasses of wine you had already consumed to fortify your courage, push you forward. This is a test. In order to pass, you need to be able to ignore the man whose indifference is killing you and enter the world of others, where someone who wasn’t up to the standards of the rarified model girls might be willing to give you a second look.

Aleister doesn’t even glance up as you enter the bar a few feet away from him, can’t feel the dark weight of your eyes on him or the force with which you tear them away as you step through the door.

As soon as you do, you are once again frozen with the idea that you’ve made a mistake. When Bayley characterized this as a “get-together”, you’d assumed it meant a group of people spread out around a few tables chatting away and toasting Roman’s health. Instead, what greets you is a basement club full of people with a dance floor alive with writhing bodies. You recognize a few journalists but for the most part, the space is taken up with every WWE and NXT star you’ve ever heard of. It’s a convention of beautiful people and you can’t help but feel dowdy even in your overpriced finery.

You slowly descend the stairs, fully intending to look around, say hello to a few familiar faces and then bolt for the exit, but you’re immediately greeted by a familiar voice that fairly shrieks. “Oh my god woman, just look at you!”

It’s Sasha Banks, standing at the edge of the stairs with Bayley, who gives you an exaggerated round of applause.

“Miranda, you look amazing,” Sasha continues breathlessly. “Seriously, you’re putting everyone to shame.”

You don’t feel like you’re putting anyone to shame, least of all Sasha in her body suit that hugs every curve of her perfect little hourglass, but you blush at the compliment.

“Come on,” Bayley gushes, “we need shots to celebrate your hotness!”

She pulls both of you through the crowd to the bar and somehow is able to get the bartender’s attention almost immediately, ordering two rounds of tequila shots because, she tells you and Sasha, there’s no point in getting just one round when you know you’re going back for seconds. The three of you toast and toss down the shots and then immediately do so again and you have to admit that you’re feeling the warm glow already. Sasha, apparently feeling something herself, wraps her arms around you and once again reassures you that you are devastatingly beautiful.

Another shot is thrust into your hand, this time by Dash Wilder, who’s arrived with his Revival partner Scott Dawson. Wilder has always been attractive to you, so you give him as radiant a smile as you can manage and you swear he blushes a little just before he downs his shot. Dawson is hugging Sasha and Bayley close to him, allowing Dash to edge a little closer to you and you’re feeling a little high on yourself when another voice cuts through your circle.

“Miranda? Holy fuck I can’t believe you’re here!”

Roman Reigns pushes right through the bodies close to the bar and grabs you firmly by the shoulders, his eyes gradually focusing on yours. He’s grinning with an intensity that clearly comes from his being a little past feeling no pain but it doesn’t hamper the thrill it gives you when he wraps his arms around you and nearly crushes you in a hug.

“I mean, shit, I don’t think I’ve even talked to you since you did that interview,” he pouts. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You smile as another shot is pushed into your hand, biting your lip self-consciously. You down about half the shot before Roman grabs it from you and finishes it, breaking up with laughter. He signals the bartender for another round, keeping an arm around your back until the tray of shots arrives. You’re all toasting each other and you wonder why you ever questioned yourself for coming here because this is exactly what you needed.

“Come dance with me,” Roman chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the dance floor. He’s clearly floating on a sea of drunken bliss, goofing around and happy to have someone to have fun with, someone he didn’t expect to be there. Even if you wanted to resist his offer, you couldn’t because, while he isn’t doing anything that might hurt you, his grip is strong enough and the rest of him powerful enough to compel you forward.

The two of you deliberately dance like complete nerds in high school, awkward movements and ironic posturing until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand. It’s then that you realize that you’ve become the focus of some attention; Roman goddamn Reigns, the face of the company, the locker room leader, the man who everyone has come to celebrate, is dancing with you. Most of the people here have no idea who you are but because you’re with Roman, you are somebody. Basking in the subtle attention and envy, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the music, swaying to the beat until you feel a large pair of hands on your hips.

You open your eyes to see Roman pulling you closer to him with a devilish grin before spinning you around and pulling your back against his massive chest. You continue to move but at a slower pace, your movements limited by how close he’s holding you and the sensual way in which his body moves against yours. Keeping one arm loosely around you, he lets his other hand fall against your thigh, lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It makes you gasp.

