#sorry for the overuse of full stops in the tags words are the one thing my brain takes seriously.

[brotpqueen]

Me writing my fic, having Aziraphale as a university literature student hoping to become an author (okay do I get points for being a LITTLE different than bookshop owner or professor?), meanwhile Crowley is doing astronomy:…

I like how good omens au’s give C&A their jobs.

Crowleys is a doctor, stripper, scientist, botany/history proffesor, sex worker, preist, reptile shop owner, flower shop owner, barista, IT worker, bussines man, police, astronomist, influencer etc

Aziraphale is a bookshop owner. He MIGHT be a proffesor. In literature.

(Look in the reposts for recs)

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU // Chapter 1 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Reader (You) Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. For years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because you feel like something halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t wash the smell of hospital out of clothes, not really. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is how long will they want to? Chapter Summary: After your annual interrogation with Sheriff Stilinski, you meet his son who turns out to be very handy with jumper cables and incoherent babbling.

A/N: Does this look familiar? It should lmao. I gave into the peer pressure. All the messages and requests were too powerful. Here is a reader version of my ofc season 1 fic. Obviously some things have been removed to get rid of specific names/descriptions, so you want to read the full thing you can read the og version and check me out on ao3 (dork_knight)! For the sake of not clogging tags, I'll probably just do my reader version on tumblr and the full oc lore version on ao3 from now on. xx

Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

Before your mother’s death, you would have picked fire. Every single time. 

You never liked the cold; never really had to get used to it growing up in central California—but the crux of your argument, the twisted logic behind it all, was that most burn victims died from suffocation before they felt the flames. A small mercy, really, in the face of unspeakable tragedy. 

In the end, however, statistics were just numbers, your mother didn't die from smoke inhalation, and there was no mercy in burying a parent before you were old enough to have children of your own. Nothing ever ended poetically off the page. Death was just death, and it was always ugly. Someone should really tell that to Robert Frost, you mused, biting at a raw hangnail.

The medical examiner said the actual cause of death was pulmonary edema; at least, that was his best guess based on the state of the body. He didn’t say that she felt everything, her skin peeling back into her flesh, her flesh liquefying into fuel, her joints flexing into contorted pleas until the fire incinerated her last nerve ending. He didn’t have to; you connected those dots all on your own. You’d been twelve at the time, not an imbecile. 

“I’m sorry to drag you through this all again.”

You flitted your eyes away from the flickering lightbulb above Sheriff Stilinski’s head and met his gaze; it was nauseatingly sympathetic. Your responding shrug was a small, little thing—more like a twitch in practice, “Not your fault.” 

Your yearly visits to Sheriff Stilinski’s office were solely your father’s doing, even if no one wanted to admit it to your face. Most mayors would use their political power to get their child out of a police station, not into it, but perhaps he stopped being your dad somewhere between the funeral and now. 

“If you could start—”

“From the beginning,” you smoothed your thumb in small circles over the armrest of your chair, attentively tracing patterns into the polished wood, “I know.” This was, after all, the fourth anniversary of your first interrogation. You’d become somewhat of an expert at being a useless witness. You picked at your uneven cuticles before continuing, “Mom put me to bed around 10:00—which was kind of late for a school night, honestly, but she let me stay up to finish another chapter anyway.” The right corner of your mouth twitched for a brief moment, “Nancy Drew: Password to Larkspur Lane. I told her that forcing someone to go to sleep in the middle of a mystery was specifically forbidden in Geneva Protocol II.” Your mom had been far too indulgent of your lip on most occasions, but that night she didn’t smile at your snarky aside. She let you finish the chapter because she was too tired to argue; you could tell. At the time, you saw it as a victory. Now, it kept you up at night, the drooping lines of your mother’s mouth spilling over the pages of whatever book you were trying to read.

You bit down on your tongue when a stray splinter snagged against the soft pad of your thumb, “Dad was out of town, so it was just the two of us. Mom always put me to bed when Dad was gone; said it was the only way she could get to sleep. Had to make sure my window was locked.” You paused for a long moment: everything went dark after this. Your mother kissed the top of your head, murmured, ‘Love you,’ turned out the light, and then that was it. You woke up in the hospital, and your mom was dead. 

A bead of sweat dripped onto your top lip. The air in the Beacon Hills police station was, without fail, sticky with heat and body odor—and it wasn’t just the oppressive Californian sun. Even in the winter, a person could choke on the stifling warmth. Idly, you wondered if it was a matter of interrogatory tactics or budgetary constraints. 

“And then,” Sheriff Stilinski prompted gently, though you both knew how the story went from here. You had told it to him and a dozen other officials at least a hundred times in the last four years. 

You bit down on your thumbnail and winced when your teeth snagged on the tender nail bed, “And then nothing. I opened my eyes, and a nurse said that you found me on the front lawn.” 

“You don’t remember how you got outside?” 

You shook your head, staring past the Sheriff's shoulder. Large pieces of dust floated through the air, highlighted by the slivers of light trickling through the blinds. Suddenly, you had a newfound appreciation for the lack of fans in the room. 

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his jaw, “You don’t remember saying it was an angel?”

Blinking slowly, you looked at the grim line of the Sheriff’s mouth and gripped your knees tightly, digging your fingers into fragile skin until your wrist cracked, “I should, right? I was twelve. I should remember something—that’s what everyone thinks. That’s what my dad thinks.” Your eyelids fluttered to a tight close, and your voice went so quiet you could barely be heard over the hum of the copier outside the door, “He thinks it was me. That’s why he makes you question me every year.” Copper flooded your mouth as the soft lining of your cheek split under the brunt of your teeth, “He thinks you’ll finally figure out how I did it.” 

You were scared to open your eyes as the silence stretched between the two of you. You’d danced around the subject before, hinted and spun around the heart of it, but you’d never truly discussed how it looked from the outside. Sheriff Stilinski had been kind enough to give you a few different excuses over the years: trauma, head injury, oxygen deprivation, just plain ol’ grief—but whatever caused your temporary amnesia wasn’t so conveniently explained. In fact, currently, you had no explanation at all. When you finally peeked through your lashes, clumped together with frustrated tears, you couldn’t quite figure out what expression the Sheriff was making. He leaned back in his desk chair and frowned, “I’m sure he doesn’t—”

“He does,” you cut him off. Your eyes went flinty, irises darkening to something far more ashen with the resolve of your anger. You never had any trouble reading your father’s face; the disgust was thinly-veiled between the flickers of fear. 

Sheriff Stilinksi leaned forward so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. They were kind—more tired than usual, but still kind. They always were. That was one thing you remembered from that day, waking up in the hospital to Sheriff Stilinski’s kind, watery blue eyes, just before the entire world fell apart. His voice was gentle, but firm, when he finally spoke, “I don’t.” 

You nodded numbly and pulled at a fraying string on the hem of your denim skirt until the thread snapped. 

“I mean it, kid. They couldn’t identify the source of the fire. They couldn’t even find an origin point; no twelve-year-old could pull that off.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Could anyone?”

Sheriff Stilinski’s brow furrowed, and his mouth screwed up into a crooked line, like he was chewing on his words and deciding if he should swallow them or spit them out. “I wish I had all the answers for you. I really do. Not knowing, it’s worse than any truth.”

You blinked up at him for a moment, once again taken aback by his raw sincerity, and swallowed hard. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to have the answers; he was the one who was supposed to ask the questions. There was one failure in his muggy office, and it wasn’t the Sheriff. “It’s okay,” you said quietly. “Not your fault.”

He looked like he wanted to argue the point, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sharp ringing of the phone on his desk. “I have to take this, but if you remember something, or if you just need to talk—”

“My dad spends a small fortune on a psychiatrist and a behavioral therapist for that,” you stood up quickly, shouldering your bag. You forced the corners of your mouth into a small smile, tight at the edges like a sheet that had been stretched too thin, “But thank you. For everything.” 

The Sheriff’s gaze darted to a framed photo on his desk. You had seen it before, on one of your many visits to his office. It was of a boy—his son, you assumed—he looked like he was around five or six at the time. He was grinning, wide enough to show off his missing incisors, and his fingers and wrist were stained cotton-candy blue from a melting popsicle. You must’ve been that happy once, right? In the beginning, everyone was unencumbered by the weight of imminent mortality. Maybe that’s what Sheriff Stilinski was thinking, too. He looked away from the photo and gave you a small smile, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You gave a half-hearted wave before wrapping your fingers around the strap of your backpack and walking to the parking lot. 

Outside, the sky was grim, a mocking reflection of the dour expression on your face. The spite in your eyes hardened when big, fat raindrops splattered against the apples of your cheeks. For a moment, you just stood there, glaring at the rain and cursing the cosmos for their utterly unamusing sense of humor.

A jeep pulled into the parking lot, and the squealing engine startled you back into reality. The search for your car keys was, of course, a considerable endeavor. Nothing could be easy. Not here. Not today. Not ever, you thought. A bit melodramatic maybe, but the weather was certainly ripe for a bit of self-pity.

You stacked your textbooks and binders onto the hood of your sedan, haphazardly throwing your jacket on top of the pile to protect your painstakingly penned Kafka essay from the rain. By the time your fingertips brushed against the cool metal of your car keys, your hair was damp and curling at the ends. 

The momentary relief was short-lived when you pressed the unlock button five times and the accompanying beep didn’t sound, not even once. For an absurdly long minute, all you could do was rest your forehead against the driver’s side window, breathing heavily until condensation gathered next to your mouth and the drizzle speckled dots onto the sleeves of your thin cotton shirt.

“If you’re trying to charge the battery through osmosis, it’d probably be more effective to smash your head against the hood.”

You jumped, and then flinched again when your keys clattered against the ground. You caught a glimpse of the phantom speaker in the side-view mirror; bizarrely, he looked just as surprised as you felt. You turned around, trepidatiously—objects may be closer than they appear n’all—and tried to swallow your rapidly rising heart. 

“Sorry,” the boy pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down and had the decency to look contrite, “big mouth.” He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. “It’s a real problem. It’s so big, actually, that my foot just slides right in there like…all the time,” he gestured animatedly with a flat hand, a quick sliding motion, like a fish through water.

You blinked at him, slowly, and bent down to reach for your keys, “Might wanna see someone about that. Sounds unsanitary.”

“Eh, it’s hardly the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” he said, eyes widening into horrified round circles the second he stopped talking. A faint flush creeped up his neck to his ears, and your heart dropped back into your chest. Slashers and ax murderers didn’t blush. Probably. You hadn’t ever met one, but it seemed like sound logic.

“Choking hazard,” you hummed, leaning back against your car. Your fingers traced a small dent in the door, the cause long forgotten, “It’s definitely still a choking hazard.”

The boy grinned before fixing his expression into something on the cusp of severity, “I’m about 95.7% sure that anything bigger than a fist is completely mouth-safe.” He held up his fist and nodded sharply, “Make that 98.3% sure.”

“98.3?” your brow arched.

“Maybe even 98.9.” 

The buzz of a lamp post hummed above your heads as you stared at each other with little smirks until the quiet made you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and big-mouth drum his fingers against his forearm. 

“So,” his sneakers squeaked against the slick asphalt as he shifted his weight, “you need a jump?”

You pursed your lips and ran your eyes over the front of your car, “I might give osmosis another shot. 30 seconds is hardly a fair trial.”

“Of course,” he hummed, “you gotta be fair.”

“We are in front of a police station.”

“Well,” he scratched his cheek, “it’s not a courthouse.”

“Technicality.” You were slightly horrified when you finally noticed that you were smiling. The sensation felt like it had escaped straight out of the uncanny valley and latched onto your face like a parasite in need of a host. It only took two weeks for muscles to atrophy; years must have completely decimated the fibers in your cheeks. “I guess I could use a jump. If your offer was an offer and not a hypothetical.” 

“Smart choice.” The boy rapped his knuckles against the hood of your car and said, “Steel’s probably pretty low on the permeability scale.”

“As opposed to a skull.”

He snorted and then nodded towards the large lump of books and papers covered by your freshly dampened jean jacket, “You should probably move your stuff. Y’know, ‘cause of the very un-permeable battery.”

“There’s that,” you sighed and started stuffing your things back into your backpack, shaking it violently until your notebook finally slid past your chemistry textbook, “and flunking English isn’t high on my list of things to do this weekend.”

His gaze flickered back and forth, rapidly cataloging every corner and crevice of your face. You tilted your head, brows pinched, and stared back at him with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. His eyes, you noticed, became a peculiar shade of brown in the yellow glow of the setting sun and the fluorescent light of the lamppost. More like honey, you realized, more like honey than irises. Something finally clicked behind them. "You,” he pointed aggressively, “you go to Beacon Hills.”

You pushed his finger away from your face with your own, “Safe bet, considering there’s exactly one option for the next 2,000 square miles.”

“You’re kind of a smartass, you know that,” he muttered. He struggled with the trunk of the jeep parked next to your car, cursing under his breath until he finally wrenched it open with an almost guttural grunt.

Your lips parted briefly, and then you grinned drolly. It was refreshing, not being treated like some fragile little creature who would buckle in the knees—or possibly set something on fire—at the slightest confrontation. “Kind of?”

“Total.” He nodded decisively before sticking his head and torso into the depths of his trunk. “Completely, entirely, and wholly a smartass.” There were various clanging sounds until he re-emerged with a pair of jumper cables, “Never noticed that in class. You don’t really…say anything.”

You bit back the snark poised on the tip of your tongue. When people looked at you, the only thing they saw was the worst thing that had ever happened to you. You were the daughter of the woman who burned to death on Cedar Street; your mom died, and you were there. It seemed like that was all you would ever be in Beacon Hills. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was better to be no one. 

High school had been your chance to slip into social obscurity—more kids, more drama, less discussion of homicide by arson—so you took it, wholeheartedly. You kept to the corners of classrooms, away from extracurriculars, and your mouth resolutely shut. 

“I try to exclusively bring the smart and leave the ass at home,” you finally replied.

The boy’s eyes drifted downwards for a moment, and his voice did a funny, squeaky thing when he said, “I should give that a go sometime.”

“10/10 would recommend. No one bugs you—and teachers never throw erasers at your face.”

“So you do remember me,” he grinned a little and rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt before unlatching the jeep’s hood and propping it open.

Slanting your head, you watched his profile. There were moles scattered across his cheek and neck, and his angular jaw clenched as he struggled with the knotted cords in his willowy fingers. “Vaguely,” you said faintly. It was coming back to you in pieces. That was life after twelve for you: bits and pieces. Everything was made up of the disquieting moments when you surfaced from the haze and into the present. It should’ve felt like a lungful of air, but it didn’t. It always felt like choking. 

He wiped his grease-smudged hand on his jeans and then extended it towards you, “Stiles.”

You took his hand, despite the strange formality, and shook it—mainly because of the black streaks staining his pants. “Y/N.”

His fingers twitched a few times when he connected the clamp to the coordinating battery terminal, and your eyes widened. You held your breath in your sternum until you registered that he hadn’t been electrocuted. He was just naturally tweaky, you concluded. It was either that, or he had jumped one-too-many engines in the last 24 hours…unless it was hidden option C, and he was actually tweaking. Unlikely, given he was on his way into a building teeming with cops, but far stranger things had happened in Beacon Hills.  

You sighed a little as you listened to the rain patter against the asphalt and the roof of your car, rubbing your palms over your arms until the goosebumps prickling along your biceps receded into your skin. Stiles looked back at you again, and his mouth wormed its way into a little frown. His head disappeared into his trunk, and after a moment a lumpy maroon mass hurtled towards your face. You caught it before it could smack into your nose, and you clutched at the soft material until you realized that the projectile missile was actually just a sweatshirt. 

Stiles was staring at you when you looked up from your hands. A small, unsure…something squirmed over his face, and you felt a little stupid, just standing there, hoodie limp in your arms. It happened a lot—more than it should after so many years. The invisible quicksand materialized in the strangest, most insignificant moments. You blinked, completely brainless, at simple questions, stared aimlessly into your closet until your second alarm startled you into snatching the first shirt you came across—clasped at a stranger’s hoodie until the rainwater pooled on your lashes dripped into your eyes.

Robotically, you thrust your arms through the sleeves and tugged it over your head, “Thanks.” The sweet scent of grass clung to the fabric, and there was something earthier underneath it, something like evergreen. You smiled slightly, combing your baby hairs behind your ears, “I guess I forgive you for attempting to blind me in the process.”

Stiles’s shoulders unwound as he scoffed, “That was an excellent throw. First-line material, honestly.”

You looked at him and tilted your head, eyebrows crawling towards your hairline, and Stiles sighed loudly, “Okay, so I’m not an ‘athlete’ or whatever—but I’m working on it. You’ll see—you’ll all see.”

You hummed softly, unconvinced but grateful enough to not comment further. Another bout of silence fell between you, but it wasn’t so restless this time—even after Stiles torpedoed his body through his passenger seat. He fought with his keys for a while until the correct one slid into the ignition. 

The jeep’s engine hummed pleasantly in the background as you let out a soft sigh, dropping your head back against your car window. The rain had stopped somewhere between trying to unlock your car and now, but you couldn’t quite recall when. The chill wasn’t so bad, you realized, without your foul mood casting a shadow over your head.

Stiles landed back on his feet and leaned against the jeep. You could feel his gaze on you again. A tickling sensation trailed down your spine as you fiddled with your keychain. You took a step backwards and bit your bottom lip, “I should probably try start my car…y’know, before you throw something else at my face.’”

He nodded, taking a step towards his jeep, “Solid plan. A tire iron was next.”

You slid into your car and stared at the steering wheel, forgetting to laugh at his joke. You wrapped your fingers around 10 and 2 and silently called upon every deity you’d ever heard of to end your suffering. Stiles seemed nice enough, but you seriously doubted your smalltalk capabilities were up-to ‘ride home’ standards. Perhaps, you should revisit your resounding dedication to atheism, you thought, as the engine sputtered in protest a few times and then came back to life. 

Stiles flashed two thumbs up through the window. The smile on his face was positively goofy, but his dismount from the jeep was somehow even goofier. He stumbled over his large feet a few times before regaining stability. You bit back a smile when he shot you another thumbs up, this time through the dash as he removed the jumper cables from your car’s battery.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans again; at this point, you were convinced that they were beyond saving, but Stiles didn’t seem concerned. He tapped against your window before stepping around the open door, “You should probably let it run for a while. Take the scenic route home; enjoy all the Beacon Hills hotspots open past 8:00 pm on a weeknight. I personally recommend the Rite Aid or Walmart.”

You snorted, “Maybe I’ll swing by the Preserve. I hear the woods are especially beautiful in the foreboding darkness.”

“Don’t.” Serious was an odd look on Stiles’s face. You decided that you much preferred the goofy grin. “Don’t go anywhere near the Preserve. It’s officially cordoned off—totally locked down, quarantine-zone-central. Something about flesh-eating, parasitic plant life.”

“As completely real and unobtrusive as that sounds,” you drawled, “don’t worry about it. Literally every single person in town knows about the body they found in the woods.” It was bound to happen, small town and all—and ‘woman dies in deadly animal attack’ was the most interesting thing that had happened in Beacon Hills since the intersection got a Target two years ago. “I’ve seen every installment of Friday the 13th and The Blair Witch Project. If I’m going to be murdered, I refuse to also be humiliated by a cliché C.O.D.” 

The manic expression on his face softened to a relieved smile and then again to a little smirk, “So what’s a certified fresh murder, then? Not that I doubt the depths of human depravity, but I think society killed off originality a few centuries ago.”

You thought back to a house fire with no origin, accelerant, or discernible cause. Apparently, not. “You know what they say,” you sighed, “life finds a way.”

Stiles tilted his head, “And death.”

“And death,” you agreed, staring at a small chip in your windshield. The cracks had just begun to spiderweb out from the pit. 

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, and he looked so much like the Sheriff with his face twisted around thoughtful contemplation that you couldn’t believe it had taken you this long to make the connection. The boy in the photo had grown up. How unfortunate for him. Stiles swallowed whatever it was that was lingering on his tongue and shut your door. He leaned his elbow against the window frame and cocked his hand in a stiff little wave, “Seeya at school. I’ll bring something fun for target practice—maybe grapes. You like grapes? Don’t answer that—I’ll surprise you.”

You put your car in drive once Stiles was safely a few feet from the wheels and gave him a dry smile, “The anticipation is killing me.”

What a scary place to be, you thought as you watched Stiles disappear in your rearview mirror. Anticipation. Hope. Life. You were chronically good at surviving; cockroached your way out of every horrible thing life squashed you with. Lately, all you could do was cling to your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin, until you were barely more than roadkill. A walking carcass was a far cry from living, but death would not stop for you, so you stopped looking for him. You kept treading water, took your pills, stopped existing—you were a lot like Schrödinger’s cat that way: too stubborn to live, too stubborn to die. You didn’t know what to do if someone unsealed the box and forced you to choose. That was the trouble with possibility; it required far too much uncertainty.

Your dad’s SUV was parked in the garage when you finally pulled into your circle driveway. It was a rare sight; your dead battery had disrupted your usual routine. You were supposed to be safely tucked away in your room after an early dinner—take-out usually, sometimes a quesadilla if you were feeling exceptionally inspired—by the time your dad got home from work. It was dysfunctional in every sense of the word, but it was the only way you could function in the same space. 

He used to stare at you from the other end of the dinner table: not eating, not speaking. The only way you knew he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest. After a while, he moved dinner to his office. ‘Working dinner,’ he’d say in passing, ‘budgets are due.’ Eventually, he stopped coming home altogether. It was better that way, you thought. You loved each other better from afar, where the power of nostalgia could cloud all the present unpleasantries. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you now. You wondered, and you desperately didn’t want to find out.  

You shouldered your backpack and made sure your car lights were off twice before quietly creeping into the mudroom. You could hear the buzz of the microwave as you toed off your sneakers and tried to discern the smell emanating from the kitchen. Something with garlic and tomato. Bona Vita, probably. Your dad loved their al pomodoro. 

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as you skulked into the kitchen, shoulders hunched to your ears and grip tight around the strap of your backpack. Your dad’s back was to you; you could see the wrinkles in his collar from where he tugged at it when he was agitated. He stopped stirring his pasta once you reached the island. 

“Did…” your dad trailed off for a moment, still facing the kitchen counter, “did everything go alright with the Sheriff?” 

You shrugged even though he couldn’t see you, “I guess.”

“It’s just,” he rubbed at his jaw and looked down towards the oven, “it’s almost eight. I was wondering…worrying.”

He still wasn’t looking at you. You stared at the back of his head and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. Look at me. Your brows pinched, and your back molars ground together. Look at me. 

“I called him. Sheriff Stilinski. He said that you didn’t speak for long.”

“Didn’t have anything new to say,” you shoved your hands into hoodie pockets, realizing belatedly that you forgot to give Stiles his sweatshirt back. Another problem for another time. 

“That’s not what I—” your dad grasped the lip of the counter and hung his head like it suddenly weighed too much for his spine, “I was wondering what happened to you.” 

“Oh,” you shifted your weight onto your other foot, “dead battery. I think it was the door light.”

Your dad nodded a little, “Do you need someone to pick up your car?”

“Got a jump from a friend.” Not a friend, not really, but you supposed it was the closest you’d come to one in the last four years. That was just a little too sad to say out loud. 

