#too bad almost all her writing in the comics is just BAD

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Wrapped (Reader Edition) 2024!

Thanks to the wonderful @kattyelf for creating this template! Links and detailed reviews under the cut.

Disclaimer: I probably read hundreds of SxF fics in the past year, and it was not easy to choose which ones to put in the list above (or below)! This fandom is full of wonderful, friendly creators and I am so glad to be part of it. I also had to narrow it down to only the ones I read and reread in 2024, not 2022 or 2023. Finally...I also happened to read many good fics only once. Sometimes a fic is just too painful or sad to reread, especially if it's not finished.

Favorite fic and author: After peace by @unhappy-sometimes!

I could gush about unso for a whole post and not be done, but I will try to contain myself. Her fic After peace originated from an AU comic she drew where Twilight was forced to retire early due a major injury, and drifted aimlessly until WISE asked him to take care of an orphan they had rescued from Project Apple. There are several things that amazed me about this fic and cemented it in first place for 2024:

The premise. It was original and so full of potential.

How personal Twilight's journey felt to me. I didn't have a life-threatening injury, but I did put my career on hiatus in the past year and have often struggled with questions of -- what am I worth when I'm not "doing" anything? I was so used to going 150% in the rat race and coming out on top at great personal cost to health and family; even if all that was bad, how else can I get that sense of accomplishment? How can I stop wanting that sense of accomplishment?

Her style, which is both vivid AND concise. The fic was around 22K words if I remember correctly, with a well-constructed plot, character arcs, plenty of emotional beats, and a satisfying resolution. I often wonder if my writing is too verbose and when I see something like After peace, it challenges me to do better.

THIS WAS UNSO'S FIRST FIC EVER. THE HELL. It's like a freshman album that gets put up for a Grammy.

Fic(s) I reread (plus runners-up):

That Time Yor Seriously Thought About Leaving by peonydee: This is a WIP with one more chapter before completion, I believe. Peonydee's style is unique in how it's hard-hitting and disarming at the same time. Yor and Twilight find themselves in impossible situations, their relationship tested to the limit (and one of them in a close brush with death), yet there's still an undercurrent of wry humor, almost fatalistic due to the fact both of them have been steeped in death and dirty work for decades, yet still hopeful and reaching for each other. I also cackle every time she makes Twilight go off on a mansplaining tangent without ever using the term outright. A masterpiece of show not tell.

Is It Really All Right? by zyzy1083: This one is tender. A jealous!Loid fic with a fascinating portrayal of Loid from Yor's perspective. The imagery of a dark sea choking down any true thought or emotion from breaking for air will stay with me for a long time. There's also the fact she basically made up lyrics for an indie song as part of the plot and I had to ask whether it was a real song. Finally, there's the fact she was bold enough to portray Loid as less than a perfect, kind, smiley husband toward Yor, but in a believable way. He snaps at Yor at times. He loses his patience. It feels like a real relationship, in the awkward tension when one partner wants to talk and the other absolutely does not want to talk. I admire that courage and wish more authors would take that risk (calling myself out I guess!).

Green-eyed Monster by bigbruja: another jealous!Loid fic that's lighthearted and fun. This is a comfort reread. I enjoy seeing Loid recognize the threat of a supposed "old friend" of Yor's, questioning his own feelings and how far he needs to go to fend this guy off. The guy is a Garden assassin, unbeknownst to him. I also love Yor's own inner struggle of just wanting everyone to get along, but showing steel when she needs to.

dalliance by rosetintednerdglasses: this is a WIP, but it is HILARIOUS and I hope everyone will go encourage this author to pick this fic back up when they have a chance. TLDR, Twilight (in disguise) is sent on a joint mission with Thorn Princess and flips out internally when he sees it's Yor. Handler then orders him to ensure Thorn Princess continues to cooperate. So as Twilight, he has to sort-of honey trap Thorn Princess, while as Loid he has to keep Yor happy. Poor Yor believes she's torn between two different men and close to cheating on Loid! Situational hilarity all over the place, and fun world-building, like this other WISE agent randomly named "Steel Bunny" (LOL).

Not According to Plan by @kyrathel: love you girl! This is a gift fic for me, but that's not the reason I reread it (even though it's a WIP as well!). It's SO FUNNY. Twilight gets it in his overly anxious head that he MUST defend his wife from the bullies at City Hall, so what does he do? HE INFILTRATES CITY HALL AS A NEW FEMALE HIRE. The world absolutely needs more petty!Twilight! The latest chapter features laxative brownies. Enough said.

Let's start living dangerously by @beannoss: I specifically reread the later parts when dumb Twilight gets over his dumbness and finally talks to Yor! And they kiss again! I love the way huhwaku (beannoss) portrays overthinking Twilight AND overthinking Yor. And also, the simplicity of Yor at the same time. The voice she uses for both of them is refreshing, it really puts you in the mindset of the character. Yor's giggles ("teehee!") as she teases Twilight about his little perfectionist habits are a cute touch to a gentle, heartwarming fic about these two highly competent professionals just starting to take baby steps in how to be competent at a relationship.

Fic that made me emotional:

100% Perfect by @sometimesiship. Where do I begin? How about with the gut aversion I initially had to the premise of a futuristic AI dating bot AU, due to all the tragic, dark AI movies I have watched? But as it neared completion, someone convinced me to give it a try and I AM SO GLAD I DID. You can see my gushing comments in almost every chapter. The development of the relationship between human Yor and AI Loid is so natural, funny at times, poignant always, and beautifully written, even though from an objective standpoint not much exciting stuff happens (I mean canon-typical excitement like murders and spy missions). Sometimesiship has a way of describing emotion that is so raw -- she can portray the same emotion a dozen different ways with analogies and setups and dialogue and whatever -- and it still doesn't feel old. And the emotion that dominated the second half of the story was grief. Basically the grief of loving someone you know you're going to lose. Like being the spouse of a terminal cancer patient. I didn't cry while reading, but it was a closer call than I have had in a VERY long time. So much beauty and humanity in this story. And spoiler (?), it's a happy ending. So I hope you all go check it out!

That's a wrap! If you read this far, stay tuned for a Writer version of Fandom Wrapped 2024!

[funfettidoc]

best teen titan dont argue with me!! (Feel free to argue actually)

[cyclopsboxhead]

For every Christian Ward and Jill Thompson there's a Tony S. Daniel to show that just because you draw comics well doesn't automatically make you good at writing them.

[nyxiemania]

Five character quiz! Not sure if I'm doing this right but I was tagged by @tropicalcryptid so I gotta make an attempt. Also I'm horrendous at calling my favorites to mind off the dome and I'm trying to limit to one per fandom so this will probably be inaccurate by tomorrow.

I realized these are all girls too lmao so I'll do a reblog for the boys as well.

[prael]

REPLACED

Newjeans Minji x male reader smut

Quickfire challenge 1. Thank you @midnightdancingsol

The prompt: "You know why this happened, @capslocked – yes, you."

Masterlist word count: 3,911 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's all a matter of perspective. From one side of the room, the world is calm.

And the other? Well, that's Minji.

“Want to know the one thing worse than outright rejection?”

Minji has barely walked in the door and she is already shouting off in riddles. She's standing in the doorway, her hair wet from the rain and a little bit tangled just above her shoulders. The water on her overshirt is so deeply sodden into the fabric that it weighs on her. It sticks to her skin that's so clearly visible underneath the LED spotlight above her and her face is twisted in this way of pure irritation that you've rarely seen. It's almost comical.

Or it would be if she wasn't throwing her bag on the floor with an almighty thud and a little yelp from the floorboards below.

“Minji?” is all you say in some hushed tone as you sit on the armchair by the window, hot drink in one hand and your phone in the other as the world passes by in the distance, drowned in downpour.

You look up to watch Minji as she shouts, "How about getting a part, only for it to be taken away? Being promised the world and then having it rug-pulled so you fall flat on your fucking face?!"

Now, Minji never swears in anger. And never means never (again, in anger, specifically). So, it's pretty much a sign of the end of the world when she does. She's kicking off her shoes now, throwing them in the direction of the door and they clatter on the floor like the battering of a drum.

"I—uh."

"You—uh," she mocks, taking a step forward.

"Woah. Minji. What happened?" You ask, setting down the phone on the sill of the window. Minji's stomping her way toward you. Her eyes are wide and filled with something you haven't quite seen before.

"This complete—"there are some sounds from her mouth but they don’t quite resemble words"—shit for a fuck brain!" See, Minji never swears like this, so she's so bad at it that it's laughable.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, it's a great idea; an amazing concept. I'll write you a fantastic character and it will be romantic and hot and everyone will love it," Minji rants in some sarcastic tone while peeling her shirt off her skin and piling it onto the hardwood floor. She stands in only her sports bra with her arms raised and her voice in high pitch, mocking. "Except, you're not good enough. Oh, no. I have to give the part to this other girl. She's prettier and nicer and just better than you!"

"Ouch." You say, watching as she flops onto the couch opposite. The coffee table in between you is a lousy line of defence. Her socks have little splatters of rainwater on them and not too far above that, her skirt sits just above the knee.

"Oh, shut up," she replies.

"Minji." You throw her a look that says 'Stop taking it out on me', which she understands, but it only gets her to fold her arms dramatically with a little huff and a puff from her mouth, followed by a pout. Then you ask her, "What part even was this? TV?"

"Not exactly."

"An ad? Video game? Movie?"

"Fanfiction."

Fanfiction.

"What?" You blink, to which Minji sighs and rolls her eyes, head tilted to the ground.

"Fanfiction."

"A fanfiction?" you question again. It’s not like you misheard, it’s just an utterly strange thing for her to be so pent up on.

"Don't say it like that." She snaps, leaning back into the chair and crossing her legs so one of her little rain-splattered socks is suspended in the air, and she twists and turns her foot impatiently.

"Just trying to figure out why you're so annoyed about fanfiction."

"Because the guy's a complete moron."

"Probably," you say, drawing your mug of coffee close to your lips. You blow on the surface and Minji is silent. You wait, the steam is coming off the top and through it, you watch her as she thinks as her eyebrows furrow together. Minji shifts in her seat again, the annoyance making her chronically uncomfortable. 

"He replaced me!" She shouts, slamming her hands into the arms of the chair and then Minji stands. She takes a few steps and then stops and turns to face you, her eyebrows furrowed and her arms folded, her legs are slightly apart and she's tapping her foot.