“You never responded to any of my texts,” he murmurs gruffly in your ear.

You remember at least half a dozen messages asking if he could clarify anything or if you needed any additional material for your article. You hadn’t needed anything else but you suddenly feel terribly rude for not answering.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “you were very professional and I should have at least told you that I had what I needed.”

His voice drops even lower as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to be professional about them. And I was hoping that you didn’t have everything you needed.”

He pulls you up and firmly against him and for the first time you can feel his hardening cock through his pants. You can’t help but thrust your hips into him, barely able to process what’s happening to you. The two of you are still ostensibly dancing, although it’s more like a rhythmic grinding to the music as he reaches down and pulls the hem of your dress up, rubbing your thigh and then your ass as he presses his lips into your neck. His hands are everywhere on you and you’re aware that your entire lower body is basically on display for anyone who cares to look but you don’t care because it feels like you’ve won the lottery. You moan at the feeling of his growing excitement against your flesh, both his large hands grazing up the front of your thighs and for a moment you think that you’re ready to beg him to take you right there when you’re violently spun away from your dance partner, a bruising grip on your arm.

It’s Aleister, eyes incandescent with rage as he tells Roman, “I need to speak to her for a minute.”

Roman looks confused and tries to speak to you but Aleister drags you away and a gaggle of women immediately descend on Roman, desperate to take your place.

Aleister flings you against the wall, glaring at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen outside the ring.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I was dancing before you interfered,” you snap back at him, rubbing your arm.

“Dancing?” he repeats with derision. “That’s what you call that?”

“I was having fun.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

For the first time since you saw him with his woman of choice outside, you feel ridiculous, like a girl trying to look glamorous by donning her mother’s clothes.

“I wanted something a little different.”

“A little?” he hisses back. “Do you realize what you look like? You’re all tarted up and letting some guy grab at you and get you half naked in front of a bar full of people.”

“What I look like?”

“Everyone could see practically your whole goddamned body. They could see what you were letting him do to you.”

“You mean to say I look like a whore.”

Aleister crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to confirm what you’ve said.

“So what, Aleister? So what if I’m letting a man touch me and show me that he wants me? Who cares who else sees? Maybe that’s what I want!”

“Are you so stupid that you think he wants you for anything other than a one night stand?”

The accusation stabs at your heart and your confidence but you’re determined not to let him see that.

“Again, so what? Maybe I’m happy to have this big, gorgeous man want me. Maybe I’m fine bringing him back to my place for a few hours of fun because at least it means someone is thinking of me as a sexual being for a change.” You pause, knowing the danger of what you’re about to say but unable to stop yourself. “Maybe I’d be fine if he just took me outside and fucked me over the hood of a car.”

For a second, you think that Aleister is going to strangle you. The look on his face is like the moment before the sky erupts in thunder and lightning. Truthfully, you expect that he’ll turn on his heel and walk away from you and never come back, and perhaps that’s what you need him to do so that you can get over him.

Instead, he grabs you, pinning you to the side of his body and pulling you towards the door. His movements make you stumble, and the more you try to resist him, the more ungainly you look.

“She’s dead drunk,” you hear him assure a few people, “I’m going to make sure she gets home.”

And while it’s true that you are drunk, you’re not nearly as drunk as he’s making you out to be. The second he has you outside, you try to twist away from him and go back, only for him to wind you closer, pulling you off balance so that you look even more inebriated.

You hear him whisper to Seth Rollins, who’s observing the spectacle through the corner of his eyes. “Look, tell Roman that she’s falling down drunk and I just had to get her home. No disrespect meant.”

Seth has a confused expression on his face but nods and tells him, “Sure thing.”

Realizing what Aleister is doing, you once again try to rush past him, but he blocks you, gripping your arm and pulling you after him so that you really do appear pathetically unable to take care of yourself.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” you shout at him, figuring that there’s no reason to worry about who might hear you, there being no further you can sink in their estimation. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy myself?”

“Jesus, Miranda, you’re loaded. You can barely stand up.” He emphasizes this by jerking your arm forward, which almost causes you to keel over onto your face. “You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“No,” you insist, pulling yourself to a halt. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. Sure I’m a bit tipsy but-“

“You don’t want that,” Alesiter snaps, threading his arm through yours and continuing down the street. “You don’t just want to whore yourself out for a night because you think it might help your self-esteem.”