“Good.” He nodded again, “Good.” 

You nodded because it seemed like the only thing to do and slipped towards the hallway. You’d taken no less than five steps out of the kitchen when your dad said, “You could call me. Next time, you could call me.”

Maybe. Maybe you could if he would look at you.

[mickeyswhore]

Condescending

Summary: Mickey is your boyfriend and he realises something about you and takes full advantage of it.

Mickey Altieri x Reader

Warnings: dumbification, Mickey is VERY patronising here, Clueless slander (I'm so sorry), just overall smut ig, overuse of the word bunny, let me know if I forgot anything else

Want me to make a Tag List? Here!

GIF by @coppoladelrey

Mickey loves to talk down at you, no matter what the subject is. But his favourite one is films,

he loves to talk about how your tastes in films is too common and how you need to learn more about it. You pretend that is simply a joke every time he does it, but the thing is that 

you know he isn’t and the worst part it? You love it, you love every single insult he throws at you and it makes you wet just thinking about it.

You loved Clueless, so you wanted to watch it tonight. You and Mickey are currently in his dorm room by yourselves, Derek went on a date with Sidney. Mickey had a serious problem in picking apart your taste in films and he wasn’t subtle about it, it came to a point where you hid your favourite films from him and only watching his “classic” films.

“Come on, bunny. This film is incredibly subpar, Paul Rudd was alright but other than just a convoluted plot that is kinda creepy.” Mickey still didn't let you put the tape on, he grabbed it from your hands and was keeping it away from you. “Underage girl that falls in love with her older step brother? You should know better than that, I can’t handle this. It’s kinda stupid coming from you.” He had his free hand on your thigh and he was looking at you with his head tilted forward, a low key Kubrick stare.

“I just want a good feel film that is pretty, alright?” You took a deep breath and looked at him, Mickey had huge grin on his face.

“Of course you do, you need to turn off your brain don’t you? Thinking is too hard for you, isn’t bunny? You need me to make all of the decisions for you, right?” Suddenly Mickey was behind you and he was pulling your dress and he pulled your panties to the side and he felt how wet you were. “You love when I talk to you like this, right? You love when I think for you, right bunny?” You nodded and Mickey laughed. “Oh, bunny you’re so fucking wet.” He inserted a finger in your cunt and you moaned putting your head on his shoulder, you opened your legs even further.

“Look at you, you can’t even reply to me. I only need my fingers to fuck you dumb, imagine how dumb I’m gonna make you after I pound your tight little pussy with my big fat cock.” He whishpered in your ear and you whimpered. “Oh, bunny.” He laughed condescendingly, and added a second finger and his thumb started making circles on your clit, you started moaning even loude, you tried to close your legs but Mickey didn't allow that. “Come on, bunny…you can take it.” His other arm grabbed your leg and kept it open, he picked up the rhythm and fingered you even harder.

Mickey could feel you clenching around his fingers, he looked at the mirror that Derek had on the dorm and he had full view of your cunt. “Come on bunny, cum all over my fingers.” The noises were so loud and as if it was on cue, you came hard. Mickey helped you ride out your orgasm, he slowly removed his fingers and put them on his mouth. “So tasty, bunny.” He hummed, after that he got on his knees and you felt his tongue on your clit and you moaned.

“Mickey, please…too much.” You groaned but he didn't stop, he kept eating you out and your hands went straight to his hair and Mickey pulled you closer with his arms around your hips, he was feasting on your pussy.

“You can take it, bunny. Cum on my tongue for me.” His ministrations were quick and he was watching you fall apart, your back was arching, your breath was shallow and Mickey was loving every second of it. He grazed your clit with his teeth and that made you jump but Mickey kept you in place. “You look so cute like this, bunny. Completely on my mercy, you look so fucking hot.” 

Your pussy was clenching over nothing, and you could tell that another orgasm was approaching. You were pulling Mickey’s hair and he groans, he loves when you do that. You came again, and Mickey didn't waste any time and started slurping on your pussy and he never stops looking at you, while you can’t keep eye contact. After riding out your orgasm again, Mickey gets up and you see his huge cock hard on his trousers, it looked like it hurt.

“Can I suck your cock, Mickey? Please?” Your mouth was watering looking at the outline of his cock, and Mickey laughed.

“You’re so cock drunk, aren’t you bunny? Come here.” He started removing his trousers and his cock sprung free and you quickly put his cock in your mouth and Mickey loved to see you so desperate for his cock. “Just like that, bunny.” You hollowed your cheeks and started sucking his cock, Mickey started groaning, your mouth felt like heaven, he held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and he started fucking your throat. 

Tears were started falling and Mickey wiped it with his thumb, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. “Keep your eyes on me, bunny.” You readily obey and kept your eyes on him, he looked so hot with his mouth in an o shape and messy hair. Mickey threw his head back and started fucking your throat in with a reckless abandon again. “Fuck, bunny your mouth feels like heaven. FUCK.” Mickey felt that he was going to cum, and he only cums deep inside your pussy so he pulled your head away from his cock, as soon as you lost contact with his cock you started pouting and Mickey laughed.

“Sorry, bunny but you know that I only cum on your tight little pussy.” Mickey pulled you and started kissing you. “I want you on all fours, bunny.” You quickly got on your hands and knees, Mickey slapped your ass and you moaned at the sensation.

He rubbed the head of his cock on your clit before thrusting inside your cunt and you screamed and moaned, his cock always streched you out no matter how many times Mickey fucked you it always streched you out so well. Mickey grabbed your hips and started fucking you hard, you grabbed the sheets and bit your lip and he saw that and did not like it. “Don’t you dare hide those noises from me, bunny.” A needy whine and moan escaped you and Mickey growled, his thrusts were getting faster, he grabbed your hair pulled you closer, your back touching his chest.

“Look at how dumb you get when I’m fucking you, bunny.” Mickey pointed at the mirror and you saw how disheveled you looked with your mouth open panting and moaning. “I know how much you love being my dumb slut, bunny.” You whined at his words and you clenched around his cock. “See, I can feel your tight little pussy clenching around me. You always think too much, bunny. And I love fucking you stupid, you need it, you crave it don’t you bunny?” You whined again and nodded your head, unable you speak and Mickey loved every second of it.

“Need to cum, Mickey.” He knew exactly what that meant, but he loved to see how desperate you to cum.

“You want me to play with your little clit, bunny?” You nodded desperately, Mickey’s thrusts never faltered and it was too much but at the same time not enough. “I know you’re gonna cum all over my cock as soon as I start playing with you little clit.” Mickey started rubbing hard circles on your clit and watched you scream and moan through the mirror.

“Mickey.” You screamed and started squeezing his cock cumming all over it, Mickey’s hand went on your throat, not squeezing it but as a sign of ownership. After he helped you ride out your orgasm, Mickey started chasing his own, you choked on your own throat and you were starting to get exhausted.

“Bunny, look at you…you were made to be mine, you were made to be fucked. You’re too dumb to think on your own, you don’t need to think about anything, you just need my cock slipping you open.” You felt his thrusts getting sloppier and he was grunting and moaning.

You felt the thick ropes of cum inside you, that’s when Mickey stopped and you felt his cock pulsating inside you still. He finally disconnected from you and Mickey grabbed some wet wipes and started wiping the cum off of you, you hissed at the cold wipes on your abused pussy but after a moment it felt good.

“Are you alright, bunny?” Mickey your head and looked at you with nothing but devotion and love in his eyes.

“Yeah.” You nodded smiling at him and he kissed you, it was slow and passionate unlike a few moments before.

“Aren’t you such a good girl?” You got hot over the praise and you hid on his chest, you were starting to get tired so you yawned and Mickey knew that you gone for the night. 

“I love you so much, Mickey.” You confessed already closing your eyes.

“I love you too, bunny. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He kissed your forehead again and sleep overtook you quickly.

After a few minutes, Mickey got up from his bed and started to get ready. He got his mask and voice modulator ready, it wouldn’t take too long he only needed to kill one person tonight and it was on campus. Whilst Mickey got ready, he observed you sleeping and he wasn’t ready to fall in love with you but you took him by surprise by warming your way into his heart.

Mickey was going to talk with Mrs. Loomis, he doesn’t want to get caught anymore, he wants a life with you. And after finishing killing he went straight to his dorm and you were still sleeping peacefully, and he didn't break his promise, he was there when you woke up.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Trine

Anselm Vogelweide X Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Trine Masterlist • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: Blue needs to make a deal with Anselm, Anselm has other things on his mind.

Part 2/Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry.

Warnings: overuse of italics, oral sex (m receiving), hand job, Blue kinda going into sub space, I have not proof read this (I’m so sorry I just can’t look at it anymore), please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 3793

________________________________

Blue shifts a little nervously in his chair. He wasn’t used to this, being the one that wasn’t in control, wasn’t holding all the cards.

He didn’t like it.

But there wasn’t any way around it. 

Anselm owned the police, owned the government, and if Blue wanted to expand the club and make certain annoyances go away, then he had to get into bed with Anselm. Figuratively, of course. 

Blue hadn’t expected to actually meet with the man in person, surely he was far too busy for that. And while Blue didn’t doubt the personal sway he had in his own fair sized pond, he was aware enough to know Anselm was a big fish in a very big ocean. 

Which was why this meeting, and the suddenness of it, had caught him off guard a little.

“And obviously, that percent of the cut would be very highly in your favour.” Blue stumbled a little over his words, his normal silver tongue rusted over. 

Anselm sat on the opposite side of the desk, his fingers elegantly placed over his chin as he listened. He was, irritatingly, unreadable. Though the smallest smile did pull at the corner of his lips. 

Blue hoped that was a good sign. 

The other thing, person, that was throwing him off his game was you.

When he’d been shown into the impressively large office, more space in this one room than most people had in their whole homes, he had noticed you instantly. Reclining on the red chaise lounge to his left. 

You had given him a small smile and that had been enough to make his throat bob and blood quickly rush downwards. He had shaken his head and tried to ignore you, sneaking small sideways glances every so often. 

Anselm hadn’t introduced you, but he looked at you every now and then. Only moving his eyes in a silent question to which you either nodded or shook your head. 

It was unnerving to say the least. 

Your eyes stayed fixed on Blue, admiring him as if he was a sculpture in a gallery or some sumptuous banquet, not a businessman trying to make a deal.  

Anselm had been staring at him for a good fifty seconds now without speaking, without replying. 

Blue swallowed and risked another small glance at you. 

“And what makes you think that percentage is of interest to me, Mr Jones?” 

Anselm’s voice, low and velvet smooth, cutting through the air like a dagger. 

“I, ah, it’s very generous for you, and,” Blue tried to make sure to choose his words carefully. “And, of course you would be able to have full use of my club and it’s services at any time-”

Anselm chuckled, not unkindly, and leaned back in his seat. “What makes you think I have need of your club's services?” 

“Well,” suddenly his tie felt a little too tight, “there are many things my club has to offer, alcohol, gambling, my girls-”

“Are you implying,” he moved his hand from his face to rest against the desk, “that my wife,” he glances at you, “doesn’t satisfy me?”

You chuckle. 

Blood visibly drains from Blue’s face. “No, I, that’s not,” oh shit, oh fuck, ohshitshitshitshitshit, “I obviously didn’t mean any offense, I,” his wife, his wife, you’re his fucking wife, he’d been sneaking looks at one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world’s wife. “Of course, meant that you might be needing, wanting to entertain business associates and-”

“Stop teasing him.” You say to Anselm, a wide grin on your face. “Can’t you see the poor thing’s going to pass out from fright?” 

While normally Blue would take a little more than umbrage at being called a ‘poor thing’, in this instance he was very thankful for it. 

Anselm visibly relaxed, holding his hand ups. “I have to apologise for my tendency to wind others up.” 

“It’s no problem,” Blue swallows. “Nothing to apologise for.” 

Anselm smiles. “So, you want my help so that your business can expand, yes?”

Blue nods. 

“What I want to know is, what will you offer me in exchange?” 

Blue pauses, the question throws him for a loop, he’d just spent the better part of the last forty minutes explaining all the things he was offering Anselm. Every single thing that he could possibly think of to make the deal and sweeten it too. 

He gripped his hands together, interlocking his fingers and squeezing to stop the slight shake that threatened to breakthrough. 

“Like I said,” Blue pulls his best customer service smile onto his face, “there are many things this deal has to offer that would benefit you, the cut of profits alone-”

“I’m not interested in money, Blue.” 

Blue frowns, a look of confusion crossing his face. A deep sense of dread begins to build in his stomach, why did Anselm even want this meeting in the first place? Surely he knew what was on the table, he wasn’t an idiot, he-

You place your hands on Blue’s shoulders and he visibly jumps, having not realised or heard you get up and walk behind him. The action brings a smile to your face. 

You lean down ever so slightly, brushing your chest against the back of his neck. “Anselm’s interested in you.”

Blue freezes, his brain going over your words and checking for errors, making sure he really did hear what he thought he had. 

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” You ask, leaning close and whispering against his ear. “My husband being interested in you?” 

Blue shivers as your proximity, the smell of your perfume intoxicating. “I… um, well, I mean…” He swallows, surely you mean as a business partner, yes, of course, that was it. “I’m faltered, I try to run my club to the best of my-”

“No, no, no,” you whisper, biting back a smile and lightly tracing your hands over his shoulders. “Interested in you.”

“Oh…” Blue paused, the smallest flush dusting his cheeks. “I… I imagine it’s not a big deal,  I don’t think, I mean, well, I’ve never…”

“You’ve never… what, Blue?” You whisper, your voice even softer than before as you slowly kiss his neck, just under his ear. 

Blue swallows again, the audible gulp echoing in the silence, his breathing hard. 

You skim your hands along his chest and start to loosen his tie as Anselm watches with interest. 

Blue blinks heavily. “I… what, what are you doing?” He makes no move to halt your actions, if anything he leans slightly into it. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You mutter against his skin, in between kisses.

His dick twitches, growing harder with every brush of your lips. 

His heartbeat echoes in his temples and shakes his head. “No, don’t stop.” His voice sounds wrecked already, weak and wanting. The anxious energy from the meeting, the adrenaline, quickly mixed with arousal. 

“Good.” 

You glance up at your husband, he smiles watching you both with rapt attention, amused at how quickly Blue seems to be falling apart.  

He shifts in his seat, moving back towards you and your mouth and breathing heavily. 

You suck lightly on his pulse point and he lets out a soft moan. He doesn’t notice you continuing to undo his shirt buttons as you scrap your teeth over his skin. 

“Don’t any of your girls take care of you?” Anselm asks, amusement clear in his voice. 

It takes Blue a good few seconds longer than it should for him to register that he’s being spoken to, and then a few more seconds after than to formulate a response. 

“They… ah, they do, they,” he swallows and gasps as you drag your teeth over his skin. “Not like this… never have any of the girls… been like this.” 

There was something about it, something heady and thrilling that made him almost lightheaded. That he wasn’t taking, he was being taken. 

Anselm chuckles softly. 

Blue lets his eyes fall closed as he leans his head back, giving you more access. It was like he could melt away, just let everything go and just be. “It’s…” He swallows again, struggling to even formulate the words in his mind to begin with. “It’s… different.” 

You sink your teeth into his neck, hard enough to bruise, and then suck a love bite against his jugular. 

Blue moans loudly, wantonly and instinctively reaches back with his hand to grab at you, any part of you. He squeezes your leg, a whispered, “please,” falling out of his lips without him even realising. 

“She’s very good with her mouth… and her hands.” Anselm growls, his eyes dark and blown wide with lust. 

You smile against Blue’s skin, biting him harder, the action just on the border of being too much and somehow not enough. 

“Oh, oh god…” Blue mutters, keening into your touch as you slide your hands under his now completely open shirt and across his chest. 

You lightly pinch his right nipple, scratching over it with the tip of your nail and Blue gaps, his breath catching in his throat at the sensation. 

You repeat the action and his hips buck upwards automatically, another soft moan escaping his lips. 

There’s no way he could possibly hide his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers, begging to be let free. 

“You like my wife’s hands and mouth then?” Anselm asks matter of factly, his voice low and rich. 

Blue manages to open his eyes, to focus on something other than you for more than a second, “yes,” he whispers at the exact moment you bite down on his skin again. “Oh god, that, please,” his eyes close, scrunching up tightly as his stomach muscles twitch under your hands. 

He shouldn’t be letting you do this, letting you touch him and tease him and completely wreck him. He’d blush at the thought of someone doing this to him in private, let alone in front of an audience. But all he wants to do, all he can bring himself to do is just lean back into your touches and caresses and let the pleasure grow warm in his belly. 

You sink your left hand lower and lower, grazing along his chest and stomach until the tips of your fingers skim the edge of his trousers. Your touch light and teasing. 

“I, oh please,” he swallows, his throat bobbing under your tongue, “yes, please,” he squeezes your leg, needing something solid to ground himself. “I-”

“That mouth of yours is so pretty.” You mutter into Blue’s ear, your voice soft and sweet. “Why don’t we put it to better use?” 

Blue’s lost for a moment, still mesmerised by your lips on his skin. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, trying to give you better access. 

It’s only when your lips still, your right hand sliding up to his jaw to hold him in place, that slowly your words start to trickle into his brain. 

“I…” He bites his lip, a small frown of confusion blossoming across his face. 

“Come on,” you slowly coax him out of the chair and to his knees as Anselm stands gracefully and walks around his desk to stop directly in front of Blue. 

Blue follows your directions, distracted by the little kisses you plant over his cheek and temple. 

It’s the click of Anselm’s shoes that bring him back to his surroundings. He glances up, catching the other man’s eyes and swallows nervously. His pulse thunders under your hands and lips. 

Anselm looks down at Blue and smiles, admiring how ruined he already looks, his skin flushed, hair unkept and his neck littered with bruises that your lips and teeth left. 

Heat rises to Blue’s face, he’s captivated by Anselm’s gaze, hot and needy, like liquid gold burning into him. It’s almost enough to distract from the sizable and obvious bulge in the older man’s trousers, that is now at perfect eye level with Blue.

A strange mix of panic and anticipation twists in his chest and Blue looks down. Surely, if-

“”Uh, uh, uh,” you tut and tilt Blue’s face back up to Anselm, keeping a firm hold of his jaw while your other hand teases along his trouser’s fly. 

He looks up at Anselm, forced to once again make eye contact. Shame boils along his veins, humiliation at being here, in this position like some common whore and not even trying to fight it. 

The urge to just give in, to revel in it is so strong. He wants to- No, he’s doing this for his club, his staff, his girls, his customers, if this is what it takes to expand then so be it. He’d get into bed with Anselm, literally. 

You press your chest into Blue’s back, forcing him forward ever so slightly as you reach up and leisurely unzip Anselm’s trousers. 

He watches you and Blue, his head tilted to the side as if he was reading some amusing anecdote in the morning paper. 

Painstakingly slowly, you unbuckle his belt and take out his cock. Anselm sighs as your warm hand touches him and finally frees him from the confines of his trousers. 

You run your hand over his length a few times, pumping him up and down and rubbing your thumb over the head in a way you know he likes. 

Blue watches, hypnotised, his dick twitches and aches with every touch he sees you make. He’d never been this close to another man’s… He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He shouldn’t be getting off to this.

You kiss Blue’s neck again, soft and teasing, amused at how enraptured he is with the sight before him. 

A small moan escapes Blue’s lips, it’s quiet, but undeniable. His eyes go wide instantly, and he stiffens as embarrassment overtakes him. 

“Good boy,” you whisper against his ear. “You like it don’t you?” 

Blue stays quiet. 

“Hmmm?” You pinch his chin lightly with your free hand.

And slowly Blue nods.

Anselm gets out a shaky sigh and you grin.

“We’ll make you feel so good, I promise.” You whisper again, though Blue isn’t completely sure who you're talking to. 

You place another kiss against Blue’s neck and slide your hand on his chin down to grip his jaw with just enough pressure to border on painful. 

“Just enjoy it.” You mutter into Blue’s ear and guide him towards Anselm’s weeping cock. 

He lets you move him, your chest still flush against his back, using your weight as an extra guiding movement. 

Blue pauses, faltering for a second as he gets close, nearly able to touch Anselm if he stuck out his tongue. 

It’s obviously what you want him to do, what you both want him to do, but panic still flares in his mind, he’s never, not with a guy. And it’s so big, there no way he’d be able to fit it all in his mouth and-

“Shh, it’s okay,” you soothe as Blue lets out a little nervous whimper. You tap against his lips with your forefinger, pushing down gently so that he slowly parts them. “There we go.” 

Blue breathes out shakily as you press him closer, guiding him forward. How did his girls even do this? Blue tries to recall past memories, maybe if he'd paid closer attention and not been so caught up in the pleasure of their mouths he’d have a little more to fall back on now. Not that he ever realised that he’d need to rely on that information. 

Heat rises to his cheeks as he pauses, letting his mind overfill with racing thoughts. But it doesn’t last long. 

Anselm takes hold of the back of his head as you guide Blue, pulling at his chin as he takes Anselm’s cock into his mouth. 

“Good boy.” You whisper. 

Anselm lets out a sigh as he swallows around him and Blue tries to force his full length into his mouth. He coughs, chokes and splutters and even though Anselm groans he pushes Blue back slightly. 

Blue looks up at him, tears in the corner of his eyes from coughing. There’s a panic there, a fear of being disappointing. He opens his mouth to apologise but Anselm speaks first. 

“Don’t want you to suffocate on it.” The older man teases.

You chuckle. “Good enthusiasm.”

Blue bites his lip and swallows, your praise goes straight to his dick. 

“Let’s try slower, hmm? Don’t take as much. Why don’t you lick it all over?” You run your finger over your husband’s cock, from the base to the tip, showing Blue where to put his tongue. 

He nods, the movement small and almost shy. 

You guide him back to Anselm, pressing lightly on the back of his neck and whispering praises as he darts out his tongue. 

“There you go,” you breathe as Blue licks him slowly, broad flat strokes that run up the length of his cock. 

He flicks his tongue over the head, remembering a blow job he’d received on the couch in his own office and Anselm groans low in his chest. 

The precome is salty, but pleasant and he realises, surprisingly, that he sort of likes it.

“You’re doing so good Blue.” You kiss below his ear, your own voice needy as heat builds between your legs. 

Blue lets out a soft moan at the praise and sucks the tip into his mouth. He slowly bobs his head up and down, eyes closed, trying to get a little deeper, take a little more, each time. 

Anselm’s hand goes back to Blue’s head, pulling lightly at his hair as he guides him. 

“So good Blue, keeping going, that’s it.” You slide your own hands down to Blue’s waist and unbuckle his trousers. 

Blue’s breathing hitches, he almost stops his movements but Anselm gently presses him back down, slowly guiding his cock in and out of his eager mouth. 

You trail the edge of your nails down Blue’s dick teasingly and he twitches against your touch, hard and hot, as he moans around Anselm’s length. 

“You’re doing so good,” you whisper as you take Blue’s cock in your hand and start to pump him in time with the bob’s of his head. “I know he’s big, you’re doing so well.” 

Blue moans again, a strange lightness builds in his chest with every positive word. His jaw aches, salvia is running down his chin and every now and then he takes Anselm just a little too deeply and has to pull back and try again. But it feels so good, so right, to have you both there, touching him and using him, and- oh!

