#titles are the bane of my existence i hate it

[famousinmyfandom]

1. My main WIP document is titled JJ because it’s where I started writing my first JessJohnny fic and I just never bothered to change it. It has 6 wips in it right now. (Because most of what I write is under 5k, I keep multiple wips in one file.)

2. I try to say something different in the end notes of everything I write so people know I legitimately want comments and I’m not just copying and pasting a sentence that sounds nice. I’m not sure if it makes a difference.

3. I constantly forget scars and certain items of clothing, so it’s usually one of the last things I check before posting a fic.

4. Sometimes I’ll write a short for one prompt but when it’s done, I realize it fits another one better, so I change it because I feel like I did a disservice to the original prompt.

5. Cowboy boots are the bane of my existence because you can’t just slip them off. You have to use your hands. Sometimes I’ll be writing a sexy scene and then I realize everything has to stop so the characters can take their boots off.

6. I hate describing outfits. I’m trying to get better at this.

7. I self beta everything I write because I am terrible at accepting any sort of criticism, but I now have a two friends who I might ask quick questions of like “hot of gross? A or B?”

8. There’s a specific hotel room layout that I automatically use in most of my fanfics. I only recently realized I do this. I think the room is from an episode of Supernatural, but I’m not sure?

9. The first time I took a commission, I started writing before getting payment because the plot bunny bit me. The commissioner disappeared the next day. Based on blog posts leading up to that, I am nearly certain that they actually died. (I keep hoping I can still sell this fic (Clint Barton whump) because it was a donation commission. I feel very weird about this. 😬)

10. And my most unhinged fact of all: I’ve been writing entirely on mobile since September 2018 and I actually enjoy it because my fingers don’t outpace my thoughts.

✨ 10 chaotic writer facts you didn’t ask for but are getting anyway ✨

I write 1,000–3,000 words a day. Not because I’m disciplined, but because I have no social life and mild control issues. It’s fine. I’m fine.

Before I ever touched a keyboard, I was an artist. Like, sketchbook-at-recess, drew-my-own-manga-level obsessed. I’ve been drawing since I was five. Now I use those powers to procrastinate writing.

I talk to my characters like they’re real people. I once argued with one out loud in a grocery store. We’re not on speaking terms anymore.

I name all my WIPs things like “pain_project” or “he cries again.docx” because I enjoy foreshadowing my own breakdowns.

I collect empty notebooks like a Victorian ghost who died tragically in a stationary store.

I have cried because a character forgave someone. That’s it. That’s the fact.

Sometimes I start new projects just to avoid editing old ones. This is not a healthy system but it is a personality.

I finish a gut-wrenching scene and then go eat cereal like nothing happened. Cold emotional whiplash is my brand.

I regularly forget what my characters are supposed to know, and when it happens, I just give them sudden intuition or full-blown memory loss.

I’ve rage-deleted whole chapters because a side character took over and made the main one look bland. And yes, I made the side character the lead.

Okay, now your turn—drop your own ✨10 chaotic writer facts✨. I know you’ve got them. Don’t leave me screaming into the void alone. Reblog this with your chaos, I want to see the beautiful mess.

Love u all!

[chornayadrakoshig]

almost finished the barbgrove oneshot I spontaneously started earlier this week and now I see the bane of my existence ahead of me

🥀 the fic title 🥀

[partmathpartmagic]

A flip of a switch

Chapter 6

Rating: Mature

It hadn’t been like this the first time they’d had sex, not even close. He’d been too busy trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to keep it from becoming honest. Now, honesty was all that was left.

Happy Wednesday here's some graveyard smut <3 i think this will be my last update to this fic? but who knows

Just fluffy, giggly, lovey sex, idk what to tell you. It's smut from start to finish with a couple pov switches. yep.

Read on AO3

Read from the beginning (6/6 chapters, 15,737 words)

Prequel to Disarmed which you should read if you like these two together!

Astarion never thought of himself as empathetic, not really. Empathy had been tortured out of him pretty quickly, he supposed, removed to make room for self-preservation and survival instincts. Still, nestled between Mina’s thighs, looking up at her dilated eyes, her lips swollen from kissing, he knew a moment of profound pity for every other thinking creature on every plane of existence who would never experience this exact moment. Nothing else could possibly compare.

He kissed her inner thigh before running his tongue slowly, flatly, up through her folds and latching his lips gently around the bundle of nerves tucked between them. He felt her jolt of arousal where their minds were still connected, almost painful in its desperation, and heard her fingers digging into the grass at her sides. As he sucked her gently into his mouth, he slid a hand up to explore the soft heat of her skin, traveling up the dip of her waist and over her breast, committing every inch of her to memory. So soft, she was.

He darted his tongue out and her hips jerked involuntarily as she made the most beautiful sound he’d heard yet, and sex was sex, and a clit was a clit, and there was a part of him that wished none of it felt familiar at all, but the sounds she made were a revelation. She tasted exactly like he would expect, and completely different. Her body was sweetness and saltiness and skin and sweat and love and safety and joy all dancing on his tongue.

It wasn’t the mindless bliss of 15 minutes ago that he was feeling now, it was something much more heady and complex, and it was as terrifying as it was lovely.

As he suckled her rhythmically, gently running his tongue over her like a caress, he ran his hand back down her torso and stroked her hip, the curve of her ass, her inner thigh, before slowly dipping inside her once more. He moaned against her at the heat and the closeness, and he looked up to see her arching her back, her chest heaving, her moans turning into soft, broken cries into the quiet night air, cursing and breathing his name. He had never heard anything so beautiful.

She was starting to lose control, and it was glorious. It hadn’t been like this the first time they’d had sex, not even close. He’d been too busy trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to keep it from becoming honest. Now, honesty was all that was left. Another of her cries seemed to travel to his very core and grind his hips down into the ground unconsciously. He was almost painfully hard. He slipped another finger in to join the first, and she gasped like she’d been drowning and suddenly resurfaced.

It’s you, he reminded himself. It’s you making her feel like that. Deserve it or not, you’re here and you better fucking make the most of it. His free hand squeezed her thigh where it was braced and he felt a wave of love from her mind.

Impossible, all of it. Completely impossible.

________________

Mina wasn’t positive, but she was fairly certain this was how she was going to die. A human body simply couldn’t sustain this level of sensation, it was going to kill her. And honestly, was there a better way to go than with this man between her legs? At least she’d die happy. And hells, she was already in a graveyard. That was nothing if not convenient.

Had she not been fighting her every impulse, she would have bucked her hips so hard when he slipped another finger in that she would have broken his nose (though the way he was devouring her, she wasn’t sure that would have stopped him). She had long given up control of the sounds she was making, and spared a thought to hope no bereaved were visiting their loved ones right now. It was too much, the suction and the friction and the vibration of his moans against her. The absolute pleasure of him, his skilled fingers and his athletic tongue, and so much deeper than that, the way he was trusting her and surrendering to her. She was so, so lucky. It was impossible for anyone to deserve this. But her mind, for once, was not in charge, and her body wasn’t going to let her talk herself out of this happiness.

Astarion crooked his fingers gently, drawing them almost all the way out of her before plunging back in, and she heard herself cry out. Her legs were pulling as far apart as possible, trying to open herself up to him, give him as much access as she could, and the night air against her wet skin made her feel deliciously exposed. The suction from his mouth had reached a rhythm that was falling in time with the movement of his hand, and she needed… something. She released the grass she’d been pulling at, feeling around for some anchor, some point of contact. She had the presence of mind to avoid his hair, though she wasn’t sure if that still applied here? It had seemed okay before, as if maybe the moment earlier had been angle-specific, but now wasn’t the time to play around. If he needed her to, she'd be able to stop, but at this point it would be almost physically painful. Best to avoid if possible.

Darling, she heard in her mind, and embarrassingly enough just the sound of his voice in her head made her bite her lip around a moan, not to eavesdrop, but a hand in the hair sounds divine right now.

Fuck. She needed him to be very, very sure, because she was not capable of being gentle. Her left hand was tearing grass out of the ground by the root as she thought. She was racing towards a climax and felt utterly out of control.

It was the angle darling, I promise. I’ll keep my mind open in case anything changes, but—

Looking down, she saw his eyes close and felt him moan around her again, the sensation making her vision go spotty. When his eyes opened again, they were dead serious and locked with hers.

—use me, darling. Trust me. Take what you need.

Her body responded before her mind could process, her hand flying to his hair and tangling into it, holding him tight between her legs like his mouth was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Her other hand felt around desperately until it found him where he was holding onto her thigh. At her touch he loosened his grip, and she locked their fingers together, hers shaking so hard that it took a couple tries.

That’s it, darling. Let go for me.

She cried out hoarsely, her relief so close and so far at the same time. She needed—

A third finger joined the first two, and her entire body quivered with the delicious fullness of it, the feeling of him filling her, holding her, trusting her, loving her. She drove herself down onto him in time with his thrusts, one, two, three times, and then–release. Her mouth fell silent, no sound she could make feeling like enough, as her mind began screaming: Yes, gods, YES.

Her orgasm hit her like nothing she’d experienced, a tidal wave of bliss and relief and gratitude sweeping away every thought. She rode the waves of it physically, her body rolling and clenching around him as her legs shivered. His mouth grew gentle, but didn’t leave her as she floated back down to earth, eventually falling limp against the grass.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her vision gradually returning as she caught her breath. Her stolen shirt was in a state of complete disarray, and she knew there was no small amount of dirt under her nails.

Slowly Astarion extracted himself, pressing kisses up her torso as he came to join her. She pulled him towards her and their mouths crashed together messily before he collapsed next to her, breathing almost as heavily as she was.

Usually Mina was exhausted after an orgasm, needing some time to recover before getting back into things. But the taste of her own pleasure on his lips, the smell of him next to her, the bliss still sitting heavy on her skin–recovery was the last thing on her mind. Hells, she felt feral. As he rolled onto his back beside her she followed, coming to straddle him with her hips hovering over his erection. She bent down to kiss him, sucking his lower lip between her teeth before licking her way into his mouth. A residual wave of pleasure washed over her, like a sudden flashback to a moment ago, and she pulled back to close her eyes and bring her forehead against his, biting her lip. She had never felt like this after sex; it was like the orgasm had never stopped, just slowed. The feeling had her pressing closer to him, gently rolling her hips down to meet his. Just the feeling of his cock between her legs made her twitch, and he groaned beneath her. She thought back to the first time they’d had sex, and it was so obvious now how guarded he’d been. Coaxing genuine, unrehearsed sounds from him… it was an addiction. It was all she could think about.

________________

If this was what sex was supposed to feel like, he had no idea what he’d been doing for the past 200 years.

She was kissing him again, her body slowly melting down onto his and her hand cupping the side of his face. His shirt was hanging off her shoulders and her hair was mussed. It wasn't so long ago that she’d been defending him to his former master, her robes flying, her face fierce in the magical light, and now she was here, all those fierce angles turned to curves, her entire being warm and soft and sweet and messy. It defied words, how lucky he was to get both versions of her.

As he licked into the heat of her mouth, he thought in her direction, How would you like me to fuck you, darling?

She sighed into his mouth. I don’t think I care, she replied finally. As long as I can look at you while you do it.

I’m not letting that beautiful face out of my sight, darling, don’t worry .

He rolled over her and used his knee to hitch up one of her legs, opening her up to him, and without another moment of hesitation he lined himself up and pushed inside.

Sparks burst in front of his eyes as she cursed beneath him, her voice almost a whimper. Her body was quivering, and he stayed exactly where he was for a minute while both of them adjusted. She got there quicker than he did, and when she pulled him down for a kiss and her body squeezed around him, he almost lost control entirely. But no, he wasn’t done yet. Slowly, he began to move, and when he pulled out slightly and pushed back in, fully sheathing himself inside her, she broke off their kiss to gasp. They were both breathing comically hard for how little they were moving. Before he could stop himself, the thought turned into a breathless laugh. His eyes met Mina’s, and she began to laugh as well.

“This is absurd,” she managed between giggles. “How is it this intense? How are we supposed to do anything else ever again?”

A lock of hair had fallen across her face, and he brushed it away, still smiling and breathless. “I have absolutely no idea, darling.” His hips twitched, his body tired of staying still, and the friction turned both their laughter to gasps. Astarion closed his eyes, only opening them when he felt a hand on his cheek. He looked down to see Mina’s eyes shining up at him, a soft smile still on her face.

She didn’t say what she was thinking, but she didn’t need to. They’d heard the word in each others’ thoughts enough, they both knew they were loved. And they both understood that saying it out loud was complicated. If they already knew, why push it? It was clear in her eyes how she felt, and he was sure his face was just as easy to read.

So instead of speaking, he kissed her gently on the forehead, and then began to move once more.

When she came for the second time, barely five minutes later, it was with his fangs in her neck and his name on her lips, and his vision went white as she throbbed around him, pulling him after her into bliss.

[augustplanet]

no context spoilers

Thank you @elusive-honeydew for the tag!💖

Rules: Share a sentence or paragraph from a WIP that could be a spoiler, but on its own is not. Can be from a WIP or something posted. Tag as many people as you'd like!

You sit the chilled bottle on the counter in front of him and you’re too quick for him to catch you, to graze his fingers against yours as he grips the neck. You’re already moving, another patron waving you down for a beer or a whiskey or a jack and coke but because his momma raised him right, beat manners into his thick skull, he still murmurs a thank you to the buzzing, empty air.

tags (ignore these if you'd like!💕) @roosterbruiser @cherrycola27 @cassiemitchell @thedroneranger @blue-aconite @mayhemmanaged @sugarcoated-lame @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboygarcia @lewmagoo @laracrofted @ohtobeleah @seresinsweetie @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @desert-fern

[ordinary-barbie]

i burn for you.

rafe cameron x fem!reader.

summary: You hated Rafe Cameron. He lived to annoy you. There couldn't be anything more to your relationship—right?

word count: 3.5k

tags: fem!sassy kook!reader, enemies to lovers, cussing, sexual tension, underage drinking, dry humping, sappy ending

title from "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams!

~ • ~

It is a truth universally acknowledged that whenever you hung out with Sarah Cameron, her older brother Rafe was sure to appear. Didn't matter if it was at Tannyhill or the beach or some random Kook's party. Rafe always showed up at some point, to your utter dismay.