"Does he think I'm not pretty enough? Not funny enough? Not sexy enough? Does he think that I wouldn't be good enough at what he wants me to do, hm? So he doesn't want to write me sucking a dick? Well, screw him. Fucking Capslocked."

You're not sure what's going on here, so you're just sitting back and watching her, coffee nestled in your hand and feet propped on the table. She's standing still, waiting for you to say something, anything, and when you don't, she begins to pace.

"Why would he change his mind and just decide that someone else is better than me? What, does he not like my body? Do you not like my body?"

"Your body is fantastic." You say, taking another sip of the coffee.

"Yeah, and don't you forget it." She snaps, stopping again and placing her hands on her hips, either side of that exposed waistline.

"The fuck kind of name is 'Capslocked' anyway?" You mutter, mostly to yourself. Minji doesn't reply, but you see her take a step closer to you.

"And," Minji begins and then pauses, you look up at her and she's just staring. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is a little laboured, her chest rising and falling with each breath. There's a pause. Her tongue runs over her lips and you can see her thinking—gears grinding inside her head.

"And?" you ask.

"Shut up," she hisses, kicking your leg so your feet fall from the coffee table and you almost spill the drink down yourself. She places her hands on your knees, bending over to you.

"Minji, my drink—"

"Shh." her hair falls across her face, a black silk drape half-covering the expression beneath. There's an anger under there, something she's trying to push back down, but it's not quite working. Her nails dig into your thighs as she pushes them apart, and the steam rises again above the surface of the liquid in your cup. Minji is too busy running her hand along your crotch.

"What're you—"

"Replaced me," she repeats to herself, a little huff leaving her as she slips down onto her knees. "Fucking replaced me."

"Minji, I'm sure he—"

"I don't care. Shut up. I'm not talking to you." Her hands are shaking, whether from frustration or some other confused feeling that burns under her skin. Probably a mix of many feelings. They're fumbling at the button of your jeans and she's tugging down the zip, her teeth bared. You're watching, and it's as if she is possessed.

Your heartbeat is thunderous in your ears, the heat is rising and Minji is pushing her hair out of her face.

"I'm gonna do this so well."

"You always do."

"I said stop talking. So. Stop. Talking," she sounds out each word with authority, her eyes wide and angry. Minji is pushing down the fabric and reaching into the opening in your underwear. She wraps her fingers around you, the cool touch of her skin making you jerk.

"Minji, my drink." Your hand trembles slightly as you try not to spill it. Minji doesn't listen. She pulls you free. A low hum leaves her throat as she licks her lips and leans forward. Her warm breath is ghosting over you, her eyes are closed and there's a little smirk on her lips. Your cock is only halfway to hard and her hand is wantingly trying to coax you into arousal.

It doesn't take much. It never does with Minji.

"Fuck," you groan, the sound of your voice making her look up.

"Don't," she replies, a warning in her eyes. Minji's hand is moving up and down and it's not with that same gentle caress she usually has.

"God, Minji."

"Quiet." She stops, her lips are pouted and her eyes are locked onto you. Her hand is around you, the pressure is gentle, but it's enough to hold you. You're frozen there a moment, her eyes are staring right through you and you're not entirely sure what's going to happen. "Don't say a word, and don’t spill your drink,” she tells you, her free hand rubbing your thigh.

"Minji—"

"Don't." She whispers, her tongue licking over the surface of her lip. Her mouth opens, and she's leaning in. The warmth of her breath is making the muscles of your abdomen twitch and your head spin. Her tongue is the first thing that touches you. She's holding you still, and the head of your cock is resting on her bottom lip, and the feeling of the smooth surface makes you want to thrust forward, but Minji's hand holds you firm.

You bite your lip as Minji's tongue swirls around the tip. It's light and soft and sends electricity through your nerves. You groan ever so slightly and she looks up at you, her eyes narrowed. Your knuckles whiten as you grip the mug, her hair tickling the inside of your thigh as she lowers her head.

Her tongue runs along the underside and pastes your cock with a wetness. The hand around you moves down, and she takes you in. Her mouth is heaven, and her lips the closing gates. You let out a deep sigh, your chest heaving, and Minji's free hand slides up the inside of your shirt, her nails grazing your skin.

Her mouth moves, her lips tightening, and the movement is slow. It's torturous and the sensation of her tongue swirling around the underside of your cock sends you spiralling. Minji knows this, and she's looking up at you. You want to touch her; you want to tangle your fingers into her hair; you want to grab her and pull her against you.

But her eyes speak many words left unspoken. They command your stillness, your silence, and your complete submission.

Minji is working her mouth over you, and her hand is stroking you, up and down and up and down. She's bobbing her head and humming slightly. The melody is almost hypnotic but sounds as if being played by force rather than elegance.

Her scratches are harder than ever and it feels like fire across your chest. Your toes are curling and your head is thrown back. The heat from the mug permeates into your skin as you grip it tighter.

"Ah, Minji." You moan. Minji stops, looking up at you. There's a drop of spit on her lip, and her face is flushed. You're not sure what to do. She's glaring, and she's holding you. Your heart is beating like the hammer of a drum and just above it, her nails grip, threatening to pierce through flesh.

"I said quiet." Words laced with venom. She digs somehow deeper into your chest as she pushes herself to her feet. "Now, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until I scream and you're going to stay quiet."

You're not quite sure what's happening. This is a Minji you have seldom seen before, but it's all happening so fast. She's pulling up her skirt, sliding down her panties, and she's kicking them off so the fabric lands somewhere to the side. She's stepping forward and her knees are touching the armrests. Closer and closer she comes with her eyes fixed on you. 

Your mouth is dry, and her fingers are on your jaw. Her eyes bore holes in your own and she's lowering herself. In a moment of weakness, you throw a glance at your hand, still holding the half-full cup. There's an angry sound from Minji and she snarls, "Focus on me."

Minji swipes her arm at the cup, sending it flying. You watch the arc of the cup and the contents spill across the floor. She's not waiting, she's not looking. There’s not an ounce of concern within her for something so trivial.

You feel the soft wetness of her sex on your tip, she's rubbing herself on the head, the moisture spreading along the underside and Minji's face is screwed up in pleasure and her legs are shaking. She's panting and moaning and she's trying to slide down.

"Minji, are you—"

She thrusts her hand over your mouth with a growl and wild eyes. Her nails are biting into your cheek. "Not. Another. Word."

Minji's other hand is on your shoulder; using it for balance as she tries to move herself. She's lowering herself down and the head of your cock slips into her.

She's so warm. So unbelievably wet. Minji gasps and her back arches and her breasts heave beneath her slightly see-through sports top as she breathes. Her nails dig deeper into your flesh, her lips are parted and her head is thrown back, leaving her throat exposed—a pale expanse of milky perfection.

"Oh, God," she moans, the sound reverberating around the room as she slowly sinks and the walls of her cunt are tight on you. So tight. She trembles as she speaks. "You can't replace this."

Her skirt is around her waist, the material covering the sight of where your bodies meet. But you can feel it; you can feel every little movement she makes.

"I'm so wet."

So fucking wet.

"You're so hard."

Hard. So hard.

"How could anyone replace this?"

How? How could you possibly replace this?

Her cries are shrill, and the heat of her is all around you. It's the only thing you can focus on—her. You try to answer, but your words never make it past the hand on your mouth. She's panting, and her hair is wild, her eyes wide and her mouth open. And she's just riding until she can't no more. Until her muscles grow weak and until her cum leaks between her legs.

"This is what they want, isn't it? They want to fuck me. Riding them. On my knees. They want me bent over the table, or against the wall, or—or—fuck!" Her words are sharp and punctuated with gasps and moans. "Want me to cum—" she trails off into something close to a scream, her body convulsing. Her back is arched and her hips are pressed down onto yours.

She's grinding into you, and you can feel her clench around your cock. Your head is swimming, and your hips are jerking. You can't breathe. Her fingers are loosening their hold on your mouth, but you dare not speak. You're not even sure if you can.

Minji's hand is moving, sliding down your cheek, around your jaw and then gripping on your neck. She admires the red claw marks on your cheek.

"That's right," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "They want to fuck me, don't they? They all read and write those filthy little stories and keep dreaming of the impossible. But that fucker won’t write it for them."

You can only sit and take in the way that she is glowing with the sweat, the light catching her skin and highlighting the contours of her face and her collarbone. Her small top clings to her sticky chest and leaves so very little to the imagination. Through it you see the smooth curve of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples and below it the ridges of her toned abdomen that flexes with her slowing grind.

She's climbing off you now and pulling you up from your seat. Her arms are around your neck and her eyes are on yours. You're staring into the depth of her eyes, the black pupils large and the irises a warm, golden honey.

"You're not going to replace me, are you?"

"Never."

"Good."

She leans back a little and pulls your shirt up until it's around your neck. She pulls it to your mouth, feeding the fabric into it before tying some sort of makeshift knot behind your head. "Now. Not another word." Minji pulls off her own top, peeling it away from her sweat-soaked skin.

You watch as she takes a few steps back; her cotton-hugged feet on the ground, her skirt falling back over those long legs and her hands on the hem of the fabric. She's smiling at you, a wide and wicked grin. You watch her and she's watching you. She's pulling it up now and her hands are underneath it. She turns to the window. "Now you're going to pin me against this window and do me, aren't you? Nod if you are."

You nod.

Minji giggles, throwing a look over her shoulder. "I'm the best, aren't I?" 

Minji doesn't wait for you to nod again. She turns away and looks out the window—the city is alive. The rain is falling; the lights are flickering and cars are passing by far below. Minji is leaning her forehead against the glass, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly agape. Her hair is wild and messy and the light is illuminating her.

You're stepping towards her, one hand on her back, the other sliding over the curve of her ass. You can see her reflection, the smile on her lips. Her hands are on the glass, palms flat, and you're sliding a hand between her legs and over her wet, sensitive skin.

She's shivering and letting out little gasps as your fingers dance along the flesh and your fingertips tease her folds. She's whimpering, and the sound makes your cock twitch.

"Fuck me," Minji whispers, her nails scratching the window. You can't deny a woman so insatiable.

