#whenever I go back and read my fics months later I’m like DAMN I WROTE THIS?

[bloodibambiidoll]

I just reread this for the first time since I posted it and now I literally have to write part 2. I’m ready. I miss Steve. It’s happening.

Spider Lily

(Steve Harrington x Goth!Fem!Reader)

Summary: You can’t stand Steve Harrington, you didn’t like him in highschool during his “King Steve” days and you don’t like him now. But even though you deny it, even to yourself, there’s always been something about him that made your heart beat speed up. When you’re stuck closing with him one night at Family Video… things finally boil over. Wk:4.3k

Warnings: Sliggght King Steve behavior, he’s not as much of an asshole but he is a bit of a player, enemies to (kinda?) lovers, unprotected sex, spanking, a lil bit of choking (ofc, it’s me), hair pulling, dirty talk (a lil bit of taunting), Soulmate AU, the end is kinda angsty but there will be a part 2. 18+MINDI!!

A/N: It’s been a minute since I had the drive to sit down a finish something so quickly, but I felt very inspired by this idea and hopefully it’s gonna help my writers block. I have 2 other bigger stories l’m working on but this came to me and I had to get it out. Shout out to my bbs @reidsbtch @babygorewhore & @bimbobaggins69 for hyping me up on this one. Divider used is by @firefly-graphics.🖤

You roll your eyes as you watch Steve push the cart filled with video tapes down one of the isles of Family Video. Today was one of the unfortunate days that Robin was off and you were stuck closing alone with him. Robin often served as a buffer between the two of you, but when left alone you butted heads constantly. Bickering over who had to do inventory, who was going to count the till, whose turn it was to answer the phone when it rings. It was never ending scoffs and glares, but you always put on a show for the customers, acting civil whenever the store wasn’t empty.

You didn’t hate Steve, but you just couldn’t stand him. He walked around with this aura of arrogance about him, always flirting with girls that came in, always asking them on dates. They almost always said yes, but on multiple occasions you’ve watched those same girls come back a week later, pissed or crying because he hadn’t called. Robin insisted that he “changed” since highschool. Which you couldn’t deny that in some ways he had, but just because he isn’t as big of an asshole now, doesn’t mean he wasn’t still a player. It seemed like he couldn’t let that part of being “King Steve” go.

Steve didn’t hate you, but the fact that you couldn’t stand him drove him crazy. He gets it, he wasn’t exactly the nicest to you in highschool. He tried to apologize. Multiple times. But you shut him down every time. You were constantly throwing passive aggressive comments his way, rolling your eyes, sometimes you gag when he’s asking girls out right in front of them. So he just started giving you the cold shoulder, glaring and scoffing back, immaturely sticking his tongue out at you. He even pulled your hair a few times. To you it felt like he was proving you right, that he really hadn’t changed. But for him, he kind of felt like a school boy with a crush on a girl that couldn’t stand him.

“I can feel you staring, you know.” Steve had stopped the cart in the middle of the horror aisle, he restocked the tapes as he spoke, not even turning to look at you.

“I’m not staring at you Harrington, keep fucking dreaming.” You scoff, throwing a glare his way before turning your back to him, shoving a tape into the VCR and hitting rewind.

“Yeeeaah suuure, your eyes were practically burning a hole in the side of my head.” He chuckled, turning his head to glance at you. Your back was turned to him, the green Family Video vest you both had to wear obstructing his view from the cropped band tee you were wearing underneath it.

He wasn’t exactly sure when his fascination with you started, but he knows it was much longer than he would probably even admit to himself. He was always drawn to you, in a way. Even if he always had the wrong way of showing it. He felt awful about the things he and his friends said to you growing up, calling you a “witch” and knocking your lunch tray out of your hands. One time he just stood by while Carol ripped the book he had seen you reading all week to streads right in front of you. Throwing the ripped pages in your face. Everybody laughed, but Steve didn’t. Not that time. Not when usually you laughed them off, or gave them shit right back, but he watched the tears well in your eyes and the way your lip trembled. When you ran off with those tears starting to pour down your cheeks, part of him wanted to follow you.