You'd moved to the Outer Banks the summer before ninth grade, feeling like you crash-landed on another planet. Kildare was not a huge place, and everyone else seemed to have known each other since birth, already forming their little cliques. You were a Kook—though you thought the whole "Kooks vs. Pogues" rivalry was pretty silly—but you felt like you couldn't fit in with all the pretty and popular girls. You thought making friends would be hopeless, until Sarah swooped in and took you under her wing.

Sarah was so sweet and funny; she quickly became like the sister you never had. It was just a shame that she had to be related to...him. Rafe Cameron had been the bane of your existence for years. The guy always knew exactly how to push your buttons, whether it was getting into your personal space, snatching stuff out of your hand and refusing to get it back, and constant sarcastic comments—though you could always give as well as you got.

Today you were chilling at Tannyhill with Sarah, watching the pilot episode of Gilmore Girls because she'd somehow gone 19 years without watching one of the most iconic shows of all time. It was such a comfort show for you, and you were happy to be experiencing it with your bestie. Well, until you know who decided to flop down next to you on the couch, radiating with irritating frat boy energy.

"Y'all decided to have a movie night and not invite me?" Rafe fake pouted, putting his arm around you. You scowled, pushing it away.

"First of all, Gilmore Girls is a TV show. And secondly, why would we invite you? Don't need your mouth-breathing self ruining the vibes," you snapped.

Rafe rolled his eyes. "Chill out, princess. I promise I don't have cooties," he replied with a smirk.

"Now that, I highly doubt," you muttered.

Sarah sighed, pausing the episode. "Really guys? This again?" Poor Sarah had been witness to years of arguments between you and Rafe, and you did feel bad that she had to be caught in the middle. But maybe he should be less annoying—then you wouldn't be forced to bite back.

Rafe raised his hands in a show of innocence, though you knew he was anything but. "Hey Sar, I'm just here to watch the show. Not my fault your bestie here wants to bite my head off."

You scoffed, trying your best not to roll your eyes upwards towards oblivion. "Yeah, right, like you give a shit about Gilmore Girls. And I want to bite your head off because you're an insufferable ass."

"So you think about my ass, huh?" Ugh, you wanted to slap that smug look off of his face. You hated how the amused glint in his eyes and his lazy smile stirred feelings in you that you absolutely refused to acknowledge.

"In your fucking dreams, Rafe Cameron," you answered, scowling.

Rafe's smirk grew deeper. "Please, you wish I would dream about you."

"I think I'd rather have a root canal," you snarked.

"Okay, chill! Rafe, either watch the show with us or go away," Sarah said wearily, rubbing at her temples.

Rafe scooted closer to you on the couch, knocking his knee against yours. "I'm down. What do you say, princess?"

Your annoyance had morphed into a slowly simmering rage at Rafe's favorite nickname for you. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face before saying, "Sure, why not?"

You came to regret your decision as soon as Sarah pressed play. While you and Sarah could watch shows together in comfortable silence, only adding occasional commentary, Rafe would not shut the fuck up. He always had something to say, whether it was about the dialogue ("Why the fuck do they talk so fast?") or the characters' appearances ("Lorelai is a fuckin MILF, I gotta admit.") It was a wonder you got through the episode without completely losing your shit.

Before you could at least try to enjoy the second episode, Sarah's phone rang. "It's John B," she explained, smiling sheepishly. She got off the couch and went upstairs to talk to her boyfriend in private.

"Well well well, looks like it's just you and me, princess," Rafe purred, taking the opportunity to put his arm around you again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You were so close to Rafe that you could smell him—that heady mix of sea salt after an afternoon of surfing with Topper, cologne, and whatever detergent the maid had used to wash his clothes. If this was any other boy, you'd lean in, inhaling the scent. But this was Rafe, so you squirmed out of his grip, your stomach churning.

"Can you behave yourself for one second? You're like a middle schooler," you snapped.

Rafe chuckled. "Relax, princess. Get your panties out of a twist for once."

Your eye twitched. "I'd call you scum, but that would be an insult to scum."

"I love scum, drop the s though," Rafe casually responded, flashing you a lecherous grin.

You pretended to gag. "You're a Neanderthal."

"Keep talking dirty to me, baby, I love it," Rafe said, dramatically clutching his chest.

You were so relieved when you heard Sarah bounding down the stairs. She settled back onto her place on the couch, seemingly unaware of the tension that had sparked up in her absence.

Sarah stared at you and Rafe, arching an eyebrow. "Did y'all manage to behave yourselves while I was gone?"

"Rafe was—"

"Oh, we had a great time together," Rafe interrupted, smirking. "Just hanging out with my bestie!"

"I am not your bestie," you corrected, your voice dripping with venom, though that only amused Rafe more.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Anyway. Who's ready for episode two?"

You picked up the remote and pressed play, immersing yourself in Rory and Lorelai's quirky world. Thankfully, Rafe was quiet—but you couldn't ignore the feeling of his gaze, laser-focused on you the entire time.

Against your better judgment, you'd allowed Sarah to drag you to a party.

Normally, you'd be along for the ride. As long as the music was good and the snacks and drinks were decent, you could vibe, whether it was a frat party at UNC or a bonfire at the beach. But this wasn't just any party; it was a Topper Thornton party. And as Topper's best friend, Rafe would definitely be there.

"You better not make me regret this, Sarah Cameron," you grumbled, fiddling with one of the spaghetti straps on your black tank top.

Sarah just giggled. "C'mon, it'll be fun! I promise."

You weren't holding your breath, but you allowed Sarah to hook your arm in hers and lead you into Topper's house anyway.

"Ladies! Welcome to the shit show," Topper greeted you and Sarah, wrapping his arms around both of you.

Shit show was an apt description. Music was blasting so loudly that it was making the house shake. A sea of people was milling about the place, with dozens of overlapping conversations. There were even loud shrieks and splashes as guests messed around in the Thorntons' pool.

"Oh, _____, Rafe is somewhere around here, I think," Topper said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "As if I would care where Rafe is."

Topper snickered. "Yeah yeah, sure."

Topper was convinced that you and Rafe had a thing for each other, which was, frankly, ridiculous. You and him? Please.

"You gonna get us some drinks or what?" Sarah asked Topper, putting her hands on her hips. Topper gave the two of you salutes and was back in a flash with two red Solo cups full of a bright blue liquid. He and Sarah may have been broken up, but there was still a part of him that was wrapped around her finger.

Sarah downed her drink immediately, but you were more cautious, giving it a sniff first before taking a sip. It tasted like blue Hawaiian punch with a dash of pineapple juice, vodka, and rum—not a terrible combo.

As the party rolled along, you began to loosen up. The playlist was banging, you and Sarah were having the time of your lives dancing, and the best part? Rafe was nowhere to be seen.

You dipped out of the living room area to use the bathroom, and when you came back, Sarah was putting her jean jacket back on, an apologetic smile on her face. "John B says the Pogues are having a bonfire at the beach so I think I'm gonna stop by there. Sofia's gonna pick me up."

You felt a pang of sadness but you understood. The Pogues were important to Sarah, and you weren't gonna keep her from her boyfriend and other friends.

"You wanna come? I'm sure Sofia has extra room in her car," Sarah offered.

You considered the offer for a second, but felt hesitant, as if some invisible tether was keeping you here. (A voice in the back of your head whispered thoughts of a certain guy, but you were quick to shove them to the furthest corner of your mind.) John B was chill, and his friends were always nice to you. But this time, you weren't in the mood for another party.

"Nah, I'll be fine here," you assured Sarah. "Go have fun! But not too much fun."

"Yes mom," Sarah responded, playfully rolling her eyes.

After a few minutes, Sofia arrived to pick up Sarah, leaving you to your own devices. You felt your social battery draining, so you flopped down on one of Topper's living room couches, mindlessly scrolling through social media to pass the time.

“Is this seat taken?” you suddenly heard a husky voice say. You looked up from your phone and were greeted by the sight of Spencer Bingham, who you vaguely knew from having a few classes together back at Kildare Academy.

To put it simply, the guy was cute. He had shaggy light brown hair, twinkling gray eyes, and the most dazzling smile. "Go right ahead," you offered casually, though you were internally swooning.

"So how've you been? I haven't seen you since graduation," Spencer wondered.

"Oh I've been good," you replied, smiling shyly. "Really enjoying it at UNC. How about you?"

Spencer matched your smile, putting his hands behind his head. "Oh I'm great. Loving Penn State and the lacrosse team. Though there are some things I miss about Kildare that I can’t find up north."

You giggled. “And what might those be?”

“Well, the girls, for starters,” Spencer answered, shooting you a flirtatious grin. “Specifically, you.”

Your mouth dropped open. You wouldn’t call yourself ugly, but you hadn’t exactly been Miss Popular with the boys of Kildare. You admittedly harbored a tiny crush on Spencer during junior year, but never even considered that he would be interested in you.

Spencer noticed your shocked expression and chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised! You’re a total catch—I’ve seen your Insta pics.”

You ducked your head down, suddenly feeling shy. Slowly but surely, you were being more confident in your looks and comfortable with your social media photos. You still had to get used to fielding compliments from people though, trying your best to silence that minuscule voice of self-doubt that lurked in the corner of your mind.

Spencer lifted your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Can…Can I kiss you?” he asked, suddenly more bashful than before.

You nodded, giving him the green light. You’d been kissed before, but it was an unremarkable smooch during a game of truth or dare in tenth grade. Spencer gave you a real kiss—soft and slow, like something out of a rom com.

Eventually the two of you parted, catching your breaths.

You rubbed the back of your neck. “That was—I really liked that, Spencer.”

Spencer grinned. “We could keep doing it, if you want.”

“And what do we have here? The nerd finally hooks up with the jock. So cute.”

You stiffened, scowling at that all-too-familiar voice. “Rafe. I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you, but I’d be lying.”

Rafe snickered, leering at you. “I noticed I hadn’t gotten to bother my favorite person tonight so I went looking for you. Imagine my surprise when I find you sucking face with Bingham. Are the pickings really that slim at PSU, Spence?”

Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"Don't you have some blonde girl with big boobs you could be making out with instead of bothering us?" you snapped.

Rafe's smirk deepened. "Bothering you is more fun, princess. You're pretty hot when you're angry."

Your stomach betrayed you by doing a backflip at Rafe's words. Damn him. "You're insufferable."

"Thanks baby, that means a lot," Rafe smugly answered.

Spencer cleared his throat, looking awkwardly between you and Rafe. "Look...I don't know what's going on here, so I'm gonna go. See you around, ____. Nice chattin' with ya." He flashed you one last smile before getting up, leaving you alone with Rafe. Wonderful.

"What the fuck, Rafe? There was a perfectly nice guy who was totally into me, and you just ruined it." You were absolutely fuming. It was annoying enough that Rafe lived to push your buttons, but to essentially cockblock you as well?

Rafe snorted. "Come on, princess. Bingham couldn't handle a girl like you."

You clenched your jaw, glaring daggers into Rafe. "And what is that supposed to mean?" you demanded.

Rafe crossed his arms, huffing. "He's just not right for you, okay?"

"And how would you know who's right for me?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

For once, Rafe was silent. You rolled your eyes at him and hopped off the couch, completely done with his bullshit.

"Where ya goin'?" Rafe asked, furrowing his brows.

"Home," you curtly replied. "I'll just walk."

"Right, because it's such a genius idea to walk alone...at night...in those shoes," Rafe snarked. "Let me drive you."

You sneered at him. "No thanks. You're probably drunk anyway."

"'m actually sober, sweetheart," Rafe replied.

You let out a huff of surprise. "Rafe Cameron, not drinking at a party? Either the world is ending or you must've hit your head."

"Jus' didn't feel like drinking tonight, all right? Especially since Sarah asked me to make sure you got home," Rafe said, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looked away from you.

You felt a pang in your chest. You loved Sarah for looking out for you, but you weren't prepared for Rafe to actually care about you or your well-being.

You sighed, not having the energy to argue anymore. "Okay, fine. Take me home."

The drive back to your place was uncharacteristically silent. Normally, whenever Rafe would drive you and Sarah places, he'd have a Spotify playlist blaring, or he'd be running his annoying mouth. But Rafe was focused on the road, not even sparing a second glance at you. You should've enjoyed this, relishing in the quietness. But something just felt...off.

You were relieved when Rafe finally pulled into your driveway. "Hey—thanks for driving me home. I appreciate it."

You went to open your car door, but Rafe put a hand on your shoulder, stopping you. He looked deeply into your eyes, and you felt rooted to your spot, transfixed by his unreadable expression. What you wouldn't give to know what was going through Rafe Cameron's mind right now.

Rafe unbuckled his seatbelt and moved closer to you, cupping your face in his hands. Your heart fluttered in your chest in anticipation. Then, he softly kissed you on the lips.

A million different emotions raced through your mind as you felt his lips on yours. Before you could fully process what was happening, Rafe pulled away, stroking your lower lip. You shivered at his gentle touch.

Rafe cleared his throat, his ears flushing a bright red. "Um. So. Have a good night, princess."

You opened the car door and climbed out, flashing Rafe a nervous smile. "Yeah, have a good night, Rafe."

You found yourself replaying Rafe's kiss in your mind that night. Spencer's kiss had been nice, but Rafe? Of course, he was the one that had your head spinning.

Things had definitely shifted since...that thing happened after Topper's party. You and Rafe, usually firey with each other, had cooled off significantly. You felt like you would combust every time he spared a glance at you. It got to the point where you would refuse Sarah's invitations to Tannyhill, not risking the chance of seeing Rafe around.

Unsurprisingly, Sarah grew tired of both of your bullshit. "You're coming over," she said while the two of you hung out in your room, her voice not leaving any room for argument.

"Sarah, I—"

Sarah held up a hand. "Nope! No excuses! You and Rafe haven't spoken to each other for a week, and it's kinda freaking me out. You're coming over right now and both of you are gonna sort your shit out."

Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off Sarah, so you conceded and agreed to go back to Tannyhill with her. You just had to ignore that your stomach was doing Olympic-level gymnastics at the thought of talking to Rafe.

When you reached Tannyhill, Rafe was on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Sarah whistled to get Rafe's attention and he looked up, blushing furiously at the sight of you. You nervously looked away, wishing you could sprout wings and fly out of there. Why did things have to be so weird?

"I'll leave y'all to it," Sarah said, bounding up the stairs.

Rafe cleared his throat. "So...you wanna sit down?"

You gulped, nodding, and joined Rafe on the couch. You wracked your brain, trying to think of a way to broach the subject you and Rafe had been dancing around for a week. Hey Rafe! So remember when you kissed me that night? I know I hate your guts, but I actually liked that!