You adjust your jaw; it's so uncomfortably pinned open and you're unable to say a word. You can't tell her just how nice that ass is and how the view inside the window makes a mockery of the one outside. You can't tell her how her hair is so beautiful, or how her eyes are the prettiest you've ever seen. You can't tell her anything.

But you can tell her in another way—through touch. The thought sends a chill down your spine and your teeth sink into the material of the shirt. Minji's whining and you're slipping your fingers between her lips. She's hot, and the heat is dripping from her. It's on your fingers and it's soaking into your palm.

Minji is moving her hips, trying to find purchase on your fingers, the tip of one brushing her clit. She gasps and throws her head back. You're sliding a finger inside her, the movement easy and Minji is bucking her hips, her body trying to pull you further and deeper.

"Fuck me like I'm the only woman in the world. Like you'll die if you don't fuck me. Like there's no one else in the world who can make you feel like I do."

You're pushing her against the window, the foggy condensation from her breath and the heat of her body mar the surface. Minji is laughing—the hot and breathy kind of laugh—as you press her into the glass.

"That's it. Come on. Fuck me now,” she orders and just like that, you're doing it. She's moaning and her back arches. You're inside her and the tightness is enough to make you come undone. You're pressing her harder and harder against the window.

"That's it. Oh, yes. Harder. That's what they all want."

You're slamming into her, and she's taking it. You're not holding back. Minji is moaning and her fingers are curling, nails raking. Her voice is echoing in the room and the sound makes your skin prickle.

"They all want me like this. Bent over and begging. Oh, fuck yes."

"They can't have you." You growl through the shirt, your teeth tearing into the fabric.

"No." Minji screams, "They can't have me. They can't touch me. He can't touch me. Won't even write about me. If only he could see me now. I bet he would change his mind. Wouldn't you?"

You fuck her until the muscles in the back of your legs stiffen. You fuck her until she's screaming. You fuck her until the glass is a mess of fingerprints, sweat, and spit. Until the golden skin of her back glows with moisture.

You fuck her until your vision starts to fade and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears that it’s unbearable. You fuck her until you can't anymore.

And she's still going, her screams echoing and her body writhing against yours, and it's all too much. You need to release, and it needs to be inside Minji.

You're coming undone and your hips jerk and stutter and Minji's body is convulsing. Your cum is spilling into her, and she's cumming again and she's screaming, the sound so shrill that it hurts. You're groaning and she's shaking, the walls of her cunt clenching and drawing your orgasm out until you can't think and you can't breathe and everything is both too much and not enough.

Leaning forward so her back is flush with your chest, and she is truly pinned. Your breathing is hard, and hers is heavy and the two of you stay there for a while, frozen in ecstasy. The room absorbs the sound of your combined pants, the rain and the distant hum of the city.

Minji is the first to move, twisting herself free from the weight of your body against her. Your cock slides out. The feeling of the cool air and the absence of her body sends a shiver through you. You stumble, the shirt falling from your mouth and your vision is blurry.

Minji is laughing and you're looking at her as she is plucking away the strands of hair which stick to her face. And when she finishes, Minji steps forward and slaps you. "I told you not to make a mess."

"Minji, you made the mess."

"Shut up."

"But I—"

She grabs you by the neck and kisses you. Her lips are hot and the kiss is hungry and messy. Her tongue is in your mouth and her hands are all over you. The kiss is hard and deep and it's leaving you breathless.

She's pulling you to the ground, her legs wrapping around you and your hand is on her thigh. The heat of her core is against you and her nails are digging into your back. She's biting your lip, and she's pushing you over onto your back.

She's straddling you. Her hands are on your chest, her palms pressing down.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" you pant. Minji's looking at you with a disregard for your words.

Your cock is so tender under her rough motions, and there’s no stopping your whimper. Minji is smiling, and the sight is so sweet. "Are you complaining?"

"No," you manage to say, as a shiver runs down your spine as she lowers herself and brushes her lips against your ear.

Her tongue is running over your earlobe and she's nibbling at the sensitive flesh. Her hands are on your shoulders and her legs are squeezing your waist. "Good boy. We're not done. Not even close."

[amyrosedaily]

Day 67: Delivery! (Silver Week day 2)

Damn late by 3 minutes haha! Anyway this is actually from a Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog AU that I have not shared anywhere other than my brain lmao. It’s basically just: what if there was a Sonic AU where everyone was ACTUALLY their roles in TMOSTH. I’ll add some lore beneath the cut for anyone interested haha

PLEASE! Donate to help save Safaa and her family! | Main post | Gofundme (THEYRE ALMOST HALFWAY!!!)

So basically the au starts with Sonic, Amy, Tails, and Knuckles all celebrating Sonic’s recent promotion to ship captain. It’s a party where they’re both celebrating but also saying goodbye since Sonic will be heading out on his first voyage as captain in a few days.

Amy ofc is a journalist and has been working as one for a little bit while Tails just started working as an assistant detective at a local agency. (Haven’t quite figured out Knuckles yet oops)

Anyway the plot begins when Sonic nearly drowns aboard his first voyage. When his body is first found his friends do cruelly think he had died, but luckily the doctors are able to save him and he wakes up not too long after but is very delierious - however, he remembers being pushed.

Sonic had hid his fear of water and inability to swim from his crew even before he was captain, only his close friends knew. Plus now the media is reporting on the failed ship voyage and how Sonic’s first venture as captain was such a failure.

Amy and Tails now know this wasn’t as accident - it was an attempted murder. So they team up to find the truth of what happened and report on it publicly. Both to keep the media from saying bad about their friend, but also revenge.

I haven’t figured out all the details but I want all the characters to be involved somehow. Right now I’ve only Kind Of figured out Espio and Silver. (Yeah Silvers here I wanted him to be lol)

Espio did NOT kill Sonic, however he was an important accomplice. Espio is just trying to get into university (or some higher education) while helping Vector take care of Charmy. Espio has been trying to write poetry to sell to help Vector, who’s currently the only one making money with his job as a butcher. However one day, Charmy gets very sick and the Chaotix can’t afford to take him to urgent care. The illness isn’t usually deadly but in children it can be worse. Feelings scared and desperate, Espio does something he hasn’t done since before he met Vector - hired assassination.

Essentially Espio gets hired to incapacitate Sonic, which he does with the blow dart. Espio however did not push Sonic or even physically come into contact with him at all. I think Espio DID actually believe he killed Sonic - where he drugged Sonic and then Sonic fell overboard. However since Sonic remembers being pushed and Espio never touched him, Espio didn’t actually kill him.

Silver, in this au, is just a regular mailman…kinda? I want him to work for Blaze (who I haven’t quite figured out how she fits in yet) and as shown in his comic, supplied Espio with both the weapon and the poison in a way that Vector and Charmy wouldn’t find out. This parts self indulgent tbh I just think Espio and Silver would make a great assassin duo if they wanted to hahaha

Anyway that’s all I got so far!! If you read this wow!! Thank you!

[finelinefae]

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time. 

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves. 

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed. 

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another. 

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was. 

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter. 

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond. 

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk. 

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time. 

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday. 

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age. 

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade. 

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her. 

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?” 

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb. 

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.” 

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.” 

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to. 

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?” 

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.”  He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,” 

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.” 

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words. 

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter. 

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time. 

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise. 

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves. 

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn. 

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on. 

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.” 

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. 

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically. 

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book. 

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.” 

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside. 

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.” 

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’ 

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.” 

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered. 

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time. 

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart. 

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad. 

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,” 

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement. 

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her. 

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily. 

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully. 

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom. 

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them. 

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning. 

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it. 

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom. 

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached. 

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak. 

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class. 

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door. 

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly. 

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well. 

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.” 

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class. 

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said. 

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist. 

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed. 

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her. 

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly. 

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked. 

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite. 

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly. 

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.” 

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—”  he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked. 

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

       Secret Admirer,

       I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

       Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

       I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

       Yours,

       Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

       ||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

       1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

       2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

       3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

       4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

       5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

       6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

       7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

       8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

       9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

       Eddie —

       I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

       I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

       I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6

[hana-no-seiiki]

Good news. Did some decent progress on What’s Up Danger so you guys will finally get fed this Wednesday! Bad news, the quality might not be the best since I’m fasting while writing it oTL

Anyways, here are some Batfam w/ Cat Villain! Reader moments/snippets.

TW YANDERE AND MENTION OF NONCON/SOMNO

Both Jason and Reader’s first words to each other were, “What the fuck.”

Reader referring to Jason being a giant, and violent asf esp in comparison to Dick. While Jason was confused at his heart beating so fast and mildly crushing on you while you were fighting.

Bonus points: You guys did the spiderman point meme.

You have the biggest age gap with Dick. I headcannon the boys to be close in age so there wouldn’t be any not so good implications when it comes to relationships, but it’s almost unavoidable unless Batman switches sidekicks every year or so. (You are younger than Jason but older than Tim)

But that is also another reason why you two didn’t click as well as you did with Jason

You’d often make jokes or use slang and Dick would just be “???” He tried his best though.

On the reverse side of things, and like I mention before Tim and you got along too well as friends. He’s one of the few people you could gush to about literally any fandom and he somehow (through stalking your searches and literally every gadget/appliance you owned) knew everything about it already.

You two have written several theses on fellow vigilantes and villains (mostly ‘dumb’ ones like who has the best cake based on so and so criteria)

Damian is the best when it comes to bantering with you mid-fight. It’s the combined years of sass and assassin training. Went from plain insults to whole ass (not so) subtly being horny when you beat each other down.

He’s also the worst (best?) when it comes to your nicknames. He insists that you two use it on each other. Some exclusive while others he’s usually fine hearing from other mouths.

There was one point in time where you were called Kitten while the boys forced/bribed you to call them Daddy

Tim and Jason have tattoos of you/related to you.

For Jason it’s your name with a few paw prints, and for Tim it’s when he first fought you (and got his ass whooped)

After Jason came back and revealed himself to you, he tattooed the scratch marks you left him on his back after doing the deed.

Damian secretly practices doing henna so he can draw on you during your “wedding” since he doesn’t want anyone touching you. Sort of defeats the purpose, but go off king.

Being the thorough guy he is, he uses lab equipment to make his own blends.

Bruce? Bruce hates your ass. Sometimes it’s in a hatefuckey way but most of the time he blames you for corrupting his kids.