“I’m gonna turn the sign off and lock the door, you wanna count the till? I’ll finish up the go backs.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer, knowing it would be some kind of sassy remark. He unhooked his set of keys from his belt loop, pulling the string on the sign to click it off and locking the door. You look over your shoulder at him, you hate how your eyes linger on the way his shoulders look in that dumb polo and how his hands hold the keys. No matter how much you dislike him you can’t deny that he’s gorgeous. He’s not normally your type, but something about Steve has always been attractive to you. And you hate it. It makes him even more unbearable to you.

You start counting the till and you’re midway through the quarters when you hear a loud crash, causing you to jump and drop them all over the ground. Your head whips to the side, your eyes landing on Steve who is picking up the cart he knocked over in the middle of the aisle, most of the tapes were on the floor and it knocked into one of the shelves, causing some of the ones there to drop to the ground as well.

“Steve, what the fuck! That scared the shit out of me!” You snapped at him as you got down on the ground to pick up the fallen quarters.

“It scared the shit out of you? It scared the shit out of me! It almost fell on my god damn foot!” Steve scoffs as he starts to pick up the tapes. Were you seriously mad at him right now?

He hears the sound of your heavy black boots before he sees you, your shadow casting over him in his crouched position. He looks up at you and almost chokes. Your long black velvet skirt accentuates your curves perfectly, a slit up to your thigh showing off a sliver of skin, your cropped tee that you definitely cut yourself is loose enough that he can see up it slightly, getting a view of slight under boob… you weren’t wearing a bra. The bright fluorescent family video lights shine above you and from this angle it makes you look like an angel dressed in black. Your combat clad booted foot taps on the ground as you cross your arms, glaring down at him.

“What the hell happened? You seriously knocked the cart over?” Your voice was teasing, your lips turned up into a smirk.

“That rug had a folded corner and the wheel got caught, I don’t know why you’re acting like I threw it on the ground or something.” Steve rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day, standing up to put the tapes back on the shelf. He rests his hands on his hips, his lips set into a hard line as he glares at you. “What is your problem with me, truly?”

“Harrington, you’re joking right?” You laughed, straight up laughed in his face.

“Umm, no? Why the fuck would I be joking? I seriously have tried to be nice to you but no matter what I do you give me a fucking attitude.”

“Oh excuse me, King Steve!! How dare I respect royalty.” You throw your hands up in mock surrender, your eyes widen but that damn smirk doesn’t falter.

“Oh don’t fucking start with that again! You know that’s not who I am anymore, I’ve told you I’m sorry in every way I can possibly think of! I’m sorry I was a fucking dick! But I’m different now! You just - you bring out this side of me. You’re so fucking frustrating!” He runs his hands through his chestnut locks before dragging them down his face, letting out a deep sigh.

“If you’re soooo different why are there different girls coming in here every week whining because you didn’t call them back? Kind of sounds like a dick fucking move to me.”

“Why do you care? You’re constantly bringing that up. Like yeah Robin gives me shit about it but she’s just fucking with me, you’re actually mad. Are you… jealous?”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous Steve? I don’t even fucking like you as a person let alone am I romantically interested in you!!” You were pissed now, jealous? He has some fucking audacity to even think that, but to say it out loud?

“I don’t know, you seem kinda jealous to me. You’re always giving the girls I ask out dirty looks, with this pout on your lips. Also that gagging thing you do, I really would chalk it up to you actually thinking it’s gross but when Stacy came in demanding answers about why I didn’t call… you still glared, but you had this smirk on your lips, instead of a pout…” He takes a few steps closer, only leaving a foot between you. The air feels tense… but in a way it never has before.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking arrogant, Steve Harrington! You do realize not every single girl wants to fall at your feet, right? Grow up! We aren’t in highschool anymore!” You’re talking with your hands, your boot stomping against the ground as you yell at him.