"So—"

"Well—"

You and Rafe laughed, slightly easing the tension.

"So...about that kiss," you said, twiddling your thumbs.

Rafe awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "Look, ____. I know I give you a lot of shit, but I actually really like you. Like, a lot. And I fucked around with you because it was the only way I could get your attention. When I saw you with Bingham that night? I was jealous. Because that should be me."

You took a deep breath, trying to process Rafe's words before you went forward with your own confession. "Rafe—I like you too. And I really didn't want to, especially with your charming personality." Rafe snorted.

"I tried so hard to push those feelings down to protect myself," you continued. "But when you kissed me, everything just bubbled to the surface. So I ran away instead of actually dealing with my emotions. I really liked that kiss. And I'm scared of how much I enjoyed it."

Rafe gazed at you fondly, and you felt like you would melt right there on the couch. You wished he would look at you like that for as long as he wanted to.

"You're probably the funniest girl I know. And you're kind, and smart, and hot as fuck," Rafe said, lazily raking his eyes over your body.

"You're all right too, I guess," you replied with mock indifference, shrugging your shoulders.

"You're insufferable," Rafe muttered, rolling his eyes, though there wasn't any real heat to his words.

You smirked. "But you like me anyway."

Rafe grinned. "That's true." He leaned in close, looking at you hesitantly before you silently gave him permission. Rafe kissed you deeply, pinning you to the couch. You eagerly kissed him back, wrapping your arms around him.

"I've been wanting to do this for so fucking long," Rafe admitted, littering the side of your neck with kisses. You let out a whine, arching your back. You were such an idiot. You could’ve been experiencing Rafe’s mouth on you all this time.

“I think little Rafe is trying to say hello,” you wryly remarked, feeling a bulge poking you in the side. Rafe chuckled, his laugh warming your insides.

“So say hi,” Rafe purred in your ear, shifting you so your clothed crotch was right on top of the bulge in his jeans. You started grinding against his clothed erection, the two of you letting out moans of pleasure at the friction between you. You were trying your best to be quiet since Sarah was right upstairs, but it felt so so so good.

“Gonna cum, princess,” Rafe muttered before letting out a grunt. “Fuck…I haven’t cum in my pants like that in a while. You see what you do to me, baby?”

You shyly giggled, burying your face in his neck. Rafe softly smiled at you, kissing your forehead. The two of you laid on the couch, enjoying the comfortable silence before falling asleep.

Click!

Your eyes fluttered open at the intrusion, noticing a grinning Sarah holding her phone at you and Rafe.

Rafe stirred soon afterward. “Baby, what…” he trailed off, noticing his sister. “Sarah?”

“Sorry, but y’all looked too cute,” Sarah replied, giggling.

“I’ll forgive you if you send me that pic,” you said.

Rafe pouted. “Babe, I’m probably drooling and shit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Calm down, it’s not like I’m gonna use it to hard launch us or anything. But it’s scientifically impossible for you to look bad in a photo anyway.”

Rafe smirked. “Wow, you’re really obsessed with me, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, giving Rafe a shove. He just laughed, giving you a peck on the lips.

You and Rafe’s phones both dinged twice with messages from Sarah, one with the candid photo and a follow-up message that said “You guys make me sick ❤️”

You looked at the photo, your heart swelling as you gazed at the image of you and Rafe. You were sleeping soundly, with your face pressed against Rafe's chest and his arms wrapping around your midsection protectively.

"Making this my lockscreen immediately," Rafe said, warming your heart.

Sarah pretended to gag, but she looked fondly at you and Rafe. "Glad y'all finally got your heads out of your asses."

"Me too. Especially Rafe. His was stuck waaay up there," you joked.

Rafe playfully rolled his eyes at you. "I was waiting for you to pull it out, babe."

"Okay, now I'm getting sick again," Sarah deadpanned, flopping down on the couch next to you.

You laughed. "Hey, why don't we watch Gilmore Girls again? I haven't forgotten your Stars Hollow education, Sar."

"Hey, I'm down," Sarah said, finding the remote and turning on Netflix.

"Where did we leave off?" Rafe asked.

"We didn't make it past episode 2 because someone decided they were bored," you dryly responded, shooting Rafe a pointed look.

Rafe smirked. "That was the old me, baby. I swear I've changed."

You shook your head, but you couldn't hide your ear-splitting grin. As Sarah started the episode and Rafe pulled you close to him, you felt a sense of peace. You never could've imagined yourself in this position a few weeks ago, or even yesterday. But in this moment, everything felt right. And while you were annoyed by it before, you'd let Rafe follow you wherever you went.

[kithtaehyung]

satsuma (teaser 2) | myg (m)

you will break min yoongi. 

title: satsuma (m) | ⟶ teaser and taglist enclosed. pairing: iron chef!yoongi x challenger!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; iron chef au , enemies to lovers summary: this particular culinary prodigy has always bested you—time, and time, and time again. but not today. today? you will break him. you will finally beat min yoongi—the bane of your existence and the youngest ever iron chef. warnings: none in teaser other than a cocky ass long-haired demon, full list posted on drop day! note: what started as a "what the hell, sure" fic ended up in a collab with my dear friends! this may be niche as hell, but it’s ok. i’m having fun with it, so i hope you will too if you take a bite :D note 2: this is part of the in bloom collab, and you'll want to peep the masterlist because the talent there is immense! est. word count: 20k+… lol 🔪 est. drop date: april 22nd, 2025 (finallyyy)

“So.”

Your eyes meet his. 

Burning.

“Finally gonna try this again, huh.”

“I’m standing right here, aren’t I,” you seethe, still squeezing determined fingers around a hand you love to hate. A precious hand responsible for making countless dishes revered around the globe.

If only the man attached to it remained just as wordless.

“Took you long enough.”

Because he is still an asshole. 

But you can deal with people like him. You’ve beaten many men just as insufferable, and his taunts aren’t gonna snap you this time. 

Well. That’s halfway true.

All the ones you’ve bested aren’t exactly culinary titans.

But your losing streak to Min Yoongi—world-renowned cook, international heart-throb, the youngest Iron Chef—ends today. 

It has to.

With a tiny hum and a smile, you parry, “Businesses needed some focus, but. What do you know.” 

And your heart annoyingly skips when he offers a cocky curve in return. As he speaks, you feel nothing but the heat of a thousand flames,

“Maybe you should focus on me instead of excuses.”

It fucking has to.

“Sorry to interrupt the, uhh, sizzle already,” the Chairman bellows, prompting stadium laughs to reach your ears. While you slice him with your glare, he continues with a mischievous glint, “But chefs, head to your stations and we shall begin!” 

Finally.

This is it.

With a head tilt, you give Yoongi’s lethal veins a final squeeze,

“This is where you lose, Min.” 

“You’ll regret picking me, princess.” 

Damn him. 

Breath short, you inhale as you clasp hands at your back, joining your team in your half of the arena—the winning half, the winning half, the half that will win.

As the Chairman yells through his enthusiastic spiel, you steal glances at your opponent, tsking to yourself when he doesn’t offer a single look in return.

“For today, I have chosen something that represents the coming of the new season…” 

So resolute. So focused. Immovable as always.

“We unveil the secret ingredient…”  

You will break him. After all these years, you will best him here.

“Our theme is…” 

As the cloth whips off the elevating table, your face falters when you see nothing but a pile of beautiful, vivid, frustratingly recognizable fruits.

“Satsuma!” 

…Fuck.

What the fuck?

Could it have been anything but that?

Shaken by the reveal and studio-prompted applause, you flick your gaze to Yoongi one more time.

Only to see his jaw slide with what you can only imagine are the same feelings.

Shit, shit, damn. Of all the predetermined choices to choose from, of course the committee picks the one that—

“Allez cuisine!”

Fuck, focus! No dwelling. You cannot mess up again and you already used up precious time caught in the past.

Hustling to the table, you and your sous chefs start piling orange globes into metal pans and woven baskets. 

Think, think, think. What are you making. What is the gameplan. Satsuma? Fuck, you were just hoping that wasn’t the chosen food so you gave it the least amount of thought! Amateur!

Swinging your head, you belt out orders to compete with the cheers and announcer-host talk. The atmosphere has erupted all at once, but you will not let it get to you again. Not now not now not this time.

“Amaury, get the stations prepp—”

“Yes, chef!”

“Nina, the stock needs—” 

“On it, chef.”  

“Jin, start with the prep on the—”

Shit that was not Yoongi’s hand you just touched. 

As you react, you see him already staring, brow cocked and team quietly systematic around his calm shoulders. You can’t even think about how experienced they look before—

“Tough,” he apologizes with zero sincerity. “But you can’t have me for this one.”

You move to snatch a fruit instead of his fingers. “Good,” you bite back. “You’d only screw me.”

To your annoyance, Yoongi only smirks, the tiniest sliver of teeth cutting you deep. 

“Chef.”

You swing your head back around to regard one of your assistants. “Yes.”

“We’re ready.” 

Fast. Prompt. Orderly as usual. 

If everyone’s on their game, you need to get there, too. “Yes, chef. Let’s start.” 

As your handsome sous locks into stride, you expel a determined breath. 

You will break Min Yoongi tonight. That’s always been the plan.

But now you have to see it through with the ingredient that tore you apart in the first place.

“Fucking mandarins,” you grit as you gather two more, hating how you’re—

“I know.”

What? 

Why is Yoongi still here? Did you really hear him correctly or was that a figment of the past coming back to haunt you? 

Stunned, you regard his expression for a set of seconds, not expecting a reaction at all. 

He remembers just as well as you do, it seems. And wasted his own set of seconds to let you know that. 

It’s so jarring that you barely get the words out, and you would like to think they sounded as strong as you intended, 

“Well.. good luck.” 

They definitely did not. 

But you break away as soon as you can, situating a burdensome, citrus-loaded pan on your hip with recipes stirring in your—

“You, too.” 

Turning, you wonder many things at once. Like if they have ever aired an Iron Chef in which the contestants spend this long at the ingredients table. Or why the hell Yoongi’s being so… Civil. 

When you nod, he levels his stare.

And after a moment that lasts three, you both finally part—heavy strides blazing trails on opposite sides of Kitchen Stadium.

-

-

tbc :)

-

🍊 how do we feel! | taglist 🍊

a/n: ALLEZ CUISINE! don't let this teaser fool you.. still (or not still?) water runs deep! there's gonna be a lot of build up and tension and drama and multiple(!!!) juicy scenes, so get your utensils and napkins ready because we are eatingggg

a/n 2: check out the in bloom collaboration and make sure to give all the authors and stories some love!

other links: masterlist | permanent taglist (i check each entry so have your age displayed somewhere in your profile!) 

[lonely-moons]

♡୭something good | sam winchester x reader, pt. 1

title: something good, pt. 1 (read pt. 2 here)

pairing: stanford!sam winchester x socially anxious!reader

warnings: lotssss of overthinking, reader is awkward and a nerd but also lowkey a little cool, social anxiety, sam winchester being a cutie patootie, references to fandoms i'm not in rip lotr fans and dnd players my bad

summary: when you're forced to tackle a group project, you briefly debate throwing yourself in a pit of fire - you're not much one for working with other people. but maybe this is something you needed after all

wc: 2,412

masterlist

when your professor first mentions the words 'group project,' you have to physically bite down on your tongue to avoid groaning. they're the bane of your existence, and you allow yourself a moment of wondering whether education is really worth all of this. but you force it down as your class ends and make your way to where the list of names has been tacked to the wall, a sigh crawling its way up from deep in your chest.

you find your name next to one you can't place a face to. it's not surprising - you don't really have any friends in college, something that's followed you through from school even after you'd tried so hard to evade it. the college emails of each student are in a column beside the names, so you take note of it and hope to god that whoever sam winchester is, he's at least going to pull his weight.

you get the email from him before you're done with classes for the day, a simple one asking you when you'll be free to discuss the work. you both decide on tomorrow evening in the library, you moreso hoping to just get this over with rather than being particularly eager.

the time rolls around quickly, and at 7 p.m. the next day, you're heading to the library with a dread roiling in your gut. it's not that you hate meeting new people - you're just bad at it. you never quite know what to say, and even if you think you do, it always seems to come out wrong. like the words somehow scrape along the sides of your throat as they crawl their way up, get tossed about on your tongue until they're coming out completely unrecognisable from how they started. it's something you've always dealt with, but it seems to get worse as you get older, while everyone else prances ahead and you're left behind in the dust.

you don't have much hope as you're greeted with the musty smell of the library, your eyes scanning around for someone who looks like they could be there for a group project. you spot three candidates, three guys on their own, but two of them you vaguely recognise from classes.

it's a brief moment, but the panic sets in so entirely that the seconds seem to stretch on for minutes. you're so desperate to escape the embarrassment of going up to the wrong one that you consider leaving, sending sam some message about an emergency coming up and hoping that this goes better next time. but then one of them turns around, his eyes catching on you, and he smiles in your direction.

he shifts in his seat to face you a little more, his hand raising into small wave. your panic flushes out entirely, and you mentally chide yourself for being so dramatic. you're okay, you tell yourself as you head for the seat at table. you don't need the adrenaline levels of someone being hunted for sport.

"hey," he says when you're close enough, slinking your bag off of your shoulder. "y/n, right?"

"yeah, hey." you send him a smile that you hope looks okay. in your head it's still tinged with the remnants of some of your previous panic. "sam, i hope?" you wince; who the hell else would he be at this point?

but his smile remains intact. "yeah. it's nice to finally meet you. i mean, i've seen you around in classes and just on campus, but you usually look pretty busy."

you've slid into your seat, the uncomfortable wood making you want to shift around, but you remain still. if you were on your own, you'd probably have your feet up on it by now, shimmying around to find some kind of position that works. but you are not alone. "busy time of year." you shrug, knowing that he probably hasn't seen you around and is just being polite - maybe he has, but you're positive he wouldn't remember. you've never been one to make much of an impact.

"hey, i get it," he says. "sometimes it feels like they expect us to just give up on sleep entirely."

you think of the dark circles under your eyes that you'd half-heartedly tried to cover with make up. "tell me about it."

he perks up a little, remembering something. "by the way, speaking of, i got us some fuel." with the pen in his hand, he gestures to the share bag of m&ms that's beside his water bottle. "apparently chocolate helps with concentration levels."

you look at the bag, and somehow your simple comment of thanks turns into - "isn't it dark chocolate that does that?"

sam doesn't miss a beat. "yeah, well dark chocolate would make this even more miserable."

your lips twitch slightly. "fair."