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Aleister.” You’re crushed against his side and he’s moving so quickly that your feet only graze the ground every third or fourth step. “Let me go. I’m sick of playing the surrogate mother for someone who’s incapable of seeing me as a real woman. I want to go back there. I want to have someone make a show of wanting me. I want to get fucked so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Aleister shakes his head like a parent frustrated with a misbehaving child. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“So let me be ridiculous!” you yell back, trying unsuccessfully to extricate yourself from his grip. “What the hell is it to you? Are you worried that for once I’m not going to be there when you need a place to collapse at four in the morning?”

The two of you reach the corner where the alley meets the street and he swings you to face him, glowering at you with a terrifying expression, gripping your biceps so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. He says nothing but stares at you until he whips his arm out and hails a taxi seemingly out of nowhere.

He launches you, there’s no other word for it, into the back seat of the car and snarls your address to the driver as your tears start to fall. The cabbie is noticeably uncomfortable with your quiet whimpering and seems confused by the fact that Aleister does nothing to comfort or engage you. He sits with his arms folded, scowling, until you arrive at your building. Reflexively, you reach for your purse only to have Aleister swat your hand away and pay the driver himself. You try to keep pace as he yanks you towards the door, but stumble because of your unsure footing in these strange heels and because your vision is glazed by the tears you’re fighting to hold in.

When Aleister pins you against the door and rummages through your purse to find your keys, it somehow feels more invasive than Roman gripping your ass for an entire bar full of people to see. You feel, for a moment, that he is looking at you with tenderness. But when the door opens, he simply guides you through it. As you hear it click shut, the last of your strength, physical and emotional, gives out and you drop to your knees, finally allowing the tears to fall. It’s a full-on ugly cry, punctuated by guttural, anguished sounds you’d never allow anyone else to hear. Despite everything, you desperately want to hear the door open again behind you and to hear him say that he’s realized he loves you.

But no, in the end, he’s just found it gross that the woman he sees as his caregiver might have another side. He found you pathetic in your overpriced dress and shoes. He knew that you were desperately trying to act like something you could never be: like someone who could compete with the perfected Instagram beauties he fucks every night. You could never be that. He knew that you were just a sad little woman decked out in a gaudy outfit. You’d never be that sexy, desirable person who stopped men dead in their tracks, no matter what your dance with Roman had temporarily led you to believe.

You’re on your knees for what seems like hours, choking on tears and snot and trying to restrain yourself from howling. Just as the sound overpowers you and a low wail escapes your lips, you’re startled by a pair of arms, familiar, tattooed arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Shh. There’s no need for any of that,” he grunts into your hair.

And while you’re shocked and thrilled that he actually stayed behind to make sure that you were ok, it’s also even more humiliating that he’s seen you fall apart so spectacularly. Your body feels limp with defeat and unable to react at all as he gathers you up and carries you into your bedroom, setting you gently on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on yours for a moment and you’re able to stem the flow of tears until he stands up and heads back towards the door. This time, you’re determined to hold in the worst of your misery until you’re sure he’s gone, even though you can’t stop the tears from running down your face.

But after a few minutes of straining to hear the door close, you see Aleister return, a damp washcloth in hand, and he sits once again beside you on the edge of the bed. He presses the cloth, cool and soothing, against your cheeks and then holds your chin as he delicately wipes it across your face. It takes you some minutes to realize that he’s removing your smeared makeup, cleaning you off so that you look good as new, so that you look more like the plain girl who lets him into her home in the middle of the night, his touch filled with a tenderness that you never imagined him capable of. When he’s satisfied with his work, he tosses the cloth aside and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against him. The sweetness of his friendly gesture makes you want to cry all over again but you choke it back, knowing that you’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s gone.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he whispers, the sound of his voice making you feel weak.

You nod and roughly pull back from him, unsure of your ability to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him and begging him to wreck you. You fumble with the zipper of your boots until Aleister slides off the bed and onto his knees and removes it for you. He glides his hand along your calf, up to your thigh and then moves to your other boot. As he slides it off, he presses his head against the side of your knee, giving the skin a light kiss before rocking back on his haunches. You know he’s being gentle with you because he feels sorry for you. He finds you pitiful, which is even worse than finding you asexual.