“If we aren’t in highschool anymore than why can't you let this go!? You know I don’t really think that right? There was one girl I never thought wanted me… until right now.” He bites his lip, his eyes wandering your form. He takes a step closer to you so you’re chest to chest, his face is inches from yours and his hazel eyes are staring daggers into yours. But he notices you don’t back away, or push him off, you just glare right back.

“If you’re talking about me, you couldn’t be further off. I haven’t, won’t, and will never want you. You’re a fucking ass.” Your black manicured finger pokes at his chest and he grabs your smaller hand in his large one, holding it in place on his chest.

“Then why aren’t you moving?” You’ve never heard his voice this low and husky and it sent a shiver down your spine against your will.

“I-“ you try to come up with a reason, you really do, but you don’t know why you aren't moving, you just know you don’t want to. No matter how much your mind tries to protest, your body betrays you.

“You what? You don’t have an answer because you know it’s true… I can feel you shaking, baby.” The hand that isn’t holding yours comes up to cup your face, his thumb running over your lips. Baby? Fuck. You shouldn’t love that as much as you do. But right now you feel like you’d do anything to hear him say it again.

“Fuck it.”

You thread your fingers into his hair, pulling his lips against your own into a harsh kiss. You hate to admit that you’ve thought about kissing him before. But in your mind it was always this aggressive anger fueled thing and even though you pulled him into the kiss intending to do just that, the minute your lips touched it became tender. His lips were so soft, and he somehow tasted so sweet, every single nerve in your body felt like it was lit up. You suddenly understood all those cheesy romance movies that talked about “fireworks” when the characters finally kiss. It was the kind of kiss they describe when they teach you about soulmate bounds in school. But Steve couldn’t be your soulmate, could he? There’s no way. You push the thought from your mind for now, letting your body melt into his kiss.

His tongue swipes over your bottom lip and the kiss quickly becomes heated, his hands coming down to grab your hips harshly and yours pulling at his hair. You both moan into the kiss, your bodies pressed closely together, your thighs clenched and his cock starts to harden in his already tight jeans. Your body feels like it’s on fire everywhere he’s touching, those fireworks continuing to go off under your skin. His leg slides between your thighs and you subconsciously grind down on it. Your body searching for any sort of friction.

“Fuck. Stock room. Now.” Steve pulls back from the kiss, his eyes are filled with lust and his breathing is heavy. He uses his grip on your hips to spin you around, pulling your back against his chest and placing a kiss on your neck. “You want that pretty girl? Want me to fuck you?”

You don’t respond with words, you just pull away from him and start walking towards the back, not even sparing him a glance.

As soon as the stockroom door is shut, Steve is on you, harshly grabbing your hips to pull you against him, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. This kiss is different from the first, it’s desperate, hungry. Your arms loop around his shoulders, your hands traveling to the hairs at the nape of his neck and pulling. He moans into the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, almost like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Fuck, Steve. I need you.”

You break the kiss, looking up at him with lust filled eyes. He turns you, pushing your back up against one of the shorter shelves. He pushes your vest off, one of his hands traveling up your cropped shirt, finding you braless just like he thought he would. He gropes your tit, tweaking your sensitive nipple before moving onto the other one. His lips attack your neck and you’re sure there will be a mark or two you'd have to explain to Robin when you saw her. But right now you didn’t care. You need him everywhere.

“Yeah? You need me now? I thought you couldn’t stand me?”

Steve looked at you with a devilish smirk, his unoccupied hand finding the slit in your skirt, grazing over your upper thigh before traveling behind you to grab a handful of your ass. He ruts against you and you can feel his hard cock through his jeans. You palm him, causing him to groan into your throat, his breath sending tingles down your spine.