He moans deeply, bucking his hips into your hands as you twist your wrist and start to move faster, changing your teasing strokes into full blown movements. 

He swallows around Anselm, his muffled cries of pleasure vibrating around his dick deliciously.

Anselm groans, thrusting a little harder into Blue’s mouth and growling. 

“Oh, he’s gonna come all down your pretty throat. You gonna be good and swallow all of it aren’t you?” 

Blue lets out a muffled cry, yes, yes he wants that, wants this so badly. 

You stroke him harder, pressing your chest flush against his back and feeling how his thighs shake, his muscles twitch under every movement. 

Pleasure drowns him, overwhelms the pain in his jaw, the ache in his knees. All he can feel is Anselm hot in his mouth and your hand on his dick, pulling him closer and closer and-

Anselm moans loudly, throating his head back, one hand gripping the desk behind him as he thrusts deep. He holds Blue tightly against him as he cums down his throat. 

Blue moans, trying his best to swallow and not choke. It’s easier said than done and some of Anselm’s cum slips past his lips and trails down his chin. 

You take hold of Blue’s neck, pulling him back as Anselm lets go and leans back against his desk, breathing hard. 

“Well done, you did such a good job.” You bite his neck, sucking hard as you hold him against you and pick up your pace. 

Blue cries out, moaning beautifully, as you stroke him faster and faster, his hips shaking, every muscle in his body tense.

“Oh god,” it’s too much, everything’s too much, he’s going to burst and fall apart at the seams and- he sobs as he cums, thrusting up into your hand and spilling himself all over the polished wooden floor. 

It seems to go on and on, the pleasure flaying his every nerve, as he cums harder than he ever has in his whole life. 

He falls back against your chest, boneless, and would have surely ended up in a heap on the floor if you hadn’t been supporting him. He breathes hard, skin flushed and sweaty.

You lightly kiss his temple. 

Blue’s mind is blissfully quiet, so caught up in the afterglow it was impossible to even think. 

Anselm smiles down at him as he tucks himself back into his trousers. He side steps the cum on the floor and leans down, licking his own spend from Blue’s chin before kissing his lips. 

Blue lets out a contented sigh as Anselm’s beard tickles his chin. 

“Such a good boy,” Anselm mutters, his low voice rumbling through Blue. 

“He is, isn’t he?” You smile. 

Both you and Anselm hold Blue for a few minutes, kissing and caressingly gently, whispering soft praises as you massaged his skin. 

You then both helped him to stand and dress as Blue wobbled a little like a baby deer taking his first steps. 

Blue watched you both, a little stunned and still blissed out as you straightened his tie. 

You kiss his left cheek, while Anselm kisses his right. 

“Well, Mr Jones, I’d say that was a very productive meeting. You’ll have my full support.” Anselm smiles and shakes his hand, his tone calm and professional, as if they had just both played a round of golf and not done… that. 

Blue nods, his mind still not caught up with him. 

“My assistant outside will show you out and we’ll be intouch.” Anselm walks Blue to the door, opening it for him and seeing him out. 

Everything still seems a little hazy, dreamlike almost. Blue turns to say something, even though he’s not sure what it is. 

Through the closing gap in the door he sees Anselm kiss you deeply and lead you back to the chaise lounge, pushing you down and hooking your legs over his hips while you hold him tightly. 

For a moment he catches your eyes and you smile, biting your lip. And then the door shuts and you both are gone. 

____________________________________

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[ro-is-struggling]

Undercover || Bucky Barnes x Plus size!Reader

Part III: The Aftermath

Summary: Your first mission with the Avengers proves to be more difficult than you expected when you discover you have to go undercover with none other than Bucky Barnes. Spending so much time together posing as an engaged couple leads to the development of feelings that you fear will change your relationship forever.

Warnigs: fluff, mentions of the reader being insecure about her body, probably overuse of pet names (doll), SMUT MINORS DNI, praise kink, body worship, dirty talk, slight size kink, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, aftercare. It's almost all smut with a sprinkle of feelings

English is not my first language

Word count: 8600+

Notes: this is my first time writing full smut so please be kind!! I don't usually write this kind of stuff, but I tried really hard on this one so I hope you guys like it!! it was supposed to be much more fluffy but I got carried away, so sorry for all the filthy things you are about to read

Tagging: @caritobbg @cassie-buckysbaby @lejuveinlegroove @lucylaufeyson3 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @midnights-ramblings @that-girl-named-alex thank you all so much for your support!!

Part I Part II

When you finally arrived at the avengers' compound the sun was beginning to rise. You were tired and sore, and all you wanted to do was lie down in your big, soft bed and sleep for a week. But before you could rest you had to go to the trouble of removing all the makeup, hair clips and intricate attire you were wearing. All the relief you felt at finally being home disappeared, replaced by a wave of overwhelming discomfort.

"Are you okay there, doll?" Bucky asked after hearing you let out a grunt.

"Yeah, I just realized that I have to take all this shit off and it's really annoying," you explained, pointing to your outfit.

"C'mon, I'll help you."

You thought of turning him down, telling him that it wasn't necessary. And it really wasn't, maybe you would need some help with the zipper on the dress, but the rest you could do on your own. It was just annoying. The best thing you could do at that moment was to find an excuse not to be alone with him. You hadn't spoken much since the party, exchanging just a couple of words on the way back, and you were sure the situation would be awkward. How could it not when just a few hours earlier you were kissing passionately, letting your hands explore each other's bodies? You had crossed a line and you didn't know if you could go back to normal after that. You didn't know if you would be able to see him as a simple friend, a co-worker, when all you wanted was to feel his lips on yours again.

And yet, when you looked at Bucky's face, you saw the kind smile he was giving you and you weren't able to say no. Even though you knew it would be best to walk away, the truth was that you couldn't. You wanted to be close to him, to feel his touch, even if it was for the last time. You weren't ready to give up the illusion you had created for the mission. You still wanted to hug him and lie next to him, you wanted to pretend you were more than just friends. So you accepted his proposal, leading him to your room while the voice of reason in your head urged you to stop. 

The first thing you did when you entered your room was collapse on the bed. Your body bounced on the mattress from the force of the impact as you closed your eyes, relaxing into the sheets. You lay there for a few seconds, listening as Bucky moved around the room without having the energy to open your eyes and see what he was doing.

"C'mon doll, sit up for me please. You can't go to bed like this." The use of the pet name forced you to open your eyes, feeling the familiar tingle inside you once again. As you sat up in bed you discovered that Bucky had taken your facial cleansing products from the bathroom and was waiting for you to tell him what to use first.

You had never let anyone else take care of you like that. You had two hands and were perfectly capable of cleaning your own face, but you had to admit that it was a lot more relaxing when someone else did it. You just sat up straight and tilted your head up, letting Bucky gently massage your face until there was no trace of makeup left. You kept your eyes closed most of the time under the excuse that you didn't want any product to get in your eyes. And it was true, for the most part. But you also did it to avoid making eye contact with him.

You could feel his eyes on you, closely admiring every inch of your face. All the marks and imperfections you hated were clear as day under his watchful gaze. If you weren't so tired—or so desperate to feel his touch—, you wouldn't have let him get so close to you. Normally the idea of being in such an intimate situation with someone terrified you, but Bucky was different. You still felt a little nervous, but it was nothing compared to the security and calm you felt next to him. You wondered if he was able to notice the effect he had on you, if there was something special he did to make you feel that way or if it was his simple essence that captivated you.

"All done!" He exclaimed softly, moving his hands away from your face. You couldn't contain the whimper of protest that escaped your throat, and when you opened your eyes you were met with Bucky's smile. There was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart race. You noticed a special sparkle in his blue eyes, but before you could examine them closely he turned away from you to put away the products he had used in the bathroom again.

You took advantage of his absence to start fixing your hair, removing the clips and brushing it with the brush you had on the bedside table. When Bucky emerged from the bathroom you had already finished with your hair and were struggling with the intricate lacing of your shoes, trying to free your feet from the torture device that imprisoned them. He walked towards you and without a word knelt down in front of you. The air caught in your throat as you felt his hands on your leg, caressing your calf until they reached the laces of your shoes. Bucky rested your foot on his thigh and very carefully took it upon himself to free your foot from its confinement. The contrast of the warmth of his flesh hand against the coldness of his metal one gave you shivers, but you couldn't pull away from his touch. 

You followed his movements with your eyes, your gaze locked on his hands. He had rolled up his shirt sleeves, the metal of his arm shining in the warm light of your room. As you focused your attention on his right arm you noticed the veins marking on his skin, creating a path that disappeared under his shirt. You felt the urge to reach out and touch him, to trace your fingers all along his arm and not stop until you reached the back of his head, take his hair in your hands and pull him towards you to join your lips once more. There was something so sensual, so erotic, about the position you were in that made it impossible to contain your inappropriate thoughts. Having Bucky kneeling in front of you while his hands caressed your legs was getting to you and you didn't know how much longer you could take it.

"About what happened last night," his husky voice broke the silence, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned your gaze away from his hands to focus on his face, dreading the conversation that would follow.

"It was for the mission, I know. And it worked great so it's okay. Things don't have to be weird between us, you can forget about it." You spoke quickly in an attempt to avoid the awkward conversation you had to have.

You said those things because you believed it was the right thing to say, the safe option. Of course for you it hadn't been just a mission. There was nothing you wanted more than to feel Bucky's lips against yours again. You wanted to sleep every night next to him and wake up every morning with your bodies entwined, limbs tangled between the sheets. But you couldn't tell him that because there was no way someone like Bucky would reciprocate your feelings. You had fooled yourself into thinking that something between you could ever happen. It was stupid and naive, a farce created by your mind blinded by the happiness his closeness brought you. But now that you were home you realized that confessing the truth to him would only bring you trouble.

Bucky remained silent as he worked on your other shoe. His fingers showed your right leg the same tenderness and affection as they did your left one, taking his time to caress your skin before unlacing your shoe. It was as if he didn't want to move away from you. And he didn't. He had become addicted to you, to the feel of your soft skin under his fingers, to the taste of your lips and the warmth of your body against his. The mission was over, but he wasn't ready to let you go. He didn't want to let you go.

"What if I don't want to forget about it?" Bucky finally said, his hands never stopping his caresses on your leg even though he had already removed your shoe. He lifted his head to look at you, locking his blue eyes on yours, studying your reaction.

"What?" You mumbled in surprise. You were pretty sure you had imagined him saying that. Your mind overwhelmed by his touch and your feelings for him had put words in his mouth that he hadn't said, making you hear exactly what you wanted to hear. 

But then Bucky spoke again, confirming that you weren't hallucinating. "I don't want to forget about it, doll. I want you." Bucky continued to caress your legs, his hands disappearing under your dress as he went higher and higher. The touch of his fingers awakened fire on your skin. Your heart pounded against your chest and your breathing quickened as you felt his fingertips brush against your thighs.

"Bucky…" you moaned his name as you felt him pressing a kiss on your knee. You closed your eyes for a moment, melting under his touch. You wanted to say something more, but your brain had stopped working. All you could do was react to Bucky's gentle touch, squirming under his hand as you made soft sounds of approval.

However, there was one thought running around in your head, one that you couldn't shake off even with Bucky's intoxicating caresses on your body. "Why me?" you uttered as you found your voice, opening your eyes to look at the man kneeling in front of you.

You didn't mean to ruin the moment. Hearing Bucky admit he wanted you was a dream come true, but you couldn't help thinking it didn't make any sense. You didn't understand how someone like him could find you attractive. You'd had bad experiences in the past with relationships, too many people who made you believe you weren't pretty or sexy enough to attract anyone's attention. So why was Bucky Barnes interested in you?

"What?" he looked at you with furrowed brows, his head tilted slightly to the side as he analyzed your face.

"Why do you like me?"

It took Bucky a few seconds to respond, not because he didn't know the answer, but because he couldn't believe you were asking him that. Couldn't you see how wonderful you were?

"Why wouldn't I like you?" You looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with Bucky. You regretted asking him that because now you had no way to escape the uncomfortable reality of having to explain your insecurities to him. You remained silent, waiting for the situation to resolve itself without you having to be so vulnerable in front of him.

"Answer me, Y/N." Bucky didn't want to sound confrontational or pressure you to talk, but he really wanted to know what was going on in your head. He wanted to help you realize how wonderful you were and he couldn't do that without understanding how deep your insecurities ran.

"Because I'm not Natasha!" You finally said, looking up to face him. "I'm not pretty like that. Guys don't look at me twice when I walk into the room or fight to get my number… especially not guys that look like you!" You felt tears stinging your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to cry over this. You were no longer fifteen years old and you were done crying over insecurities about your body.

"Then those guys are idiots because you're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on."

"You're just saying that," you muttered, lowering your gaze. You found his words hard to believe, but that didn't stop your heart from racing. A rush of warmth ran through your body, a mixture of embarrassment and love filling your insides.

Bucky's flesh hand traveled to your cheek, cupping your face tenderly as he tilted it to force you to look at him. "I'm serious, Y/N. You're beautiful." He spoke in a firm, but gentle tone. Looking into his eyes you could read in them that he wasn't lying. So why was it so hard for you to believe him? "I want to show you just how beautiful you are. Would you let me do that, doll?"

It took you a few seconds to decide on your answer. The voices of your insecurities were loud in your head, but so were your feelings for Bucky. You had spent all this time silently desiring him, longing for him to turn to look at you. And now that he was confessing his love to you, you hesitated. It was stupid. You were living your dream and instead of enjoying it you were letting your fears win. You couldn't let that happen. Bucky wanted you and you wanted him, there was no need to complicate things. 

After a few seconds of silence, you nodded slightly.

"I need you to use your words." Bucky said in a low whisper. You bit your lip, catching the flesh between your teeth and lightly biting the skin in a gesture of nervous anticipation.

"Yes, Bucky. I want you to show me."

As soon as those words left your mouth, Bucky's lips crashed against yours. Only this time your lips intertwined in a slower, more sensual kiss. He wanted to take his time with you, worship your body as if it were his religion and show you how you should be loved—how you deserved to be loved. He left you breathless, completely at his mercy. 

You missed his lips when he pulled away from you, but you took the moment to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart. Bucky rose from the floor, his figure towering over you imposingly. You took a second to admire him in all his beauty, a part of you still in disbelief at what was happening. When he offered you his hands you took them without a second thought, rising from the bed with him. You felt even smaller next to him now that you didn't have your heels to conceal the height difference.

"Do you trust me?" Bucky whispered against your lips in a deliciously husky voice.

"You know I do." You answered him. The two of you shared a look that felt more intimate and personal than anything you had ever done before. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as Bucky leaned in for a short kiss before spinning you around.

You felt a little less nervous not being able to see his intense gaze, though you could still feel it digging into the back of your neck. Bucky's hands caressed your arms, his fingers delicately brushing over the exposed skin in an upward path until they reached your shoulders. Your insides buzzed with anticipation and a hint of nerves as you felt his hands reach for the zipper of your dress. He was torturing you, moving extremely slow to watch you squirm under his touch. He was enjoying it, you could tell by the way his breathing quickened a little more with every inch of skin he uncovered. Bucky was determined to take his time with you and you still couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

When the dress finally fell to your feet you couldn't help but tense up. You felt vulnerable standing there wearing only a set of lacy underwear. You were completely exposed under Bucky's gaze, all your insecurities clear as day despite the dim light in the room. You had the sudden urge to run away from there, embarrassment taking control of your mind for a moment. But then you felt Bucky's lips on your right shoulder and everything felt right again. You relaxed under his touch, letting the warmth of his body comfort you as you enjoyed the trail of kisses he left on your back. 

Bucky brushed his lips over all the little marks he noticed your tight attire had left on your skin, showering you with his love. When he felt satisfied he turned you around so he could look at you from the front and his breath caught in his throat because he couldn't believe he had such a beautiful woman in front of him, giving herself to him in body and soul. 

Your eyes stayed glued to the floor, too embarrassed to look up. All you could think about were your stretch marks and the strange shape of your stomach. Your breasts weren't perfect either, and you didn't even want to think about your thighs. You were terrified to look up and see disgust in Bucky's eyes, the same disgust you saw in your own eyes when you looked in the mirror on a bad day. Out of instinct, you tried to cover your body with your hands, but he caught them halfway.

"No no, you don't need to hide from me, doll." Bucky took your hands in his and brought them to his lips, placing delicate kisses on the back of them. Your eyes followed his every move, pausing momentarily over his mouth before traveling up to his eyes. In them you saw nothing but pure desire, his pupils blown wide and the blue of his iris a couple of shades darker than normal. 

Bucky wanted you.

It was not a product of your imagination or a lucid dream. No, Bucky was really standing in front of you, looking at you as if you were an oasis in the middle of the desert. His eyes admired your body as if you were Aphrodite herself and that made a wave of confidence wash over you.

"You're beautiful," he whispered against your lips and this time it was you who closed the distance between the two of you.

It was a much more desperate kiss than the previous ones, all teeth and tongues as your hands struggled to unbutton Bucky's shirt. You loved his gentle touches and sweet words. You loved that he was willing to take things slow for you to make you feel comfortable and loved, but you were starting to get impatient. You wanted to feel his body against yours, to have him physically prove that his words were real. And Bucky didn't disappoint, his hands caressing every inch of exposed skin they could find while his tongue invaded your mouth, making you moan. 

When you pulled away for air, he took the opportunity to remove his shirt—which had been left open, hanging over his shoulders—, before carefully pushing you down onto the bed. Your body bounced slightly against the mattress at the impact, your eyes never leaving Bucky's as he unbuttoned his pants. He looked so intimidating standing at the foot of the bed with his hands working on his belt. His figure towered over you making you feel incredibly small. But you loved that, you always had.

Your center tightened around nothing as you watched him crawl up to you, eyeing you up like an animal to its prey. Wetness began to slide down your thighs as you felt his hands spread your legs to accommodate his body between them, his covered erection digging against your pelvis in a promise of what awaited you in the future. 

There was nothing sweet or gentle about the way Bucky kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth with desperation. He caught your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling seductively on the sensitive skin until he made you whimper. Then he moved his wet kisses down your neck, exploring your sensitive spots. He was observant of your reactions, noticing the sighs of approval that escaped your mouth and the way you squirmed under his touch. He took his time with your neck, kissing and biting it until he irritated the skin, marking you as his own. Only when he was happy with his art did he decide to continue his assault down your body, moving his lips along your collarbone until he reached the base of your bra. He cupped your breast with his cool metal hand, the difference in temperature sending a wave of electricity through your body causing you to arch your back into his touch. The thin lace fabric that adorned your form did little to protect you from the coolness of his fingers, but you weren't complaining. You loved the way the contrast felt against your hot skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the way his fingers played with your nipple through your underwear, but opened them again when you stopped feeling his lips against your skin.

Looking down, your eyes were met with the most erotic scene you had ever witnessed in your life. Bucky's head rested between your breasts as he stared up at you with hunger in his eyes. His lips, red and swollen after the assault on your body, were parted, letting out shallow breaths. You held back from rolling your eyes, a moan of pleasure dying in your throat as you felt your clit throb with need. Bucky planted a delicate kiss over the valley of your breasts, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something softer in his gaze, passion and desire still prominent in his dark, dilated pupils, yet combined with something else.

He was asking for your permission, giving you the opportunity to decide if you wanted to continue with what you were doing. Bucky was doing this for you—well, for the most part. He was also doing it for him, because you were the only woman in his mind since the day he first saw you, and because he couldn't stop thinking about the warmth of your body against his. But more importantly he was doing it for you, because he couldn't believe that you didn't see the beauty he noticed in you when you looked in the mirror. Because he couldn't let another day go by without showing you how fucking hot you really were. You were a goddess among simple mortals and you needed to be treated as such.

“Please…” the plea fell from your lips in a desperate tone, your voice a sensual melody that went straight to Bucky's cock. You arched your back off the bed, presenting your body to him. That subtle invitation was all it took for Bucky to slide his hands up your back, unclasping your bra with surprising agility.

He took a moment to admire you, completely mesmerized by the beauty of your naked body, before leaning down and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. His lips closed over your sensitive skin, alternating between sucking and nibbling carefully on your hardened nipple as his fingers showed love to the other.

“Fuck, Bucky-” you moaned as your breath hitched. Your hand flew to his head, your fingers closing over the long locks of dark hair as you pulled him even closer to you.

“That’s it, baby… so good for me, so sensitive…” Bucky mumbled against your skin, moving so he could use his mouth on your other nipple. “I want to hear your pretty voice. I want to hear how good you're feeling… how good I’m making you feel.” There was a possessiveness in his voice that made your insides flutter with arousal.

“So good, Bucky,” you uttered between breathy moans, surprised by how needy your voice sounded. He had barely touched you and you were almost ready to cry and beg him to keep going if he asked you to. No man had ever made you feel that way in the past. Of course half of them hadn't even tried to satisfy you the way Bucky did, but it was still impressive.

It wasn't just the sexual aspect that had you so turned on. Sure, his lips worked wonders on your body and he somehow knew what buttons to push to get you to squirm under his body, but there was so much more to it than just that. Bucky looked at you with adoration, caressing your skin as if you were a goddess and he your faithful worshiper. He made you feel special, beautiful and sexy in ways you didn't know were possible. 

However, when Bucky's trail of wet kisses reached your belly area, you couldn't help but tense up. It was an unconscious reaction, learned by the muscles in your body after years of insecurities. He noticed. Of course he noticed! He was an expert at listening to your body. So in response, he changed the intensity of his touches on your skin. His lips placed delicate kisses over your belly in a disorganized pattern. It took you a few seconds to understand that he was showing love to every stretch mark, every scar or line on your skin that you hated.

“Such a perfect little thing” Bucky whispered against your skin. “All mine.”

The possessiveness in his words made your heart race, a warm feeling flooding your insides. You were his. He wanted you to be his and he was telling you so.

“All yours… only yours” you told him, stroking his hair gently. The tenderness of your touch contrasted with the growl of approval that escaped Bucky's lips, vibrating against your hip as he sucked and nibbled at the sensitive skin. That sent a fresh wave of arousal between your legs, the wetness dampening the thin lace fabric covering your pussy. You wanted to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that was building up inside you, but Bucky's body resting comfortably between your legs prevented you from doing so.

You were starting to get impatient, the overwhelming adoration Bucky was showing your body was almost too much. You needed something more. Your clit throbbed between your legs, your core clenching around nothing, desperate for attention. And just when you thought Bucky was going to take pity on you, his lips getting closer and closer to the place where you needed them most, he moved at the last second, continuing his kissing path down your thigh.

“Bucky, please” you whimpered as you felt him assaulting your right thigh. His teeth scraped your sensitive skin, biting down hard enough to make you gasp, not in pain but in pleasure.

“What is it, doll?” His voice was low, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. “What do you need?”

“I need you” you managed to say despite the fog of pleasure that clouded your mind.

“Where do you need me? Here?” Bucky placed a kiss on your covered sex and the delicate touch was enough to make you let out a desperate moan. He was teasing you. He enjoyed having you twitching under his touch, lost in pleasure without even touching you where you needed it most.

"Mmhmm" you babbled incoherently, feeling Bucky's tongue trace a line over your underwear, going from your entrance to your clit. You closed your eyes, allowing your head to fall back on the bed as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. You thought that was it, that he was finally going to give you the relief you craved, but then he pulled away from you.