The feelings are too much for you to take and all you can think of is that you want to get into bed where you’ll be safe and where you can sleep off the nightmare your evening out has become. You clumsily shed your dress, stockings, bra and panties without thinking much of the fact that you have an audience. Why should it bother him seeing you naked, after all? Normally, you put on some nightclothes but you don’t even have the strength to bother. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Aleister has turned his head towards the door. He’s embarrassed for you, the way you would be if a parent or sibling was undressing around you.

You crawl under the covers with a grumbled “good night” and immediately start to feel yourself drift off. You’re jolted back to wakefulness when Aleister climbs in beside you. In all the time you’ve known him, as many nights as he’s come and collapsed on your sofa, you don’t think he’s ever seen your bedroom. Now, having seen it, he’s apparently happy not to leave it, indulging in the comfort of your bed without even asking permission. It makes you a little self-conscious that you’re nude but it’s hardly the most humiliating thing to happen to you tonight, so you let yourself ignore it. If you can just fall asleep, this night will be over and you can begin the process of trying to forget it.

It’s only a matter of seconds, though, until you feel his body pressed against yours from behind, one hand coming to rest flat on your stomach and pushing you back against him so that you are acutely aware that you are not the only person naked in the bed. The hand on your stomach flutters downward until his fingers are moving lightly over your pussy, like he’s plucking the strings of a harp. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you flush against him, close enough that you can’t mistake the feeling of his erection against your back.

He presses his lips and tongue against your neck, making you whimper as you try to keep your heart rate stable. Your little noises seem to motivate him further, his touch becoming more insistent and one of his legs snaking over yours, pulling it back to give his hand greater access.

“Such a little fool,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking insistently along your fleshy folds. “Thinking I don’t see you as a sexual being.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out- more from the shock than the pain. His mouth continues to move around your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking on the skin there, his grip on you tightening until it’s nearly painful.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask.

“Leaving marks,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re at a loss for what to say, but are saved from having to answer as he pushes two fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You’re embarrassed that he must have felt how wet you were just from being in his presence but he says nothing, quickening his pace and giving satisfied little growls when his touch elicits gasps and cries of pleasure from you.

It’s pity, you remind yourself; what he’s doing to you, he’s doing it because he feels sorry for you and because he’s drunk and horny despite his encounter earlier in the evening. But the thought gets whisked away as he brings you closer and closer to what you’ve desperately needed from him for so long. You let out a little shriek when he removes his hand, unable to believe he’s so cruel as to bring you to the precipice and then deny you. But he simply flips you onto your back before pressing his fingers inside you once more, watching your reactions to be sure he’s hitting just the right spot before burying his face between your legs. His tongue, lips and fingers work together like an orchestra. Your knuckles are white from the force of clenching on the sheets and you’re biting down so hard on your lip to muffle the sounds you’re making that you’re worried your teeth will end up permanently embedded. He unexpectedly raises his head and stills the movement of his hand inside you and the shock is almost enough to make you start crying again. You look down at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light with an expression you can’t read.

“Why won’t you let me hear you?”

Because you don’t want him to know how good his merciful little gesture is making you feel. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s better than you’d imagined. Truthfully, whenever you’ve thought about the mechanics of sex with Aleister, you imagined that it would be fast and rough and hedonistic, much like his other sexual encounters seem to be. But he’s chosen this moment to take his time, to focus on his partner, rather than go for a quick, dirty fuck in a darkened corner.

You don’t tell him any of this, instead croaking out, “I’m shy.”

He raises himself up and over your body with the effortless grace of a serpent, pressing his head close to yours and kissing along your jawline.

“What do I have to do to make you not be shy?”

“I don’t know… I just… am.” You wriggle a little under him, turning your face away when he looks directly into your eyes.

He cups your face in one hand and runs the other, still wet with your juices, over your breast, teasing the nipple and making you shudder involuntarily.

“Am I moving too fast?”

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice.

“Is there something that you’d enjoy more? Something you want me to do for you?”

You give him another little shake of the head.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. Whatever you want, I want you to tell me so I can give it to you. Anything.”