"so, anyway, you wanna get started on this?"

you begin to look at the project guidelines, silently reading over the instructions even though you've done it about ten times today alone. but you appreciate the minute to gather your thoughts, trying to keep your eyes on the paper and not glancing at sam.

he's sweet, is the first thing to come to mind. you've witnessed plenty of college boys who act as though they run the place, who treat anyone different than them as lesser creatures. you thought people were meant to grow out of all that crap after high school, but evidently they had missed the memo.

you think that sam would be a nice friend to have, if only you knew how to go about doing that. the entire future of your interactions play out in your mind: you'll meet up a couple more times to do this project, maybe say something to one another in the class where you submit it. at most, any passing greetings will last a week before he manages to shake you off, and then you'll be back to another face in his class once again. even if you did ask for his number under the guise of project work, you know you'd never be able to text him after it was submitted. he wouldn't text you either. not only would you be a forgotten name, but also a random set of digits in his phone. the thought feels heavy in your head, refusing to budge.

"hey, are you okay?"

you blink, startled slightly, and find sam looking at you. there's a small crease between his eyebrows that makes it look like he genuinely wants to know.

"yeah." you clear your throat, wondering how you'd managed to zone out for so long. not for the first time, you wish the ground would swallow you whole. "yeah, i'm good. sorry, just got lost in thought."

"no, don't worry about. have you thought about which sections you want to cover?"

you spend the next few minutes dividing up which of you will cover the different topics of the paper. he's sweet about that too, always letting you have the first choice and triple-checking that you're okay with what you've landed with. by the time you're getting ready to move onto the next step, he's opened the packet of m&ms.

you worry that he's noticed your glance in their direction, because he takes a few for himself and then nudges the bag in your direction.

"concentration myth might be a bust, but they do taste pretty good."

you let a reluctant smile crawl up your face and grab one to pop into your mouth. turning it down would feel mean and, besides, you do really want some.

"so what classes are you taking?"

you glance at sam, not that surprised. the typical round of polite questioning has happened before, mostly during the first weeks, but they still pop up occasionally. especially when you don't have your crowd and every exchange is with someone new.

you list off your modules like second nature. "and for extra credit this semester i'm doing occult studies."

his eyebrows raise, like he's a little surprised at the fact. "occult studies, huh? like supernatural stuff?"

your polite smile turns a little sheepish now. "yeah. i've always kinda been into that kinda thing and they had space, so..."

he nods a little, like he finds it interesting, like it answers something he's been wondering. "oh, i get it."

"get what?" you ask, taking another m&m if mostly just to give yourself something to do.

"you're a nerd."

you crunch down on the shell in your surprise at his words. but they're not laced with mockery or any kind of insult. if anything, they're just a little teasing, interested, and the grin on his face makes you believe he doesn't mean any harm.

you look down at your outfit on impulse. "was it the spider-man shirt or occult studies that gave you that impression?"

you hadn't noticed that his grin was a little tight, but now it loosens completely. he seems glad that you're leaning into this. "actually," his eyes flicker down to your backpack, "it was more the 12-sided dice key chain."

"technically it's a die because it's only one -" you cut yourself off at the amused look on his face, wondering why you were becoming so free with trusting your mouth to open. it's all his fault, stupid sam winchester and his stupid smile. "never mind."

"no, tell me about it. you play, uh..." he thinks for a moment, "dungeons and dragons?"

it's the first time you've given in to shifting in your seat. you know how people view the game, how often people make fun of it. your small group in high school hadn't even lasted two years before disbanding. you'd kept it up as a solo hobby ever since, even if it'd been way more fun with the extra three people.

"... a little." you hate that it comes out almost defensive, like you've been conditioned into having to explain yourself. you wait for a follow-up comment, something you'll dissect late into the night as you look from every angle at how it's further ruined his perception of you.

"what's it like?"

your pre-prepared wince isn't needed. "the game?"

he nods.

you wonder if he is genuinely curious or just that good at acting. "oh, um... it's fun, i guess. kinda like an interactive book or something, you know?" now you get to use that wince.

"you like to read?"

"you've already called me a nerd, i think you know the answer to that."

his laugh comes out as a huff of air. "i'll join the club, then, i like to read too."

"what kind of stuff?"

"oh, you know, just the classics. i don't really go near anything written after the nineteenth century."

"oh." you clear your throat, any hope of relating vanishing. "that's, um... cool."

"i'm kidding," he says lightly, eyes flickering to your hand that's still clutching the pen you haven't even used in fifteen minutes. "i like lord of the rings."

your hand clenches, the ring on your finger suddenly feeling heavy. for your last birthday your parents had gotten you a replica of the one ring. you wore it almost every day. you're surprised sam had noticed.

"you like fantasy?" it comes out more bewildered than you'd like, but you really wouldn't have guessed it to even be in his top three genres.

"yeah, i've read a lot of it."

"huh."

"what?" he raises an eyebrow, amused.

"didn't take you for a fantasy guy."

"why not?"

you know your real answer, the one that remains firmly locked inside your head: he's attractive. annoyingly so. and, yeah, you know that looks don't dictate what's inside and all that crap, but from your experience, people who look like him don't go for that kind of stuff. then again, lots of people who look like him aren't generally so nice either.

you shrug. "you're a law guy. that usually means pretentious."

"we take the same classes, you know."

"which means i've witnessed all that pretentiousness first hand."

he releases a small laugh and something about it warms your chest. it hits you then that you're really just having a normal conversation. maybe it's sad, but it's been a while since it's come this easy. you blink and go for another m&m so that you can tear your eyes away from his face.

"you're something else," he says.

your hand pauses for just a second in the bag and you ask, as though the answer doesn't even matter to you, "is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"good," he answers, like he hadn't even considered the alternative. "it's definitely good."

you grow a little uncomfortable under how genuine he sounds, and it certainly doesn't help that his stupid smile is still there, still directed right at you.

"you'll take that back once i've eaten all your m&ms." you steal another for good measure.

"well, what chocolate do you not like? i'll bring that next time."

the dig is what registers first, which you're glad for as your body automatically releases a mock gasp. it's a much better reaction than being surprised he wants to meet up again, which is what sinks in now. this project doesn't focus too much on the group aspect; you easily could've gone your separate ways and just emailed one another if you needed to check anything. one more meetup, max, if any problems came up, but nothing long enough for a study snack. you half assume he just said it for the joke - you usually would - but there's something that tells you he means it.

"and here i was thinking you're not half bad."

his smile is more of a smirk now. "is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"bad." your expression half matches his. "definitely bad."

the conversation keeps up until before you know it, the librarian is ushering you out for closing time. you don't even know how it happened, but somehow underneath those fluorescent lights and across from sam, you actually enjoyed meeting someone.

sam asks for your number before you head your separate ways. you try not to act surprised, but something about the way his own smile widens at the light in your eyes makes you think that he knows you'd been hoping for it.

you go to bed that night the lightest you've felt in weeks, with sam winchester's number in your phone and his stupid smile ingrained in your mind's eye.

[jiniretracha]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠? - 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 (𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬)

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst!!!

summary: You worked at Kim Publishing, a place you could call home since the very start. But when it faced bankruptcy, your beloved company was forced to merge with Bang Editorials an evil empire with no vision on anything that Kim Publishing represented. And that's how you met your nemesis: Felix Lee. The bane of your existence. But everything fell into place like the pieces of a puzzle when your bosses had a marvellous idea: a new position as manager director, who had to submit their report in order to be chosen for the job. And your archenemy had the same purpose as you did: get that job one way or another.

word count: 3.1k

ps: I came with a new series totally and utterly inspired/based on The Hating Game. Pls feel free to let me know if you wanna be on this series taglist !

masterlist // series masterlist // ko-fi

𝐒𝐈𝐗 - 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Felix Lee knew he was a very hard person to deal with. He had always been told the same thing so it got to a point that he just owned the title. His father, from a very young age, had said so. His mother, whom he had been the closest to since the start, knew it as well even if she didn’t ever say it. 

He knew his father had always had some favoritism over Chris, while his mom had an inkling towards Felix. 

But as the cliché of the male son, he always had the desire to impress his father. One way or another. Even if pursuing something he did not want was the way to reach his father’s level of content, he’d do it right away. 

So, as he knew his father and the father of his father and so on, had all been surgeons, he pursued exactly that. Well, it wasn’t like he had a choice either way. 

He started med school with one thing in mind: impress my father. But it all went down the hill the moment he stepped into that morgue ward and puked all over a dead man.

Felix couldn’t stop the feeling he had at the pit of his stomach, the way he was immediately repulsed by the poor dead man lying on the examining table. The smell reached his nostrils and it just came out of him before he could stop it. As he coated the man with the liquid, Felix stood wide eyed, completely terrified by what his father’s reaction could be. 

His father was horrified. Utterly and completely. To say the least.

But Felix knew what it was in reality. It was the frustration that he had never been like Christopher. 

Chris had always been a straight A student. Never had a bad grade at a test and he had graduated high school with a different diploma than the rest of his school mates. 

Felix was expected to do the same, but it was never in his blood to be the same exact copy of his brother. He didn’t want to compete with him just to please his father’s expectations. The late realisation that it was straight up pointless to please someone who had never been pleased with him. Ever. 

When he left med school, he came face to face with the exact thing he had pictured and his biggest fear growing up. His father’s rejection. But at the same time, it felt like a big weight had fallen off of his shoulders. 

Instead, he chose to pursue something he liked a little more. The book business. Books had always been his passion, he had found to love books at a very young age, he had found a home in them. 

He discovered his town’s public library at the age of six and he liked to spend almost every afternoon there. At home, all he could find were med books, and those weren’t interesting enough as the fantasy stories he liked to read at the library. If he wanted to read about intestines or organs, he would’ve preferred a horror book in which there was a serial killer out for blood. 

He still could keep contact with his mother, who was very happy for him, knowing he was pursuing what he really wanted. 

His father hadn’t bothered to contact him at all. He didn’t know if his mother told him how he was doing or if he even asked her. 

With Chris, he tried to keep the relationship alive, but things happened in the middle that made it very difficult. But that was a story for another time. Chris always kept him updated about how his family was doing but that was all they talked about. 

He saw an advertisement for a position in Bang Seojun’s company and he immediately clicked on it, knowing that it was a big editorial and it was good money for his pocket. 

Bang Seojun fell in love almost instantly with him. 

Not only was Felix pretty charming for his own good, but he was pretty damn awesome at his job. He knew books like nobody else did and he knew business as well. He had a hunting eye for it. 

When Bang Seojun had told him that they were going to merge with Kim Publishing due to that company’s bankruptcy status, he felt a little weird. 

He knew that the merger meant sharing things with people he didn’t know and having to start almost from zero. 

The day of the merger, he prepared himself to be the coldest he could to anyone from Kim Publishing. He knew that they weren’t happy either with the merger, so he stood his ground.

Bang Seojun had told him he was going to be sharing an office with a girl named Y/N Y/L/N, and he immediately felt his skin crawling. Sharing office? No way! He liked to have his own space for God’s sake!

Also, that morning, out of all days, his father called. For the first time since he had left med school. Well, it wasn’t that his father called, his mother did. 

She called using the excuse: “We wanted to know how you’ve been”. But he knew that she had only meant herself, and his father was not included.

He walked into the new workplace, Kim Publishing building and went straight into the meeting. Bang Seojun had made indications to where he was going to work and he almost felt like dragging his feet over the floor and pouting like a little kid.

That day, he took the elevator to his designated office and sighed as he saw that there was a girl inside already. 

She sensed him walking towards the office and she got out, blocking the door with her presence and holding a pink box with cupcakes.

He felt like dying right then and there.

You were so beautiful.

So beautiful it hurt his eyes.

You were holding the most genuine and prettiest smile he had ever seen with the faintest blush on your cheeks. You were wearing a pretty blue sundress that had white small flowers littered over it. Your hair was mid updo and there were a few strands of hair that framed your face.

To say that you were breathtaking, was an understatement.

But he remembered quickly that he wasn’t here to make friends, nor date anyone.

He knew how that had ended up the last time.

Hard pass.

So, he chose to be an asshole.

He barely glanced at you, grabbed the box and went straight into the office.  

He knew he had fucked up that day. He didn’t have to do much math to figure that out.

The way you threw passive aggressive comments at him all day, every day, how you barely glanced at him. How everyone smiled at you and you smiled back at them, but not him. 

He made his bed that day, and he had to lie in it. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The day after he had basically rejected you, you found him in the break room making himself some tea.

He glanced at you and then quickly looked away to his cup. 

“Good morning” he told you with a certain tone in his voice, like hopeful.

“Good morning” you said, not even sparing him a single glance. Your tone was flat unlike his. 

He then looked at you as you made yourself some tea. “How did you uh… how did you sleep?” he asked, chewing on his lip nervously.

You sighed. “Not great” you said, pouring water on your tea cup. 

“You want some?” he asked you.

“Huh? What? Now you- oh, donut?” you angrily said as you turned around and then your frown fell when you saw him holding a donut towards you. “No, thank you. I already ate” you murmured.

Bang Seojun barged into the break room, as he always did, wearing an enthusiastic smile.

Oh-oh.

“Hey, Dr. Lee, I have someone that I want to present to you at my office. It’s from Harvard, I think it’ll help you with your presentation for the job” he said, and you could swear if he had been at least thirty years younger, he would’ve been jumping on his heels. 

Fuck.

Felix glanced at you and then back at Bang Seojun. “Oh, yeah. That’s- that’s great” he said.

Bang Seojun took Felix by surprise when he slapped his hand on his back. “Be a little more enthusiastic about this, boy. This will be your- oh, hey Y/N” he said when he finally noticed you.

You scoffed a little. “Hey, Mr. Bang” you said, while sipping on your tea.

“Great, so, come with me, please” Bang Seojun said, grabbing Felix by the arm, practically and dragging him away. 

You saw him glance at you one last time as he left and you quickly took out your phone, sending an SOS message to someone you knew pretty well and that could help you. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

“Okay, so I really need to rock this fucking presentation” you said, as you walked next to him in the street. “I’m thinking I could pay you $300 for the graphics, I- I know that’s not much” you grimaced.

“Sure, I’ll consider that an investment in the future of our… employment relationship” Wooyoung replied with a little smile. 

You chuckled. “Great”

Wooyoung inspected your side profile and let out a nervous chuckle. “Hey, so um… just to be- you know- totally clear and all, there’s no chance for anything- like- between us, right?” he stammered.