So he corrupted you in turn.

I feel like he gets off to cucking them honestly (blame that one comic) but if Reader is AFAB I wouldn’t be surprised if he impregnated them.

He’s a softie at heart when it comes to you though, courtesy of your similarities with Selina.

Speaking of, Talia adores you.

Like if there was anyone she would want with her son it was you.

She thinks the fact that you haven’t been put behind bars is a testament to your skill, and after getting over your similarity to her “rival in love” she would actively get you to be with her son.

Eventually she realizes she loves you more than Bruce and well, that’s a story for another fic.

You have at least a dozen trackers on you at all times.

Most of them you’ve ingested and pooped out.

It’s mostly Tim of course. But the duty of actually feeding you that stuff usually goes to Dick.

Dick has uh- somnophillia’ed you a fair bit after the break up.

He really, and I mean really likes to watch you sleep.

It reminds him of those ‘catnaps’ you’d take while watching over the Titans.

There would be times where he’d just be in a daze/in autopilot for hours reminiscing about your past together

His favorite memories to go back to were your first fight together, first kiss, and times under the sheets, and a date you guys had before in a festival/circus.

He never takes the antidote for Poison Ivy’s sex pollen and always comes to you for it, regardless of his or your relationship status.

Tim has at least a million typewritten chats with AI you, and around a few hundred hours of voice chats.

You did eventually take his virginity.

He came as soon as he was inside you/you were inside him.

You have been offered to be a part of the bat crew or a vigilante. But,

you massacred many after Jason’s supposed death and feel too guilty to call yourself anything other than a villain.

Chokers with bells. It’s a popular gift to give you. Especially ones that are custom made with expensive ass materials and engraving.

Sometimes Tim just gives you weapons.

Alfred is your best source of blackmail material.

You’ve actively tried cursing him (with immortality). You love the man.

He’s secretly the president of your official fanclub/fansite but you didn’t hear that from me.

You fight a lot with Damian’s pets. Like in a way that you turn into a literal cat and hiss at them.

And last but not least, you’re vv close with every member of the Teen Titans (besties with Rachel and Garfield)

NOT PROOFREAD!!!

@sophiethewitch1

[hiiikiko]

𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥!𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

ellie williams x reader | mini fic for casual

casual m.list | tlou m.list

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

୨୧ ellie is very musically talented, sometimes she’ll hear a few notes in her head and within half an hour, she’ll have a pretty decent tune

୨୧ she’s the founder of ‘the infected’ she came up with the name when she accidentally cut herself and the cut looked really gnarly n infected and then she was like.. woah that’s a pretty sick name

୨୧ jesse and dina teased her about the same bc it sounds like she’s go a uti

୨୧ it took her awhile to convince jesse and dina to join her band because 1. too much drama and 2. jesse didn’t care for being on stage

୨୧ she coaxed him into it by telling him that dina’s gonna get a lot of fanboys/girls n she’ll leave him in the dust for good

୨୧ she carries her journal everywhere with her in case inspiration strikes when she’s grocery shopping

୨୧ she also carries around a guitar pic because she likes to have something between her teeth and since she’s trying to quit smoking.. this is the next best thing

୨୧ she will NEVER EVER admit this to anyone but the reason why she moved to Seattle to start a band was because of Kurt Cobain (also why she has short hair and wears flannels)

୨୧ everyone should thank joel for him showing ellie nirvana bc without it, she may have never started a band

୨୧ ellie sometimes deprives herself of music because she doesn’t want to make anything that’ll make ppl say “that sounds like <insert band name>” it’s torture but it works

୨୧ ellie would’ve totally been the lead singer but she prefers to write and compose rather than be in the spotlight

୨୧ she wasn’t surprised when the band was starting to get traction (she in fact was and had to take a lap around the room)

୨୧ her fans paint her as this ‘player’ which she kinda revels in bc it gets her more pussy (she actually kinda hates it bc it makes her feel like a bad person but hey GAME IS GAME)

୨୧ she LOVES pop punk shows, one time she saw a bigger band and their show was so crazy, like crowd surfing, people pushing against the barrier, guards having to keep them in the pit, and everyone screaming the lyrics… she hopes her band will be that big one day

୨୧ she loves attending concerts but she can’t help but compare herself to the other bands

୨୧ she’s an audiophile, she goes to best buy just to compare headphones and their sound quality then leaves with nothing (ofc)

୨୧ every ellie in the ellieverse is a nerd, it’s a canon event, this ellie is not only a comic book nerd and a space nerd.. she’s also a GUITAR NERD !! (new ellie unlocked) she knows every type of guitar, yes, even the one that was made a minute ago in new guinea!

୨୧ ellie got her job at the guitar shop she works at bc during the interview, she completely nerded all over the place about the guitars on the walls, the old manager didn’t even need to go further in the interview, he slapped a name tag on her (he messed up and her name is elsie now) and booked it outta there

୨୧ she takes her job very seriously, it’s cute to see her working, it’s like watching a young bill gates talk about his apple products except this bill gates is wearing a raggedy flannel (she says it makes the customers trust her more bc it makes her looks like kurt), messy hair, and glitter from the concert last night

୨୧ she stays up to date on the latest guitars

୨୧ fun fact: she only gets her guitars from joel, her loving dad who runs a guitar/woodwork shop back in jackson :)

୨୧ speaking of joel, he supports ellie’s dream of being in a band because he wanted to be a singer when he was younger and he sees that younger self in ellie, it makes him happy when she talks about the concert she had last night.. it’s almost like he’s talking to his 20 year old self

୨୧ even though joel supports it, it still scares him, he doesn’t want ellie to end up like him

[a/n]: okay that’s all for now!! hope you guys like this mini thingy :3 i’ll write the next part tmrw!!

[pickingupmymercedes]

Hey love. Can I request “you’re blurring your words together, time for bed.” but drunk Lewis? Thank you ❤️🥰

Hi lovely. That was a fun writing, hope you like it too.

I can only imagine how much of lightweight he must be now that he doesn't drink alcohol anymore.

You’re blurring your words together, time for bed.

The last of Lewis' birthday cake sat untouched in the center of the table, surrounded by the remnants of a celebratory feast. The laughter that had filled his London home earlier had died down, most of his friends and family having already departed.

Lewis' 40th unofficial birthday dinner, with a few close friends and family at his London home, was winding down. The air thick with the warmth of good food, good company, and perhaps a little too much wine. Specially for a certain birthday boy who had had almost to no alcohol for a couple of years.

Y/N watched him, a smile playing on her lips. He was amusing his dad, his words slurred but his enthusiasm undimmed, about a particularly daring overtaking maneuver from way back in the day. Anthony, chuckling and nodding along as he held that proud gaze at the man he had raised.

Lewis caught Y/N's eye at his side and winked, a mischievous glint sparkling in his usually sharp gaze. He swayed slightly in his chair, prompting Y/N to push a glass of water towards him. "Easy there, champ" she teased.

"Am a big boy you know?! Forty, to be exact" Lewis slurred, leaning back in his chair, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "Bloody hell, never thought I'd see the day."

Carmen shot him a worried look. "Are you really alright, dear?"

"Peachy, mum!" Lewis declared, throwing an arm around Y/N, nearly knocking her off balance. "Never been better! Forty years of pure…" he trailed off, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"Well," Lewis began, his voice dropping to a thoughtful and vague tone, "I never thought I'd still be racing at forty. Thought I'd be, like, retired, settled down…”

Lewis' gaze drifted to Y/n, he cleared his throat, a playful glint still lingering in his eyes.

"Maybe a few mini-Hamiltons," he stated before his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "though let's be honest, the pre-mini-Hamilton training has been… well, let's just say it's definitely kept me in top shape."

Y/N's eyes widened but she couldn’t help but laugh. The absurdity of his words making his step-mom look like a tomato, while his dad, bless him, seemed to be trying to decide between burying his head in his hands or bursting into laughter.

"Alright, birthday boy," she said, her voice firm but laced with amusement, "You're blurring your words together. Time for bed."

Lewis blinked at her, his expression a comical mix of confusion and indignation. "But…" he started, then looked around the table, finally settling on his wide-eyed nephew who was trying very hard to look anywhere but at them.

"Right." Lewis mumbled, a sheepish grin replacing the earlier defiance. "Sorry, everyone" he continued, his voice a little louder now. "Seems it really is time for bed for me. See you all tomorrow"

His friends erupted in laughter; the tension broken. Y/N couldn't help but nudge him playfully on the arm. This was Lewis, birthday drunk or not: a goofball with a heart of gold.

In bed, Lewis propped up on pillows in bed, was still musing aloud. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to…you know."

Y/N chuckled. "Don't worry about it. It’s not like they think we’re celibate" she teased, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Now, come on, Mr. Blurred Words, it's definitely bedtime."

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know," he said, "maybe forty isn't so bad after all. Got everything I ever wanted, right here." He reached for her hand, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her skin. " I'm glad I waited all these years though. Glad I didn't settle for just anyone."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart overflowing with love. "I’m glad too" she whispered. "I love you, old man"

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @jajouska

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[genericpuff]

i find it funny that one of rachel’s drawings of herself in the afterword that just went up is just fully persephone. is that something she does a lot?

Alright so I've been making it a general rule for myself to like, not harp on Rachel in any way outside of LO as much because frankly the horse is dead now and there's not much left to say outside of what can be analyzed in hindsight. I think despite everything I have to say about her and her work, she still deserves to get away from this nonsense and I don't wanna spend eternity hovering over her shoulder.

But the afterword was posted within the LO series and is clearly meant for readers of LO in the functioning of being an afterword so let's just call it fair game LOL

I will say, on the whole, it does feel very honest and sentimental and I can respect Rachel for taking the time to write out and illustrate her afterword in a way that was personal to both her and her fans. I can understand why she went at it from the angle that she did and I'm not gonna fault her for that.

But there's also something that feels deeply... disingenuous about her approach right from the starting gun. I will say, before I continue, that I'm well aware I am biased towards Rachel as a creator, and I fully acknowledge that I could very well be reading too much into things. This is just my opinion, take it with mountains of salt.