For the first time, he kisses you on the lips, his tongue, that still tastes of you, slides against yours and the hand at the side of your face slides to hold your neck, cradling your head so that you don’t have to tense any muscles to stay in that position. Your body has nothing it needs to do but experience the sensations he’s creating. Of course, you still answer his kiss, hungrily flashing your tongue against his, reveling in the light scrape of his lip ring against your lips. His hand glides back down between your legs, and even the proximity is enough to draw a couple of little mewls of pleasure. You feel him smile a little against your lips at the noises and he pulls away from the kiss.

“Am I making you feel good?”

You nod as he starts to work his fingers around your entrance once again.

“Do you want my mouth down there again?”

You nod even more vigorously than the first time but he shakes his head.

“Tell me. Say it out loud.”

You open your mouth to do so and he immediately thrusts his long fingers into your g-spot and your clit at once, making you yelp in pleasure. It’s almost enough to make you cum on its own but he eases the pressure before you reach that peak.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“Then let me hear you. Please.”

He returns his attention to your core and has you making all manner of unholy noises in short order. He expertly teases you and then holds back, so many times that when he does finally take you over the edge, you feel like you might pass out from the intensity of it. Your gasps for breath sound cavernous in the quiet room.

He keeps the palm of his hand firmly against you as he leans forward and presses his lips into your neck, letting out a satisfied purr every time an aftershock rolls through your body.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve fully come down, he raises himself up on his arms, giving just the hint of a smile when you grab onto his biceps to steady yourself.

He’s so rigid that he doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself into you. He simply presses forward in one slow but sure moment, his eyes closed as if it’s a kind of religious experience, not opening them until he’s fully seated inside you. It’s been long enough since you’ve been with anyone that the feeling of being stretched draws a little whimper from your throat. He remains still, his eyes open and bearing down on you with a delirious kind of excitement, aching prick twitching inside you, desperate to proceed but waiting for a signal that he can.

And it’s at that moment that you allow yourself to think that this isn’t pity or a drunken mistake, that he’s as hungry for you as you have been for him and that what’s happened tonight has just served to connect a circuit. The fiercely possessive look in his eyes as he watches you, the fury when he thought someone else was claiming you, the need to mark you to make you his, the flush of pure lust on his face and chest… it is just a little frightening, something you suspected was in him but never that it was focused on you. But you’ve always known you could handle his darkness if he let you in. So you thrust your hips a little and wrap your legs loosely around his waist to show him that he can continue. Just as he starts to move, he cups your face and presses his mouth to your ear.

“You deserve so much better.”

“Stop trying to make those decisions for me,” you moan, feeling your insides flutter with his movements.

“I’ve never felt anything like that jealousy.” He’s staring into your eyes as he confesses. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder pressing deeper inside you and gasping at the feeling. “Knowing that everyone could see how sexy and beautiful you are… And I’m an idiot for waiting for that to happen before I did anything, I just…”

He grimaces and slows his pace a little, obviously trying to prolong the sensation.

“You mean it?” You have to ask because you still can’t quite believe that this has been on his mind for all this time when he’s shown no sign of it to you.

“God yes,” he answers through gritted teeth, once again allowing himself to move faster and more urgently.

You can’t completely banish your fears that he’s going to regret this in the morning and just shut you out again but every second with him is pushing them further away. You lace your fingers through his hair, nipping at the shell of his ear as he lets out his own stream of desperate, lusty noises, running your nails gently down his back as he approaches his crescendo.

His head drops to your chest and he cries out as he releases inside you.

“Fuck I love you, fuck I love you, fuck I love you.” He repeats it like a mantra that brings him back down from his high, saying it a final time as he looks into your eyes.

Slowly, he rolls onto his side, gathering you close to him like he thinks an errant breeze might carry you away.

“I have…” he begins quietly, “… there’s a lot that goes on in my head… Bad things, I guess. I thought you’d run away. Or that I’d pull you down with me. I still don’t know that won’t happen.”

He looks so vulnerable that it makes your heart hurt but at the same time you have to stifle a smile.

“Well I’d rather you let me try to deal with it. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for being.”

His expression grows a little guilty and he nods. He wraps his arms tighter around you and you do the same until the two of you are lying in your bed, wound around each other.