You pressed your lips together and gave him a look that said more than a hundred words could.

“Got it” he nodded with a sad smile. “Say no more” 

“I’m sorry, Woo. Really” you apologised. “You’re amazing, though. I know it won’t take long before you’re snatched off the market”

He chuckled. “Well, it’s your loss. I’m really cool as you say” Wooyoung said, making you laugh. “So, what’s going on with you know who?” he asked. “Still at each other’s throats or have you finally confessed that you’re pathetically in it for each other?”

You scoffed. “I am not pathetically in it for him!” you whined and he gave you a look, arching his eyebrows. “But yeah, we’re still mortal enemies, if that’s what you’re asking” 

“What a waste” Wooyoung sighed. “Everyone knows you have it bad for him, Y/N” 

“I do not” you rolled your eyes.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I think you’re really cool and everything but you gotta admit that you do feel something for him. I mean, I thought you guys were having an affair at this point” Wooyoung explained, putting his hands up in defense. 

“Nope, we aren’t having anything, thankfully” you replied with your eyes widened. 

Wooyoung sighed and looked at your face. “Y/N, come on” he said quietly. “It’s just me you’re talking to, okay? You don’t have to pretend nor do you need to feel like you have to protect me from the truth just because I have a thing for you, right?” 

You hummed and nodded. 

“Do you have a thing for him?”

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The next day, it was Saturday. Long awaited Saturday. 

It was also nearing Christmas, and you knew what that meant. Spending the whole morning decorating the tree while singing along to Christmas tunes. 

When you almost finished decorating, your phone rang and you felt your heart start to beat faster. 

You didn’t know exactly why, but you quickly rushed to where your phone was at, sitting at the table. You grabbed it and with timid eyes you looked at the ID of the caller.

Mom.

Oh…

You frowned and shook your head.

Why were you expecting him and why were you disappointed that it wasn’t him?

You shouldn’t feel anything like that because you didn’t feel anything for him.

You didn’t feel anything for him.

You. didn’t. feel. anything. for. him.

ANYTHING!-

You accepted the call, pushing the thought of Felix away, and pressed the phone up to your ear.

“Hey mom, how’s that London trip going on?” you asked her with a tired tone.

“Hey sweetheart, oh London was great. We’re actually in Barcelona now for the weekend” she told you, making your eyes widen.

“Oh? Really? That’s so cool, I bet it’s beautiful over there” you said, putting the call on speaker mode as you continued decorating the Christmas tree. 

“It is, honey. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. The city is so beautiful” your mom chuckled. “But tell me, how’s it going with you and that guy from work?”

Your heart stopped beating for a second. 

“Felix?”

“No, baby. Wooyoung. You told me you were going out with him the other day” your mother told you confusedly.

Right… because I did tell her that.

“Oh… right, um. Yeah, no, I ain’t going out with him anymore, that’s for sure” you said as you finished tying a ribbon around a branch with a sarcastic laugh.

You heard your mother gasp from the other side of the line. “What? Oh honey, I’m so sorry” she cooed.

“No, it’s fine. We didn’t even stick with glue if we tried, so that’s okay. We remained friends, so there’s that” you told her.

“If you let me be honest with you, when you told me, you didn’t seem that excited about it” your mom replied.

You sighed. “Yeah, cause I wasn’t” you said quietly. “I think Woo’s great but… I don’t know, I just don’t like him like that”

“Not like you like Felix, right?” she said and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

You scoffed. “Could you stop that?” you groaned. “I don’t like him, I hate him. You know that already”

“Yeah, yeah, honey. Whatever you say” she laughed. 

“You’re being mean, I’m three seconds away from hanging up” you threatened. 

“Okay, baby” your mom chuckled. “Well, I hear you’re doing well then?”

“Yeah, I am okay” you replied. “I expect a big gift for Christmas though”

“Okay, no I am the one who’s three seconds away from hanging up-”

DING DONG.

You jumped almost five feet apart from where you were when you heard the doorbell ringing.

“Who’s that?” your mother asked.

“No idea, mom. But I’ll call you later okay?” you said, and she could hear the uneasiness in your voice.

“All right… call me if you need anything, please” your mother said.

“Will do, love you”

“Love you!”

You ran towards the door and then the doorbell rang again. 

“I’m coming… jeez” you whispered that last part to yourself.

You peeped through the peephole and your heart sank to your ass.

No… what is he doing here??

You opened the door with a frown. “Felix?” 

“Hey…” he sighed, looking at you up and down. 

You suddenly felt self-conscious about what you were wearing. You had a white pajama top… with no bra on and a pair of tight leggings. 

If Felix had to admit to himself, you looked hot as fuck, he had to clench his fists at the sides of his body. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked him with an irritated sigh, crossing your arms over your chest to cover up a little from his intimidating gaze. 

“I came to get you. To pick you up” Felix said.

Hold up, what?

“Huh?” you said in a high pitched voice.

Felix chuckled. “For my brother’s wedding?” he said slowly. 

You let out a surprised laugh and shook your head. “You really have no shame, do you?” you said angrily. “Not likely”

“Okay, I’m sorry about the other night, all right?” Felix said, and he seemed honest about it. “You caught me off guard”

“Caught you off guard? We were just about to-” you let out a sigh and chuckled ironically. “This thing is just too complicated, Felix” you shook your head, putting your hands together in a pleading manner. “We’re competing for the same job, you may not have realised that. We turned mutual sabotage into an art, so it’s impossible to trust each other” 

Felix sighed. “Y/N-”

“And also-” you interrupted him by placing your hand up. “-you’re like the actual representation of Katy Perry’s Hot N Cold. You’re hot, then you’re cold. Yes then no. I should call her and ask her if she wrote it about you, hell, she’d probably say yes. Could you please figure out what you want?” 

Felix pressed his lips together, feeling the laughter bubbling up his throat. You frowned at him.  

“Don’t laugh!”

“Okay! I’m- I’m gonna be honest. I can’t go alone” he replied, putting his hands up in the air. “And they’re expecting you to come with me”

You scoffed.

“And don’t forget-” he said and pointed at your place. “You owe me for all of this, remember?” 

You narrowed your eyes and he smirked.

“I’ll wait for you in the car” he said with a smug smile and then walked away, back into his car, shutting the door behind him.

You placed your hands on your face and screamed, drowning the noise against your skin. You were going to spend an entire weekend with your sworn enemy and you were excited about it at the same time. 

You had to make up your mind about what you wanted in the end because your brain was absolutely fried at this point.

-

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @lattyjiji   @jeonginsleftcheek    @alrm02   @skzjiiiii   @lixies-favorite-cookie    @victoriaaf   @st4rv3lly   @noirvedette   @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere

i apologize if i can't tag you

[berryz-writes]

Jealousy

PART 1

Summary: Your forced to spend the weekend with Azriel the bane of your existence but little do you realise he doesn't completely hate you

did i think of the title before writing the actual fic? Yes i did. ENJOY LOVELIES <3 (ignore mistakes it's midnight😭)

I crossed my arms, wishing and hoping for my sake Rhys was playing some sort of prank and he didn't really mean I had to spend the next three days with the bane of my existence.

"It's last minute I know but you two are the ones I trust to be able to carry this out without gathering much suspicion" Rhys explained looking between the two of us. His expression was slightly apologetic when he looked toward me and it rightfully should have been. He was forcing me to spend 3 days with Azriel. The most arrogant fucking man in the whole of Prythian.

Azriel stood next to me his brows furrowed and his eyes sending daggers at Rhys "I wouldn't want y/n to tire herself out too much. I'll do the mission myself" I grit my teeth together at his words and the annoying belittling tone he used.

"I'm right fucking here. It's better if I go myself, they'll be able to spot a brooding bat from miles away" I replied not even bothering to look at the moody asshole. His wings twitched slightly but he gave no other indication that he had been affected by my words.

Rhys let out a sigh and stood up, walking around his desk and reaching for a folded parchment. "Your both going. End of story" He extended his hand and before Azriel could reach for it I all but snatched it out of Rhys's hand. Rhys looks slightly amused but Azriel didn't. He turned to me, his glare rooting me to the spot. I gave him a pleasant smile back trying to get him even more annoyed. I could hear his teeth grinding together even from the distance between us.

"Go fuck yourself" He muttered to me before storming out the room, his shadows trailing behind as if scared of their master too.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed" I commented, opening the parchment and noting the details Rhys had written, the population of the village, the number of cabins, weapons stores etc. I looked up to see Rhys looking at me, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he found this all amusing "At least try to get along. It'll make things easier"

I let out a sigh. Rhys was right. But annoying Azriel was always so fun. "I'll think about it" I finally let out, leaving his study and going to prepare my weapons.

***

I walked around the cabin, running a finger along the book case. Not a speck of dust in sight, the magic keeping the cabin clean for any guests. There was a double bed on one side of the room, matching side tables on both sides, opposite them were two armchairs and a fireplace which was currently filled with logs as the fire danced away the cold. A small kitchen to the back with cupboards stocked with every ingredient.

Gods I hated this place. Well not the cabin. It was cosy. What I hated was the village itself. It was always so dreary and grey. Not to mention the smell of misogynistic males who thought themselves too high up to talk to a female. Fucking pricks.

I sat down on the bed and unlaced my boots, finally being able to feel my feet properly. The day had been a long and annoying one. Meeting with village heads to discuss why there was disruptions amongst the Illyrians. Making sure females were still allowed to train and their wings were kept safe. The whole lot of them were stubborn, not a word going through their thick skulls. And to add to the growing list of annoyances Azriel had been an asshole the entire day. More than usual.

Before I could think more about how draining my day had been I heard a sharp knock at my door. I readied myself. If it was that fucking Illyrian who had called me a whore I was going to give him a piece of my mind. I walked over to the front door my socks gliding across the wooden floorboards, reminding me of when me and Rhys used to ice skate on the Sidra. I opened the door my frown already in place. Good thing it was because it was Azriel darkening up my door with his gloom.

"What is it Shadowsinger? Miss me?" I crossed my arms and waited for him to say something. Common courtesy would be to invite him into the guest house but I wasn't in the mood of playing nice. He didn't look like he wanted to play nice either. His shadows were moving slowly over his wings and around his body, their colour darker than the night itself.

"I'm staying here for the night" He finally said before moving past me and into the cabin. My mouth fell open as I slammed the front door so the cold wouldn't come in. "What do you mean your staying here? Go to your own cabin..... I was here first!" I admit I sounded like a child but what was he doing here? We had made sure two guest cabins were empty before coming here.

"You were here first? Well that's fucking unfortunate" He replied sending me a glare before sitting on the edge of my bed and removing his belt containing his daggers, bending down to take off his boots too. Why was he looking at me like it was my fault?

I stomped over to him and stopped in front of him "Go to your own cabin! What are you even doing here?" I asked. Gods he was being irritating. Why wasn't he answering me with the truth instead of wasting my time?

He finally turned to look at me, having taken his boots off. His amber eyes looked deadly in this light and with his eyebrows furrowed like that I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking of killing me on the spot "I can't go to my cabin because it doesn't fucking exist. Understand? Or do you want me to show you a visual representation?" Gods I hated it when he was sarcastic. His head was tilted slightly waiting for my reaction.

I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes, anger would get me no where "What do you mean it doesn't exist? It was there in the morning so how has it just disappeared?"

He took a deep breath as well as if he were tired of talking to me, he ran a hand through his hair. Gods he was hot......I shook my head. Was my head screwed on straight?

"There was a fight. The cabin was....demolished during it" He explained. I raised an eyebrow "Who fought? Was it you?....Don't tell me it was you"

Azriel shrugged "It wasn't". I rolled my eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a big enough distance between us so I wouldn't start thinking about his looks or the way his hair was so pullable or the way his lips...

"Who did you fight with? Didn't Rhys send us with orders of keeping on the down. fucking. low?"

I could see his jaw clench as he refused to look at me "It doesn't matter who I fought with. Your just going to have suck it up and share the bed"

It took me great will power to not roll my eyes again. I took another deep breath "Go back to Velaris for the night"

He turned to me his eyebrows raised as if I had mentioned something stupid "What and leave you here with all those males who would love to fuck you and then slit your throat?"

I narrowed my eyes "First of all, who do you think you are telling me I can't handle a bunch of pricks. Second of all don't you dare underestimate me. Third of all-" I moved closer to him, a grin spreading as I looked at his slightly surprised expression "-are you jealous?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes "In your dreams, sweetheart" He replied, his eyes flicking down to where our legs touched and then back up to my face. I swallowed. This wasn't where I thought this conversation would go.

Luckily, the sound of the door banging gave me the opportunity to escape his hazel eyes. I opened the door to find that same Illyrian who had called me a whore. His expression however was different this time, as if he was forced to stand here and it was taking all his energy to not walk away. His face was also different. A black eye and what seemed to be a broken nose. He was also clutching his side rather strangely...as if he had broken a rib of some sort.

"What? Here to call me a whore again? Say it again. I fucking dare you" I could feel my blood rushing around my body, my fists clenched ready to punch the shit out of this asshole but unfortunately it looked like he had learnt moral decency.

He shifted from one foot to another, his wings folding and opening again before he cleared his throat "I uh...wanted to apologise for what I said earlier"

I raised an eyebrow "You do?"

He nodded his head but I could tell he meant the complete opposite "I shouldn't have called you a whore...I'm-" He cleared his throat again before wincing in pain, his hand clutching his side again. "I'm sorry" He rushed out quickly. I crossed my arms. I was tired. If I wasn't I would have asked him to repeat it.

"Okay well I don't accept your apology, you can go fuck yourself now" I closed the door in his face, locked the door and turned to Azriel eyeing him suspiciously.

"Did you know that guy?" I asked moving over to the bathroom and stopping outside the door to wait for his answer.

Azriel shook his head from where he was sitting on the bed "Nope. Never seen him. Looked pretty messed up didn't he?"

"Hmm" I replied not knowing what to say. I had a feeling Azriel had something to do with it. I went into the bathroom, changed out of my leathers and into my night clothes before stepping out. I wished and wished and wished I hadn't packed shorts for the night. It was already so cold the fire only doing so much if I sat in front of it. While I had been in the bathroom Azriel had changed too, having already laid down on his back, his arm over his eyes. I let out a sigh "So your not going back to Velaris?"