I can get looking back on your own childhood, your past self, whatever, and going "see! it all got better!" because sure! For a lot of creators like Rachel, it must be wild to look back on where they came from and there's a lot of sentimentality on expressing that through an afterword like this where she reflects on where she came from. Though she STILL didn't acknowledge her other comics outside of LO, I can understand if she wants to leave those skeletons in the closet.

But I feel like her drawing herself as a child who's being given an Eisner by her adult self and all that just feels like some gross attempt to disarm any criticism of her because "don't make fun of me, I'm just a sad lonely baby girl!"

She's not a child. Child Rachel didn't grossly misappropriate Greek myth into their own self-indulged vanity project. Child Rachel didn't claim herself a folklorist of a culture's works only to bastardize them completely. Child Rachel didn't create a hostile environment within her fanbase by bullying anyone who she perceived as a threat, sneaking into critical spaces to try and cause trouble, and writing her own clapbacks into her comic. Child Rachel didn't claim to be challenging misogyny and purity culture only to reinforce misogyny and purity culture through her own self-insert baby-virgin-gets-rescued-by-rich-tycoon power fantasy that regularly glorified abuse towards women and the lower class.

30-almost-40-year-old Rachel did though.

At best it comes across as really cringe sentimentality from a Greek-weeb (heh, greeboo) and goes to show how much Rachel inserted herself into Greek myth without ever absorbing its messages or cultural contexts, it was all about her and her feelings as a sad New Zealand girl with dyslexia who thought Persephone's story was about another sad girl being rescued from her "horrible childhood".

At worst it's an active attempt to play on people's heartstrings by drawing herself as a child who people will naturally not want to criticize. I don't want to assume she's doing it intentionally, I really don't want to leave her afterword on a bad foot, as I can definitely understand as both a creator and a person who struggled with learning disabilities in their own childhood how and why she wants to pay homage to her past and where she came from... but let's just say, as someone who's also gotten way too "lost in the sauce" concerning personal self-reflective projects, I think there's a lot to say about how this confirms that Rachel made LO entirely for herself, about herself, without any actual intention to respect the original myths, because she never truly separated them from herself when she was a child. And, in my humble opinion as someone who has Been There with the self-insert OC's and self-reflective angsty plotlines, I can fully attest to the fact that that's not fucking healthy. Even with personal projects, you NEED to learn to get your head out of the sauce, you NEED to learn to objectively separate yourself from the narrative so the story doesn't fall apart under your own hubris and ego, you NEED to learn to draw a line if you want to have any sort of identity as a human being outside of what you make for people. And that's with just normal original stories, this was a story based on Greek myth which doesn't belong to her.

And this goes for a lot of the things she's said and done in the past, so much of her own "sources" even are tethered to things that she read / watched in her childhood and only vaguely remembers, as if she never mentally left her childhood at all, which just... if the point was to highlight her past and the traumas she went through and how they contributed to her present, an Eisner isn't going to validate those experiences. And drawing attention to her past through the lens of her childhood self absolutely 100% does not absolve her of the negative effect her work has had on the modern Greek myth zeitgeist nor the things she's said and done as a 38 year old woman who should absolutely know better.

The community she entered and took from will forever remain changed by her influence and taking, in many ways not for the better. She has the privilege of walking away and never having to think about it again, with all the awards and accolades that were bought for her, the bravado that she built around being a "folklorist" with zero credentials, and the platform she was given over many other creators struggling to even be heard.

That "place" she claims to have now was built entirely on inserting herself into another culture's works and doing nothing but taking, taking, taking, while offering nothing in return but vanity and lip service. That "place" was paid for and brought to you by Webtoons.

[tonixe]

I saw you were looking for The Boys requests. Please I beg of you ANYTHING between Firecracker and reader. She’s so beautiful and I need to be with her so bad! Literally anything you want to write. It’s just that NO ONE has written for her!!

♱ — country girl — ♱

A/N: Thank you for ur request, I also agree, nobody is writing about Firecracker, our country girl needs some love <3.

WARNING: cursing, tw: abortion, firecracker as a person, tw: tek knight, this might be crackfic sorry.

PAIRING: firecracker x reader

WORD COUNTER: 974

It was so boring at the Tek's Knight party, you were mindlessly taking glasses of alcohol served on a platter to guests that attended, mostly the room filled with important, rich, people of America.

Like you want to be here with these superficial assholes and fucking racists, you had better thing than to be here in this party but you were forced to attend. Most of the members of the seven were here, including you. Here you are, in a party filled with old people who controlled the country, you looked up at the seemingly staring Tek Knight portrait that was on display, "Creepy" You muttered, before you gulped down the content in the glass, swiftly placing it on the waltzing waiter passing by.

It was going to be a while till you were able to leave the party. It was an event where people were the best dressed and for you, the best dress was your costume, shut up and stay still while people talked to you, talking about nonsense and political matters you didn't care about.

You just nodded with a smile.

Tap your fingers on your glasses, looking for anything that can occupy your time. It wasn't the worst, free high-quality alcohol was being served, and interesting-looking food was being served around the party. You looked around the room of guests, and your eyes quickly landed on Homelander, Sage, and Neuman. You quirked your eyebrows at the scene, before taking a sip of the champagne in your glass.

"Hm," You exhaled, swirling the liquid in your glass. The sound of heels clicking on the floor took your attention. You looked up from your cup to see Firecracker walking by you, you didn't get to know a lot about her only to know that she was involved in pageants, hate Starfire maybe a pedophile. You kept your eye on her with amusement as she walked toward the group of supes.

You were way too curious about how the interaction was going to play out, especially with her introduction, it was almost comical.

Everyone in the group just stared at her awkwardly, it was all truly funny and made you laugh a bit. Then Sage dismissed her straight, I guessed it was something snarky towards her. You watched her as walked away quickly, it looked like she was upset about what Sage said. "Trailer trash, huh?" You gulped down your maybe 10th glass of the night and placed it on the walking waiter's tray before you strode to the dessert table.

You recognize the greeting butler of the house taking the cake. “Hey, are you going to take that?" You asked the butler holding the chocolate cake in his hand. "Yes, Miss H/N" He stated, “Would you like a slice?” He questioned, “No, actually I’ll take the whole cake” You shot him a smile, grabbing the cake from him. “Thanks for being such an American patriot” you exclaimed before you walked out to follow Firecracker.

You stepped out of the room where the party guests were. You followed Firecracker, you wanted to keep your steps as silent as possible maybe to surprise her a bit, maybe this was a bit creepy, a little at least. You hid behind one of the white columns, hearing the door behind her close with a 'click' sound.

You stepped out into the hallway, with the cake in hand. You paused for a moment when you reached the door. Before putting your ear near the door to hear sniffing coming from her you backed away. You hesitated to knock, so you just waited on the side of the door until she opened up.

Propping yourself up on the wall, it was a couple of minutes until she opened the door. It was evident she was crying with her tear-stained cheek and the reddening of her irises. Bounced off the wall, "God were you crying, you look like shit" You said bluntly, her brows furrowed when she heard the comment escaping you.

"Shit, my bad, cake?" You prominently offered the cake to her, she looked at it and then at you, "Is this a joke?" She said with her strong accent shining through as she spoke.

Narrowed her eyes at you.

"No, actually this was from the good of my heart, I saw the exchange between you and you know sage?' You said you heard her groan as you talked.

"So, are you going to tell me to drink Everclear or SunnyD" She exclaimed.

"Of course not, I was going to tell you to drink some Dr. Pepper and Jack Daniel" You grin at her smugly,

She furrowed her brows more, you got her pissed, "Jokes" You put up your free hand defensively, "But seriously, I saw you upset and what better way to calm down than with cake, especially chocolate cake" You grinned pointing at the chocolate cake in your hands.

"What in god green earth would make you think I would eat cake with you" She crossed her arms, "Geez if you put it that way...I just wanted to support a friend in need, since you are part of the seven, you know..so cake?" You offered her again before she looked at you and the cake.

"Fine"

..

"You know Sage is like a slithering snake, I just should known" Firecracker grumbled, taking a spoonful of cake and shoving it in her mouth, you hummed in agreement.

"The whole thing with the show and live cast with the starlight bullshit, should of fucking know" Firecracker finished,

"How did you...I mean she even gets information about Starlight abortion?" You asked, stabbing your fork in a piece of cake, Firecracker just shrugged it off, "I mean you took those punches like a champ" You said bluntly, Firecracker glared at you.

"Hey Y/N" You turned towards her,

"What?"

"Fuck you"

[nightlyrequiem]

hello sweetheart! have you ever thought about writing valeria x fem!reader who is prone to crying? this idea suddenly came to me after spending a lot of time in my day reading and re-reading your valeria x reader fanfics. i don’t know if you still take requests, but if not, consider this a writing idea for the future X3

(btw, i love you and your works so so muchhhhhh! your tumblr is clearly a paradise for valeria garza fangirls 😭💕💕💕)

Sweetheart? Oh my, I'm swooning!

I love it when people say they re-read my fics, makes me feel all warm inside. Yes stranger on the internet! Fuel my ego! Give me that instant dopamine hit! As someone who cries a lot, I needed to write this

I love you too, anonymous asker! Doing my civic duty of providing Valeria content

(Name has nothing to do with the fictional creatures.)

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Emotional Hurt, Comfort (Kind Of.), Valeria is Mean but regrets it, Sensitive reader

Weeping Angel

You're crying again. Valeria had returned home later than usual and when you asked about it, her tone was slightly different. Not as soft as usual. It doesn't take much to make you cry. Saltine tears swiftly well up in your eyes as you fall silent. Valeria feels frustrated. She is someone who rarely cries, who is used to being around stronger people. She still isn't sure how to handle you and your endless fountain of tears.

You turn your head and wipe at your eyes with your sleeve. Valeria sighs and rubs her face, trying to reel in her temper. She has to remind herself that you're more delicate than she is. You aren't trying to manipulate her with crocodile tears, you're just truly, very sensitive. She both hates and loves that about you.

"Look, I told you I have a lot to do." She says, attempting to soften her voice but even she can hear the irritation seeping through her words. Valeria just doesn't understand how a grown adult is unable to regulate their feelings.

"...Okay." You reply passively, voice thick with sadness.

Valeria wishes you were stronger.

"Stop crying." She says sternly. "I hate it when you do that. I didn't even do anything, why are you trying to make me feel bad?" Valeria knows that's not what you're trying to do, and she knows she's only making things worse. You look at her with wide, wet eyes.