[thatsamericano]

True Colors Shining Through

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Smaller appearances from Germany, Veneziano, Canada, England, France, and Japan.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for mild cursing. Brief moment of possible homophobia from an unnamed nation, but it’s up to interpretation.

Word Count: 1647

Summary: America surprises everyone when he shows up to the world meeting in a rainbow colored business suit, including his boyfriend Romano.

A/N: Written for @hetalia-writers-monthly, for the June concrete prompt “rainbow.” Inspired by this post from @bitchapalooza. Title taken from the Cyndi Lauper song “True Colors.”

Germany was grumbling to himself as he arranged a stack of papers in preparation for the world meeting. “It would be nice if people could respect everyone else’s busy schedule and actually show up to the meeting on time.”

“Ve, don’t stress out so much, Ludo,” Feliciano said. “Almost everyone is here, except for America and whoever is supposed to be sitting next to him.”

Romano paused in the middle of his boredom-induced doodling long enough to roll his eyes at his little brother. “It’s Canada. America’s brother.”

“Right, Canada! I wonder why they haven’t showed up yet.”

Savino shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Beats me.” But he was wondering why Alfred hadn’t shown up yet. When they spoke on the phone last night, Alfred had been quite enthusiastic about some “surprise” he had planned for the meeting. He was also thrilled that he’d get to spend some time with Savino after the meeting, because the distance between them usually limited how much time they could spend together in person. Of course, Alfred being Alfred, he had expressed his excitement in the sappiest way possible and left Romano a blushing mess by the time the phone call ended.

America and Romano had only been together a few weeks, and they hadn’t gone public with their relationship yet because it was so new. They were still figuring things out about themselves and each other. Fredo knew he’d probably have to “come out” at some point, but unlike Savino, he didn’t have a label for his sexuality that made sense to him. All he knew was that he was happy with Romano and that anyone who gave him or his boyfriend crap for it would deserve some creative insults (if they were human) or a punch in the face (if they were a nation and therefore able to withstand Alfred’s punches without dying). Savino agreed strongly with Alfred on the latter point, and he didn’t mind waiting a bit until Alfred felt more comfortable telling people about them. For now, it was nice to have their relationship be just between them, without having to face the scrutiny or opinions of any other nations.

Romano idly continued doodling until the door to the conference room opened. He glanced up as Canada ducked his head into the doorway. “Sorry we’re late, eh?”

“It’s alright. Please take your seat,” Germany replied.

Canada turned his head to whisper to someone behind him, and then he walked into the room, followed closely by his brother. Romano’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw what Alfred had worn to the meeting.

It was only a business suit in the most technical sense of the term. The jacket, the trousers, and the tie were all striped with the colors of the rainbow. Or more specifically, the colors of the rainbow pride flag. Alfred’s ridiculously loud outfit contrasted with the darker and more muted suits everyone else was wearing. The only part of America’s outfit that was normal was his white shirt, his normal briefcase, his glasses, and his black patent leather shoes.

A stunned silence fell over the room, and it was only broken by a few hushed, baffled whispers. Alfred glanced over at Savino to flash him a quick smile before he sat down, but he didn’t explain himself to anyone. Apparently, he didn’t feel the need to, just like Savino didn’t feel the need to respond to his little brother poking him in the arm and asking him what was going on. Not that he would’ve been able to tell Feli what the fuck was going on, because he was just as confused as everyone else.

England, who was sitting on America’s right, was the first person to speak. “Alfred, what the bloody hell are you wearing?!”

America laughed and pulled some papers out of his briefcase. “It’s a business suit, dude. I’m pretty sure they have those in England.”

“I think what Angleterre was trying to say is that your outfit today is a bit more… how you say, flamboyant than your usual attire,” France pointed out as diplomatically as he could. “Especially for a world meeting.”

“It’s Pride Month. Being flamboyant is kind of the point, isn’t it?”

France blinked in disbelief, and the whispering from before increased into a steady, background hum. Romano heard someone from across the room scoffing and asking why America had to “show off” instead of wearing a pin like anyone else would have, and Romano turned to glare spitefully in their general direction. Sure, wearing a rainbow business suit to a world meeting was over the top in a way only Alfred would be, but America had every right to “show off.” Savino wouldn’t let anyone talk about his boyfriend like that.