I sat down on the bed, crossing my legs while I tied my hair back. Azriel didn't look at me "No"

I let out another sigh "And your sure there's no other cabins free?". Azriel finally looked at me his lips pressed tightly together "I don't bite"

I rolled my eyes and layed down, the lights dimmed to it being almost pitch black except the silvery moonlight coming in from the window. I pulled the blanket over me and curled up so I had as much heat as possible. Gods it was cold.

After a few minutes of me trying to sleep but failing Azriel turned to his side and faced me. He didn't even have a blanket on "Your shaking the bed" He pointed out.

"It's cold" I turned onto my other side so I didn't have to look at his piercing gaze, just his one look making butterflies erupt in my stomach. "Your so dramatic" He muttered before I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him, until my back met his chest and I was engulfed in his warmth. I froze for a second not knowing what to do "Is this alright?" He whispered in my ear, his voice softer than I was used to. I bit back a smile and nodded my head, settling into his hold. This was so nice. So damn nice. I shouldn't have been enjoying it but I was. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep and I couldn't help but realise that maybe being in Azriel's arms wasn't so bad.

part 2

MASTERLIST

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter two: the arrival

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings:  language, heavy mentions of sex, brief and non-specific mentions of Bucky’s past

word count: 2.9k

taglist: @cjand10 @mcira

PREVIOUS PART

A/N: so excited for you guys to read! sorry ive been MIA recently -- the first half of august will be extremely stressful for me as I have my drivers theory test on the 10th, then I find out if I get into uni on the 15th, hopefully all goes well but you never know!! so for that reason, I haven't been able to write much since posting the first chapter, so updates might be every 2 weeks or so! im so sorry </3, but as always, please let me know how you're finding the story!!!!

The wedding band offers you a strange comfort as you twist it around and around your fingers, staring out of the window of the private jet. It’s a simple golden band, with your initials and Bucky’s engraved onto the inner edge. You hate it, but are too ashamed to vocalise it. It was less than a week ago that you were sobbing on the floor about pretending to be married, and now the wedding band, his initials rubbing against your skin on the inside of it gives you solace?

Bucky notices, because of course he does. He moves to sit directly in front of you, and you turn to him. Officially, the two of you are on the clock now, and so you keep your face impassive, instead of scowling or staring angrily at him. He leans back in his seat, shoving his hands into the dark leather jacket you’re all too familiar with, slouching. He’s wearing jeans the same colour as his eyes, and a red henley that’s just peeking through the top of the jacket. Average, suburban white guy, with a bit of New York flair. 

“You’ve been avoiding me all week.” He states simply, like it’s the most abhorrent fact he’s ever had the displeasure of narrating. You nod, trying your best to not let a snarky remark sneak past your lips, currently coloured in a sheer red. 

“I don’t want to get sick of you too soon. It’s the longest we’ve ever been on any mission. You remember Bucharest, right? How we were almost at each other’s throats in two weeks, and because of us poor Sam spent a week in the medbay? I don’t want that to happen again.” He glances down at the memory, as if humiliated by the outcome of that mission. You know you are — you still check Sam’s hands to see if he’s still healing. You assume he’s done with talking to you and turn to stare back out the window, admiring the green fields and fluffy clouds.

“I understand. But that means we haven’t talked about anything. Like our cover story, how I proposed. Or how affectionate we’re going to be with each other.” 

“Well, you’re still going as James Barnes, aren’t you?” Realistically, you should’ve said The Winter Soldier. That’s what you mean, and he knows that. But you can’t bring yourself to say it, to remind him of everything he’s trying to escape from. It seemed to be an unspoken boundary between the two of you, that you’ll never throw that title in his face, especially when you’ve seen the way he retracts from society and begins to shake in his seat at those three words, regardless of who uses them. His past, before you knew him, you decide to leave untouched. You couldn’t live with yourself if you belittled him and shamed him for things that happened to him, things that he was never in control of.

You’ve read the case files. You know the atrocities. You can’t do that to him. Even if he chose to cross that line, you can’t wound him in such a way, especially not for petty revenge. You want to annoy him, yes, but you don’t want him to truly ache irrevocably because of you. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

“Yes. And you’re still going as you?” You nod, gears turning in your head.

“We can say we met in Wakanda, and we were friends for 5 years. You were hopelessly in love with me the whole time, obviously. But I only started seeing you as more than a friend after… we went to a friend’s wedding together, and I didn’t have a partner so I dragged you along with me. When they exchanged their wedding vows, I realised that what you and I had was special, and that you’re ridiculously handsome. And the rest is history.” You shrug, hating that you’ll have to admit to his stupid, pretty face that he has a stupid pretty face.

“How’d you come up with that? You don’t really seem the romance type…”

You think for a moment, reabsorbing the insult that you almost fire at him. Is he implying that you’re a slut, again?

“Just because I’ve never been serious about anyone before, doesn’t mean I’m a heartless monster, James. I’ve read books, and seen TV shows. I prefer romance, to remind myself that somehow, sometimes, men can be at least decent.” Your eyes bore into his then, silently expressing your anger. “And I’d really appreciate it if half of your insults toward me aren’t slutshaming. Keep it to yourself.” You can’t help it.

His eyebrows furrow, and somehow he looks even sexier. God, you hate how your sexual attraction toward him peaks when he’s civil with you. “What? I’ve never…”

“Yes you have, don’t lie. Almost every other sentence you say to me, you mention me sleeping around. Now, I don’t give a fuck what you think, but it’s beginning to get annoying. You wanna get your marks up? Find some new material.”

“Butterscotch, no. That’s—That’s not what I mean. You’re the only person I’m ever around who’s had so much sex, but it’s not a bad thing. Definitely not a bad thing. It just genuinely seems to me that whenever I see you, you’re always planning to hook up with someone. That’s why. I’m not shaming you for having sex, do whatever the fuck you want. I’m sorry if I made it seem otherwise, or if that’s why you hate me.” You’re constantly shifting between staring out the window, and at him, but when he apologises you can’t help but give yourself whiplash, wondering if he’s joking.

A million more questions circle your mind, and your anger flares up before you can stop it. You stand up, walking over to where he sits. He watches your face, as you grip the armrests and lean down so you’re uncomfortably close to him. He gets flustered so quickly, it’s another one of your favourite weaknesses of his to exploit. “You think that’s why I hate you? I hate you, because you’re an arrogant, self-centred bitch, who’s only ever treated me like shit.” In truth, he’s only arrogant and self-centred when it comes to you. To everyone else, he’s as sweet and humble as they come, and that’s what bothers you the most. 

That he’s chosen to have some personal vendetta against you from the very first night he met you, when you tried to be kind. You greeted him, smiled at him, bought him a vinyl player and limited edition vinyls from the 40s in mint condition for his fucking birthday, and all he ever was, was cruel to you. He scowled, he turned away from you. He all but threw your thoughtful gift across the room and fled from the birthday party.

That was your breaking point, when you decided that he’s not worth it. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was fresh out of Wakanda at the time, and you thought that maybe he was just having trouble reintegrating into society, what with the hell he’d been through. But then, you noticed the way he spoke to Nat with a wide smile on his face, how he loved to laugh with the other agents, and you noticed it was just you that he was still closed-off and horrid to. That’s when you began to be cruel, began to insult him and scowl right back, mirroring his expressions 

You’d never done it before then, but it felt so natural, so deserved. And then it had become second nature, as easy as blinking, or finding someone new to sleep with. It’s even more embarrassing to admit that you’d found yourself, for the first time, having strong and true romantic feelings for someone, and then he shut you down like that. How could you not? With a face like that, and an unwavering passion in those cobalt eyes, how could you not form some semblance of attachment? 

You briefly remember the way you’d acted around him, like a giggling schoolgirl who’s just dipped her toes into the dating world. How naive you had been, how foolish. It all just makes you grimace now, fuelling the flames of your hatred all that much more.

He searches your eyes, trying to dig beneath all the malice. As if you’d let him. He must know that to poke the bear is futile at this stage, because he decides to change the topic.

“And what about me proposing? How long have we been married? Where did we go on our honeymoon?” Your faces are so close…if he were half a decent person you wouldn’t leave any room for him to even breathe at this current second.

“Don’t tell me I’m gonna carry all the braincells on this mission, Barnes.” You retreat back to your seat, slumping over yourself, trying to ignore all of the bitter memories that have just been dragged to the forefront of your mind. 

A brief silence descends over the two of you, and you swivel your attention once again to the landscape outside, buckling your seatbelt as the flight attendant announces that you’re about to land.

“One day, I asked you over to my apartment, on our three year anniversary. December 22nd. I cooked you your favourite meal, chicken biryani with that raita that you like, and red velvet cake for dessert. It was a candlelit dinner in my tiny apartment, with a red tablecloth the same colour as your dress. After the dinner I asked you to marry me, reciting stanzas and stanzas of prose about how beautiful and amazing you are, and how in love with you I am. Then, we made love until dawn, obviously.” 

A smile graces your face at his last words, at how innocent he appears when he refers to having sex as making love. The sentiment is sweet.

His seeming innocence catches you off guard at times — he’s been amongst all the agents and Avengers for eight years now, as opposed to your 13. The agents are always throwing themselves at him, especially those not into women, at all. You’ve often assumed he hooks up with most of them, seeing as Steve’s often recounted stories of what a charmer he was back in the 40s. And when he’s nice, you doubt anyone could resist him.

So why does he seem so new and inexperienced to most things? Another mystery you can’t be asked to solve.

“God, you’re just dying to have sex with me, aren’t you?” You tease, letting your grin  mould into something a little more sadistic, indicating that the thick, putrid air of a few minutes ago has passed.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, the story pretty much requires it.”

You nod in mockery. “Uh huh, of course. You pervert, we’re not going to tell anyone that. The idea of premarital sex will probably give half the kids in those suburbs a heart attack.” His eyes rake up and down your figure, and you give him your most salacious grin. You usually reserve it for men across the bar, when you catch them checking you out. It’s reserved for inviting them over for casual conversation and bathroom sex.

On Bucky? It flusters him to hell and back when he’s on the receiving end of it. Just like it is right now, as he tries desperately to hide the blush that’s spreading quickly across his cheeks. He swallows, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob against his throat in an almost predatory manner.

It’s in moments like these you’ve often thought about hate sex. Specifically with Bucky, about what it would be like to pull on his hair, to boss him around like you usually enjoy to. Would he listen to you? Or would he bark orders of his own at you, gripping at every inch of you desperately? But you’re scared, because he’s the first person to ever make you want to pursue them romantically, and you’re scared all the hate will melt away with every gentle yet scorching touch, leaving you vulnerable.

You hate being vulnerable.

“We’ve only been married a month, and we went to Spain for our honeymoon. We just got back two weeks ago to finish packing.” He completes, and it seems simple enough. You notice how his voice shakes ever so slightly, still influenced by the way you look at him, and the way he refuses to make eye contact. 

“Sounds good. We’ll stick with that then.” You offer, not bothering to look at him twice as you leave the jet and step into the family sedan that Bucky’ll be driving.

You sigh as you sink into the passenger seat in a car that smells too clean, staring out the window as if bored. You wonder if either of you will be able to not kill the other in these six months.

In your mind, you either fuck or fight it out. There’s no other way you’re emerging. 

You wonder which option he’d choose, studying him as he settles in beside you, so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s taken off his leather jacket and shoved it to the backseat, exposing his arms and—his left arm is no longer metal.

He catches you staring — he’s always looking for an excuse to stare at you. “Fury handed it to me after the initial briefing. It fits over my arm like a second skin, so it looks normal. I’m supposed to be trying to get back that normal life, remember? Fury said it’ll help disillusion and distance me from The Winter Soldier in these civilian’s minds.” Somehow, it sends a pang through your heart, still, at the way he’s trying to not lose his shit and start crying at even the thought that they’ll still see him as an empty weapon, a vessel for unimaginable evil. You soften.

“Here, let me drive — you just learned what a car was, like, six months ago. Plus it’s manual. I know Steve only let you learn automatic. Come on, stop being a bitch and switch with me.” You’re goading him, holding out your hand for the keys as he blindly stares at the console, trying to process how you know that fact about him. 

Steve and you are close, best friends even. That’s why. He turns off the engine and does as he’s told, mind probably currently too occupied with awful memories to register you’re being soft with him.

As you settle into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors as he stares down into his lap. “Besides, when you walk in there unarmed and without a murderous look on your face, they’ll know, James. It’s been years.” Your tone is too gentle, too gentle considering your history. But you can’t help yourself, and you let your hand gently touch his arm even though he won’t feel it. He looks up, and you see his eyes brimming with tears.

“But what if it doesn’t work? What if they see right through me?” His voice is so small, unlike any tone he’s ever taken with you.

“It will. It will work, they won’t see right through you. If they know who you are, you know they followed your trial, your rehab in Wakanda. They know you were pardoned. And they’ll know when you treat all the kids with respect, because you’re good with them. When you help the seniors cross the road, when you help the sexy neighbour with her groceries. They’ll know, because you’re good. You have a good heart, and you treat almost everyone you know with nothing but love and affection. Just because I’m not on the receiving end of it, doesn’t mean I can’t see that. Trust your gut, James. It’ll all be fine. And if I can pull off being in love with you, they’ll definitely see it too. I’ll sing your praises to everyone in town, I’ll do everything to convince them if I have to. Because that’s the only way our cover will work. This is official business, James. This isn’t you and me around the Tower, or sparring in the gym. Just trust me here, okay?” You don’t know why you’re sympathetic, you don’t know why you care. You don’t know why you’re saying all of these things like you’re falling in love with him, all you know if that he’s falling apart and you have to try and stop it.

You have to try and be there for him, gripping his hand between both of yours, trying to offer a physical reminder that he’s in the car with you, not back in that horrid lab or in the sterile courtroom as some bald, red-faced lawyer tries to write him off as the most heinous cretin to disgrace this planet. You look at him and he looks at you and the tension is almost palpable, like you could cut it with a knife. You have no idea what’s happening to you.

“Okay.” He says quietly, his thumb stroking the side of your hands. Sam beeps the horn behind you, him and Steve posing as the movers and carriers you and James have hired. 

It startles you out of the moment, reminding you of your rapid heart, beating so fervently against the jail of your ribs that you feel it in your fingertips. You turn to the road ahead, signalling to the PARKER PACKERS AND MOVERS truck towing behind you. You swallow, hopefully taking any softness for Bucky along with it.

It’s going to be a long six months.

NEXT PART

[reminiscingtonight]

Sisters know better that one was so good

Sisters Know Best Blurb

Tick.