"Not yet, baby. I haven't finished worshiping this beautiful body of yours." Bucky said, moving his lips over your right thigh to continue his attack. "First I need to show you how you deserve to be treated, how you deserve to be loved. Only then can I show you how you should be fucked."

You were ready to cry from desperation, but you'd be lying if you said that waiting didn't make everything more exciting. His words went straight to your core, awakening a new rush of heat inside you. And even though your brain was fried, you were able to pick up on the slight sweet tone in his voice. Your heart began to beat rapidly at the implied confession of love.

Bucky was determined to show you that there wasn't a single inch of skin on your body that he didn't adore, and he wasn't going to stop until he accomplished his task. He didn't care that his achingly hard cock was twitching inside his boxers, desperate for attention. He was proving a point, and he wouldn't stop until he did. So he continued his assault on your body, his lips kissing every inch of skin within his reach. He moved down your leg, paying special attention to your thigh before continuing his way down. When he reached your ankle, he began to move up again, enjoying the soft moans that escaped your lips. 

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky showed you mercy, hooking his fingers into the elastic of your underwear to slide it down your legs. You tried to pull your knees together, suddenly feeling exposed under his hungry gaze. But before you could do so, he stopped you, his metal hand closing over your leg to hold it in place.

"Such a pretty little cunt, all wet and ready for me." he said, his deep voice heavy with lust. His words awakened a tingle in the pit of your stomach and you knew that if he didn't touch you soon you would end up exploding.

Luckily, Bucky wasted no time, settling between your legs again. His warm breath crashed against your pussy, sending a shiver down your spine. You let out a surprised gasp as you felt him move your body closer to his face, sliding you across the bed as if you weighed nothing. He positioned your legs over his shoulders, your thighs resting comfortably on either side of his head. Then Bucky deposited a couple more kisses on your skin, moving closer and closer to your center.

"I want to feel these pretty thighs of yours squeezing my head, you hear me? So don't hold back."

You barely had time to process his words before you felt his tongue making contact with your center. He licked a long line from your entrance to your clit, his lips closing over your bundle of nerves to show it the attention it so desperately needed. Your body arched toward him, waves of heat coursing through you as you cried out in pleasure. Your hand buried itself in his hair, holding his head in place in a silent way of asking him not to stop.

And he didn't. Bucky showed you no mercy, his lips attacking your pussy with desperation. He was eating you out like a starving man, sucking your juices as if they were an oasis in the middle of the desert. Your body began to convulse with pleasure and Bucky had to use his metal arm to pin you against the mattress and hold you in place. The pressure on your lower belly was adding a new sensation that sent new waves of pleasure throughout your body, the knot in your stomach tightening more with every stroke of his tongue.

"Oh fuck Bucky don't stop" you cried out in pleasure, pressing your thighs against his face involuntarily. Your body no longer responded to you, it responded to Bucky and his skillful mouth.

He let out a groan of pleasure that vibrated against your center and made you roll your eyes. "You like that, baby?" he spoke against your pussy in a teasing tone and you couldn't do more than nod. Then you felt him insert a finger into your entrance, sliding it with ease along your slick walls. It was much longer and wider than yours, reaching places you didn't even know existed. Your muscles contracted against his finger immediately, clamping it in place.

"Such a good girl, taking me so well," Bucky murmured before attaching his lips to your clit again. His finger explored your insides curiously and it didn't take him long to find your most sensitive spot. He made sure to stimulate it at the same time as his tongue attacked your clit, moving his finger in a 'come here' motion. Every little touch sent a new surge of electricity through your body. You felt like you were on fire, the tension building in your stomach getting closer to exploding.

"I can feel you squeezing around me. Are you close? Huh? Are you gonna come on my fingers, baby?"

"Yes, oh god, Bucky, yes… I'm so close, please don't stop!" You sounded pathetic, but you didn't care anymore. You were too lost in pleasure to care about your dignity. All you could think about was Bucky, his mouth, his fingers and the dirty words that escaped his lips, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me, doll. C'mon, let go for me, I want to feel you." Bucky encouraged you, increasing the speed of his movements. His lips closed over your clit once more, sucking hard. The combination of sensations and his dirty words of encouragement pushed you over your limit, the knot in your stomach snapping as you let out a loud moan of pleasure. 

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes as Bucky licked up all your juices, prolonging your high. You heard him moaning in the distance, mumbling something about how sweet you tasted, but you weren't able to say or do anything. Your brain was too overwhelmed with pleasure to react, your body tensing before relaxing on the mattress as you struggled to catch your breath. That was the best orgasm you'd had in a long time. The pleasure had taken you by surprise, leaving you completely stupid.

Once you were able to focus on the world around you again, your eyes met Bucky's. He was looking down at you, lust and adoration glowing in his blue orbs.

"There you are," he whispered with a smile, his right hand gently caressing your cheek. "You look so beautiful like this, completely lost in pleasure." There was something so erotic and yet so tender in his voice that you couldn't help but smile. A warmth spread through your body, only this time it was not due to arousal but to the love his words awakened in you.

Bucky looked at you with such admiration in his eyes that you felt the urge to cover your face with your hands. Somehow the intimacy of the moment was more embarrassing to you than having his face pressed against your pussy. You were not used to being stared at in that way, to being treated with the affection and adoration that Bucky showed you. You didn't know how to react and your first instinct was to run and hide, but you knew he wouldn't let you. So you did the next best thing: you kissed him, closing your eyes to escape his intense gaze.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, your sweet essence impregnating his mouth as you kissed. His lips moved against yours in a sinful dance that ignited a new fire deep in your stomach. You moaned against his mouth as you let your hands explore his body, one clinging to his hair while the other caressed his back, dragging your nails against his skin.

It didn't take long for you to be squirming under his body again, your hips rubbing against his in a desperate attempt to relieve the throbbing pleasure between your legs. Your hand left his back, slowly moving down his marked torso until your fingers met the elastic of his underwear, the last article of clothing separating the two of you. You stroked his hard member through the fabric, applying the lightest pressure, and Bucky broke the kiss to let out a low growl, involuntarily rocking his hips against your hand. 

A rush of confidence washed through your body, feeling strangely powerful as you saw the state he was in. With just the simple touch of your hand you were able to turn the toughest, most imposing man you had ever met into a moaning mess. It was good to know that you had as much power over him as he had over you.

"Bucky, please, I need you inside me. I want you to show me how I'm supposed to be fucked, pleasee."

"Oh fuck," Bucky cursed, surprised by the confidence in your voice. He loved it. Loved seeing that side of you and loved knowing he'd managed to get it out of you. "You sound so pretty when you beg for my cock." He whispered against your lips, giving you a deep, sloppy kiss.

Bucky didn't waste another second, pulling away from you to remove the last article of clothing that separated you. You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could watch the moment his majestic member sprang free from its confinement. A prominent vein adorned the underside of his shaft and his red tip was leaking precum. He was big, bigger than you expected, and for a moment you wondered if it would fit.

But you didn't have time for worry, because Bucky quickly returned to his place between your legs. He knelt in front of you on the bed, his hand on his cock as he stroked it lazily, his eyes admiring your body. It was truly one of the hottest things you had ever seen in your life and the way he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you made you feel like the sexiest woman in the world. 

You wanted to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock in your hand as you made him feel good. You wanted to return the pleasure he had made you feel, but before you could do anything Bucky moved, adjusting his position between your legs. You could feel him at your entrance and had to resist the urge to move your hips to impale yourself on his cock, remembering that given his size it would be best to take things slow.

"You ready, doll?" His voice was soft and sweet, giving you one last chance to stop what you were doing.

"Yes, please," you begged in a desperate tone and that was all the confirmation Bucky needed to proceed. He pushed inside you slowly, feeling your warm, velvety walls close around his member. You both let out a moan as Bucky made his way inside you, your muscles stretching to accommodate him. When he bottomed out he stayed still, giving you time to get used to his size.

Feeling Bucky inside you was unlike anything you had ever felt in the past. He was longer and thicker than your previous sexual partners, creating a delicious burn every time he moved. But it wasn't just that, no. There was a connection between you, a spark that made everything feel different, a thousand times more intense than normal. Your skin was on fire, your core tightening around his member as you admired the expression of pleasure on his face. He was indeed the most beautiful man in the world and you still couldn't believe he had laid eyes on you.

"Move, please," you said when you felt ready and Bucky began to rock his hips against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm. He wanted to take his time with you, watch every little reaction of your body, admire every grimace of pleasure on your face. He wanted to memorize your body, learn your soft spots and use them to slowly bring you to the edge of pleasure. But then you started moaning his name, moving your hips to meet his thrusts, and he knew he wouldn't last as long as he'd like.

"God, you're so tight, f-fuck, so warm" Bucky grunted as he quickened the movement of his hips. "The perfect pussy for me, taking me so well." Your walls clenched around his member, the dirty words of praise fueling the fire inside you. You could feel the tension in your stomach building again and wondered how fast he would be able to take you to the edge this time.

"You like that, huh? You like to hear me say how good you are to me, don't you?" Bucky hovered over your body, holding himself up propped on his metal arm as he let his flesh hand caress your body. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper inside you, the tip of his cock touching your g-spot with every thrust. "You wanna be my good girl?"

"Yes! I- fuck, I want to be your good girl," you cried out in pleasure, not caring about the volume of your moans. Nothing mattered to you anymore, the world around you had ceased to exist. Your brain had stopped working. All you could do was feel. Feel Bucky's cock pounding inside you, stretching your walls and filling you like no one ever had before. Feel the effect of his dirty words, which did nothing but spread waves of pleasure throughout your body. Feel the touch of his fingers drawing slow circles over your bundle of nerves, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Oh f-fuck, Bucky, right there, please don't stop."

You closed your eyes letting yourself get lost in pleasure as you wrapped your legs around Bucky's waist, locking your ankles together to hold him in place. Your nails clawed at his back, desperate to hold on to something firm that would keep you grounded. You were getting close to the edge, the knot in your stomach tightening with every thrust of his hips, every growl he let out against the skin of your neck.

"God, you're gorgeous," Bucky murmured, slowing down his thrusts to stop himself from cumming too soon. His eyes studied your face, admiring the frown of pleasure in your expression with pride knowing he was the one making you feel so good. "I don't know how you don't see that. But it's okay, now I'm here to show you just how beautiful you are." He brought your lips together in a sloppy wet kiss, his tongue caressing yours with desperation as he began to increase the pace of his thrusts again.

"You feel me, baby? You feel my hard cock deep inside you? It's all for you. You're the only one who can turn me on like this, shit, the only one who can get me this hard."

"Bucky, please," you begged against his lips. You didn't even know what you were asking of him, your mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to filter the words coming out of your mouth.

"I know, baby, I know. You're close, I- fuck, I can feel you gripping me tight… I've got you, just let go."

It was too much, his words of encouragement, the rocking of his hips, his fingers on your clit. Pleasure coursed through your veins, carrying a tingling sensation throughout your entire body. You felt like you were on fire, floating through the flames of the deepest hell as Bucky pounded into you in a merciless rhythm, determined to make you explode. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the pleasure coursing through you, clinging to the super soldier's body for support. You were so close, you could feel the dam inside you beginning to break, all your muscles tensing in anticipation of the sweet relief.

"Look at me," Bucky demanded in a soft but firm voice and you opened your eyes immediately, your body reacting to him as if he owned you. "I want you to look at me when you cum, I want to see your pretty face screw up with pleasure. C'mon, cum for me baby."

“Bucky, I- fuck,” was all you could say to warn him of your impending orgasm, though you were pretty sure he could feel it. Your velvety walls tightened around his cock, burying it deep inside you as you let out the dirtiest, most desperate moan of the evening. 

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, wave after wave of pleasure traveling through your nervous system. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, maintaining eye contact with Bucky as your body contracted beneath him. He never stopped moving between your legs, his thrusts becoming progressively deeper and more erratic, prolonging your high. He was close, you could feel it in the way his cock twitched inside you, your hot walls clinging to him desperate to feel his relief.

"That's it, that's my good girl, cuming so hard on my cock, fuck,” Bucky growled in an animalistic manner, hiding his face in the hollow of your neck as he chased his own high. “You're gonna take my cum? Yeah?  You're gonna take my cum like the good girl you are?"

"Yes, fuck, yes! I want to feel you cum inside me. Mark me as yours, Bucky, please," you begged in a desperate tone, your voice hoarse after so much moaning.

“That’s it. Take it, take all of me, I’m yours, fuck, I’m all yours.” He let out a string of incoherent moans and with a final thrust, Bucky came inside you, painting your insides with his seed. The sensation of his hot cum filling you almost drove you to another orgasm, but your body and mind were too tired to react. He collapsed on top of you, both of you struggling to catch your breath. His cock kept twitching inside you as the weight of his body crushed you into the mattress, but you weren't complaining. There was something so intimate about it, especially after Bucky had declared himself yours. If you had any strength in your body, you would have used it to wrap your arms around him, drawing him incredibly close to you. 

You didn't want the moment to end, you didn't want to stop feeling his warmth enveloping you or his cock resting inside you, but you knew you couldn't stay like that forever. When Bucky pulled out you felt strangely empty, your walls tightening around nothing as his cum trickled down your thighs. The two of you lay side by side, the sound of your ragged breaths echoing in the room. At least until your curiosity won over your exhaustion.

“Did you mean it?” You broke the silence, turning your head to look at him. Your question hung in the air for a moment and you almost regretted asking it. You thought you had ruined the moment, but then Bucky turned, his deep blue eyes watching your face with the same admiration as always.

“Yes,” he stated, bringing the butterflies in your stomach to life. “I want to be yours, doll. And I want you to be mine… Did you really have to ask me that after everything we did?” He added with a chuckle. He couldn't believe you still had doubts after all the time he spent showing you how he felt about you. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, embarrassed. “Maybe you just wanted to get into my pants.”

“I want everything with you, why do you find that so hard to believe?" You remained silent, lowering your gaze as you tried to ignore the voice of insecurity in your mind that recited a list of reasons. You knew it was stupid, that it was mostly small things that only you noticed and marked as negative, but it still got to you.

"Hey, look at me," Bucky asked you in a soft tone, his flesh hand traveling to your cheek to force you to look at him. "I want to do this… I want to give us a chance, if you want it too, of course."

Of course you wanted it! It was the only thing you had wanted from the moment your eyes fell on his figure when Steve and Natasha introduced you to the rest of the team. You had spent all this time admiring him from a distance, dreaming of the day when you'd have the courage to ask him out. There was nothing you wanted more than to be with Bucky and you weren't going to let your insecurities get in the way of your happiness, not this time.

“I do, I really do,” you said, a smile creeping onto your tired face. Bucky closed the distance between you, sealing your vow with a kiss. His lips moved softly against yours, taking the time to savor the moment, expressing through that act everything he felt but could not put into words.

When you broke apart you let out a slight whimper, already missing his closeness. If you weren't so tired you would have kissed him again, but the muscles in your body barely responded so you settled for cuddling next to him. The warmth of his figure enveloped you as you rested your head on his chest. His heart beat softly under your ear and you let the sound relax you. Your eyelids began to feel heavy and you felt yourself dozing off. But then Bucky's body shifted beneath yours.

“Don’t go!” you begged when you felt him get out of bed.

“We need a shower. We can’t go to bed like this.” Bucky laughed, walking toward the bathroom. You let out a grunt of annoyance, hating the idea of having to move. You were tired and comfortable in bed so you didn't care that you had the sticky mixture of your orgasms sliding down your thighs. You wanted to rest, even though you knew Bucky was probably right.

“Five more minutes,” you muttered, burying your head in the pillow. You heard the muffled sound of running water on the other side of the bathroom door and assumed that Bucky had decided to shower first to give you a little more time to recover. But then you felt a presence sliding you across the bed and before you knew it, you were trapped in Bucky's strong arms, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

You squealed for him to put you down, not being used to being carried that way. You hated sitting on someone's lap or letting them hold you up, it made you feel insecure. But Bucky didn't listen to your protests. He held you in his arms with the gentleness of someone holding a porcelain doll, moving you from one room to the next with care. If he was having trouble supporting your weight, he didn't let you know. Although you doubted it considering he was a super soldier. 

When he lowered you back on your feet you noticed he had prepared the bathtub, filling it with hot water and pouring in your favorite bath salts. Steam and a sweet scent enveloped you as Bucky helped you in, holding your hands to make sure you didn't slip. It wasn't long before you were settled together in the tub. You were sitting between Bucky's legs with your back against his chest. The warm water soothed your muscles as you felt his arms wrap around you lovingly. His hands rested on your belly, but this time you didn't feel the need to move them or hold your breath to appear thinner. Bucky loved you just the way you were. He had seen you completely exposed and vulnerable and he had stayed by your side. You didn't have to hide anymore, not from him.

[reallybadfeeling]

My Obikin Playlist Masterpost

I'm gonna try to explain my reasoning, but you can give each song whatever interpretation you want. Also, use them however you want if any of them inspire you to make something creative.

(PS: Sorry for my ranting on the first song. I'm very passionate about it in particular.) (Tagging @imtryingsstuff because she asked for it. Even though I was already working on this post before she asked. I have way too much free time.)

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❧ Heart + Bones - Roisin O

I've tried to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times But I was always too scare of what I might find But if I keep on blocking this pain out It might be too late To heal my heart somehow Don't wanna open that wound Don't wanna replay that night Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know that love is gone 'Cause if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind It's the heart and bones It's an empty soul The dreams at night that shake me to my core And I can't get up off this floor It's in the bones of me An empty soul in me The dreams at night that shake me to my core I can't get off this floor [...] Don't wanna think about you When you're no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone [...] The dreams at night that shake me to my core I just can't take this hurting anymore [...] Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone 'Cause if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all I've tries to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times

A fair warning: each and every break-up song in this playlist is basically me crying at the idea of a very heart broken Obi-Wan post RotS alone on Tatooine. But for this song in particolar I mention the repetitions with the slight differences because in my eyes they are actually HUGE! The more the song goes on, the more Obi-Wan is spiraling! The way it specifically tells that the empty soul is his the second time, like he accepts that despite what Anakin did he still thinks there's a soul there to save, and the idea of not doing so makes his soul feel empty. And the switch from "get up off this floor" to "get off this floor", literally him being so desperate he stops thinking that he wants to get up (and the last time it literally becomes "i just can't take this hurting anymore", because Obi-Wan had to see so many people he loves die, he literally can't take any more breaking of his heart). The first "you are no longer mine" is the realization hitting him, but then it becomes "when you are no longer mine" and that feels like acceptance of that realization (but then later in the song it turns back to "you are no longer mine" like he's so desperate he wants to deny it once again, distance himself from it)! The switch from "that love" from "this love", like the first time he's thinking about how Anakin no longer loves him, but then realizes that no matter how much he still loves Anakin, there is actually nothing he can do about how everything is broken. But most of all the first time it's "if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind", which is Obi-Wan still being rational about things, or at least trying not to let his mind linger on the thought of Anakin; but then at the end it becomes "if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all", because he's already thinking about Anakin and he can't let his mind linger on it, otherwise he would realize how much he lost when he lost Anakin, which is everything. And the ending too, by repeating the start, but now it has a feeling of resignation to it, like at first he was literally scared to let himself linger on his feelings because he knew he would find heart break, but now he's just empty and at the same times he knows he'll feel like that a thousand times more, because he just can't let that hurt go, he can't let his love for Anakin be forgotten. ... I love this song and it shows. I mean, the playlist is literally named after it for a good reason. I swear I'll be less wordy for every other explanation.

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❧ Black Hole - Griff

It seems like things are going really well for you I wish that I could say the same about me too I wish that I could say the same [...] Without a trace You disappeared and took some of me with you, babe Like the way I used to laugh untile my belly ached Well, that's all gone away now And boy, you know I've tried to pray, I've bruised my knees I've tried to bring you back to me I've tried my best to find some kind of peace Don't you see? There's a big black hole where my heart used to be And I've tried my best to fill it up with things I don't need It don't work like that, no, it's not easy To fill this gap that you left in me

So, I see this as a song for an AU, maybe a Modern Au. Something basic like the two of them maybe being neighbors and Obi-Wan maybe being a tutor for Anakin when he was a teen, and Anakin having a huge crush on him. But then Obi-Wan marries and Anakin is heart broken. (Don't worry the idea is also that Obi-Wan gets a divorce and comes back to Anakin, but still, the song fits for the first part of this idea). But feel free to see whatever else you want in it.

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❧ Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips

I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bride To make you well, to make you well When enemies are at your door I'll carry you away from war [...] Give me reasons to believe That you would do the same for me And I will do it for you, for you Baby, I'm not moving on I'll love you long after you're gone

This is honestly a classic. It would fit with any ship, but that line about lying, cheating, etc... That screams Anakin. Like, literally canon that he would do anything to keep the person he loves with him.

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❧ What You Talking About? - Peter Bjorn and John

You used to be my hero Now you're just another boss [...] Five years as your understudy When I can't understand what you talking about [...] Tell me lies and I will listen Tell the truth and I'll be gone Tell me why I need permission [...] Shining in your shadow How could I sink this low? Our acquaintance has been so-so And I can't understand where my patience's gone

These lyrics just give me very frustrated Anakin as a Padawan trying to navigate his relationship with Obi-Wan. Not very romantic or shippy, but still relevant in my opinion.

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❧ Bruci la città - Irene Grandi

(Let) The city burn down or live in fear (that) within two hours everything will disappear anything else will disappear [...] I can't stop (myself) from screaming That I hold you to my heart To protect you from evil That I wish I could soothe Your pain, your pain [...] (Let) The stars explode (Let) The whole thing explode (Let) Everything other than the two of us die At least for a little bit At least as a mistake [...] I want to get my act together Maybe be better And shield you with my heart From catastrophe and fear

Don't really know why, but this makes me think of a quiet moment in the middle of the Clone Wars, just Anakin and Obi-Wan alone in a tent, hoping to have a moment of peace in each other's arms. (If you want the full lyrics translated let me know, I just picked my favorite parts)

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❧ Atlantis - Seafret

We got here the hard way All those words that we exchange Is it any wonder things get dark? 'Cause it's in my heart, it's in my head I never take back the things I said [...] I can't save us My Atlantis, we fall We've built this town on shaky ground [...] Now all the birds have fled The hurt just leaves me scared Losing everything I've ever known It's all become too much Maybe I'm not built for love If I knew that I could reach you, I would go

SO MUCH OBI-WAN ANGST POST-ROTS! Like, the birds that have fled are the Jedi that survived Order 66, the things impossible to take back a reference to the entire conversation between Anakin and Obi-Wan during their duel... And the one thing that always breaks me: "maybe I'm not built for love", which makes me think about that "infinte sadness" thing that comes from one of the novels. *chef kiss*

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❧ No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

I should have known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed is just the blood you owe We were a pair [...] You were my life, but like is far away from fair Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to everybody else? That I'd fallen for a lie You were never on my side [...] I let it burn You're no longer my concern Faces from my past return Another lesson yet to learn

Don't know about you, but this always makes me think of a lonely and bitter Obi-Wan after RotS. There's also another way of reading this honestly. This could absolutely be Anakin spiraling at the end of RotS, convinced that Padmé doesn't love him anymore; and then Vader facing Luke (the face from the past returning) and realizing the one who always lied to him was Palpatine.