“I still can’t stand you Harrington, but right now, I need you to fuck me like you hate me.” You grab him through his jeans, moving your hand up and down his shaft to the best of your ability with the burrier in the way.

“Shit. Fuck. Take this the fuck off then.”

His fingers hook in the waistband of your skirt, the velvet feels soft on his skin and for a fleeting moment he imagines how it might feel against his cheek while he laid in your lap, your fingers in his hair in a more gentle way. He pushes the thought from his mind, giving you a questioning glance, you nod and he immediately pushes your skirt down your hips. It pools around your boots on the floor. He kneels down to pull it from your feet entirely, tossing it to the side.

He takes a moment to admire you. Your ass pressed up against the shelf, your shirt is askew, hanging off your shoulder where you cut the collar to make it more low cut, the bright red lacy thong you’re wearing sits perfectly on your curves, and those god damn platform boots that drive him crazy. Your hairs a bit disheveled and your black painted lips are kiss swollen, some of your shiny black lipgloss smeared around your mouth. You’re so frustratingly beautiful, he just wants to eat you alive. You lean down to take your boots off but Steve stops you, grabbing your wrist to pull you back into a standing position.

“Keep them on” he practically growls at you, sending heat rushing through your whole body. Who would’ve thought King Steve would want to fuck a girl in giant goth boots? His large hands grab you roughly flipping you over so your hips are pressed up against the waist high shelf. He pushes your back down so you're bent over it. Leaving a harsh smack on your ass. “Look at this pretty little ass, bet your pussy is just as pretty, huh?”

His fingers run up your clothed slit, looping in the strings of your panties before pushing them down to your ankles. You hear him taking his shirt off and you peer over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his bare chest. You hadn’t seen him shirtless since highschool and he had definitely matured. His chest now covered in a patch of dark hair, his shoulders broader, his stomach is a little less toned since he doesn’t play sports anymore but it’s honestly sexier that way to you. A moan leaves your lips when his fingers return to your core, gathering up the wetness between your lips, he brings his slick fingers to your clit, circling it.

“Steeeveee, stop fucking teasing me and do som-“ you’re cut off by a harsh smack on your ass, causing you to jolt forward and moan.

“Quit with the fucking attitude or I’m not giving you shit, I’ll walk out of here right now.” Two more smacks land on your opposite ass cheek before two large fingers are being shoved knuckle deep into your pussy. You’re so wet they slide right in. He immediately finds your sweet spot, rubbing the pads of his fingers against it before thrusting his fingers in and out of you roughly. “You’re awfully wet for someone who can’t stand me baby, maybe you don’t like me, but your pussy does.”

“Fuck - fuck Steve, your fi - fingers are so fucking good.” Your eyes roll back, your hips pushing against his hand on their own accord. No one had ever gotten you so close to the edge this fast, but Steve was making you crumble in mere minutes, on just his thick fingers alone. His thumb comes down to rub quick circles on your clit and you think that’s it, you feel yourself about to fall over the edge when suddenly he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. “What the fuck! I was about to cum you asshole!!”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you? Only girls I like get to cum, unless they beg for it.” You hear his belt buckle clinking behind you, and god do you wish you could see his cock right now. It felt so big through his jeans and you know it has to be beautiful. Even though you can’t see it you feel him run his tip through your dripping folds. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll be begging before you know it. I know you’re gonna say some shit like ‘keep dreaming, Harrington’ but I don’t wanna hear it. I just wanna hear you beg for me.”

You’re prepared to give him a snide come back but it’s erased from your mind when you feel the head of his cock start to slide inside you. He pushes it in and out a few times and for a second you think he’s gonna go slow, you’re about to complain but you’re cut off by the moan that leaves your lips when he shoves his cock halfway inside you in one thrust. He’s big, but the stretch feels so fucking good and you’re so wet that he’s sliding so perfectly inside you. You want to feel all of him, you push your hips back so his cock slides fully inside you. He lets you bounce back against him a few times before he’s grabbing your hips, fucking into you at a brutal pace.