Japan cleared his throat. “Alfred-san, forgive me if this is an intrusive question, but are you trying to tell us that you’re gay?”

“Don’t worry bro, it’s fine. And to answer your question, yeah. I’m not sure of my exact label, but I am into guys, or at least one guy in particular.” A broad grin stole over his face, and then Alfred looked directly at Savino and winked at him.

Savino’s face instantly turned scarlet, because Alfred’s wink and his grin made him flustered beyond all reason, damn it. America’s blatant statement, along with Romano’s reaction, naturally prompted even more gossip. The loud cry of “ha, I knew it!” from Lithuania was not particularly surprising, and neither were Spain’s or Feli’s comments on how much Savino was blushing, but they were embarrassing. Of course, true to form, Fredo verbally declared that Savino’s blushing was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, which was flattering, but the kind of compliment he was much more accustomed to hearing in private, not in front of literally the entire world. Romano’s face was so warm that he probably could have fried an egg on it.

Savino glared weakly at his boyfriend. “You’re only making it worse, asshole.”

“I’m only being honest, babe,” Alfred said plainly, like it was no big deal. “Everyone here can see how cute and handsome you are.”

Savino couldn’t help it. With Alfred saying sappy things like that and looking at him like he hung the moon, he cracked a smile. Alfred grinned back at him. They continued staring into each other’s eyes as Germany stood up from his chair and attempted to get the meeting back under control.

“Unless anyone has any further surprise announcements, I’m going to begin my presentation.”

America quit staring at him for about half a second to acknowledge what Germany had said. “I think we’re good, dude.”

Once Germany started talking, Romano did his best to pay attention. He took a few notes, idly sketched in his notebook, and glanced up to roll his eyes fondly whenever he felt America gazing at him like the obvious dork he was.

Eventually, it was time for the scheduled lunch break. As Romano was packing up his things, he overheard Poland telling Hungary that he was totally going to wear a pink sequined dress to the next world meeting, because America shouldn’t be the only one getting to wear whatever they wanted. Hungary laughed and said he had a point.

Alfred started to come around the other side of the table, and Feli nudged his shoulder and smirked. “I’ll have lunch with Germany today. That way you and your ragazzo can have some alone time.”

Savino could only stammer out a couple syllables before his little brother was rushing off to catch up with Germany. As Feli was latching onto the macho potato’s arm, Alfred slipped into the space beside him. “Hey, Vinny.”

“Hey, caro.” He glanced up and down Alfred’s body, then smirked as he looked up into his eyes. “Interesting outfit.”

Alfred blushed and smiled, shyer than he would have in front of anyone else. “You like it? I stumbled across it online when I was looking for something else, and it called out to me, like the stuff Billy Mays used to sell in infomercials. I had to buy it.”

Savino snorted. “It is very… you. I wouldn’t have expected to see it at a world meeting, though.”

Alfred fidgeted with the hem of his jacket sleeve and glanced away with a worried look on his face. “It was okay that I told everyone about us today, right? Before we went in, Mattie said I probably should’ve consulted with you beforehand, but I’ve just been so happy and proud to be with you, and I didn’t want to have to hide it anymore. I didn’t even think to—”

Savino gently took hold of his hand, which stopped his boyfriend’s nervous babbling. “It’s okay. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come out today. And knowing you, I figured that loud, public declarations would be part of the deal sooner or later.”

Alfred chuckled and laced their fingers together. His smile was equal parts relieved and adoring. “Okay, cool. Glad I didn’t mess that up too badly. Are you free for lunch?”

Savino huffed out a laugh. “Feli just ditched me for the potato bastard so I could have ‘alone time’ with you.”

Alfred giggled. “That’s really nice of him. I feel like I owe your brother a million dollars.”

They continued chatting back and forth, and Romano wasn’t sure if it was Alfred’s gleeful, lovestruck tone, his sweet words, or the fact that they were holding hands, but he felt warm and content as they went into the elevator and as they left the building and walked down the sidewalk together. He held Alfred’s hand until they took a table at the restaurant, because he was just as proud to be in this relationship as Alfred was, even if he was more inclined to show it with body language than rainbow colored business suits.