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❧ White Flag - Dido

I know I left too much mess and Destruction to come back again And I caused nothing but trouble I understand if you can't talk to me again And if you live by the rules of "it's over" Then I'm sure that that makes sense But I will go down with this ship And I won't put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I'm in love and always will be And when we meet Which I'm sure we will All that was there Will be there still I'll let it pass And hold my tongue And you will think That I've moved on

There's no doubt that this song has been overused. And it is a very classic meme, so sometimes it's hard to take it seriously. But I still love it. And I can't help but relate this to something with Vader trying to redeem himself but failing at that too, and his and Obi-Wan's relationship still being broken as fuck.

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❧ Fight the End - The playground

When it's all falling apart I'll be the one who can hold you Console you When everything's getting dark And you can't find the spark To get through I'll fight for you till the end Whatever's broken I'll mend For you If you think it's all gone Just breathe in and hold on Till the end of time

Once again, just some H/C during the Clone Wars kind vibes, but also good for an apocalypse AU of some kind.

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❧ Hanging On A Lie - Striking Matches

I'm not mentioning a specific part of this song, because the entire thing in my head is just the whole journey of Anakin turning to the Dark Side and then turning back to the Light right before he died. Seriously, up until the first chorus, it's just Anakin talking about what he feels like about Padmé's supposed betrayal. ("Baby you've been up to something / don't you tell me it's not what it looks like" but also "I might have been naive but I'm not blind" and "Don't you know you should know better than this / Than to cover up the truth with your poisonous lips/I'm not falling for it this time"). The second half of the song is Vader facing Luke. ("I'll be the one who got away from you when you / finally figure it out / you won't find me"). And the last part is Vader realizing all the lies Palpatine told him all alon. ("I'm not fallin' for it this time/try and try too little too late" and again the "you should know better than this/than to cover up the truth with you poisonous lips") A bit of a weird interpretation, that's for sure. But look at me making a song about cheating all about Anakin's journey!

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❧ Bloodsport '15 - Raleigh Ritchie

Your love is worth it and for that I will wait And though you hate me when you have a turn I drive you crazy, but you always return [...] Although you love me, sometimes we're mean Things can get ugly, but we're still a team We are an army that breaks from withing but That's why we're stronger and that's how we'll win [...] I've got your back, and though it's stacked against us I've got your hand, it's us against consensus And I will burn the people who hurt you the worst and I will no learn Cause I am too young and too dumb to consider the terms of breaking the law And I'll curse the day that they return With a smile on my face as their heads hit the floor And they're done, now it's curtains, the bloodlust's a clusterfuck, it hurts but it's working And even if you ask me to stop, it's too late because I've already decided their fate It's not a distaste, it's pure hate and it pulsates and it works its way around my brain Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I'll protect you till the day I meet my maker So don't fight me now cause you might need me later Loving you is a bloodsport Fighting in a love war It's not what I'm in love for, I'm yours I don't know if you can help it, maybe I'm just being selfish

Soooo, basically Anakin doing to Obi-Wan what he did to Padmé: loving him so much he thinks he has to turn to the Dark Side to save him. The first part I can almost imagine said by Obi-Wan, actually. Like, he's aware that sometimes Anakin hates their dynamics, but also that they are both in love... Which just ends with total madness.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Sweet Love of Mine - Joy Williams

I was broken, I was blind Lost in a moment I thought I left behind Then you woke up this dark soul of mine Carrying a light I thought I'd never find When you found me, I was all alone The whole world around me, but nowhere to call home I heard your voice sing like heaven's choir Gathered up my fears and threw them in the fire

I'm well aware this song is about pregnancy and how the singer found herself in the experience of becoming a mother. BUT, hear me out: what about an AU with either one of them being a Sith and the other one is still a Jedi. Instead of fighting each other, the Jedi tries to save the Sith, because they realize that the Sith actually never had a chance to be anything else since they grew up with a Sith as their "parent" and Master. But if we still want to keep the pregnancy element, fuck it! It's perfect for an Omegaverse AU, with Anakin maybe about to fall when he finds out he's pregnant and that is how Obi-Wan and their unborn child save Anakin. (Is this very specific? Yes. Do I care? Nope, and that's why this song made it into the playlist.)

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Senza fare sul serio - Malika Ayane

There's a post on my blog already about why this song makes me think about the Jedi Order in general. I know I should probably keep it in a different playlist. Alas, it's still here. Have a link to my previous post if you are interested on reading a complete translation and the explanation of my reasoning. HERE!

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Conversations in the Dark - John Legend

I will never try to change you, change you I will always want the same you, same you Swear on everything I pray to That I won't break your heart I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely Keep the secrets that you told me, told me And your love is all you owe me And I won't break your heart [...] And we, we got places we both gotta be But there ain't nothing I would rather do Then blow off all my plans for you

It's just such a lovely love song, I couldn't help myself. This seriously gives me sappy Obi-Wan vibes in any way, shape or form.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ If You Ever Leave, I'm Coming With You - The Wombats

You know I'll do Whatever you want me to [...] Take you out of this You reluctant optimist And if you ever leave, I'm coming with you Stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe If you ever leave, I'm coming with you [...] Am I losing you in the dark baby? No more breaking stuff No more acting up Filling your head with doubt

A song about the obsessive kind of love that hints of a way too dependent relationship? Something that mentions losing themselves in the dark? Of fucking course I relate this to Anakin and the way he loves people!

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Transplant - Sea Girls

You're breaking all the promises tonight I'm always dancing by myself as the music plays I'm always one step behind, off-beat, out of place Now I'm looking for you, you're looking away [...] Your heart changed Mine stayed the same I don't recognize your voice when you're saying my name Your heart changed And mine beats the same way [...] Wish I could be back in the moment We were shining, we were making mistakes 'Til your heart changed Mine stayed the same

Have I mentioned that I have a lot of RotS feels? Yeah, so, in my head the "dancing" works like an analogy to fighting and the "music" is literally the sound of battle. Which is why this fits perfectly as far as I'm concerned. An even the "always one step behind" part is just Obi-Wan not realizing Anakin was slowly turning to the Dark Side. But it can be related also to how Anakin basically felt like he didn't truly belong with the Jedi.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Read my Mind - JONES

Can't control my thoughts But I'm trying every day [...] But sometimes I want impossible things When you hear my voice, what does it say? Need a language, we're lost in translation From impossible thoughts and feelings Why don't you know before I know? What I need to say, before I can How come you don't have the answer Before I asked you the question? Wish you could read my mind [...] It's been a long time since we've been together In the same world, just want you to look at me Like I was everything you ever wanted again [...] Just hold me like I'm everything you wanted again

A good song of the two people pining will always make me think of those two dorks. And their feeling are definitely lost in translation even in canon, with Anakin never realizing how much Obi-Wan actually cares for him because of Palpatine's manipulations.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ So Much It Hurts - Niki & The Dove

Oh, I ask you where you've been 'Cause you always come home late nowadays What a fool was I to think we were safe From the thieves in the temple [...] Oh, won't you bring it back? After all that we've been through together Is it now you gonna throw it all away? Oh, a love like ours Tell me, was it worth it? Oh, the thieves in the temple Oh, but you said that For better for worse You would always be there for me Always be there for me Always be there for me like I'll always be there for you Good times and bad times

So this screams Padmé being cheated on. Like, Anakin still married to her, yet he is always sneaking away after they spend time together to be in the Temple with Obi-Wan. Like, Obi-Wan is literally the thief in the Temple that steals Anakin away from her. (Which I'm sure is actually a metaphor for how the couples' marriage is the temple and someone is disrespecting it by taking away the other's lover. But look at me making this literal, 'cause why not!).

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❧ Power & Control - Marina

Give a little, get a lot That's just how you are with love [...] Think you're funny, think you're smart Think you're gonna break my heart Think you're funny, think you're smart Yeah, you may be good looking But you're not a piece of art [...] Power and control I'm gonna make you fall I'm gonna make you fall We give and take a little more 'Cause all my life I've been controlled You can't have peace without a war

Another song for an AU, this time one with both of them being Sith, most likely being enemies too at first. Before they decide to work together against Anakin's Master.

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❧ No Hero - Elisa

Don't you shut your eyes And hide you heart behind a shadow 'Cause you can count on me As long as I can breathe [...] I've fallen from grace Yeah, I'm much less a saint than a sinner Oh, no I ain't no superhuman 'Cause that's just in the movies, I know But I'll carry you throught the night Through the storm Give you love, always love in return I can't jump over buildings I'm no hero But love can do miracles I can't outrun a bullet 'Cause I'm no hero But I would take one for you [...] 'Cause I'm no hero But I'd spill my blood for you If you need me to I'll be there

Another song from an Italian artist, but this one is in English! And I totally see this song for a scenario where one of the two isn't a Jedi or even for a Modern AU. But it can totally work for Canon compliant too because Anakin is the one every calls hero with no fear. It fits then if Obi-Wan tells Anakin that he doesn't feel like a hero, but he would do anything for Anakin.

☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧

SOOOO, this post is getting way to long (like, it was way too long even just with the first song). And I made it to an even 20 songs. I feel like this a nice place to stop for now. Don't worry, these are just the first 20. I have more in my private playlist, but I want to make another post like this when I add them to the public one. Because I can. And that's what I'm gonna do.

[imdreaminadream]

The results pt 2 ~ “What about it makes you cringe?” Category 1

( - prologue.   - part 1  - category 2  - category 3)

Okay so this is the results to the question in the quiz, What about it makes you cringe. In reference to the questionnaires core subject about smut fanfics.

 Also quick psa there will be a part for the results for the other question -  “In kpop fics, Korean words i.e. jagiya, seem to be a no no, would you like to elaborate why?”

Now note these particular results are going to be split into 3 posts because I decided to split the results into 3 categories. 1 - Writing Aspects. 2 -  Personal Preferences. 3 - Genuine Problems.   

>THIS POST IS CATERGORY 1<

DISCLAIMER BELOW. (please read that before continuing)

This is going to be a long post. The responses were very enlightening but please don’t take this as an attack. Consider this more as constructive cheat sheet to good smut writing or just ignore it if you don’t agree with it. Some of this did get a bit deep appropriate trigger warnings will be put on the appropriate posts but I’m not sorry it got deep fics can also affect real life as much as we wish it were something that didn’t mix in with real life, it does. I’m no official like sex guru or big-time writer, or what ever BUT I did add little advice underneath each answer, which are just a reflection of the people’s answers. Again if you don’t like the sounds of this don’t take it personal and click off. 

Writing aspects.

Poorly written/typos ��� Nearly all of the people said that, poorly written, bad grammar and lots of typos made them cringe. Answers said that sometimes works are so poorly written it comes across as though the person writing doesn’t know how sex works. Now by poorly written they talked about, the plot being non sensical, choppy or lacking decent grammar, too many typos, using words in the wrong context, repetitive language. They also specified they understand not everyone’s first language is English but the least that can be done is proofreading of the works by them or someone else. And many people cried over the use of first person, they felt it brings them out of imagining the fic. 

Language used – So they we’re talking about strange words for body parts especially genitals, and just weird terms and phrases in general. Regarding body parts, everyone mentioned that childish or full-on scientific names for genitals was the worst. Feedback suggests calling it a dick, cock – although some commented that cock sounded too vulgar, and pussy. Also referring to female’s arousal as juices was a common answer, to quote one of my fav answers “so none of that her juices coated my fingers’ Like bitch it aint orange juice.” Then for weird terms and phrases, no specific example was given but I’m certain they meant things that literally every man and their dog would not say, ever! Personal opinion here but, “you like what you see?” and “Your wish is my command.”, and “tongues fighting for dominance.” should die off. It’s overused and I’m sick of seeing it – pretty sure no one says that during sex in real life anyway.

So, to avoid it alls you need to do is use second or third person, proofread, and learn how sex works if you don’t know. Also, best way to proofread it to leave it a few days then come back and read it again – also there are apps like Grammarly that help with your writing too. (PSA I personally love proofreading work, because I’m weird like that, so if you ever want me to proofread drop me a message/anon.)

So, take a moment to consider what you are writing, again proofreading is very helpful, and just stick to the mature ways to say dick/pussy. Suggestion here if you can’t write it the mature way, stop writing smut fics because clearly you’re either not mature enough or uncomfortable (to be) writing smut. 

Dialogue – Too much dialogue and not enough action cropped up a number of times. Also that the dialogue written is cringy essentially, Then there was too much dirty talk, and dirty talk that shouldn’t even be considered dirty talk which commented a lot in regards to dialogue. And although I think I wrote about this answer previously but weird words, exaggeration, and choppiness in the dialogue. (someone commented over use of buzzword but idk what buzzwords are.) May I also personally add that written fake stutters irritate the living day lights out of me just stop.

---- I actually did another questionnaire about this, it didn’t garner same amount as this one but it gained a good few responses. The answers should be available to see, if you want you can take a look at that to see more about people thoughts when it comes to dirty talk in fics. ----

Advice is, keep in mind when writing dirty talk what sounds good, to plausible, to terrible. Just think about what sounds realistic as well, draw on your own experiences or what you want to be said to you. Also, if you don’t find it sexy don’t write it for everyone else’s sake or to fit in with the trend, stay true to yourself but try to vary it up for each fic you write.

No build up – They talked about how some fics go straight to the dicking down, to action, with no build up or a bit of sensical plot, and it doesn’t work. Or if the characters haven’t even talked and suddenly, they’re down to fuck. They expressed it doesn’t make sense and doesn’t feel like the characters are even that interested, as though they’re fucking for the sake of fucking. This also ties in with some comments that said sometimes people fail to remember smut isn’t just about being railed, it is also about connections with people and making love so going straight to the fucking, fails to make the reader want to continue reading.

The solution to this is to reference history/tension or build up the tension between characters, or just set the scene a little bit before getting straight into it. Also remember no one is having sex without some foreplay and if they are it isn’t very good, so don’t let it be like that in your writing. 

Lack of realism/inaccuracies – Okay so this was mainly in regard to sex, the way the body works and some scenarios. To elaborate, people said that there are just some sex positions and places to have sex that just don’t work. In example one person wrote how sex in a gaming/office chair doesn’t work well and they know through personal experience. So, for the readers it’s just super unrealistic that it happens, and it leaves the reader either fixated on figuring out how that is possible or cringing because they know it’s not possible rather than reading the rest of the fic. There’re also just some ways the body doesn’t work I’m not going to go through examples there are so many, but we all know what is meant. Also, I’ll mention that kinks also were apart of the lack of realism, I’ll talk more about that in the next post.

So, based on this the only thing I can say is keep it real and keep it accurate as possible. Like we know its fiction but consider how ridiculous some of the stuff you’re writing may be, how impossible it is. Just don’t be afraid to google things – you can actually freeze and delete your search history – to double check or educate yourself about. Or ask for advice, draw from experience, or maybe try it out yourself with or without your partner then reflect that in your writing.

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END OF CATERGORY 1

(Feel free to discuss in comments, in my messages or send anons or anything like that if you want.)

Tag list

@nctsworld, @lauraneuuh, @jooniyah, @ceoofxiaojun, @lovemayble @hyucksie​ @myelle-n

- if anyone else wants to be tagged for the next parts let me know via anon or dm -

[rudysrings]

Someday Soon

A/N: So the blog I started for my atla writing isn’t showing up in the tags. big sad. i’ll just put them on my main i guess. guess i write for atla now oop. I’ll write for pretty much anybody bc I do be a simp for atla and lok. Also the title sucks bc this is something i just wrote when it was simping for zuko hours, and i just felt like posting.

Warnings: er angst and fluff and allusions to sex i guess? it’s pretty PG ngl...

this gif is super overused but don’t lie you love it : D ;)

Okie here we go!

You found yourself seeking out the banished prince, despite the Gaang’s instant rejection of him. It had been too long since you had seen him, spoken with him, touched him.

You surprisingly felt no anger anymore, only sorrow for what you had lost. You knew nothing would ease that pain other than the presence of the boy himself.

You were grateful to Toph for understanding, for showing you the way and leaving you to speak alone.

He was asleep when you found him. You were surprisingly unprepared for that outcome.

Unsure about waking him, you simply sat a few feet away in the cave, drawing your legs close to your chest as you shivered in the cold of the night. You must have been there for no more than a few moments when you felt Zuko pull you towards him. “Hey,” he greeted, pulling you into his warm embrace. You could tell that he had done so because he had seen you freezing half to death.

It was so easy, the two of you alone in that little cave, for you to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist, that the harsh history between you was simply a bad dream.

You’d never felt so weak as you did then, not even when you were imprisoned, beaten down and your very identity ripped away. Because even then, you had known good from evil. But now, you were at war with yourself, unable to draw the line with his amber eyes melting away every ounce of your defiance.

Zuko held you close, but didn’t make any sudden moves, both out of awareness of your fragile disposition and out of pure respect for you. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel obligated to do something you would regret. Not that you would ever be so easily manipulated by anyone, but as selfish as it was, he secretly hoped that he made you as vulnerable as you made him.

You released a breath, not meeting his eyes as you straddled him timidly, the blush clear on your cheeks and neck. You were too absorbed in yourself to notice the same flush present on him.

“I wish I could just wake up from this nightmare,” you whispered. “This nightmare where you’re the bad guy, and you’ve hurt me in every way you can, and we can never be the same again.”

Zuko didn’t know why you were sharing this with him, opening yourself up after all this time, but he sure wasn’t complaining; he greedily licked up any piece of yourself you gifted him with.

“You’d think it would be easy to hate you, but Zuko,” you finally looked up at him, taken slightly aback by the emotion in his eyes. This was hurting him as much as it was you. “I just can’t seem to let you go.”

Zuko let a tear fall, blinking quickly as he spoke, “I-I don’t want you to let me go. Please. Everyone else except you and Uncle have already given up on me...just when I’m finally figuring out my destiny. And after what I’ve done to Uncle, he must hate me. I don’t--I need--as selfish as it is, I need your forgiveness. I can never take back what I did to you. I regret it every day. I understand if-if you can’t--”

The sight of your prince carrying all this guilt, feeling so alone and pleading with you for your forgiveness touched something within you that you thought you had managed to bury deep within yourself. Surging forward, you quieted that voice you adored so much with a kiss, drawing an mmph! from Zuko.

But he didn’t miss a beat, instantly winding around you on instinct, his mouth sliding over yours in just the right way, his hot tongue reminding you just how much you loved doing this.

You pulled away abruptly, afraid you’d forget what you were going to say if you let yourself get lost in him.

He looked up at you in question, his lips red and beautifully swollen from your kisses. “I forgive you, Zuko.” You felt a piece shift into place in your own heart as you said those words, a weight relieving itself from your chest.

You felt Zuko’s entire body sag with relief, his eyes twinkling with emotion, his lips parted in disbelief. “Spirits, I’m falling all in you...all over again,” Zuko said, his hot breath tickling your face.

His words encouraged your next move. You wound your arms around his neck, sliding forward on his lap to where you were chest to chest.

It seemed that even the moon didn’t want to encroach on your intimate moment, the moonlight somehow fading away, the infamous bright gold of Zuko’s eyes the only thing you could see clearly in the darkness of the cave.

You leaned back into him, your mouths colliding again. Your hands began to wander, slipping beneath his robe, seeking out the familiar contours you loved so dearly.

As your fingers began untying the knot that held his robes together, Zuko tensed, feeling the moment change as your focus shifted.

Zuko pulled away, dropping his lips to your ear to whisper, “Hey, hey, hey, slow down, y/n.”

You immediately stopped, your hands drawing back into yourself. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Zuko. I wanted--and I thought you wanted--”

Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. He brought your forehead to his, his eye glittering with mischief as he reassured you. “Trust me, angel, with you, I always want to.”

You blushed, unable to help the joy that filled your smile at his flattery. “But then, why…?” You trailed off.

“Why am I torturing myself?” Zuko asked, his expression full of mirth.

You nodded, smiling at his sudden lightheartedness. You had a feeling it might have something to do with getting your forgiveness. It had truly lightened his soul.

“Because even though I really, really, really want to, and you need to trust me on that, if we’re ever going to get on the right path again, I doubt this is the right way to start off?” He asked, as if looking for your input, too.

Your shoulders dropped in realization. You smiled inwardly at his forethought; he must really care. Tears pricked your eyes. “You’re completely right, Zuko.”

You began to feel the weight of the emotional day you had had, pushing you down into Zuko’s chest as you felt the hot tears stream down your face, and you tried to stifle the noises escaping your mouth.

Zuko didn’t need to ask. He simply knew. You had always been good at reading each other, and Zuko knew you were bound to break sooner or later. While he admired your strength to no end, what really made Zuko fall in love with you was your ability to be vulnerable with him with such ease.

That didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing you cry.

He held you tightly, his hands trembling as he tried his best to comfort you, his face buried in your sweet-smelling hair and his own tears slipping out of his tightly shut eyes. He wished he could just say the words. He loved you. He loved you like in all the magical stories his mother would read to him when he was small, like his Uncle had loved his late wife, like the moon loved the tide--he loved you. The words tore at his chest from the inside, but he kept them caged inside.

As the sun rose on the two of you, and your sobs turned into sniffles, Zuko pressed one more kiss to your quivering lips, somehow saying everything you needed to hear. He loved you. He wouldn’t say it just yet, but you knew. He had always loved you. The two of you always found each other in spite of the odds, and you had found each other once again. This time, Zuko was determined to keep you together; it was time he put you first. As he lay his head against the stone wall of the cave, holding you to his steady heartbeat, Zuko felt hopeful. “We’ll be okay, angel.” Someday soon.

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 3

Let me know if you want to be tagged, and make sure you check out my masterlist HERE for chapters 1& 2 and my other stories. 

Also, just so y’all know, the last scene has paraphrased lines from the movie (which you should definitely go watch if you haven’t yet.)

Enjoy!

Word count: 2392

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The day of the open house was upon them and M’Baku was more than excited to get to work with Monae some more. The workday crept by and as soon as the clock struck 5 he hurried out of his office and down the two flights of stairs to the arts wing. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, but he followed the sound of drums coming from one of the rooms. He walked up to the door and peeked in, seeing Monae teaching a class full of children West African dance. He leaned up against the doorframe and took in her graceful form and mesmerizing hips. He could have stood there and watched her move forever until one of the kids turned and saw him off to the side.

“Hi Mr. M’Baku!”

Monae and the kids turned towards him and greeted him. Monae’s smile was the brightest in the room.

“Hello children, Miss Monae.”

She sent him a small wave as the children surrounded him, all talking at once and all wanting to show him their moves.

“Alright, kiddos, lets all show M’Baku what you’ve been working on before you get out of here, Ok?”

“Ok!” 

The drummers started back up and the kids started to dance, the looks on their little brown faces making Monae smile at their joy. She watched her students with pride as they finished the number and took their bows. She and M’Baku both erupted in applause.

“Very good, class! Ok y’all can go on home now. If you come to the open house make sure you stop by and say hi, Mr. M’Baku here is going to be my assistant for the evening.”