“Oh shit, Steve!” You moan loudly, your hands gripping onto the shelf for purchase as he thrusts into you over and over again. You’re sure your hips will be bruised, from not only the shelf digging into them but also the hard grasp he has on you. The thought of being marked up by him stirs something inside you that you try not to dwell on.

“This pussy feels so fucking good, you’re gripping me so good baby, so fucking tight. Like it was made for me.”

His hand comes up to grab onto your hair, pulling your head until your back is flushed against his chest. The new angle has him hitting deeper than before, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again. The hand not in your hair grabs onto your tits harshly, pulling and pinching your nipples as he continues his brutal pace. You’re a moaning mess, drool starting to drip down your chin, and you’re already so close to cumming it’s almost embarrassing.

“Fuuuuck oh my - oh my fucking godddd.” Your eyes roll back as Steve lets go of the grip on your hair, quickly grabbing you by the throat before you can fall forward. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing fast circles on it.

“You’re close already, huh? I can feel it, I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock. You wanna cum? Beg. Beg me to cum, or I’ll stop fucking you.” He growls in your ear, never letting up on his thrusts.

“No - I - I’m - fuck! Just let me cum, don’t be a fucking dick Steve!!” His pace slows, he shoves his cock deep inside you and then stops moving entirely. One hand is still around your throat and the other is pressing down on your clit but no longer moving.

“I said beg. I’ll pull out and jerk off right here in front of you. Now be a good girl and beg me to cum.”

“God fucking damn it. Steve! Fucking please? Please let me cum? Keep fucking me please? Just wanna cum on your big cock! I can’t take it anymore! Please make me cum!” You didn’t want it to come out that whiny, but once you started begging it was like you couldn’t stop. You need him to keep fucking you.

“Good fucking girl, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He releases his grip on your throat pushing on your back so your top half is flat against the shelf again. He grips your hips harshly as he resumes fucking into you harder and faster than before. “This is all you needed to ditch that attitude, huh? Needed to be fucked so good? Put in your place?”

“Yes - yeah - fuuuckkkk feels so fucking good I -“

His fingers find your clit again and that’s it for you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a flood. It racks through your entire body, making you see stars. The feeling of your walls tightening around his cock and the sounds you’re making as your high washes over you sends Steve over the edge too. He cums hard, his cock nestled deep inside you as he fills you.

“Shit. Fuck.” Steve pants, pulling out of you and stepping back a few inches so he can watch his cum drip from your pussy. “Wish I could keep you like this, all fucked out and dripping with my cum. Too cock drunk to give me an attitude.”

You feel his fingers caress your overly sensitive lips, gathering the cum that dripped out, he shoves his fingers inside you before leaning down to pull your panties back up your legs.

“Now you have to go home stuffed full of me, when you take your panties off you won’t be able to help but think of me.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it makes you roll your eyes. You turn around to face him, giving him a death glare. “Look at me like that all you want, I’m not going to forget you were begging me to cum less than five minutes ago.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” You roll your eyes again, but this time when you say it you laugh, and there’s a glimmer in your eyes that’s still teasing, but lighter. It gives Steve hope.

“Whaaateeever you say, baby.”

He smirks at you, sending you a wink before turning around to find his discarded shirt. You take a moment to admire his back. Broad and covered in moles that you want to connect with your fingers, maybe even your lips. His jeans fit so perfectly on his ass, and his shoulders… wait. You pause, your mouth dropping open as you catch sight of his shoulder. You almost think your mind is playing tricks on you, you wish it was. But there clear as day on his left upper shoulder are two simple red spider lilies. A mark that matches the one on your ribs exactly. Steve Harrington, King Steve, the bane of your existence… was your soulmate.