Ana’s as stiff as a statue next to you. Even with your hand on her knee she can’t seem to relax.

Tock.

Finding her hand with yours, you gently interlace your fingers together, hoping the direct skin contact would help a bit.

It doesn’t.

Tick.

Ana’s leg starts bouncing and it takes all of your power not to kick at it. Ana knows how much you hate it. But you also know it’s a nervous tick for her.

Tock.

Sighing, you pull your eyes away from your lover. Lia meets your gaze with a smirk from across the table, looking like she’s having the time of her life.

“Lia, come on, cut her some slack,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

The three of you have been sat in at the restaurant for nearly ten minutes now, the older two girls remaining silent as they wait for the other to say something.

Ana’s been understandably terrified since the moment you told her Lia knew about your relationship. The humiliation of being caught scaling down your tree dissipated the second she realized being caught meant Lia saw her.

What began as a laidback and relaxing start to your vacation soon became the bane of your existence.

You were expecting a confrontation sometime soon, but neither of you expected the invitation to lunch at a nice little place a few miles from home mere hours after Lia revealed she knew about the two of you.

“You look like you’re about to shit your pants, Ana,” Lia snorts.

Ana’s eye twitches, but she doesn’t let anything else slip. “I think you’d be terrified too if you were in my shoes.”

Lia tilts her head in question at her friend’s words. “Do you think I’m mad at you?”

Ana frowns. “Are you... not?”

Both of you wait with bated breath as Lia seems to think it through. Though your worries seem for naught when her lips split into a huge grin.

“Ana, you’re my favorite person in the world. No one else I’d trust more. I’m more than delighted that the two of you are seeing each other.”

A tiny smile floats to Ana’s face, body slightly relaxing at Lia’s words. “Really?”

Lia nods, about to repeat how happy she is for you guys when you jump in.

“Wait, hold on. Favorite person in the world? What am I? Dead meat?” you complain, pout quickly forming when your girlfriend and sister both start snickering at you.

Send me a fic title

[amethystviolist]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thanks to @shipper47 for tagging me! I'm a bit late to respond but very excited to participate :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

Looks like 32! Wow, a lot more than I expected.

What's your total AO3 word count?

174,720!

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

I don't think this should be the only measure of fic worth, but sure, here we go!

A Hairy Misunderstanding [Bagginshield]

Merlin Has a Dragon (And Other Revelations) [Merthur/Gen]

Impacts of Literal and Metaphorical Natures [Merthur/Gen]

Pine For a Bead (Or, Girlfailure Greenleaf) [Gimleaf/Gigolas]

Anything [...Destiel]

Do you respond to comments?

Yes, I reply to almost every comment! I love getting them, and it's often a great excuse to gush about the characters or my behind-the-scenes writing thoughts.

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

Definitely Phone Call. On-screen major character death hits hard!

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

Oh, almost all the rest are very happy endings! Off the top of my head, I'm thinking of my most recent fic Home Looks Like You - 4k of ReShirement and Parentshield fluff, ending in a family cuddle pile.

Do you write crossovers?

I've never written crossovers with characters meeting each other, as that's not usually my jam - but I've dabbled in putting characters into another fandom, like my abandoned WIP The Order of the Silver Ship [TAZ: Balance characters in the world of ATLA].

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no, never. I've gotten the occasional "off" comment and once a spammer of some sort, but nothing truly vile. Let's hope it stays that way!

Do you write smut?

Yes! It's fun! I think my only AO3-published smut is Iron Must Suffice [Bagginshield].

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Also thankfully no! Not to my knowledge, anyway. I'll hope that streak continues as well!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! The two previously-mentioned Merlin fics were translated into Chinese, though the website that hosted them apparently scrubbed all queer content a while back and sadly lost those translations with it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes and it was so much fun!! I participated in an event called The Hobbit: An Unexpected Collaboration (THAUC) this past October, and my assigned partner @mrmrbaggins and I wrote Of Kin and Courtships [Bagginshield] together. I loved plotting together and trading off scenes, it was fun to have immediate feedback and support. And they're a great writer, too!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

All-time? Man, that's hard to say. I think I definitely cycle through them and I love many. Currently it's Bagginshield, but there may be a different answer this time next year!

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

Hmm. Most WIPs that I want to finish I do eventually finish, even if it takes me literal years to do so. I think the one that's bugging me the most currently is All I Want For Candlenights [Taakitz], which only needs its final chapter finished. I never got a gift in that exchange event which kind of unmotivated me, plus I've just not been deep into the Balance fandom lately.

What are your writing strengths?

Hard to say, really... And that's not fishing for compliments, I just mean it's hard for me to analyze what I like about my writing when I spend most of my editing time looking for my weaknesses instead. If I have to choose, maybe characterization? I get a lot of compliments on it (thank you readers!) and I do put a lot of thought and effort into getting into the characters' heads and their resulting dialogue/inner narration/etc. And for Tolkien works specifically, I'm very good at piecing together TDS Neo-Khuzdul translations, and find a lot of joy in making them, too!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh so many things... though I think I'm always improving! Pacing is a huge issue for me. Also scenery and action descriptions. Also TITLES are the bane of my existence most of the time. In a more meta sense, I always struggle to get out of my editing mode and just put something (anything) down on the page so I can actually finish my WIPs.

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

I'm a huge fan of using other languages in fic and fiction as a whole, as that's actually what my undergrad thesis was about! Though in a fic I do really need a translation attached somehow for it to be enjoyable. I tend to get a little irritated if there's no translation provided anywhere, even if it's "unimportant" tidbits, because I want to know things, dammit!! /hj

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

Oooo interesting question. I'd love to write a Leverage fic someday, but I really love those characters so much because canon already treats them so well! They're such well-developed characters that I find myself a little hesitant to dive in and potentially get it "wrong" (a silly worry I'd tell any other writer to ignore, ofc, but it's my worry unfortunately).

What's your favorite fic you've written?

That's like choosing a favorite child, oh no! ... I've just spent a few minutes scrolling up and down my AO3 stats list, but I really can't choose a favorite. They're almost all special to me for one reason or another, even ones I'm not very happy with in quality! I can say with confidence my current baby is the untitled Bagginshield mega fic, but idk that it will be my favorite even when it's done/published.

Thanks again for the tag, this was so fun! I'd love to see answers from @mrmrbaggins/@xkingevelynx, @thylocalbard, or @thatfancygirlinblack/@thatfancygirlinwhite, but absolutely no pressure to any of you :)

And if anyone else seeing this wants to do it, feel free to claim I tagged you! I won't snitch about it.

[bbarnesbby]

Through the back door

Pervy!contractor!Joel Miller x fem!reader

(photos from pinterest, and not an accurate representation of how the reader is perceived in their appearance)

Summary: A fresh faced personal assistant catches Joel’s eye whilst working on his current job, and who can blame him for going after what he wants? Even if it takes some convincing…

Words: 2k

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dark!Joel Miller, Joel is VERY crude and pervy here, he's also very forward, creepy men, catcalling, groping, coercion, lots of sexual innuendos, but no actual smut, my lil brain knows nothing about construction sites or contractors and it shows<3, my dyslexia lol

!! I do not consent to or accept any instance in which my works are copied, edited, reposted or translated on tumblr or any other website. !!

!! Please also note that this is fan fiction and I would never tolerate the themes in this being repeated in the real world. I am not responsible for what you consume on this website, all warnings are given and if you don't feel comfortable with them then your opinion is valid and understandable, but not invitation to hate on or shame this fanfic !!

Thank you and please enjoy <33

The repetitive click of your heels on the dusty pavement below you seems to be the only thing you can hear over your laboured breathing as you rush to get back to the office building, the place that could only affectionately be described as your own personal hell.

When you'd first gotten the job, the ambiguously labelled title you had been assigned did confuse you at first. However, now as you grip the holder for four coffees in one hand, and a bag carrying a series of different flavoured salads, sandwiches, and kinds of pasta in the other, you realise it was all to cover up what you'd really be.

A bottom-of-the-barrel personal assistant.

The job itself isn't one you would complain about, everyone has got to start somewhere after all, especially coming straight out of college. It's just the assholes you work for that make you long for an escape.

Young men with no degree, making them easily less qualified than you, having the audacity to make requests that must be completed in unrealistic time frames seem to be the bane of your existence. The fact they have the power to do so only down to the fact they have family working the important positions in other branches of the company.

That and the thing hanging between their legs.

Pushing your thoughts of distaste aside, you glance at your wristwatch as you round the last corner of your journey before the building is in sight. You notice you've got a good five minutes before you're eligible for a scolding from your boss and let out a sigh of relief.

But as you get closer to your destination, you notice construction tape seems to have materialised around the walkway to the office building in the fifteen minutes you were gone, men already drilling into the ground you need to walk over to get where you need to be.

As you hurry to the now construction site, you stand for a moment confused, huffing as you look around for anyone who could help you in your predicament.

Your eyes scan a group of men standing by the bed of a pickup truck, presumably talking about their job at hand. You walk along the makeshift fence made up of scuffed traffic cones and more construction tape until you're near enough parallel to the truck, not crossing the tape out of concern you may disrupt whatever's going on.

"Excuse me?" Voice loud enough to be heard but still polite, you gain the attention of a couple of the men, their averted gazes prompting those who didn't initially hear you to look over too. A small but friendly smile pulls at your lips but soon falters when a few of them let out their renditions of low whistles and unsavoury comments towards you.

"You alright, pretty lady?" One of them smirks, dark, invasive eyes giving you a once over as he runs his hand over his dark brown, almost black, hair.

Was this building a magnet for sleazy male stereotypes or something?

"Um, I work here." You stumble over the statement slightly, the discomfort you feel under his penetrative stare affecting your speech as you weakly point at the building behind them.

"Yeah, no shit." The same man darkly chuckles along with a couple of the other workers, eyes raking your form, clad in a blouse and pencil skirt. But you feel you might as well be naked in front of them, stuck there like a deer in headlights as they continue to ogle your body. Before he can make any other comments, he's lightly pushed to the side as another man approaches.

"Shut up, Tommy..." His voice is deep and commanding but has a playful nature behind it, the two of them clearly well acquainted with one another.

He looks to be older than the men around him, broad frame imposing as he comes to where the tape separates you from him. Although, the way he carries himself suggests he's probably in a position where he could do whatever he wanted with the equipment on the site, but have no one to answer to for it.

"How can I help, sweetheart?" He sounds friendly enough but has that dirty, smug look on his face that tells you he's not any better than the men who'd previously been eyeing you like a piece of meat.

Despite the sickly feeling that swirls in the pit of your stomach when looking at him, you realise he's probably your best shot at getting you where you need to be.

"I need to get back in the building," your voice is timid as you try to avoid the burly man's gaze, opting to look back to where men are starting to pull up the concrete slabs that once made up your path back into your workplace. Though the pause after you've spoken prompts you to glance back up at him, catching him looking down the gap between your chest and slightly unbuttoned blouse, "I work here-"

"Yeah, you've said that." he cuts you off with a smirk, taking in your mortified expression before looking over the construction site with a huff. "Well my boys are pretty deep in their work now, and I can't have ya walking through here when we've got equipment running," he gives you another once over, "don't want a pretty girl like you getting hurt, do we?"

He's smiling again, but you see straight through it and tense at the realisation these men will be working here for god knows how long.

"What should I do then?" You ask with furrowed brows, readjusting your hold on the coffees that now uncomfortably weigh down your hand.

"I mean I could carry ya over," he laughs as though it's a joke, but first impressions tell you he'd jump at the opportunity to get his filthy hands on you -- no matter the circumstance, "how bout I take you in the backdoor?"

The way he worded the innuendo didn't fly over your head the way you wish it did, and the combination of his comment and the way he's now running his pink tongue over his bottom lip making you feel sick in multiple ways.

You reluctantly nod, just wanting to get back to work and away from this man. The obnoxious nepo babies that unfairly dominated your field of work suddenly felt like prince charmings in comparison to the man now stepping over the flimsy barrier that once separated you. But as he came that small distance closer, you couldn't help but feel some attraction to his broad frame and tan skin. And those arms...

His slight chuckle pulls you out of your thoughts, wide eyes snapping up to meet his leering expression as prickling heat floods your face in embarrassment.

"C'mon, I'm Joel by the way," he tilts his head, gesturing for you to walk in front of him. It's a request you realise most likely has ulterior motives, but you do so anyway after muttering your name in return.

Rounding the corner, you falter for a moment as the cluttered alley comes into view. Your gut instinct is screaming at you to tell Joel that he can fuck right off back to wherever he came from, but you figure that would cause more commotion than the slim possibility he'd try anything in broad daylight.

But as you carry on down the alley and squeeze past a particularly cluttered area of multiple dumpsters and bins, you become more uncomfortable as he spews another innuendo about how 'it's real tight, huh?'

His irksome behaviour soon becomes less of an annoyance and more of a concern though.

Once you're past the worst of the clutter you soon realise that it wasn't just an obstacle, but also serves as a wall -- blocking any further view for anyone passing by.

Turning around, you merely stand there as Joel comes closer. His daunting frame becomes more intimidating in the dim light of the narrowing lane you now find yourself trapped in, helpless.

"Doors just there," he mutters while pointing to the slightly beaten-up side door to the left of you, a twisted attempt at making you believe you still have any control over this situation.

Not trusting your voice, you simply nod at him with your eyes still locked. You'd prefer him to leave before you turn your back to him, but when he makes no move to do so, you quickly rush to the door in the hopes you may be faster than him.

But faster you are not.

First, you feel the heat radiating off of him, and then you feel the hard chest, the wandering hands, the grinding hips. As he invades your space and presses himself against your back, you try to squirm away, but only end up pinning yourself between the door and his imposing body.

"Where you tryna go, sweetheart?" His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and to places that make your body hot with shame. "You really wanna go back in there? Where those people are just gonna treat you like shit?"

His hips continue to grind into your ass, becoming more calculated rather than ravenous, as though his words and body are working as one to persuade you.

"I know those guys, they'll chew you up and spit you out." His words become harsh and his rough hands harsher, beginning to untuck your blouse from your pencil skirt, reaching up until his fingers are splayed across your stomach. The skin-on-skin contact is undeniably thrilling, as he now caresses it with finesse.

"So fuckin' soft," he mutters into your hair, inhaling before releasing a rumbling groan, "I'd treat you like the sweetest thing, baby."