The kids grabbed their bags to head home, some of them stopping to hug Monae and M’Baku on the way out to their guardians. M’Baku was taken aback since he had not had enough experience around young children to know they have no concept of personal space. Monae laughed at the confused look on his face, a near permanent fixture he was becoming used to by being in this new land. He was just happy he could make her smile. 

After the last child ran out, almost tripping over her shoelaces, Monae introduced M’Baku to her drummers Kehinde and Rodney. They bonded for a bit before Rodney slid out of the way to let M’Baku play his drum.

Monae couldn’t help but move with the way he struck the beautifully made instrument.. Her feet and hips took on a life of their own and she let the beat carry her however it saw fit. M’Baku already thought her choreographed dances were beautiful, but this? Her natural movement called to him as he moved her body with each stroke of his hands. Neither one of them were sure how long they were going for, but Rodney had to clear his throat to break the trance.

“Hey so I uh, I gotta head out. Sorry to interrupt whatever that was.” He pointed between the two, obviously picking up on the chemistry.

“Yeah, no, y’all get outta here. It’s late anyway. See you tomorrow?” 

“Of course.”

“See ya Monae, byyyeeee M’Baku.” Rodney and Kehinde snickered as they left the room.

“So, what first?” M’Baku asked, still coming down from the high he just experienced with her.

“Woo, sorry, let me uh catch my breath real quick...you’re good.” She gestured towards the drum.

“So are you,” he gestured towards her body and she cracked a smile.

“I’m aware.” She walked around him to the other side of the room to start straightening up the space. He joined in and the room was spotless in minutes.

“So,” she clapped. “I figured since the kids love you so much you’d be great at keeping them busy while the adults talk to me. Nakia brought us a bunch of Wakandan children’s books, so how about you read to the kids? You have to do voices though, if you don’t do voices I’m putting you somewhere else.” She was dead serious.

“What kind of monster does not change their voice to read to children?” M’Baku asked incredulously.

Monae’s mind flashed to two years ago when she asked Derrick to do something similar at the after school program where she volunteered. He just read it straight like it was a speech, and the kids were restless. It was a nightmare.

“You would be surprised. Ok so take a look through these and see if any jump out at you,” she handed him the crate full of books and he thumbed through them.

“I do not see any Jabari books,” he pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling his thoughts down.

“You don’t use the beads like the others?” 

“I could, but it is unnecessary technology for the most part.”

Monae nodded, remembering that the Jabari preferred to live analog. 

“Let me run this by you real quick, and you tell me what you think,” Monae started as he turned to give her his full attention. “I have sooooo many Wakandan beads I need to get rid of, so how about I set up a jewelry station across the hall? Just some beads and string, nothing too fancy. Then over in the paint lab I was thinking of using these extra textile scraps and old magazines to make mixed media collages. For the last station I have like a million gourds for the kids to paint, and I figured they could do that next door. I have three volunteers set up at each station, so don’t worry, you’ll have help with the kids. I wouldn’t just throw you to the wolves like that.” She winked at him as M’Baku nodded along, processing everything she said.

“This is not my specialty, but that sounds like a good plan to me.”

“What is your specialty?”

“I am a man of many talents, as you can see, but I am a warrior above all else.”

Her cheeks felt hot as she tried to quiet the damsel in distress inside her brain. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

“You mentioned that there aren’t any Jabari stories in here. You don’t have to use the books if you’d rather go off the cuff with it.”

M’Baku’s gap toothed smile shone through as his theatrical side woke up from its slumber. 

“You might regret that later.” 

______

The children loved M’Baku so much they barely touched the crafts Monae had set up for them. He regaled the kids, and the adults, with Jabari folktales about snowmen and giant gorillas and how the Jabari came to be.

“And then the Jabari left for the mountains. For centuries, the Jabari and the rest of Wakanda were angry at each other until-“

“Why?” interrupted a kid with his front two teeth missing.

“Well because the Jabari cared more for tradition and old ways, but the Wakandans wanted everything shiny and new. They argued so much they had to move away to keep the peace, and that is when Hanuman guided the Jabari to the mountains.”

“Who’s Hanuman?” asked a little girl with beaded cornrows.

“The god who guides and protects us.”

“My mama says theres only one god and his name ain’t Hanuman,” she responded with an attitude. Some of the parents and kids nodded along in agreement. 

“Well, you see, your mother is simply wrong-”

“Ok, that's enough for now. Let's give Mr. M’Baku a round of applause for storytime, huh?” Monae interrupted before things got too heated, and the crowd clapped for their griot. 

People wandered in and out of the room for the next couple hours, enjoying the crafts and M’Baku’s storytime. Monae kept everything running smoothly, including refilling M’Baku’s water bottle multiple times to keep his voice strong.  Shortly before closing time T’Challa wandered into the room and sat with the children listening to the same stories M’Baku had told so many times that night Monae could recite them herself. When it was over and the last guest had left the center all the staff and volunteers breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I think that went well!” M’Baku said, his voice hitching from overuse.

“Drink some more. Oh yeah, they absolutely loved you. You know T’Challa recorded your dramatics while he was here? You could win a Tony with that performance.” Monae gushed, proud of her, uh, friend. 

“Who?”

“It's an award for stage actors. I’ll make you a list like the one Captain America had.”

“What sort of list?”

“Of pop culture and historical things you should know. He spoke about it in an interview a few years ago and I thought ‘that’s brilliant, I’d do that too’ but I never had the chance...until now.”, her excitement was palpable. 

“That is a good idea, I will have to commend him on that the next time I see him.”

Monae froze.

“I’m sorry, you know Captain America?”

“Well yes, he and some other Avengers have been to Wakanda a couple times.”

Monae was speechless. She’d had a huge crush on Steve Rogers ever since he defrosted.

“I- what’s he like?” she asked, barely forming words.

M’Baku found her obvious fawning amusing and wondered if this is how she would look if she spoke about him to others. 

“He is nice,” M’Baku said before leaning in a little closer. “Especially for a colonizer.”

Monae cackled and they continued to straighten up the room. Once the area was sufficiently cleaned for the night, the two headed out to their cars. Monae yawned as they packed her little electric car full of art supplies.

“It seems it is past your bedti-” he was cut off by the sound of his stomach trying to climb out his body. “Well, then.”

They broke out into laughter, only subsiding when her stomach answered the mating call.

“Would you like to accompany me to dinner? It will be my treat. I was planning on going to The V Spot for some more jackfruit tacos.”

“Mmm, they have these vegan nachos that I would sell my arm for, but I’m so tired I’ll probably fall asleep on you. Next time?” she sent him an apologetic grin. 

“Next time it is, then.”

Monae turned to get into her car before stopping and turning back around to face him.

“You know what? I think I have one good hour left in me. Let’s meet there.”

_____

Both of them were too tired to speak, especially since M’Baku had done enough talking that night to warrant a week of silence. M’Baku paid for their food and they left, still in comfortable silence until reaching the sidewalk.

“Let me walk you home, you should not be out here by yourself.”

“M’Baku I can literally see my building from here.”

“And? Anything could happen between here and there. I would never forgive myself!”

The butterflies in her stomach were in full flight mode, and her face grew hot. She playfully rolled her eyes at him and turned away to mask her blushing face.

“Ok fine.” She said with faux reluctance. She wanted nothing more than to spend every moment she could with this man, but the ring weighing down her finger made it challenging. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, but Derrick is always out of town on business and she can feel the relationship slipping away. Even before M’Baku swooped in, her feelings for her fiance had started to dwindle. However, she did enjoy spending time with M’Baku and she figured there’d be no harm in taking the short stroll between The V Spot and her place.

“So, which direction?” M’Baku asked and Monae pointed to the right before they slowly took off down the street, arm in arm, in silence once again before Monae spoke up two minutes later.

“Well, this is me.” 

They both just stood there, not knowing how to end the night.

“I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?”

“Of course...I will say though, where I am from when you walk someone home from a date there is usually a goodnight kiss involved.”

She was stunned at his forwardness, and she could feel her pulse all over her body.

“But I guess this was not really a date, huh?”

“Um, n-no. M’Baku you know I’m engaged.” She said, looking down.

“Yes, but do you?” his eyes narrowed and he tilted his head as stepped closer to her. She didn’t move away, so he took another step forward so that their bodies were almost pressed together. 

“It was date-like.” she conceded.

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her in tight, closing the tiny gap of space left between the two of them. Her hands found their way to his chest and his other hand came up to tilt her chin upwards before he placed a light kiss on her lips and let her go. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked over his face. She took in his prominent brow and his strong jaw, his pillowy lips and his soft eyes. He was a giant wall of a man and she couldn’t get enough of how he felt up against her, 

“That’s it?” she teased before pulling him back and making him lean down into a deeper kiss. His hands rested respectfully at the small of her back despite his desire to explore her body more, and hers rested around his neck for the same reason. They broke away quickly when the door of the apartment building opened and an older man walked out with his dog, undoubtedly to go on a nighttime walk around the neighborhood before retiring for the night. He looked at them and shook his head before mumbling something under his breath about heathens. 

They looked back at each other and broke out laughing. 

“You should go,” Monae said softly while fiddling with his collar.

“I do not want to,” he whispered.

“I know, but-”

“You are engaged. I know,” he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Goodnight Monae.”

“Goodnight M’Baku, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He waited for her to get inside before turning around and heading back the way they came to make the short journey to his temporary home. The entire walk back, he hummed along to an unwritten love song in his head with a goofy smile on his face. He could still taste her and, by Hanuman, he wanted more.

Next Chapter

[pikemoreno]

colors

pairing: catfish morales x reader

summary: a summer with frankie, as told by colors

word count: 5k

warnings: mentions of drug use (but no actual use!), talk of frankie’s past (so there’s some violence, death, ptsd), there’s some fluff, some angst, what can ya do!

a/n: an idea brought about by a similar fic i’d written for another fandom + talking about what summer with frankie is like with @lesqui​. 

i liked it for a while. now i’ve stared at it so long that i kinda hate it. but hopefully you enjoy it at least a little!

( @hdlynn​, this is me tagging you as requested. ily.)

Summers with Frankie were green. 

Frankie was ever the outdoorsman. He would spend every single hour of the warm days outside if he could, sleeping with the canopy of leaves as a ceiling, the soft grass as a floor, and a hammock strung between trees the only thing separating him from either. He did it on multiple occasions over the warm days: spending the night in the backyard. The less-than-luxurious sleeping arrangements weren’t exactly doing wonders for his aching, overused joints, but it did wonders for his mind. Disconnecting like that calmed him in ways nothing else ever could. Sometimes he’d go by himself to get away, but he didn’t like it nearly as much as when you or Santiago went with him. (He had found too much time in complete solitude outside had the opposite effect; too much time to think.) You were, of course, more than happy to oblige and go with him.

“It includes a nice view. And you... An even nicer view,” you would tell him, “Of course I wanna join.” That always sent warmth right to his cheeks.

The views were nice: wispy clouds and darkening skies interrupted by the trees that stretched overhead, their colors muting as night overtook the forested backyard; and beautiful Frankie, setting up his hammock. You watched from your hammock as he pulled his own taught, admiring the muscles in his back that were visible beneath his henley. You didn’t think you were staring that hard but then...

“Admiring that view, sweetheart?” he asked as he turned around, pleased with his work and the way your gaze rested heavily on him.

“Mhmm… Why are you bothering with that one anyway? You know you’re not gonna be using it. You’re gonna be over here in mine--” You didn’t finish. He’d sauntered over, hands resting on the fabric on either side of your head. 

“Go on. What am I gonna be doing instead?” he breathed, teasing. 

“Probably me.”

“You think so?” he hummed, “Maybe I should be bringing you out here more often.” His arms still supported him as he hovered above you just out of reach. You were growing painfully impatient

“Oh, just shut up and fucking kiss me already.” You swatted at his arm to get him to come down to your level and he took no more time in-- finally-- meeting your lips. You snagged the cap off of his head, letting it fall to the grass below. He was already too entranced to notice, but he certainly did notice the way your fingers tangled in his hair, the way your lips parted upon contact. He deepened the kiss in response, shakily getting himself onto the hammock to kneel over you and free up his hands. The kiss only broke when he let out an: 

“Oh shi--”. 

In a split second, you felt the hammock tip precariously to one side before it returned to normal. You opened your eyes to find Frankie, still hovering just above you, looking as though he’d just escaped death: wide eyes, heavy breaths, hands gripping the edges of the hammock’s fabric. You felt the breath of his laugh against your lips and a mumbled:

“Whoops.”

You laughed too. The kissing resumed, full of life and breath and utter joy, eventually travelling to your jaw and neck, hitting every spot he knew so well. Both of your hands travelling lower, lower…

You were right, of course. There was absolutely no need for the second hammock. It hung lamely from the two oak trees, moved only by strong breezes and not the shifting weight of a body. As expected, Frankie never left yours. 

“I almost died getting up here. There’s no way I’m pressing my luck by trying to leave tonight,” he argued as he pulled you in to himself.

“Sure,” you quipped back, letting your head rest on his chest. The henley had long since been discarded, laying on the grass with the cap. You sighed at the closeness: legs tangled; an arm, gentle, but strong around you; fingers drawing light patterns on your own bared shoulder. The trees above you and the stars just past them seemed closer too, all wrapping you up in serene safety as you drifted off.

Summers with Frankie were green. Green like the trees and the grass that surrounded you that night. Green like the feelings of safety and harmony that bloomed in your chest.

Summers with Frankie were blue. 

There was a creek near the house Frankie grew up in. It was the last stop of many on the grand tour he had taken you on through his old childhood haunts, and it was probably the one he was most excited for. Sure, he was excited that you’d gotten to meet his parents for lunch and see his old house and all of the memories with it, but his old creek. This was hallowed ground.

He led you over rocks and down slopes to the “best spot” on the creek. Despite the way the creek you sought was rushing mere feet away, you continued farther and farther down the cragged, unforged path. 

“I promise, this other spot is way better. It’s calm and it’s not as rocky and there’s this rope swing we put up one summer and--” He went on and on, praising the place of his childhood. You didn’t understand the difference between here and there, but you trusted the enthusiasm in his eyes and his years of experience, which he obviously had. Frankie’s feet still knew every step as if he could see a trail where you couldn’t. With every “careful here” and “hold on let me go first,” as he slid down a steep slope, it was as if he’d carved the path into the earth himself. He pointed out memories to you as you walked on.

“This scar here?” he briefly pointed to a raised mark on the back of his calf and then a boulder more than twice your height to your right. “My best friend in 5th grade dared me to jump off it. Fell on my ass and a rock stuck in my leg at the bottom.” You winced at the thought. “Yeah, it felt like it sounds. Cracked my tailbone too, couldn’t sit right for a month.” He fell into step with you and laced your fingers together. “But... “ He turned toward the river now, taking you through the patch of trees to where the forest floor sloped down to meet the bank. 

It really was better here.

The harsh rocks gave way to soft, silty ground and then quiet, lapping waters. It really was the perfect spot for a lazy swim and a jump from the rope that hung from a solitary tree, grown sideways over the bank. Otherwise, the tree canopy fell away here to the brightest skies that warmed the current-smoothed rocks further down the way. It took your breath away, not the way the Grand Canyon does, or the beautiful clear seas of some far off island paradise, but in its own little way, especially as you saw it through Frankie’s eyes. It was the rose-colored view of a boy grasping onto memories that were kinder to him than these recent years had been. You memorized the brightness of his face, the glow had little to do with the summer sun warming his cheeks and everything to do with worlds colliding: the pure joy of bringing his favorite person to his favorite place, like a child dragging you to the toy store window. You ran down to the water like those children, leaving socks and shoes and cover-ups strewn in your wake.

Your newly bare toes sank into the muddy, silty bank. It squished in a gross way, but the cool earth felt so good. The light waves lapped against your toes and little minnows swam up to check you out, darting away in scaly flashes when you took a step. Frankie was quick to get right into the water, testing his old beloved rope swing. The branch creaked with the unfamiliar weight, but held strong as he flung himself into the water, creating unnatural waves in it that raced all the way to you, where you were thigh deep in the cool depths now.

Five seconds… Ten… Then twenty. You looked a little nervously to where the rings had now diminished, but you were looking in all the wrong places. Frankie had swam over to you, using the opacity of the water to sneak up on you. You were none the wiser when he grabbed your ankle, causing you to gasp with a few choice expletives as you fell into the water with a splash. You could hear Frankie’s muffled laugh as he rose from underneath the surface as you became submerged in it. You shot back up, spluttering.

“What the hell, Frankie?” He was still laughing.

“Sorry,” he managed to wheeze out. He wasn’t. You narrowed your eyes playfully as he finally calmed down. “Really. I didn’t think it’d scare you that badly.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck as you both drifted further into the water.

“What did you think would snatch you in a 7 foot deep creek? A shark?”

“A catfish?” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I guess one did.” 

“I’ll always snatch you up.”

“Nerd.”

“Dork.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You couldn’t tell if the kiss or the creek made you feel like you were floating.

After fingers and toes turned pruney you laid out on the pleasantly warm, almost unnaturally smooth rocks to dry. The deep sky above went on forever and left you with eyes half-lidded, warm and happy.

“You know, I had my first kiss on this rock,” Frankie broke the comfortable silence. 

“Is that why you brought me here? This where you bring all the girls, casanova?” He gave you a little shove. 

“Jealous?”

“Of your, what? 9th grade girlfriend? Absolutely not.”

“8th grade, actually.” 

“Was that before or after your 5th grade best friend stole your date to the 8th grade dance?” you teased, turning on your side to look at him, head resting on your hand. 

“After.” he grinned at the memory, “It was Sally Mason. My rebound,” he teased. 

“An 8th grade rebound,” you mused.

“Yeah, not much to be jealous of. The kiss was pretty bad anyway. We knocked our teeth together, eyes open,” he shook his head, “I’ve gotten a lot better since then.”

“Oh have you?” He gaped.

“Have I not?”

“You should probably remind me.”

“Not after that comment.” He pouted, but the dimple that rose in his cheek ruined the act. He couldn’t stop the grin.

“Come onnn, don’t you wanna take this old rock for another spin?” you crawled over until your face was hovering above his. You kissed either cheek, then several more pecks in quick succession when he didn’t respond. He broke, pulling you down to bring his lips to yours.

“Much better,” he murmured against your lips before leaving another quick peck.

Darkening skies eventually sent you home, delightfully tired. Frankie was quiet on the way back, but you chalked it up to the exhausted bliss you also felt. The long day in the sun had you passing out immediately after falling into bed. You were so utterly dead to the world that you didn’t notice when Frankie didn’t immediately join you. 

***

He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, hoping your soft breathing behind him and the darkness and the comfort of the mattress would bring some semblance of peace.

It didn’t. 

His thoughts were so very loud they woke him right back up; and worrying about sleeping made him spiral that much further, just another thought racing around and around with the others. He needed to be busy, to work himself into exhaustion like forcing a computer to power down. He moved to the kitchen to pace without disturbing you.

He hated what life had made of him.

He hated how his favorite place had seen him like this. The place he spent all of his school years living and breathing in had seen an entirely different man than what he had remembered. It had remained the same: steadfast, reliable, safe. Every tree and hill and hole was exactly the same.

But it felt so different, foreign. Like the woods he loved didn’t quite recognize him the way he recognized them.

It was hallowed ground and he was a sinner.

He’d seen war and death-- caused war and death--, and he still saw it everywhere he went. The creek looked red with the blood he spilled.

Not its fault, but his. 

He hated how different it was. This was supposed to be a special day, sharing a place so full of fond memories with the person he wanted to make a life’s worth of new memories with. Instead, it left him wanting, wishing he was still the person he was: a little older, sure, maybe a little smarter, but with the same curiosity and innocence and joy, the same zest for life. Not this man who was so hurt and untrusting and angry. He wanted to be like that boy again. He wanted it for her, she deserved better. For his favorite place, so that it would remember him the  and, he guessed, for himself too. 

His hands rested on the cool countertop, trying to get his breathing under control, willing the threat of tears away. This was bullshit. Things were how they were, he was who he was, and it was just a fucking creek. He shouldn’t be fucking crying. 

He’d be fine in the morning, he decided, but for now, he needed to numb it. He debated for a moment, fingers gripping onto and then relaxing against the edge of the counter before he pushed away from it and to one long-forgotten little cabinet in the kitchen.

He’d fully kicked the coke habit months ago. After coming back from South America for the last time-- the actual last time-- it just didn’t matter so much anymore. Being that close to his death once again reminded him just how fragile his life was and how much better he could be doing.

In its wake, it left a lot of problems that he didn’t know what to do with. You were always there; and it meant more than you could ever know, really. But even your soft touches and listening ear-- and some well-placed tough love-- could not drown everything out.

He needed to be numb again.

If he remembered right, he had the tiniest amount of the substance left in the back of the cabinet. There wasn’t really a reason to keep it, but just knowing he had it if he needed it made him feel safer in some crooked, fucked up way. He didn’t tell you about that part. 

He had barely begun to walk away from the cabinet when he heard footsteps on hardwood. He met sleepy eyes that looked between the clear bag in his hand and his grim face. He watched the heartbreak take root in those eyes he loved. Your shoulders slumped a little and your hand gently, sleepily reached out to him,

“Cat,” you whispered. You were so clearly disappointed. You had been his biggest cheerleader in this and now he was going back to square one. He was such a screw up. All at once he realized what he was doing. The baggy fell to the floor and he crumpled onto his knees behind it, sobbing into his hands in a way he hadn’t done in months.

“I can’t do it,” he mumbled. He felt your presence now on the floor next to him, felt your hand as it lovingly rubbed his back.

“What can’t you do, my love?” 

Anything. 

He didn’t respond. He just cried as your hand kept rubbing soothing circles. You were too good to him. You knew exactly what he needed, of course. He didn’t need overbearing attempts at comforting, he didn’t need a solution, he just needed a comfortable, patient presence until he could figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffed, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” you pressed a feather light kiss to his hair, “You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? You’re ok, baby. Just take some deep breaths for me.” He did.  “Good, that’s good. You’re alright, Frankie.” His breathing evened and the two of you sat on the floor, backs against the counter. You gently played with his fingers as the last remaining sniffles subsided. 

“I-- I’m,” he started trying to explain, but there were no words.

“Shh,” you soothed, “Not a conversation we need to have tonight. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” You stood with him, arms around each other as you walked back to bed.

When you were both laid down, lights off, your back against his chest, his arm laying over your waist, you whispered his name.

“Hmm?” he answered, dreamily. 

“You know that I’m here for you right? For whatever you need. You don’t need to try to get rid of it with that shit? I’m here to work through anything with you.”

“Yeah, I know.” The silence after demanded more be said, but nothing more came. 

“Yeah, I know.” I know you’re here, but I don’t want your help. The quiet taunted you.

 He finally let sleep take him. Yours came uncomfortably. 

Summers with Frankie were blue.

Blue like the easy lapping waters and the blazing blue of the sky on a sunny, lazy day. Blue like his memories, now tainted with time. Blue like the sinking feeling in your chest when you realized there was nothing you could do about it. 

Summers with Frankie were red. 

You woke up groggily to beaming light and an empty bed. As the memories of the early morning hours flooded back, you panicked, wondering if he-- 

Fear won out over exhaustion and you ran to the kitchen. 

The bag of white powder was gone from the floor. Frankie was at the sink, scrubbing fiercely at a mug. That couldn’t be good.