"Why are you yelling at me?"

"Why do you take everything so personally? I'm not yelling." she grits out.

Your lips twitch down into a frown. It would be almost comical if she didn't have to deal with you and your dramatic tears.

"God. I can't deal with this." She continues. Venting all her frustrations that have been slowly growing like a malignant tumor. "I don't think you understand how hard it is to deal with you. I can't say anything without offending you." You just stand there and take it. Tears running rivers down your cheeks. "It's like walking on eggshells around you. It's exhausting."

"Don't talk to me like that." You say. frowning at her.

"'Don't talk to me like that'?" Valeria growls, getting up in your face. Out of the corner of her eye she can see your hands shaking. She knows confrontation isn't your strong suit. "You're allowed to whine and bitch but the second I do it I'm the bad guy?"

You struggle to find the words to respond and for the first time, Valeria feels a small tingle of guilt. Not enough to stop though, Valeria has never found it easy to back down. She's just so tired of your tears. Of always having to console you. You can barely function. You spill a drink and cry, if you don't succeed at something right away, you cry. The stray dogs on the street make you cry.

"Just get out of my face, okay? Go be somewhere else because I can't stand you right now." Valeria says dismissively. Turning her back to you.

She hears your hiccupping breathes disappear down the hall. She leans against the counter and puts her head in her hands. She doesn't like fighting with you, and she doesn't like making you cry, but it's practically inevitable with how volatile the both of you are. You always bring down the mood, Valeria can never truly relax around you because she's always expecting something to set you off. Sometimes she feels more like your therapist than your girlfriend.

As hours pass by, her anger cools into quiet sadness. Valeria is less upset by your crying then she is by the fact that she can't ever seem to help. She can't ever find the right words to comfort you. Valeria is frustrated with herself because she doesn't understand. Valeria has never cried over a spilled drink, or a single off-handed joke at her expense, or when she failed at something.

What she does understand, is that she loves you. Valeria sighs and stands from the couch. Heading to the bedroom. she gently opens the door, seeing you curled up in bed. Your side slowly rising and falling with each breath. She sits down next to you. Looking over your tear-stained face. Your eyes are closed, having worn yourself out with your crying. Valeria isn't good at apologies, but she reaches out a hand and pets your hair. Smoothing her fingers over the strands. You're not awake to hear the awkward, murmured apology falling from her lips. You cry over everything, but Valeria doesn't want to be among the reasons. She may not understand you, but she doesn't need to. She just needs to be there for you.

[ramirezmindset]

ғᴀɴʙᴏʏ ʜᴀs ᴀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ?!

ᴍɪᴄᴋᴇʏ ɢᴀʀᴄɪᴀ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you've been married to mickey for nearly three years now, but things can only stay secret for so long, especially when a certain Jake discovers you two on a coffee date...

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: adult language, but mainly fluff and a few sexual innuendos (no smut) :P definite naval inaccuracies, mickey and y/n are both around twenty-eight years old during this. ↳ wc: 3050

→ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: first post on this blog also first time writing in maybe 4 (??) years eeeek!!! hope it lives up to the hype, feelin funky fresh - requests are open!

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seven years ago

You were a fresh spring chicken. A graduate, an adult, a taxpayer, looking on towards the horizon at your fresh and gleaming new life, the excitement was palpable. You and your best girlfriend, Cara, had moved into your new San Diego apartment a mere seven months ago, both of you having job offers out the door. Maybe being grown up wasn't so bad.

There was one thing missing from your life, you thought, as you looked out the window of the café you and Cara settled on for coffee. You didn't have anyone.

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Cara exclaimed, a slight smirk on her face. You didn't realise you said that out loud. She knew exactly what you meant by 'anyone', she just loved to tease you. You rolled your eyes at her and chuckled.

"C, you know exactly what I mean. You have Sophie, who, by the way, might as well start paying rent considering she's at our apartment every. Single. Night." Now it was Cara's turn to roll her eyes.

You had always been the shy guy out of your friends, much preferring comics and solo nights in to crazy nights on the trot. It's not that you were against an alcohol fuelled 'gals about the town' evening with all your best friends, but nothing beat the comfort of laying on the couch doing absolutely nothing all by yourself.

And you complain you don't have anyone. The hypocrisy is almost laughable as you take a sip of your coffee. You were just never the type to attract anyone, it's not that you were bad looking, or lacked the social skills to keep someone engaged in conversation, it's just that you never liked the people who approached you. They were always too this, or too that, and despite all of your friends telling you that "his favourite spiderman suit will not affect the sex", you just couldn't do it.

"Yeah, about that" Cara trailed off, running the tip of her finger over the rim of her mug. "Sophie and I have been together for a while now..."

"Six months, three weeks, and five days" You replied, closing your eyes in disbelief at the fact you even know that let alone said it out loud.

"Yes, however long that is" Cara waved her hand at you. "Anyway, Sophie mentioned that her and I get our own place together." She squinted her eyes at you, trying to gage how you were feeling, but you stayed silent, lips pursed.

"Ok" You sighed. "I don't blame you. Do it!"

"Really? You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" You giggled before reaching across the table to hold her hand. "You're my best friend, and I'm so glad that you and Sophie found each other, and I want you to go and be happy and live life and have sex and not have to worry about waking me up 'cos the walls in our apartment are so thin!"

Cara chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, that is a perk, actually. But now, you'll have an empty apartment, go rent the spare room out to a hot guy or bring someone home and fuck them as loud as you want and-" Her jaw falls slack. "Don't look now, but look now, is that not the most delicious man you've ever seen!"

You turn your head to look in the same direction as her, and sure enough, the most attractive man you've ever seen in your life is approaching the barista just a mere few metres away from you.

"Holy shit" slips off your tongue before you can even think, and you can't stop yourself from staring at him.

He was standing there, looking around nervously, his hands thrust into the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. A mop of inky curls sat upon his head, just leaving his chocolate brown eyes in your view as they darted around the room. His T-Shirt hugged his biceps almost too well, as if it was made for him, and you could feel your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

"Cara, kill me right now. Just fucking kill me immediately" You pulled your eyes away from him to see Cara sinking into her chair, her hand covering her mouth as she was nearly crying from laughter. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing, I've just- I've never seen you like this before" She takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes. "Go talk to him! If you don't fuck him, I will, and I'm gay!"

"No! Cara, no, I can barely talk to ugly guys, and he is-" You close your eyes and swallow. "And he is actually raw sex appeal"

Before you know it, Cara is kicking your shins underneath the table, using her feet to twist your knees to the side and practically force you to stand up.

"At least go order another drink whilst he's there! Just smell him, I know you want to!" She laughs as you nervously approach the space at the register next to him.

He makes eye contact with you as you walk past, whipping his head to follow your body as you make your way to the counter. You're internally cursing yourself for wearing a stupid Spiderman sweater for coffee, I look like such a freak, you think.

"1984, Secret Wars" someone says from beside you. You whip your head towards him, eyes wide and confused. "Your sweater. The first black Spiderman suit, 1984, Secret Wars" He smiles awkwardly.

"How did you-" You shake your head. "Yeah, yeah it is" You glance over his shoulder at Cara, who is sat there with her mouth agape at your absolutely horrendous attempt at chat. "Um, it's nice to meet someone who knows this stuff. I felt like a total dork in this sweater five seconds ago"

"You shouldn't" He grins at you, a big, gleaming, shit-eating grin. "I love Spiderman, and I think you're cute as fuck" His hand instinctively comes up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck as a blush rises up your face.

"Thank you" You say, grabbing the coffee you forgot you even ordered because you were too busy tripping over your thoughts when you walked over. "I'm Y/N, by the way"

"Mickey" He replies. "I'm Mickey, and I'd love to take you out"

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present day

It had been seven years to the day since you first met Mickey in the café in San Diego, and here you were, in the exact same spot, with the exact same man, ordering the exact same coffee's, except this time with rings adorning your fingers.

The last seven years had been a whirlwind, Cara did end up finding her own place with Sophie, the two of which were still together, and you did end up bringing a hot guy home and fucking him as loud as you wanted to, just as she said on that fateful day, and instead of renting out Cara's old room, you invited Mickey into yours, turning the now empty second bedroom into your comic shrine just two months after your first meeting.

It turns out, yourself and Mickey had more in common than you could've ever imagined, and for the first time in your life, you didn't feel like a total misfit. When you learnt he was a naval aviator, it was a surprise, but something you were willing to work with, there was no way in hell you were going to let a guy this perfect slip from your grasp. Plus, you knew it would all work itself out in the end, evident in the fact he's now working in the city you both live.

You look down at the wedding bands sitting delicately on your finger, thinking about the life you've shared with Mickey, the love, the laughter.

"Cara, I don't think I'm ready for this" Your maid of honour fanned your face with her hand, her eyebrows furrowed together as you paced around the bridal suite of the beautiful wedding venue.

"Pull yourself together, for Christ's sake!" She replied through gritted teeth, grabbing your shoulder's and twisting you round to look at her. "It is your wedding day! I'm the one that's meant to be stressed out, I practically planned this whole thing. You're walking down that aisle, I will drag you down it by your hair if I have to!"

You closed your eyes, Cara's grip on your shoulders feeling like a tonne. Slowly, you sink to sit down on the floor, probably crumpling the skirt of your perfectly steamed white gown.

"I just-" you sigh "What if he runs? What if he realises I'm not what he wants?"

"Are you crazy?" Cara joins you on the floor, holding your clammy hand in hers. "He's probably just as nervous as you are, and I know that sounds bad considering what just came out your mouth, but that man loves you. He practically kisses the ground you walk on!" You let out a small chuckle at this, you know she's right.

"I'm serious!" Your friend continues. "For the last three years, that man has been hellbent on making you smile. He's like a man possessed, he has been ever since he saw you wearing that horrible Spiderman sweater in the café!"

That part was true. Almost immediately after Cara overheard Mickey say he'd loved to take you out, she stalked over, blurting out a quick "she's free tonight!" before grabbing the coffee out your hand and scuttling out the door.

"That works perfect" Mickey blushed shyly. "If you'll let me?" You remember blushing, and bashfully nodding. You were all jelly legs and a puddle of nerves when your doorbell rang at seven on the dot, looking up to see Mickey's vague silhouette through the fogged window of your front door. Since that day, he's never left your side. You've never opened a car door for yourself, never refilled your own water bottle at night, never spent a dime on a pair of shoes, because, no matter what, he's always two steps ahead, reading you like a book.