This could not be happening. No way. Absolutely not. You grab your skirt, pulling it on in a frenzy. Steve turns to look at you right as you are pulling up the zipper with a panicked look on your face.

“Hey, it’s okay, are you okay? I’m sorry for teasing you I-“

“I gotta go. I - uh - I just gotta go. I’m sorry.”

You can’t even think straight, you can’t be near him right now. You need to think and the smell of him and the way his hands feel on your forearms is clouding your thoughts and you just need to go. You spare him a sad glance before pulling your arms from his grasp. You grab your bag from under the counter and run out of the building towards your car. You slam the door closed once you’re inside, your breathing is labored and your mind feels like someone put it in a blender. You shove the keys in the ignition, regretting your decision to peak back at the building before pulling out. Steve was standing in the front window, a confused look on his face as he watched you pull away. He was beautiful, and frustrating, and he was your goddamn soulmate. Fuck.

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Okay so this is impossible not to request with Father Luc 🌟 but I would actually love to see a quick moment of Flora going to midnight mass despite being sick because she wants to see Father Luc in that robe and him noticing her fever because am I misremembering or does that blessing involve the priest touching people’s foreheads?? (I’m not catholic sorry lol) and this unspoken moment where he’s a little tripped up by it but there’s a line of people so he can only say it with a look, but then slightly later approaching her like hey I think you might have a fever 🥺

Title: Cheer My Wearied Spirit

Words: 1853

Note: Thank you for the request, my friend! I love the reversal here from the other Father Luc thing I just wrote. A lot of it felt similar to the previous father luc fic, but it was essentially the same setting (just different years) so I suppose that is to be expected. I am still planning to write the day 2 follow up to the original father luc fic! Over the holidays I will have quite a lot of down time and hope to do a lot of writing over those two weeks or so, and that follow up is top of the list 

It seemed she had just shut her eyes when the alarm telling her to start preparing for mass began to scream in her ear. Flora groaned as she reached out to shut it off. She didn't feel well. If anything she felt worse than she had before she fell asleep, which was obviously the opposite effect she had been hoping for. She nearly rolled over and went back to sleep. Since she was evidently going to be sick for Christmas, she was sure her parents would excuse her from midnight mass if she asked. 

However, the image of the hot, young priest who had recently been called to her parents' church flooded her mind. She hadn't been able to forget his beautiful smile in the intervening six months since she'd met him over the summer, and she'd be darned if she missed her chance to see it in person tonight. For one thing, she needed to confirm if he was really as handsome as she remembered. She had fruitlessly googled him and scoured the woefully out of date church website to no avail. She needed to see him again for herself.

Every joint ached and her head throbbed as she got out of bed and began to dress. As a precaution she also took her own temperature. She was desperate, but she wasn't stupid. If she had a high fever, then of course she couldn't go. However, the reading wasn't even over 100 degrees. The show would go on. She put on her best "I'm not sick" face for her parents when she emerged, and they didn't seem to suspect anything as they got their coats on and loaded into the car. 

The little church was packed when they arrived, and more people streamed in every second. The three of them were just barely able to squeeze into a pew while most of the other latecomers were relegated to folding chairs. They had hardly removed their coats when the organ began to belt out the opening chords to the first hymn. Everyone rose as one without being told, drew a collective breath, and began to sing their hearts out, with grinning and good cheer all around. 

However, Flora wasn't paying much attention to anyone except the man in the robe who had just taken his place at the front of the church. He, too, was grinning as he picked up a hymnal and began to sing along, his face rosy and fresh and his eyes perfectly set off by the royal blue of his stole. Corny as it was, the most fitting comparison that came to her mind in the candlelit room was that of an angel. 

"Damn," Flora sighed to herself. "He really is that beautiful."

The service was the same as it had been every year of her life. Usually she loved the comforting familiarity, but tonight there was a thrumming undertone that she couldn't quite place, except that it intensified whenever Father Luc looked her way. It would have been deliciously exciting if she hadn't been feeling so gross. 