“I took care of it,” he stated blankly over his shoulder. He was already so embarrassed, so angry at himself. He didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Took care of it, how?” He all but slammed the mug down. That was the wrong question right about now.

“I didn’t use it, if that’s what you mean.” There was an unmistakable bite to his tone. It startled you a little. Frankie was as mild-mannered as they came. You’d seen him angry, sure; no one was perfect. But it had never before been directed at you. It stung.

“Frankie, I-” you tried to backtrack

“You think I’ve been using again?” He was turned fully now to face you, but his fingers gripped the edge of the counter behind him, knuckles turning white with the pressure: angry, panicking.

“And what the hell am I supposed to think after last night? Hmm? I found you in here taking--” you froze then bolted to the cabinet. Frankie tried to argue, to stop you, but it was too late. You had the offending substance in your hand, and your frustration was burning as hot as his now. You stomped to the bathroom.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What you should’ve done months ago,” your tone was poisonous.

“I need it!” He tried to yank it out of your hand. 

“No you don’t!”

“I need it! Just in case. Just in case I-”

“Why am I not enough Frankie?” you finally yelled out. He dropped his hold on the bag. It fell back into your hand. It felt so incredibly heavy. You dropped it.

“What?” All of the anger was gone from his voice. It was light as a whisper. “Shit, do you think that’s what this is? That it’s your fault?” His expression grew softer, contrasting the prominence of the crease between his eyebrows as he tilted his head at you. You ran your hands through your hair in frustration, walking out of the bathroom. He followed.

“We’re not done here, baby. Don’t walk away from me.” The hallway had never felt more constricting. His hands came to your waist, spinning you to face him. Eyes searched your face, waiting for your answer

“Yes, Frankie. Yes. I feel like I failed you. I feel like I haven’t helped you like I should. That’s how most people deal with their problems: they talk to someone, they work through it. Obviously I’ve done something wrong here because that’s not what happened. You shouldn’t have to turn to drugs instead of me.” You shook your head, trying to clear your watering eyes. “You got help. You don’t need this anymore.” The breath he took in was sharp.

“I know… I know.” Hands squeezed lightly against your waist. “But what I was feeling yesterday. I- I can’t put that on you. What I’ve seen and done and how that affects me… It’s not always something I can just talk about. It’s a lot, it’s heavy. You haven’t experienced it and I don’t want you to, even second-hand. It’s not a you thing. It’s just a-- thing.” Your eyes went to the floor, but he lifted your chin back up to meet your eyes. “It’s not on you, you got that? You’ve done so much for me. More than you know. Sometimes it’s just… Too much for either of us. It can’t be solved that easily all the time.” You nodded. 

“It still doesn’t mean that should be your go-to instead, Cat.” He sighed.

“You’re right. It shouldn’t. I gotta find a better coping method when I can’t talk to you, or it’s too late to call one of the guys about it. But for now,” he punctuated by taking you by the hand, walking you back to the bathroom, and picking up the bag that started all of this. He held it up, presenting it to you before flushing every last bit of it. He smiled back at you. He looked so proud of himself. The weight that he carried on his shoulders looked as if it’d become twenty pounds lighter.

“That’s for you.” 

“No…” Your arms went around his neck and his found your waist once again. “...It’s for you. That is the best thing you could’ve done for yourself. Proud of you, Cat.” You brought your foreheads together, resting there a minute.

“I love you.” It was so lightly whispered that you might’ve missed it completely if you hadn’t felt it on your lips. “And I’m sorry I got angry. It wasn’t at you.”

“I love you. I’m sorry I got angry too.” You stole a quick, forgiving kiss, then pulled back. “Now, I don’t know about you, but my sleep last night was terrible.” He nodded in agreement. “Care to join me for a nap?” 

“Yes please.”

The rest of the afternoon was full of soft embraces and apologies for misunderstandings. You floated in and out of consciousness, broken up only by instances of “more strenuous activities”, quick kitchen runs for snacks, and one shared shower.

Day blended seamlessly into night until your dreams were interrupted by a far off whisper and a vague feeling of being shaken. You blinked awake and met Frankie’s grinning eyes. It was still pitch black outside.

“C’mon,” he whispered, clambering back to the edge of the bed to lace up his shoes.

“What time is it?” you murmured.

“Late,” you heard the grin in his voice. “Well, early, actually, I guess.”

“What are we doing?” 

“Don’t worry about it. That’s my job.” He looked back at you, “Hungry?” You considered a moment.

“Yeah, actually. Is this a Hal’s run?”

“Shhh.. You’re ruining it. What are you still doing in bed? Go get ready!”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Wakes me up at,” you finally looked at the clock as you crawled out of bed, “4am and now he’s all bossy.” He threw a pillow at you; you laughed.

Twenty minutes later you were sitting in Frankie’s pick-up, windows down as he drove. The rush of wind against your face brought the smells of the fields you passed: grass and wildflowers and something distinctly summer. The crickets were chirping loud and proud, a perfect compliment to the soft music from the radio. There was no talking, but it was a comfortable silence. The most comfortable you’ve ever felt. Sodium vapor streetlights intermittently interrupted the darkness behind your eyelids as you closed your eyes to take it all in. 

“You ok?” came a whisper as light as the breeze.

“Never been better,” you whispered back. You heard him chuckle as musical as the crickets.

The best diner in the city coming into view was by far the most beautiful sight you’d seen in weeks. You’d seen it often during the evening hours, as the sun went down and the last remains of the “dinner rush” finished (which consisted of fifteen parties in the tiny place instead of the usual five). It was kind of beautiful like this. Hauntingly beautiful. It looked like one of the places where time doesn’t exist. Its neons flashed between “Hal’s Diner” and “Open 24 hours” in gaudy fashion for no one in particular-- there were no cars in the lot and none on the road at this hour

You liked to think Hal’s single handedly proved the theory that hole-in-the-wall places always serve the best food. The sign on the window read “Hal’s: Since 1962.” You thought it should read “Hal’s: Has not updated since 1962.” 

But none of that mattered once they put down that plate of just-greasy-enough diner food. As you popped a fry in your mouth you decided that if torn and re-taped leather booths and old light fixtures meant they could keep serving food like this, then that is perfectly fine with you.

You really tried to keep your voices hushed in reverence of the graveyard shift employees who looked utterly exhausted, but you couldn’t contain your laughter as you watched Frankie bang on the back of a ketchup bottle, only to have nearly a quarter of the bottle splatter onto his plate. He gaped at it as you cackled.

“Gee, Frankie, want some fries with your ketchup?” you teased once you had control of yourself again. You dipped one of your fries in the pile.

“It’s too early for this shit,” he muttered to himself, closing the bottle and putting it back. But the grin you shared told you he wouldn’t give up these silly little 5am moments for anything.

When you’d devoured all of your food-- and some of the ketchup-- you left a generous tip on the table for the poor waitress and headed back out into the balmy summer air. The clock on the dash read 6:15am and you found yourselves passing the beginnings of morning commuters. You looked at him as you passed by the road to go home, about to question him, but he only smiled back at you with a look that said “trust me.”

Summers with Frankie were red. Red like deep hurts and anger at what can’t be changed. Red like danger signs. Red like diner neons and a gratuitous pile of ketchup. Red like love blossoming after a harsh storm.

As Frankie drove up a mountain pass at 6:45 on one of the last summer days, you thought about the summer spent with him. It was all of those colors: harmonic greens, calming blues, and overwhelming reds; and as you looked at the man next to you, putting his pick-up into park and telling you to “c’mon”, you decided he was too. He was all of those colors.

He was softly green. He preferred to be surrounded by green, after all; it was no wonder that it bled into him so effortlessly. He was so easy-going and mild-mannered, seeking peace and happiness with those around him. To you, he was safety; reliable as the grass beneath your feet.

But he had his blues. He was calming and joyful, free as the birds in a light blue sky. You saw that in him as you watched him tumble off of the rope swing or crack jokes with his dad. It was light and breezy, but too soon followed by blues of darkest night. You wished you could take the dark blues right out of him. Someone like him should never have to face dark blue feelings and dark blue memories. All you could do was stay with him in the storm.

But he was red too and it was a double-edged sword. He was one of the most passionate people you’d ever met, for better or worse. His usual mild-mannered attitude could not hold its own against the fury of injustice or bitter wishes that the world be different or, heartbreakingly, unbridled anger at himself for the pain he’s inflicted. But oh was he just as passionate about you: loving you, laughing with you, making things work with you. That passion that lead to anger was the same passion that loved you more deeply than anything. 

But then again, no. 

You sat in the truck bed with your Frankie, watching the sun rise over an untouched valley. The view was absolutely breathtaking. All of the sunrise’s swirling hues melted together so they were inseparable from one another, making a new color all its own. You decided it then:

Frankie wasn’t just green, blue, and red, all separate and incompatible with one another.

He was so much more, a swirling shade all his own. 

Every bit of it was him, and it was your favorite color.

(Moodboards by @aerynwrites)

[honey-makki]

Sorry

Characters: Haiba Lev X Fem!Reader Summary: After talking to your father on the phone, Lev wants to help you unlearn unhealthy coping mechanisms. Warnings: family issues, allusions to abuse, bad childhoods, abusive language Song: seven- taylor swift Genre: hurt-> fluff Word Count: 1.7k+ A/N: This is about a rough childhood and growing from that. It’s deeply personal and could very well be triggering to people. I wanted to write something about the value of having a support system without undermining the work an individual has to do personally.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The holidays are generally a joyous time of year, full of reflection on your growth, sweet traditions with friends, and time spent with family. You adore the yearly gift exchange that you and Lev host in your shared apartment. Wreath cookies fresh out of the oven, hot cocoa in everyone’s mugs and silly pajamas.

The gifts were never serious, ranging from bacon toothpaste to a copy of Flubber (which Lev would argue is a fantastic movie, but that's besides the point) to a unicorn mug. Laughter floating around the house as people switch gifts and mosey around snacking on food and catching up with others.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing your friends, all gathered together and just existing. Nothing can crush your spirit other than a phone call from your father. “Y/N, we expect you will be home Thursday night for the family dinner and stay for breakfast with Grandma in the morning.”

You know it won't matter how you try to get out of it, years of attempts proved that you go, or it gets worse. The already tense relationship strung even tighter, harsh words thrown your direction, implications that were clearly false, guilt piling up until you can’t take it anymore and you head home for a visit.

You tried explaining to your father that you had an overnight shift at the hospital and wouldn’t be able to make it. Hearing laughter from your friends through the phone, he tears into you for “valuing their companionship more than the people who gave you everything.” You try to get a word in but he doesn’t stop.

Lev notices you’ve been gone for almost 20 minutes on a call and decides to check on you. He walks outside to see you, sitting on the snowy stoop. The scene breaks his heart and lights a fire in him. Seeing you crying into your knees, your father still spewing vicious words from the phone sitting at your side. Both of you can hear him clearly even though he isn’t on speaker, the venom of his voice is amplified through sheer anger.

In the coldest tone your silver haired boyfriend has ever used, “Y/N has to go now,” and hangs up on your confused father. He slides into a seated position next to you, placing an arm around your shoulder, cooing soothing nothings to you. His voice brings you back to earth a little, silently crying, rather than the gut wrenching sobs.

Voice raspy from overuse, “I-- I’m sor- sorry-- sorry you had to c-come check on m-m-me.”

“Angel, don’t worry. You have nothing to apologize for. I checked on you because I care about you, not because I felt obligated,” knowing you want to rebut, he continues “don’t talk, let your voice rest. Just let me tell you that I love you and I’m here for you for as long as you’ll have me.”

He pulls you onto his lap and holds you until you feel strong enough to go inside, watching the snowflakes fall together in the meantime. ------------ Lev knew that your childhood wasn’t the best. You never brought up him meeting your parents or visiting home for the weekend. You never joined in the conversations reminiscing about “the good ole days” stating rather that you were more than happy to live in this moment.

You always shot Lev a loving glance or gave him a peck on the cheek to show that you weren't being cheesy, but genuinely meant it.

You were never slow to tell him how much you loved him, lamenting the fact that he made you feel safe, like you truly had a home. He took your words to heart, but never really understood what you were implying until that night on the phone with your dad.

Everything seemed to fall into place, puzzle pieces of your life up until now finally fitting together in his mind. The way you looked relieved when he told you that he loved you, brushing off talking about you family despite loving seeing Alisa and his parents, how you mentioned being independent at an early age.

The way you repeatedly apologize over every tiny mishap from bumping into him in the hallway or spilling a glass of water. How when you have an argument, you put space and preferably a piece of furniture between you two. The way you flinched when you heard a man yelling, retreating into Lev’s arms reflexively.

He didn’t realize what he was seeing were coping mechanisms from abuse. Overapologizing for existing, always being ready to run if needed, anxiety, and the pavlovian physical reaction you have to loud noises.

How did he not see this before? -------- It became Lev’s one true intention to help you. He tracked and noticed what triggered your anxiety so he could remove or reduce them in your daily life, always trying to stay seated and relaxed whenever an argument occurred knowing that his imposing 6’3 figure makes the problem worse, never raising his voice, even in glee, not when he was playing video games.

You noticed he was acting a little different, but weren’t exactly sure where it came from. You had still avoided his questions after the party a few months back just brushing your dad’s behavior as a one time thing. Lev made it clear that you didn’t need to go visit them if you didn’t want to do so, and if you did, that he would be going with you.  Not wanting you to face that alone.

Lev started going to therapy, wanting to make the idea normal. He talked about coping mechanisms he was learning to deal with stress, offering up these little nuggets of advice in a way that you could take them and avoid his questions until you were ready to talk.

It was almost 6 months after the night Lev talked to your dad on the phone that you broke down in his arms again.

----------- Your birthday was next week. When you got out of the shower after a double shift at the hospital, the first thing you saw on your revived phone was a voicemail from your dad. Lev already knew something was wrong by the whimper embedded in the way you called out to him from your bathroom.

You were never one to show emotions unless you wanted to express them, having learned that skill at a young age, but this time it broke through. The image of Lev opening the door with force that teetered between firm and tender, face contorted into concern, his body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat over his bare chest was the epitome of comfort.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your work out ses-”

“No. Y/N you do not need to apologize to me for existing, for feeling or for needing me. Ever. I love you so, so much and would do anything to make you realize that. To make you understand that.”

That confession is how you realized Lev already knew your secret. You didn’t have the ability to process that his past actions were intentional, trying to make you comfortable and grow as an individual. You can’t process that because the thought of someone knowing about your past brought you to tears.

You never wanted to seem broken, like damaged goods, someone with too much baggage to handle. It’s the whole reason you never told Lev even though you were planning on spending your life with him. You didn’t want to ruin that; to have him not pick up the pieces of your heart. Leaving you even more broken than you were before.

He knew that his love wouldn’t fix your heart in totality or immediately resolve bad habits, but he wanted to give you the support to get there. And right now, you needed him to hold you.

The warmth of his body encompassing yours as he moves you into a sitting position reduces the cold wave of worry that ran through your body. The coo of his gentle voice whispering words of adoration and pure unadulterated love into your ear brings you out of your head, grounding you in this moment.

To the only moment that matters. Moments with him, safe, tender, and full of support.  When you gather yourself, you quietly walk him through your childhood. He patiently waits, not interrupting you but assuring you to take your time when you get choked up.

“Y/N, I want to make sure that you never feel like that again. I want to help you move forward.”

And he does just that. He watches you go to therapy and come back a little lighter, even on the bad days. Lev brings you a cup of tea when your anxiety gets too bad, always fast to remove you from situations that might be triggering. He is a constant companion and cheerleader for your transformation.

------

You stand in the nursery for your soon to be child with Lev. Basking in what the future holds for the two, no, three of you. Lev notices the wistful expression on your face as you seem lost in thought. “Hey, we will be fantastic parents. Our kid is going to know what love is and see it exemplified every day.” He cups your cheeks, staring into your eyes trying to see if you not only understand, but believe him.

“I know. Sorry, I’m just, It’s just a concern I have. I don’t want to be like-”

“Y/N. You would never emulate your childhood. I’ve seen you grow so much and become the most resilient and compassionate woman I know. You will be able to teach those things to our child. I have no doubts about that.” He punctuated his proclamation with a sweet kiss on the lips and a soft hug, accommodating for your belly which holds the future, not a repeat of the past.

Tags @ceo-of-daichi​ @roandtheroses​ @sugawara-sweetheart​ @iguessimastannow​@laughingismorefun

[starrybouquet]

1, 5, & 9 for the writer asks pls :)

thanks for sending this in, anon! Sorry for replying like months and months later....

1. What's something you've written that you know is OOC and you just don't care?

I think the best answer for this is probably Letters to Archie. It's intentional Cam-hate fic, and I've never seen seasons 9 and 10 in full. Plus, I don't even hate Cam. He's just the poor guy who bears the brunt of my season 9-10 hate.

But Chapter 3 is one of my favorites of the things I've written. So...yeah, I don't much care. :)

Something you hate to see in smut.

Oh, damn. I have a list of bad smut words. Of course, that being said, I will still read smut with these words if I like the rest of it enough. But here are a bunch of words I hate to see, off the top of my head: lover, member, dewy, petal, anything being the color of the woman's lips, ministration, and I am missing SO many.

What's your fandom's most overused trope?

If we're talking Sam/Jack fandom, it's gotta be "aliens made them do it", right? I want to run the numbers on this.

(Oh: also, in NCIS fic, Ziva bashing is shockingly common. Stop bashing my baby! Or keep bashing her, but thank you for your continued use of relevant tags. Seriously, tagging it is great. Thanks!)

[a-forgotten-spirit]

Chained To Him (7)

Pairing: Dad Aizawa x reader (platonic), Dad Mic x reader (Platonic), Bakugou x reader (slow build)

Summary: The last rounds in the sports festival

Words: +- 4000

Warnings: Orphan, villains parents, you watched the season you’ll be fine, broken bones, fixing broken bones, the sports festival arc, 

A/N: I tried to make it as similar to the original had to change who characters fight to move it along. I apologize this took awhile, I am beyond busy.

Tags:  @puppetofyourdreams​ @aurorahoneybuns @star-witchs-blog​ @mha4life007​

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 ________________________________________________________________ Chapter 7

I was going to win, no one was going to stop me. I didn’t care, I was going to win. There will be no exceptions. I walked back to the room I was occupying and was getting ready for the next fights. If they progressed then I would be fighting them. I hadn’t even looked at my next opponent but I would win, it didn’t matter. To begin the second round it was Midoriya versus Todoroki. Todoroki was an opponent worth watching; he was the only one I worried for when facing Bakugou, even though he had two quirks like myself he had morals and didn’t seem to like to fight. He looked as though he wished to prove something to not only the world but himself. Little whispers flowed around me of their thoughts and I smiled.

“The son of Endeavour” I smiled, I already knew that. I was there the day he got recommended, I was there when his father came to give my own fathers papers and things so he could attend. He was the only one I was worried about, he wanted to win this. The fight in his eyes said so.

The fight began and I sat and watched intently, my body leaned forward and eyes narrowed, I was meant to be in the stands but I wanted to be here. No one would distract me today. Todoroki started with a cloud of ice towards the green-ette but a simple flick of a finger and Midoriya was still standing teeth grit and eyes wide. This would be a good fight, though Midoriya was hurting himself in the end. It was all a matter of how long he could go for. More ice and another flick, he only had eight fingers left and he had to be in pain. There is no way he couldn’t be. Another wave of ice and another flick, this was going to be awhile. The air looked cold and frostbitten, so did Todoroki’s arms. Another wave and yet another flick. Then Todoroki was running on ice, another flick and then an attack from Todoroki, Midoriya jumped and then ice and another flick. This was ridiculous. He was hurting himself to win. This whole thing was meant to show off your quirk. Todoroki was back up with a breath of ice.

“Shaking” I tilted my head “arm too cold” I smirked, he had to regulate himself but he seemed to not want to use his other side. I wondered why “Father” I nodded. He didn’t want to use his father's power, it made sense. More ice and another flick. Todoroki caught himself. He had amazing control of his power. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but Midoriya was yelling it seemed, he was shaking. Maybe it would have been better to sit in the stands so I could hear what he was saying. A scream from Midoriya with a clenched fist that had to strike pain through him, I waited. Time wasn’t moving as I sat there my hands in my lap leaning forward, waiting. Todoroki was on the move, running eyes narrowed. He was slower. “Too cold” I nodded.

He jumped but then was punched across the field not without a hit to Midoriya's arm, though the other was up within seconds. The fight was back and forth, I believe Midnight would soon step in. She had too, right? Back and forth, ice and flicks. This was never going to end, they had to stop them before one got brutally injured. Todoroki was shaking, Midoriya was out of fingers. This would end soon, though I didn’t know who was going to win, it wasn’t even far from it but Todoroki needed to get his head in the game. Ice spread over his side as they came together with a punch to his abdomen and he looked dead, body falling. I wanted to look away, he looked sad, so very sad. Then his other side was alight, firing raging around him, he was using both sides. There was no way he was to lose now. The ice melted, he was regulating his temperature, he was going to win, there was no way he couldn’t with his full quirk. Then we were about to fight but with power, ice, fire and cement colliding the area burst with force and then when the smoke cleared it was Todoroki who was the one in bounds and standing.

The area had to be cleaned up then the next match Iida versus the girl from 1-B, the one with the vines, was over relatively quickly. Iida simple ran her out of bounds, it wasn’t that exciting and I could easily dodge his attack with my chains. A good show of his quirk and speed though so I couldn’t complain. I stood up, I was next. I would win, there was no room for failure. I was doing this so I could fight Bakugou, I was doing this for my parents. I was doing this to show the world I wasn’t villainous. It was my turn, I walked out into the field, my steps slow, everyone was quiet. This is a well-anticipated match, we both could stand still and fight. We both were ranged attacks but that’s what he was expecting. When on the field I bowed to him and he bowed back. I was going to win this.

“Begin” Midnight shouted and then Dark shadow was coming straight for me. He was moving quickly as I stood still and then at the last moment I crouched the chains burst from my back and attacked quickly and without hesitance. I was then running, I wasn’t even looking in the dark shadow, my eyes narrowed as I ran towards Tokoyami.

More chains tied up Dark Shadow and then I sent out a punch, dodged. I dodged his attack with a simple move of my shoulder though I never let my eyes drift from his own. My eyes narrowed and he widened. I ducked and he jumped, high pulling himself towards the sky to dodge. My chains faded and then knew ones as I threw myself into the air.

“I apologise” I called out and grabbed his leg with a chain and threw him towards the ground harshly “but I refuse to lose” dark shadow was brought down with him as I let myself fall to the ground with a thud then coming to my full height. “Are you able to fight?” I asked and stood, he could give up if he wished. He was up and breathing heavily. “Again”

I was running and a dark shadow was coming toward me, I ducked bending my knees and skidding along the ground chains coming to protect my body as I skid, I pushed myself up and then began to fight Dark shadow, he was stronger and I was pushed back. Chains dug into the ground and held him off. “Dark shadow” Tokoyami yelled and I blocked another hit.

“I will not lose” I yelled and then slammed my foot into the ground and pushed, I was pushing dark shadow “I will not lose” I yelled again. I wasn’t going to lose this, I was going to show everyone I could win. I didn’t need the other half of my quirk, I could win. I felt a hit to my side and I went flying digging my hands and chains into the ground to hold myself in the field. I looked up to see Tokoyami pulling a fist into his body.