"Now come on" Cara said, heaving you up and smoothing out the tulle of your dress. "Let's go get you a husband!"

You were enjoying the peace and quiet of the café, hearing the nearby waves crash and fall through the open windows, and the delicious smell of pastries and espresso wafting around the room, the feeling of your husbands protective arm around your shoulder. He looked at you as if he had the stars and the moon in the palm of his hand, the universe glimmering in his eyes as he opened his mouth to say, what you already knew was, 'I love you'. That was, until, the bell above the door behind you rang and, quite frankly, the loudest gasp you've ever heard rings across the place, louder than the gasp Cara gave you when you showed her the huge rock on your finger when Mickey proposed.

"Fanboy?!" Mickey's eyes go wide next to you, and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. There was no specific reason Mickey kept his marriage a secret from his pilot friends, though he prefers the word 'private'. Not only did it spare him a whole lot of hassle at work, but it kept you free from the pressure of having to actually have to talk to new people. He knew your distaste for meeting new people, the whole 'What's your name? What's your favourite colour? What do you do for a living?" causing actual bile to rise in your throat at the thought of such boring conversation. So when you nervously requested that he not tell his co-workers about your marriage because, in your own words, "I'll have to meet them and then I wont be able to go out and do what I want", a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"Fanboy, that is you!" The voice repeated. "And...a girl, oooh!" Mickey turned around to see, who you had learned prior to be 'Hangman', Jake Seresin.

"He's nice" Mickey would say. "But he tries to fuck anything that is female, human, and has a pulse, so he's not going anywhere near you!"

"Hi, Hangman!" Mickey forces out, through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?" His arm falls off your shoulders as he disappears a few steps behind you to greet his friend.

"Getting coffee and a sweet treat, what else?" He laughs, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back. "And who is this?"

You were hoping he had forgotten you were there as you slowly shuffled further and further down the counter, pretending to peruse the pastries as to avoid any social interaction. Mickey and Jake appear next to you, a look in your husband's eyes that can only be interpretated as 'I'm sorry.'

"Uh- Jake, this is Y/N" Mickey says, holding his arm out in an almost jazz-hand manor, presenting you as if you were a finger painting a child was showing their mom.

Jake makes eye contact with the gold band on Mickey's finger before he makes eye contact with you, his eyebrows furrowing. He grabs your left hand, faster than light, inspecting the matching wedding band, the gold glimmering in the afternoon sun that beat through the window. He grabs Mickey's left wrist, holding your hands up next to each other as his eyes flick between them. Suddenly he drops them both as his eyes go wide and another yelp leaves his lips.

"Garcia, you're married?!" He looks like a proud dad.

"Hangman, please-" Mickey's practically starts begging, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, but is cut off by a boyish slap on the shoulder.

"I cannot believe this!" Jake laughs, throwing his head back, his free hand clutching his stomach. "How did I not realise this? What the actual fuck, have I died? Have I died and gone to hell? A world where Fanboy, of all people, has a girlfr- no, not girlfriend, a wife?!?"

Mickey chuckles with him, shaking his head and blushing. He pulls you into him. "Hangman, we keep this private for a reason, so please can we just keep this between us? As in, my wife and I go about as normal and you keep quiet?"

"Keep quiet? About this? No way, I can't, I've never kept a secret in my life!" Jake is practically squealing, who knew a grown man would be this thrilled over someone else's marriage. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself, I'm Hangman, my friends call me Jake, or daddy, depending on which friend's you're talkin' to, if ya catch my drift"

You shook his hand politely, a nervous smile on your face. "I'm Y/N, uh, nice to meet you"

"So this is why you didn't want anyone to know" Jake looks at Mickey knowingly, crossing his arms and squinting. Mickey raises an eyebrow and cocks his head in confusion. "What, dude, your wife's hot. Better keep her away from Rooster, don't worry, bud, your secrets safe with me."

And with that, Jake retreats out the café, not even ordering his coffee, or sweet treat.

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Your secret was not safe with him.

Later that evening, you were sat at The Hard Deck bar, where you and your husband were frequent flyers, no pun intended. Cara and yourself sat in the corner, nursing a drink each, catching up on the past few weeks, mainly talking about her upcoming wedding. Mickey was on the other side of the bar, pool cue in hand as he made eye contact with you, stealing a sly wink before turning back to his aviator friends.

"Earth to Y/N!" Cara says, waving a hand in front of your face. "God, I wander what would've happened if I never pointed him out to you at that café!"

You were interrupted by a thundering yell by the front door. "Guys!" Oh Christ. "Guys, Fanboy has a wife!"

"That wouldn't have happened, I can tell you that for certain" You rested your head in your hands, avoiding Jake's gaze like the plague before he inevitably would pull you over to the group. You sank further and further into your seat, practically merging with the chair as to avoid being spotted. As per usual, Cara was sat there with a hand slapped over her mouth, muffled laughter escaping through her palm.

"Fanboy has a what?!" The group yell back, almost in sync, as you make eye contact with Mickey who has his head down chuckling. He squeezed his eyes shut, nervously clamping his bottom lip with his teeth, desperately trying to drown out the thousands of questions being hurled his way.

"Since when?"

"Who is she?"

"Do we know her?"

"Is she here?"

"Guys, I think we should all give Mick his privacy, I mean, there's obviously a reason he hasn't said anything-"

"Shut it, Bob!"

"Tell us everything!"

With a nod of his head, you're rolling your eyes and dragging Cara along with you towards him. Your hand is clamped to Cara's, who's still regurgitating laughter behind you. Micky extends an arm as you get closer, putting the pool cue down to reach under his shirt and pull out his dog tags, a gold ring sitting on the chain.

"Jake!" You call out, playfully furrowing your brows at him. "That was supposed to be our little secret" Mickey's arm finds it's way behind your waist as he places a kiss to your temple, you're more than aware that his friends are looking at you, shock plastered across their faces.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Y/N" Jake said, theatrically wiping sweat off of his forehead, giving you a quick side hug as a greeting, despite only meeting him a mere four hours ago. "I just couldn't keep it in. Our little Fanboy has a wife!"

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[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 11, Unsure - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Mentions of sexual situations, pettiness.

Word Count: 3k

Previously On...: You've been pulling away from Bucky as he's been spending more time with Jade. But now, on the eve of her first mission, you realize that you want to fight for him and your relationship. Gino's is just the place.

A/N: So, I have this thing where, I'll write the angst, but then I'm like "no, I want you to be happy!" and then I'll write something like this, which is only just a band aid on their relationship for more angst to come. Sorry :( But, also, relationships and emotions aren't linear. We might know things aren't going well, but if we see even a hint of improvement, we latch onto it in the hope that it means things are getting better, even if it's just a temporary blip. We're optimistic beasts.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows

About forty minutes later, you walked into Gino’s looking like sin on legs. You’d made up your mind that you were going to stake your claim on your boyfriend tonight, in front of Jade and the entire team, but especially Bucky, once and for all. You were a little dizzy from the emotional whiplash you’d been putting yourself through of late, but you’d realized he was worth the chance of being hurt, and you loved him too much to not fight tooth and nail for him, and you would do so, until he told you himself that he didn’t want you anymore.

You’d chosen a pair of skin tight black leather pants that sat low on your hips and a sheer golden top with a matching satin cami underneath it. You’d left your bra at home. A pair of high, strappy gold stiletto heels completed the look, and with your hair flowing loose and curly down your back, you caught the attention of every man within line of sight as you made your way to the back of the bar.

“Jesus Christ, Pocket,” Nat said once you reached the tables at the back that your team usually secured for themselves. The redhead pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear as she did so: “Barnes isn’t going to be able to control himself when he sees you.”

“That’s the idea, Natty,” you said with a grin, taking the shot she offered you and throwing it back. “I’m playing for keeps tonight.”

Your friend smiled at you and motioned toward the jukebox. “Then I say ‘batter up’ because opposing teams’ already taken the field.”

You glanced in the direction she’d indicated and narrowed your eyes. Jade was dancing with Bucky. Or, at least, she was trying to dance with him. It was almost comical, really, the way she tried to grind up against him, yet he kept trying to put space between their bodies as he shuffled awkwardly from side to side. Your heart softened as you watched him resist her. He was being polite about it– of course he was, he was Bucky, after all, but his resistance was firm.

“I better go save him,” you told Nat as you put down the shot glass. “I’ll see you later.” You sauntered over to the makeshift dance floor, putting some extra sway in your hips as you did so. 

“Mind if I cut in?” you asked, your voice extra sultry. Not even waiting for a response, you positioned your body between Jade and Bucky’s, and were immediately rewarded with the feeling of his hands gripping your waist as he tugged you to him. 

“God damn, doll,” Bucky said as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his, “how’d you expect me to behave myself all night when you’re standin’ there lookin’ good enough to fuckin’ eat?”

You grinned up at him, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t expect you to behave at all, Sergeant,” you purred. “In fact, I’m quite hoping you won’t.”

Bucky’s eyes visibly darkened at your words, and he took his bottom lip seductively between his teeth. You were both leaning in for a kiss when you felt an impatient tap on your shoulder. You knew without turning who it was going to be. 

With a roll of your eyes, you turned your head just enough to see Jade standing next to you, arms crossed over her chest, the anger on her face making her uglier than you’d ever seen her.

“Um, hello? Rude much? We were dancing.”

“Is that what that was?” you asked, turning so you had your back to Bucky’s front. You could feel the hard length of him pressed against your ass as you ground into him in time with the music. Taking his hands, you slid them under the fabric of your shirt so he could caress your bare skin. His rough fingers felt like heaven as they moved up and down the planes of your abdomen, dancing scandalously close to the underside of your breasts. You felt Bucky’s breath hitch when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra.

“If you’re that mad, why don’t you go live stream about it?” you said. “The adults are busy.”

“Bucky!” Jade whined, turning to him. “Are you going to just let her talk to me that way?!”