You grimace at his words, far too much commitment behind them, leaving you spiralling into another panicked frenzy. You squirm again, this time having more success as you're able to turn to face him, although not fully able to escape his unrelenting hold yet. Facing him, you see how dark his eyes have become, set on you like a predator eyeing its prey.

His hair is slightly tousled, the way he'd previously been ravaging your body having that effect. You realise there's no way you can persuade him to stop his pursuit of you, so you decide to cave, at least you hope he thinks so.

"Let's not do this here." You say it quietly so as to not come off too demanding, peering up at him through your lashes in a way that you hope looks innocent enough for him to believe it. "Wouldn't you wanna do this someplace comfier," your voice switches from scared to sultry, “hm?”

He quirks a brow at this, slowing his assault on your body to a stop, but not yet taking his hands off of you, “you wanna do this somewhere else, sweetheart?”

The pet name still irks you, but provides some ease in telling you your comment hasn’t pissed him off at all. Trying to run along with your manipulative escape, you nod up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and pushing your own crotch closer to his. You tell yourself it’s all for the bigger picture, but you can’t ignore the way your body has come more accustomed to his touch in such a short period of time.

"Mhm,” you’re nodding again, placing a hand on his firm chest, and slowly, teasingly, sliding it lower, “do this where you can take real good care of me… Show me what I'm missing?"

There's a pause, his expression unreadable as he continues to penetrate your façade with his stare. His lack of response has you rethinking your words, brows twitching as more sick scenarios of what could ensue consume your thoughts. But then a dark chuckle fills the tense silence, Joel shaking his head as he smirks down at you. Stepping back, he tucks his hands into his pockets and gives you one last once over before nodding his head and making his way back down the alley.

"I'll keep an eye out," are his last words before he disappears past the trash and clutter, out of sight.

But maybe not quite out of mind...

-----

First fic done! All likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and I am open to requests on future fic ideas you may have<33

[thatoneplaguedoctor]

Titles for Batman Villains:

So you know how Supervillains and Suprerheroes will typically have alternative titles outside of their villain/hero names? In the context of Batman villains, you have “The Man Who Broke The Bat” for Bane, “The Master of Fear” for Scarecrow, “Clown Prince of Crime” for Joker, Ridder has like—- five different titles, Hell, even Penguin is known as “The Gentleman of Crime.”

But there are several other Batman villains who don’t have titles, so I have a couple of proposals for the major ones.

Two-Face: “The Black Iscariot”

I thought of this like, specifically for my version, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The usage of “Black” is a contrast to his “White” Knight of Gotham title back when he was DA, and for my iteration it is a reference to his skin color. Also some “black-heart” references.

The Judas parallel is so obvious I’m shocked more Batman adaptations haven’t incorporated it. Judas sells out Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, meanwhile Dent sold out his city for only one silver coin. Like—- mega oof. Also, he went as the main crusader against Gotham’s corruption through using the legal system to one of its top crime lords in the span of several months. Yeah. The city is going to feel pretty betrayed. While Two-Face comes from the idea of “well I guess he was a hypocrite after all,” “The Black Iscariot” represents the more visceral anger and betrayal towards his actions and forsaking his beliefs.

Mr. Freeze: “The Cold Death”

I have a fun idea for how he canonically got this: I am like— 98% sure this man has tried wrapping Gotham in eternal winter so his wife can walk outside or something like that. And as sad and tragic his story is, realistically if you met this guy he would—- straight up actually just kill you. And in pretty brutal ways by like, freezing your head and smashing it against a wall or something.

I feel like Victor should have a reputation almost on par with Darth Vader in Gotham. His title may be a little basic, but it’s simple, and straight to the point about his reputation. And you know, titles exist to reflect reputation and tell you about what a character is/does outside of their name.

Poison Ivy: “The Demented Demeter”

I’m sorry, am I crazy?! Or does this go hard?! Obviously this is a reference to the Greek Goddess of nature that goes through… insane levels to get what she wants. And like. Ivy does rape people. Don’t “it was technically consensual” me, she has a habit of drugging and sleeping with men and like—- that’s pretty demented. And don’t pull the whole “it’s okay because she’s hot” and “they wanted it anyway” because I would NOT trust my drink around this woman. And this is a major part of her character. Sorry! It’s almost like these are VILLAINS and TERRIBLE PEOPLE—-

Harley Quinn: “The Clown Queen of Crime”

I was considering Princess to match Joker, but this just sounds snappier, is alliterative, and easier to say, because syllables matter in the world of journalism. Oh. And Joker is NOT happy about this. At all. But he can’t buy out every paper in Gotham to change it, so the name stuck, and that’s her title. Sometimes she’s called “The Queen of Hearts” because most people don’t really hate her, and she’s so charming she typically gains the sympathy of people she steals from.

Comment on your other ideas for titles for title-less comic characters and repost!

[pleucas]

good evening. it is me again, skk hater - no air quotes because i am completely genuine in my hatred. this will be a long one.

i shall first begin with a thanks. i do write pretty often, and my ego has been sufficiently stroked. i suppose even the most despicable people have taste - at least in matters besides ships.

you have asked for my reasoning behind my vehement hatred of skk, and i think it's time for me to provide.

i'm going to be completely truthful - it's all Akutagawa's fault. i love him and his stupid victorian child fashion and british accent and dumb haircut deeply. so, naturally dazai is the bane of my existence.

now, even though i hated dazai more each time Akutagawa appeared, i actually didn't mind SKK for some time. i didn't get it cause Chuuya rarely actually shows up in the manga, which i read straight through without detouring for any of the light novels, but i was fine with it. they're fruity in most all their interactions, i shall never deny that because it's clearer than glass and i'm not that delusional, but i didn't see much substance beyond that.

then i read the novels and slowly came to the conclusion that i actually hate dazai even when Akutagawa isn't in the picture. and when i say HATE i mean HATE. he is the pebble lodged in my shoe, the lego on my cousin's floor, the table leg i stub my toe on, and so forth.

Chuuya, on the other hand, i love. he's great. amazing. stormbringer? peak. so, OBVIOUSLY, he could do much better than dazai. soooo much better. i mean, look at him

every time dazai and Chuuya have their objectively gay moments with each other, i feel like im watching my friend crawl back to their toxic ex.

that's how i feel with most dazai ships, and this is because dazai is always a smug prick towards the person he's being shipped with, and because i love Akutagawa i am not amused by this in the slightest. feels like he's rubbing salt in the wound. i actually like dazai more as a character when he's on the back foot. a (nonromantic) example would be him in The Day I Picked Up Dazai (A Side). dazai and Oda's dynamic is probably the best one dazai has in my eyes - though i don't ship them in the slightest. additionally, i think i, if only for a moment, actually liked dazai when he got ""killed"" in that one chapter. because it was a loss for him. in that moment, he (well, at least we're led to believe) got what he had wished for so often during the series, though it was not on his own terms. therefore, it felt almost like poetic tragedy - i thought it would have been a fitting end for him, and if it truly had been, i might like him now. this, as you know, was not the case.

furthermore, dazai is a fruitcake with or without Chuuya. it's not specific towards him, so i don't think anything real can be drawn from the vaguely homoerotic behaviour. i mean, dazai ballroomed danced with Sigma five minutes after meeting him. man just likes men, i don't know what to say

in conclusion, i feel like their relationship is unbalanced. dazai is never really shown to be all too worked up by Chuuya, even when he seems to be on the losing end of their bickering, but Chuuya is constantly harassed. while it's admittably funny, i don't like it in a romantic sense, nor do i see it in anyway that's different from Kunikida or Sigma.

that's about everything i can say without going on an unorganized tangent. i could bring up more specific issues i have that stem from Stormbringer and the Fifteen novel, but i have actual things ive been putting off writing - there's a whole book being sidelined by SKK right now. this has been a good way of procrastinating, but it must come to an end eventually

as for titles, you can call me Rimu. like the tree,

so, with an abundance of hate, Rimu <3

(ps: you might noticed that dazai's name is not capitalized at all in this ask. this is because he does not deserve that level of respect.)

holy hell Rimu. Hello, formally I guess — I will follow in your footsteps and leave dazai's name uncapitalized, because that was very funny

i've been putting off responding to this for a while but please believe that i have been thinking about it and periodically re-reading it. it's one of the most entertaining asks i've received LOL

to actually respond without completely proving your point of skkers procuring essays (though i'm sure you realize the irony upon review of your own accolade), i'll keep it brief. you had me in the first half, ngl, cuz i'm pretty sure 89% of us [skkers] agree, on a generalized scale, that dazai is the worst and Chuuya deserves everything and more (and better). he's the type of character that i enjoy as pure fiction, bc i know that if i knew him in person i'd hate him. same goes for my opinions on irl dazai — so asagiri did a (rare) justice for his authors there ig

abt everything else tho (imbalance, not being as affected by chuuya, similarity to other ships, and lack of intrigue)... i had a lot of responses prepared but really all of it can be summed up here as this:

like ngl man. LOL. i do blame the anime and its horrendous adaptation of dazai's character and skk's interactions, but that's another can of worms... that i have... opinons... about.

thank you for sharing your thoughts Rimu, i enjoyed reading through it a lot. keep it going!

with a mutual abundance of hate, Cas <3 <3 <3

[khywren]

For your get to know your fic writer questions!! ❤️❤️❤️🫶🏼 (Again, sorry for so many!)

13, 14, 18, 32, 33, 54, 56, 58, 65, & 77!

don't apologize, my friend! i'm always more than happy to answer these! ❤️❤️❤️ (questions are from this post.) 13: what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

so the thing about this one… i don't actually know if i follow any "common" writing tips (or any at all, really); i just kinda do what feels natural to me and hope it all works out. i am absolutely not gonna tell anyone to do that because it's a recipe for chaos, but! i can give you tips that have become habits for me instead. so one thing that has helped me immensely when writing either a chapter or a one-shot is that i almost always start with the dialogue. it gives me a good structure for where everything is going and almost always serves as my outline. like, i have a general idea in mind for what i want to accomplish, but getting the dialogue down is kind of like coalescing some of those ideas into something tangible. so my entire WIP at that point will just be lines of dialogue in sequential order. then i write everything else around the dialogue. i know that's kind of a cracked way to do it and won't work for everyone, but i think the general takeaway is that you shouldn't be afraid to start a piece literally anywhere; you don't have to start with the opening sentence and end with the last sentence.

14: how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel? do you draw from personal experiences?

if i'm writing a scene that's similar to anything i've experienced in my personal life, i always draw from personal experiences as i feel like that makes the emotion more authentic. i do try to feel what the characters are feeling regardless of that; if i can get a sense for that, it makes finding the words to describe those emotions accurately. when i write those scenes i like to think about what each character is feeling, why they would be feeling like that, and what it is about their personality/backstory that would make them feel that way.

18: do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

titles are the bane of my existence. i hate them. i almost always title my fics after i'm done writing. many times i'll look to song lyrics because i find them helpful, but they can also convey the tone/general gist of the fic better than i can most of the time. i wish i was better at this, but alas. 😭

32: name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

ONLY three? 😭 i can and will gush about every single one of my moots all day long, so to make this easier on myself i'll pick three people based on my favorite thing(s) about their writing, kinda like separating them into genres or categories i guess? each of these people are incredible and amazing and i am very fortunate to have met them. go show them some love if you haven't read their work!

if you're looking for comedy, banter, and hijinks, look no further than @nerdallwritey. her series beauty and the bard is currently five parts long and has something for everyone! there's fluff, there's smut, and there's so much fun! her fics never fail to put a smile on my face and seeing a new fic in my inbox is like christmas morning to me. i adore the way she writes astarion, but everyone else always feels so genuine and perfectly in character as well. i've reread all her works several times and i cannot recommend them highly enough!

one of my favorite tavs belongs to @verbenaa; her longfic to eden is easily one of my favorites and one of the major sources of inspiration that got me to finish developing and writing for my own tav. if you're looking for incredible smut and a sassy, loveable tav, here you go! her prose are fantastic and the relationship she has between rin and astarion is such a treat to read. they play off one another so well! the last chapter really put me through the ringer in the best way and i cant' wait to see what else she has in store for us. she's also written some other one-shots and every single one of those i've read has been stunning!

one of my favorite all-rounder authors is @shewhowas39. her longfic juniper and starlight is a wonderful version of the game featuring her tav, June (who is an absolute delight and i love her very much). if you're looking for a wonderfully written durge fic you can really sink your teeth into, you've found it! there is always so much love and care and emotion in everything she writes, and it makes her work a true joy to read.

33: do you want to be published some day?

i think it would be fun! it's never something I've ever thought about actually doing, but i think having an actual book out there in the wild that i wrote would be really cool. who knows, maybe i'll have an idea for something some day.

54: what’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

hmm… this is tricky. for me, i really enjoy just getting an idea i'm excited about on the page and being able to share it with other people. i always feel accomplished when i finish a piece because it's very satisfying to create something from nothing; even if no one reads it, it's still exercising my creativity and engaging in a hobby i enjoy.

56: what’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

i'm not sure what parts of my writing are better than others, since i can only perceive it from my personal, limited perspective. however, as someone who came straight from academia and had never written fic until my first one-shot last august, trying to find my voice and seeing myself make genuine progress with that over the past year has been very rewarding! there are a few of my pieces that i really don't think hold up very well anymore, but knowing that i've improved since then is a good feeling. i always want to get better and hope i can keep doing that in the future!

58: what part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc.)

definitely the brainstorming. i love daydreaming and thinking about all the possible ideas i could have for chapters or one-shots. i love thinking about stupid little jokes i could add in, or emotional scenes that make me kick my feet like a teenage girl or do 50 psychic damage straight to my brain. plus, there's far less stress involved in that process, since i don't have to actually commit anything to paper at that point.

65: tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.

i'm looking forward to getting over my current writer's block and finishing my kinktober prompts still! i'm very happy with 7/8 of the ones i've published so far, and even if the other 4 i was working on don't currently meet my standards, i'm confident i can come back and fix them up once i relax a bit and stop putting so much pressure on myself. i was having a ton of fun putting them together and i'm glad i participated this year.

77: do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter?

since you didn't specify a fic, i'll just write about something from my longfic, adrift~ i'm quite partial to the lake scene i wrote for chapter 6, when ysera finally gives in and opens herself up to astarion. on the one hand, it's a sweet moment of vulnerability for her, but also tragic in the sense that it's the moment she started to fall for astarion who is at this point very much still fully intent on using her for his own means. there's just a lot going on there for both of them and i enjoyed torturing myself while putting it al together.