I needed to pay more attention. I stood up and held my rib cage, it was a good hit. I smirked and stood fully cracking my neck from the whiplash and turned to them. I would not lose. I will not lose. Dark shadow was racing towards me, claws out and mouth wide. Chains stopped him and threw him into the ground with a grunt. I walked forward, slowly my feet connected with the ground.

“He is watching” I nodded “He is strong” I nodded again. “We will win” I smiled and then I was running, faster than ever as I came to his back my hands out and grabbed his shoulders and I jumped and twisted and then brought him down beneath me. Chains came out and held his arms down as I straddled him to the ground.

He struggled for a moment and then he let his head rest back “You win” I smiled and then came the cheers as I left his body and stood, chains coming back as I held out a hand. He took it and I pulled him up as a dark shadow came and looked down.

I held his hands and bowed at the waist “Thank you” I whispered and looked back up. “Both of you. Thank you for the fight and sorry for going a bit overboard” he shook his head and smiled with dark shadow.

“You’re welcome” then we left the field, my hands leaving his own, I waved to the dark shadow and then the cheers, Pa was announcing my win but my eyes lifted to Bakugou and my hand rose with a point. I was indicating he was next.

I walked out to the field and when in the tunnel I smiled, wide and my hands began to shake, I won. I won, I would be moving on. I would win, Bakugou just had to win. I smiled wider. One more fight then Bakugou, if he won. He did, he won against Kirishima. Kirishima had an amazing defence with his quirk but continuous explosions would put anyone off. Bakugou also had amazing reflexes and agility, it was more than insane. He wasn’t human, his quirk had nothing to do with his speed or agility on foot yet he dodged like he knew the others moved in advance. Continuous explosions and the overuse of Kirishima’s quirk meant Bakugou was going to win.

Now he just had to beat Todoroki and I had to beat Iida, then we could fight. One more match, one more match. I was up first. I brushed off my legs and then I was walking out onto the field. I sighed out, he was fast, the fastest in our class. I bowed as did he then the fight began. He was running, I had not anticipated his speed, I sunk to the ground missing his arms by millimetres. Chains sprouted and he was off and running. How was I meant to catch someone I couldn’t. I could use the other half of my quirk, I looked down to my hand and sighed and shook my head, no. The only person worthy of that is Bakugou, I would beat him. There was no way I wouldn't beat him.

He was at my side and my arm rose to deflect his attack as I smiled and twisted, throwing a kick into his side, he tripped but was up and running away quickly. I nodded. All the information was rushing through my mind. My eyes couldn’t catch him and my chains relied on my eyes. I sighed and closed my eyes.

“She’s closing her eyes” Pa yelled and I let all my senses die as I put everything into feeling. His body was moving, running toward me. A chain came and he dodged, faster. I stood still and then waited, another attack, another dodge. Another attack and another dodge. I needed him in the perfect spot, the perfect spot. He needed to move slightly, now. My eyes burst open and I ran grabbing his arm and throwing him harshly over my shoulder eyes wide and then slammed him into the ground with a grunt. Chains were then placed at the ready as I stood looking down at him.

He nodded and then I stepped back, my chains curling around my torso and then one of my legs. Something they did when they wished to be out but not in the air. I stood back hearing the cheers as he quickly got up and smiled with a bow, I bowed back. Then I was off chained firmly around my body as I walked out. Once in the tunnel, the smile was wide and proud as I jumped around.

“He must win” I nodded, Katsuki had to win, he was going to win. I knew he was going to win, he would, no questions asked. Though I couldn’t stop the worry. “You won” I nodded, I did win. I won fair and square with only my chains. With Bakugou’s speed and strength, I doubted I could beat him without the use of my full quirk.

I walked back into the room and waited for Todoroki and Bakugou' fight. Todoroki was range attacks while Bakugou preferred close combat but could do range. The bigger the explosion the more force behind it, my chains could keep me in place. I could win against him, I hoped. Though if he got in close then there wasn’t much I could do, I believe his agility and speed much outweigh my own so there wasn’t much to do in that aspect, I just had to keep him at a distance.

I sat back and waited for Todoroki and Bakugou, I was beyond worried, this matchup was insane. Both their power and their might was commendable but I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. I wanted to verse Bakugou, I wanted to show the world I could be a hero. I wanted to be someone people looked up too and could see as an up and coming hero. I wanted to win, I wanted to fairly win and for that, I needed to use my full quirk so I could win fairly.

The fight began as most with Todoroki, ice clouded the stadium, Bakugou, on the other hand, was moving so rapidly to try and explode the ice faster than it was coming at him but then he was covered. Was it done? Was this over, did Bakugou lose that quickly? The stadium shook periodically, each seeming hit shook the area but no one was attacking. My eyes were wide, he was in there, he was getting out, right? The ice was cracking and then an explosion and he was out, jumping over the ice steam came off his hands. He was so fast being able to dodge quickly, he used an explosion to get out of way. That was training beyond belief. Grabbing Todoroki’s shoulder he flipped and then threw the poor male, ice caught him. It was fast, I couldn’t feel pain from my chains but if enough damage was done I was sure I’d feel something. Todoroki was surfing but with Bakugou in the air, he was caught but then thrown. No fire? He could have potentially won if he did. Explosions came from his palms loud and one after another. Bakugou was screaming, I could even hear him. He was offended Todoroki isn't using his full power, I would too. I would give him a fair fight. Todoroki was on fire and Bakugou was coming through the air and at the moment of impact the fire extinguished, ice steaming and shattering in the air. The smoke cleared and Bakugou was on the ground while Todoroki, on the other hand, was sprawled out on his ice. Bakugou was running at him, grabbed his shirt and then he too fell Midnight behind him. It wasn’t a real win in his eyes. I could see that. Midnight announced the winner and then we would take a break until he awoke.

I leaned back “He won, unfairly” I nodded to the voice by my ear, “I thought, fair, others didn’t” breath “try hard” I nodded. The voice was right, Todoroki didn’t try. He let his fire extinguish. I sighed out and calmed my racing heart, he wouldn’t be out for long and with the last match, I knew I was going to be on the receiving end of that anger. I wanted it, I wanted to win. Everyone knew he was strong but now this was my time, my time to show the world who I was and what I was capable of.

A teacher came in and told me Bakugou was awake and ready, also mentioning he was not happy and overall in a feral mood. I smiled and got up off the chair and began my walk to the stadium, I could see the light at the end and then the cheers. The screaming and cheering as I walked out and then looked forward to the glaring male, he was more than pissed, small explosions leaving his palms.

When I was in the stadium I smiled at him and bowed, his head lowered and I sighed out. “I saw your last fight, I can feel the anger” I spoke out and everyone went silent. I didn’t talk so this was new. He growled and eyes narrowed.

“You better bring everything you’ve got” he screamed and his hand was out small explosions coming from his palms as I looked over his form, shoulders tensed and eyes wide.

I smiled and my hands came to the bottom of my jumped I pulled it over my head and threw it to the side, I stretched my arms and then looked at him “Don’t worry Bakugou” I smirked letting my arms fall “Earn the rest of my quirk” I wanted to irk him, make him madder than he already was. I wanted a true angered fight Don’t hold back”

Then the fight began, it was fast he was up and coming in threw the air. I could fight in the air too, chains sprouted and I was in the air coming full force at him. An explosion came to my side but I dodged grabbing his shoulder twisting us and chains went to the ground as I pushed him down and we were barreling towards the ground. At the point of impact, an explosion went off as I was thrown off and slammed against the ground. The smoke cleared and we were both getting up to look at each other.

His smile was wide as he looked me over “That was a good idea” he dusted off his pants and then he was running “But you’re slow” an explosion close and I was pulled out of the way by an unseen force. Another explosion and I was pulled down to the ground and a chain came up to push his arm out of the way and another went off.

I rose and punched his stomach but then an explosion came to my mid and I was off and flying as my back collided with the ground and then I was pulled out of the way by a chain. I stood and my eyes drifted over to his form. I could not win, he was far too powerful. This is only half of my power, I could win this. I turned and my chains dug into the ground to hold myself in place, I was too close to the edge as is. My hands came up to protect myself from the debris. I sighed out and cracked my neck.

“You’re strong Bakugou” I smiled and looked down to my palm “Chains can only do so much” his eyes narrowed and a smirk came rushing to his face. “I want a fair fight, I want to show everyone I am better than you” We were similar, I wanted to show I was worthy of winning. I looked up to the Bakugou “Hello” I whispered and felt the board coming from my chest as I stood and watched him, everyone was silent. Within seconds I was ready, eyes black and veins from my eyes the same, my hands black. Then we were at it again.

Chains came up from the ground and tried to grab him as I watched and looked him over, he was faster and more powerful than before he wanted to win. He was pushing chains, I could feel it but when he was in front of me an explosion went off at my mid and I was flying, my arm flinging over my head and a crack could be heard. I rose and grabbed my arm, throwing it to the side, a crack being heard, loud and I shook it off.

“You can’t break an Ouija board, you know that Bakugou” I was then running and the fight began once more explosions and chains collided, I was looking at them like a Kraken coming from the Earth to attack him. He was fast though. I ran but he sure and I was thrown but he grabbed my back as I soared and exploded me towards the ground on my front. I gasped and got up slowly holding my chest.

“You can’t break it but it is in front of your other organs” I laughed and stood fully looking at him as I smiled and nodded. “Don’t you underestimate me” he screamed and was in the sky again doing his fancy little missile trick like he did with Todoroki.

I couldn’t dodge and no chains could help me “Shield” a voice whispered “Chains, people, protect” my eyes widened and chains dug into the Earth as I also dug my boots into the Earth. I sighed out and grit my teeth.

“Spirit Shield” I screamed and chains came out quickly encircling my body and then standing in front of me as he impacted. I had my hands out to hold it as I held it up and grunted. Smoke encircled the stadium and when it passed I swayed as the chains came to wrap around my body, Bakugou was up and smiling.

“It looked like you didn’t do that” he yelled but I could see his arm shaking. He was reaching his limit, I was too. I sighed out as he shook out his arms and began to walk “You didn’t do you” he snarled and I shrugged.

“What can I say” a chain came out “Each loop in the chain is a spirit I have met and kept in my board” my hand came to trace over my chest feeling the grooves. “They protect their board” I narrowed my eyes and then a chain wrapped around his waist “But this one, this one I’m controlling” I then rose him and then slammed him into the ground as I ran over and chains went over his arms and legs to keep him to the ground. I crouched and put my hand on his chest. He was breathing heavily and then let his head fall back onto the ground “Thank you” I smiled and then stood back up letting the chains go and grabbing his hand and bringing him up.

“Fuck you” he whispered but that smirk still on his face. I smiled and a chain slowly wrapped around my leg. I bowed and his head went down too. Then I was smiling and jumping around.

“Aizawa Y/N is the winner” I jumped up my hands rising as the cheers and screams were heard. I was so happy, I was smiling more as I looked up my parents and then the screaming came.

“That’s my princess” I stopped and flushed “Aizawa Y/N, is the winner” I was surprised the glass didn’t break but I did notice Dad happily smiling. I was beyond happy, nothing could be better than this.

“Good job Y/N, you won. You won’t win next time” I turned to Bakugou and smiled as I punched his shoulder and smiled. He lightly got pushed but then he was fun as I put my hands on my hips.

“Goodbye,” the black faded but the chain stayed as I smiled and then we were taken to the back to get ready for the award ceremony. I was over the moon, my mind was racing as I smiled and jumped down the tunnel. ________________________________________________________________

Chapter 8

[calebfm]

❝ i’m just saying — there’s no way someone can keep up with a schedule like that and not be popping something ❞ CALEB GARDNER, who resembles JORDAN FISHER and is the SOCIAL CHAIR of BETA TAU RHO , is TWENTY-TWO years old and responds to HE / HIM .𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘢 ; 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳

hello hello one and all, tis mira coming to you unfashionably late from the gmt+1 timezone 🌻 i overuse emojis & underuse my common sense and that’s all you need to know about me tbh ... so let’s move right along to telling you about my boy caleb !

so cal is a lil’ type A monster, between classes, basketball, his various jobs & his frat position it’s a miracle he gets 6-8 hours of sleep every night ( actually that’s a lie, he often doesn’t )

which is partially just who he is as a person, but also comes from having major imposter syndrome :/ he comes from a family who struggled to make ends meet + as the youngest kid of his family with four older brothers it was easy for him to fade into the background and not really get much attention or praise . ( he has a very loving family though, he was just a bit of a shy kid and his parents didn’t really have the time to make him come out of his shell ) all of this to say, when he got the acceptance letter + full ride to this fancy school it was all a bit overwhelming & he still has a hard time believing the administration didn’t make a mistake . he often feels super out of place & has even talked to his guidance counselor about dropping out a few times, but in his heart he knows that it would be a dumb decision and he’s nothing if not rational

he studies finance which is about as exciting as it sounds ( sorry to the finance nerds out there, couldn’t be me but i respect it ), he picked it to have job security more than anything else . he’s not a straight A student by any means but he does as well as could be expected from someone who has very little time to study

he loves photography ! he started a lil’ side gig for event photography his first year at kingshill which got pretty big through word of mouth, so he’s often in the shadows at the parties and events his classmate’s parents throw to take pics ( but when he practices it as a hobby he mostly just walks around in nature a lot and takes pics there, those are the rare quiet moments in his life )

some more about his personality: he’s a lil’ more on the introverted side, a great listener though & just a very warm kind of guy all around. the type of guy that rarely starts a conversation first, but once you get to talking you end up having a weirdly deep conversation even though you barely know the dude

also usually puts other’s needs in front of his own and has a hard time saying no to things, even if they’re a major inconvenience

however ! holding his own in a big family with annoying & loud older brothers has made it pretty easy for him to fake a more extroverted personality . people often have a hard time believing that the quiet kid diligently taking notes in their stats course & the frat guy handing out shots and smooth talking people into staying a bit longer at the biggest party of the year are the same person

which is to say that he’s a super effective social chair tbh … since he’s able to keep up with both the boring administration & organization side of things, but he can also liven up a party that’s growing stale

the constant social interaction required of him in his role ( together with his busy ass schedule ) definitely takes a toll though & you’ll often find him hiding out in quiet corners at parties to take a breather or napping in weird places during the day

hmm those are the most important things for now i think, my wanted tag is here but it’s super bare bones atm so i’m mostly putting it here for future reference ! i want so so many plots but a few i’d kill for:

a dumb lil’ social chair rivalry about who throws the best parties where they outdo each other in more and more ridiculous ways every time & try to sabotage each other, can be serious if your muse is very competitive, but most likely it’d just be lighthearted dumbassery

exes... good terms or bad terms, cal honestly doesn’t have a whole lot of them since he doesn’t prioritize romantic relationships in his life at all (*cal vc* i can squeeze in a movie night from 9-11 on thursday in three weeks, does that work?), maybe the two had different expectations of how serious it’d be?

on that note, caleb always thought he was straight but has tentatively started to experiment in college, so uh . cute boys hit him up 😌

someone who met him at party while he was drunk & in some kind of a rare bad mood, he was rude to them and/or embarrassed them in some public way, because of this bad first impression they think he’s the stereotypical obnoxious frat dude & want nothing to do with him . he’s usually more than fine with people leaving him alone but this is about the principle of the thing, y’know? so he’s determined to prove them wrong & does nice things for them to get them to like him, because caleb realizing that some people just don’t like you is simply unrealistic

rich kid who is condescending & rude since they found out cal is here on scholarship (either they’re just anti poor people or there’s a deeper reason for their dislike) … all i want is for some punches to be thrown 🙏

drinking buddies who can only stand to be around each other when they’re intoxicated

a sorority girl who he has a mutual agreement with that they’re other’s +1 at frat/srat functions, it’s probably all platonic but they have a good time & it stops randos from hitting on them

and so so much more ! i have a lot of ideas but i mostly just like making my plots personal to the characters themselves, so let’s vibe & figure something out together

i’m not gonna ask y’all to like this to plot because i am the Worst Person ™ and i will forget to check the notes, so please just im me or hit me up on discord if you wanna plot 🥺 and if you’re shy don’t worry, i’ll come bother you soon enough 💖 that would be all, thank you for reading !

[the-darklings]

—𝗖𝗢𝗔 𝗙𝗔𝗤;

Hello, everyone! So with COA being such a long-running series and new readers finding it constantly, I have come to realise that a lot of questions I get often repeat. So to keep everything easy and clear and friendly for everyone regardless of whether you started COA at the very beginning of the story or just recently found it, I have spent the day relaxing, eating junk food, and compiling this FAQ. Please read through it because chances are the answers are here somewhere. I have sectioned the guide into following: general, story, ships, original squad (OCs), AUS, OC!V and tips/advice. If the answer to your question is not here, please feel free to send me a message and have a wonderful day! <33 - kat.

GENERAL:

when does this story update?

I try to keep a bi-weekly schedule (now usually Sunday updates). But I always let you know when the chapter is done by making a final word count post (pre edits). 

do you have a masterlist?

yes, you can find it here.

do you have a tag list?

not for COA. they’re very time consuming and I’m already really busy sorry :(

are your requests open?

I rarely open my inbox for requests. the only exception being the monthly blurb nights. then I reblog a prompt list and let people send some requests in for any fandom/ship. however, usually due to how many I get, it only happens every few months. that being said, you can still send me ideas/suggestions and if it inspires me, I will write it. that’s how the majority of the AUs have come about. but i’m also a very busy person so sorry if I can’t. 

can I make X or Y for COA and tag you?

yes. yes. yes. please, please, feel free to create whatever for COA (no matter how small or silly) because I consider it a great honour that I’ve been able to inspire someone else. whatever it is, please tag me. I wanna see.

okay, I made a thing and tagged you but you didn’t respond :(

Tumblr is notorious for eating my notifs. whatever it is (art/post/etc) if I don’t respond to it in a day or two, please give me a nudge. you’re not being annoying, I promise. chances are I missed it/tumblr ate it. 

I wanna scream/discuss/theorise about COA with others, is there any way for me to do that?

my amazing readers have set up this reddit page that is full of lovely people, theories, and memes etc. I check it often and interact on there, too, so feel free to drop by.

STORY:

how many chapters will COA be?

25. the last one being a very long epilogue.

have you decided on the ending yet?

yes. from as early as part 2. it's barely changed since. 

will we ever see more of Prague/Naples? hoe, please say yes.

yes. I plan to write both as COA bonus stories after the main story-line concludes.

will there be a sequel? 

depends. on two things: 1) if anyone will even care by that point 2) time. this story has consumed 5 months of my life entirely. i’ve been incredibly strict with myself when it comes to writing it (in a good way) but at best it won’t be finished till the end of august/beginning of september. so likely even if I do, there will be a break for a few months at least. I do have ideas though.

you promised us smut. where is it?

patience is a virtue. ;)

happy ending or tragedy? (please don’t say tragedy, you monster)

I would describe it more as “bittersweet” but whether it leans more towards bitter or sweet you’ll have to see.   

SHIPS:

any endgame hints?

you know more about the ending than you probably realise

can v/s finally go to Paris? for the love of GOD? pLEASE?

no

hector + v? powerful. will there be more of them in the future? 

agreed & yes. hector and v have their own arc to go on. it’s actually one of my favourites in this story. I don’t want to say more than that right now because I have plans for their dynamic so no spoilers. :)

please stop bullying john. give us some j/v content please? 

i, for one, adore john. it’s team S that’s bullying him lol. but wait till parabellum. i’ve always referred to that portion of the story as the second coming of j/v.

does lucien actually have a thing for v or is it a creepy obsession? 

it’s both.

I ship v with everyone :/ is that bad?

the sky is the limit. ship all the things proudly (but seriously, no, it isn’t. I ship all the ships, too, and that’s the fun of it) 

v/elder tho? 👀

🔫🤡

j/v or s/v? be honest.

you fool,,,, you buffoon. ot3 j/v/s is where it’s really at. imagine their POWER.   

ORIGINAL SQUAD:

what do the Elites/Lovers look like/how old are they?

please refer to this

will there be more step??

of course. he’s my baby. :)

will we see more of camorra/learn more about the elite’s and their backstories?

while I would love to take the time and flesh them all out with full backstories, only hector will be getting his backstory explored in the main canon because plot.

does lucien care for mika anymore or has he replaced her with v?

lucien is a messy hoe. mika is his subject of “affection” but v is his foil and equal. he recognises the same hurt in her that he has gone through himself so it’s more of a fixation. with time, lucien would likely destroy v so no bueno. 

I ship our OCs.

I do, too.

can we write about your OCs/V?

so you would have to come to me and discuss this more in private but I’m fine with this sort of thing usually. in fact, a prequel hector story already exists so you’re likely good but please contact me first. 

AUs:

when/how often do you update the vampire!au?

whenever I have time/inspo. mainly time. so this means you can get it daily or not get it for several weeks because COA is priority. I keep you all updated on when I have something cooking tho.

what is the actual pairing for vamp!au?

undecided as of yet. i’m leaning more towards ot3 right now but we shall see.

how often do you update flowing in me?

same as the above. whenever I have the time but I will keep you updated.

how many parts will flowing in me be?

I have 5 parts(ish) planned.

do you have a tag list for flowing in me?

I will. please leave a comment on the story if you want to be tagged in future parts!

will flowing in me feature other characters (john, winston etc.)?

this story is mainly camorra-centric but I do plan for John to appear at some point.

how did you come up with your lore in vamp!au?

to be completely honest....I just wrote a bunch of stuff down and used what stuck. mostly the ideas were pulled out of thin air while still trying to keep within the spirit of the canon material (the high priest, the holy church, the twelve priests, john being the boogeyman etc). camorra as the natural enemy seemed fitting and santino as a vampire prince even more so.

can we send you new au ideas/expand on old ones (manager!V etc)?

yes, always. I always try my hardest to reply but ofc I can’t promise I’ll be able to use them all but thank you in advance.

OC!V:

who is the face claim for OC!V?

weronika spyrka

what is her real name?

clara

how old is she at the beginning of the story and now?

23 beginning of chapter 1, 30 beginning of chapter 4 (current timeline)

will/would you ever write an original story about her?

I have considered creating something original out of COA itself or one of its sister series/concepts (like FIM). since I really started working on COA during last year’s NaNo, that might be the time I create something original this year. 

TIPS & ADVICE:

how do you write so much, so quickly?

I don’t think that word count is really reflective of the quality work itself. I don’t think you should worry how much you write, either. 100 words can be just as valuable as 1k. most of them time I have a deadline breathing down my neck and I do work well under pressure so that inspires me to force the chapters out. I also do very long days because despite what it might look like I’m not a fast writer.

how can I improve my writing?

read and practice. I know it’s dumb and overused advice but it’s how I learned english and found my style (still a mess and WIP) but still this advice does help. 

how do you keep motivated?

spite, your support, genuine adoration for these characters/word, a lot of spite. 

do you plan? outline?

I have a vague story outline with specific scenes in mind as I go along (helps to set up foreshadowing, twists, and those ‘full circle’ moments). I also plan each chapter scene by scene and know what each chapter is meant to accomplish. So yeah in a sense.