Your heart seemed to still, and it felt like time stopped while you waited on Bucky’s response, though in actuality, he answered her almost instantly: “You heard my girl, Vix. We’re busy.”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against him. His dismissal of her was like an aphrodisiac that sent wetness pooling into your panties. The sexiest thing you’d ever heard. With this new access to the exposed side of your neck, Bucky began to place wet, open mouthed kisses along your skin. God, you hoped he left marks. You wanted him to claim you, to let the world know you were his. You moaned his name as you reached your arm up to hold the side of his head, urging him to use more pressure and were rewarded almost immediately when you felt the sweet sting of his teeth as he nipped at the sensitive flesh of your skin, followed by the instant soothing sensation of his tongue against the love bites.

You heard Jade scoff, but didn’t open your eyes to see if she walked away or remained; you were too absorbed in the sensation of Bucky all around you for her to matter. You lost yourself in the feel of him, no concept of how much time went by as the two of you moved together to the beat of the music.

He eventually turned you around so you were facing each other once again. You tried to slide your hands up under the hem of his shirt, to feel the firmness of him, but gave an exaggerated pout when you were met with the resistance of it being tucked into the waistband of his jeans. 

“You tryin’ to undress me right here, sweets?” he asked, giving you a playful grin.

“Don’t give me any ideas, Buckaroo,” you hummed, opting instead to grab two generous handfuls of his ass. You were going to sink your teeth into that later.

“You know,” he said, leaning in close to speak directly into your ear, “I’ve been thinking: now that Vix’s gonna be out on missions, my schedule’s gonna clear up a lot. Maybe we should take that trip we talked about. Spend some time alone, just the two of us, like we used to. I miss you.”

Your face fell. You’d love nothing more than to reconnect with Bucky, away from all outside influences, but with the upcoming presentation of the crisis algorithm system looming before you, the timing couldn’t be any worse. “I can’t, Buck,” you told him sadly.

He pulled back, away from you, a new, hard glint to his eye. “Can’t,” he asked, “or won’t?”

“Come on, Buck,” you pleaded, trying to put his arms back around you, but he refused, stepping further away, “we were having a great time; I don’t want to fight.”

“Were we having a great time, Pocket?” he asked, his teeth now clenched. “I may be old, but I’m not stupid. I know you’re pulling away from me.”

You sighed. It seems like you were going to have this out right here in the bar. “Come with me,” you said, taking his hand and leading him toward the bathrooms.

As you passed the rest of your team, an obviously inebriated Sam raised his beer glass and winked at you both. “Yeah, get it, Tin Man!” he shouted, completely misconstruing the purpose of your journey to the bathroom as Bucky flipped him off. “Didn’t realize you liked it that dirty, Baby Girl!” You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you made your way to the men’s bathroom. Checking to make sure each stall and urinal was empty, you locked the door behind you.

Bucky raised a brow at your choice of gendered bathroom. “What?” you shrugged. “Figure dudes’ll be more than willing to have pissing contests in the alley if they can’t get in here.”

You could see him struggle to fight the smile that threatened to cross his otherwise annoyed features. You always did know how to make him laugh.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” he said, sounding petulant. 

“For once, that’s not why I dragged you into a bathroom,” you said, hoisting yourself up onto the sink counter once you’d checked it to make sure it was free from… well, whatever one might find in a men’s restroom. “I want to talk. Come here.” You beckoned him over with a crook of your finger, and like a fish on a hook, he crossed the room until he was standing in front of you.

You sighed. You didn’t want to do this now, but you were tired of lying to him, lying to yourself. You wanted your relationship back, and now was just as good a time as any to set things straight. “I wanna start by saying that the reason I can’t go away on vacation with you right now,” you said, making sure to emphasize the words, “is that I’m presenting to the Stark Industries Board of Directors in less than two weeks. I still have a lot to do to get ready.

Bucky tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “For your crisis prediction algorithm?” You nodded. Bucky’s eyes widened, impressed. “Doll, that’s amazing! But… I thought you said it was nowhere near being ready for demonstration?”

You swallowed. “We’ve been beta testing for awhile now,” you said, not meeting his eye. Normally, Bucky was obsessed with your work, keeping track of every fascinating detail, but with Jade monopolizing so much of his time recently, he’d stopped asking how things with your pet project were coming along. But you didn’t bring him here to make him feel bad. 

“I haven’t been paying enough attention to you,” he said softly. He reached out and held your face, tilting your head up so you would look at him. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “You’ve been busy,” you told him.

“I’ve been an ass,” he said. He took a deep sigh before coming closer, wrapping you to him. “I keep being an ass, and I keep hurting you, when I swore I never would.”

“I know you don’t mean to,” you reassured him. “But, you were right… I have been… pulling away.”

Bucky backed up to study you, his face gone white with worry. “Are you… Do you… Have I fucked this up completely? Do you not want me anymore?” If you had been standing, the desperation in his voice would have brought you to your knees.

“Baby, no!” you exclaimed, pulling his hand to your chest. “I did it because I was scared. I’m so scared I’m going to get my heart broken in all of this that I started putting my walls back up. I thought that, if I could act like your friendship with Jade didn’t bother me, didn’t drive me crazy with jealousy, then maybe I would eventually believe it. But all it ended up doing was push me away from you, and that’s not what I want. I want to fight for you. Fight for us.”

“Is that what this is, then?” he asked, indicating your outfit, hair, and makeup. “Is this some kind of offensive strategy in your battle against Vix where I’m, what– a prize?” He seemed… disgusted by the idea.

“No!” The word was out of your mouth before you even had a chance to think. “Not at all. I did all this because I wanted to look good for you. I know I’m never going to compete with her in terms of sexiness; I wouldn’t even try.”

“Huh,” said Bucky, running his hand through your hair. “And all this time I thought you were the smart one.” When you looked at him in confusion, he added: “Because that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Doll, when it comes to sexy, she doesn’t hold a candle to you. No one does.”

“Pfft,” you scoffed, turning your face away from him in embarrassment as color stained your cheeks. “You have to say that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky took a step closer to you, “I have to be your boyfriend because that’s how I feel. If this,” he took your hand in his and placed it over the hard bulge of his erection, “doesn’t prove that to you, I don’t know what will.”

You took a moment to palm him through his jeans, remembering back to a time when you relished the effect you had over him, not doubting it. “Are we good?” you whispered. 

“We are very, very good,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. You gripped onto the front of his shirt, slipping your tongue into his mouth. When he moaned into your lips, you felt yourself clench around nothing.

“Bucky,” you gasped, coming back up for air.

“Yeah, doll?” His eyes were blown, expression delirious with his lust for you. It was intoxicating. 

“You still opposed to bathroom sex?”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, igniting even more desire within you. “I’m not, but I’d rather take you home, lay you out naked on our bed, all open and pretty for me. Let you be as loud as you want when I make you scream my name.”

Your entire body shivered at the picture his words painted, and you nodded stupidly. “Yeah,” you said, swallowing thickly , “yeah, that sounds way better. Let’s go do that.”

Bucky picked you up from the counter and gently placed you back on the floor. Putting his hand protectively on the small of your back, he led you to the door, unlocking it and walking you back into the bar.

When you made your way back to your group’s designated tables, you were surprised to find everyone staring at you in anticipation. Tony stood in the center of the group, a wide smile on his face as he raised his arms wide open, tumbler of alcohol in his hand. “Pocket, Barnes!” he cried when he saw you emerge from the hallway leading to the restrooms. “The people demand to know! ‘What the ���F’ Was It’?”

You buried your face into Bucky’s side to hide your laughter. Once again, your sex life had become the topic of group conversation. When had this become your normal?

“I think the ‘fucks’ have it!” Tony declared after taking in your smudged lipstick and messy hair. You watched in mock horror as Nat and Sam gave each other a double high five.

“Why do we put up with this?” you muttered to Bucky.

“Stark’s superior insurance coverage?” he suggested with a grin. You smirked back up at him before turning back to your friends.

“Sorry to disappoint, again,” you said, raising your voice to be heard over the din of the bar. “We did neither fucking nor fighting, so…” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Don’t tell me I missed out by not going with frottage again,” Nat moaned dejectedly. You laughed as you shook your head. 

“Very well,” said Thor. “It was not fornication, nor this frottage, nor fighting– sorry, little Fox Girl.” You raised an eyebrow as your gaze found Jade, who looked particularly put out, much to your amusement. “Let us guess!”

Your friends began shouting out answers, and they ranged from the vulgar (“‘Finger banging’!” “Oh my God, Tony! Gross!”) to the inappropriate (“‘Fertilization,’ you know, like puttin’ a baby in her!” “Clint, how’s he gonna do that without ‘fucking’?!”) to the perfectly tame (“‘Fraternization.’” “Boo, Rogers; you’re no fun!”) to, thankfully, nothing at all (“I hate this game.” “Nobody asked you, Rhodes!”).

“Frenchin’!” Bucky shouted after a moment with a snap of his fingers. Everyone turned and stared at him like he’d just grown a second head. “What?” he asked as a blush crept up his cheeks. “We talked, then we made out. Just took me a minute to think of ‘French kissin’, is all,” he finished in a mumble. 

“And with that,” you said, walking over to the booth where Bucky had stashed his two motorcycle helmets, “we are going home. Make of that whatever the ‘F’ you will.” Tony positively cackled at that.

“That’s my girl!” he gasped, clutching his sides. 

You didn’t even try to suppress your grin as you tossed one of the helmets to Bucky. Tucking the other one under your arm, you made your way over to him. “Ready to go, soldier?” you asked.

“With you?” he said, putting a hand around your waist and giving you a mischievous wink. “Always.”

Before you could even make it three steps toward the door, your path was blocked by Jade, who stood before you, chest heaving and fists clenched at her sides. “Hey,” she said, clearly upset, “what about me?!”

You took a step back, curious to see how Bucky was going to handle the situation.

He sighed heavily. “What about you, Vix?”

“You drove me here! How am I supposed to get home if you’re driving her?”

“Stark hired cars,” he told her, trying to steer you both around her, but the girl wouldn’t give up her ground. “Get a ride with everyone else.”

“But I wanna ride back with you,” she said, her voice a desperate whine that made you cringe internally. God, how had you been so jealous of someone who acted like such a child?

He just shrugged in her general direction as he finally guided you both around her. “Sorry, Vix; not this time.”

You couldn’t resist turning around to give her a parting smile as you walked out the door. When you turned around to follow Bucky, though, you could feel Jade’s stare boring a hole through your back.

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