Ten minutes into the service and she began to wonder if coming had been a mistake. She immediately began to overheat, squeezed between her parents as she was, and the air felt thick even in the sanctuary, with its soaring ceiling and dozens of windows. Her head was throbbing before the end of the first hymn, which she couldn't sing along with anyway since her throat felt as if she'd swallowed glass. While her eyes followed the priest's every move, her sluggish thoughts couldn't actually follow what he was saying. She swallowed yawn after yawn, and soon she found herself thinking about her bed more than anything else.

She was in such a fog by the end of the service that she didn't realize it was almost time for communion until Father Luc began to prepare the host. She shook herself out of her stupor as much as she could and readied herself to be inches away from the hot priest. 

She hadn't been to confession in months so she didn't plan to partake of communion (not to mention the idea of knowingly sharing a cup with the rest of the congregation while she was ill made her shudder), but she wasn't going to miss out on the chance to be blessed by him, so when her parents rose she did the same, and the three of them walked to the front when their turn came. 

She moved down the line, lulled into peace by the familiarity of the sacrament and the lovely piano piece being performed. She didn't realize it was her turn until she was shocked into awareness when Father Luc made eye contact with her, his eyes warm and bright. She wordlessly indicated that she did not wish to partake in the sacrament, mesmerized by his deep blue eyes. With a warm smile he laid his hand on her head and began to murmur a blessing, according to tradition. However, she was startled when the smile faltered as his skin made contact with hers, and for a moment she thought he was going to draw his hand back, blessedly cool as it was. He did not, but blessed her as usual, though his gaze probed hers and a strange expression tugged his eyebrows toward the center–was it worry, perhaps?

She was unable to discern the meaning of his behavior before she was pushed along by the queue behind her. She made her way back to her seat in a haze of confusion and sickness, clamping her lips shut against a cough as she sat back down. She didn't have much time to dwell on the strange interaction before the service drew to an end. A little more talking, a little more chanting, and then the introduction to "Silent Night" could be heard as the lights were dimmed and candles were handed down the rows and lit. Soon Father Luc was only visible from the chin up, the candle he held casting strange shadows on his face as he sang, yet Flora still couldn't keep her eyes off him. She wished she could talk to him–say something funny or witty or memorable, in the hope that she would stick in his mind just as he had stuck in hers. 

When the service ended, the congregation began to file out of the pews to meet the priest who greeted them as they exited the sanctuary as always. Once again Flora was electrified as she made eye contact with him, and he froze for a split second too. Her parents quickly drew his attention, seemingly not realizing what had transpired between them. They clasped his hand, thanked him for the service, and presented her for an introduction. 

"This is our daughter, Flora. She's home from nursing school for the holiday break," her mother said. "I think you met her once before over the summer."

"I believe you're right. It's a pleasure to see you again, Flora," he said, holding out his hand to shake. 

Flora mirrored the gesture breathlessly,  attempting a smile. "Same to you, Father," she said. 

Once again, the handsome smile flickered when they touched. This time his hand felt roastingly warm while she had started to shiver in the line to get out the door. 

He opened his mouth, hesitated for a split second, then seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say. "I hope you are well this evening," he said, his eyes probing hers again. 

She nodded and smiled as she was supposed to, then moved along so the next people could greet him. If only he knew, she thought to herself, that she was the opposite of well. And yet she thought he might suspect the state of her health. Why else would he look at her so closely? And use that particular phrase? 

Her parents were always some of the last people to leave any church service. This had been the case her entire life. Their families had been attending this church for generations, so they knew everyone here, and if they didn't know them then they made it their mission to get to know them. Usually Flora didn't mind, but tonight she certainly did. She hovered by the door closest to their car, holding the door for everyone else lucky enough to be leaving and mentally imploring her folks to hurry up just this once. 

However, her patience was rewarded in an unexpected way. Out of nowhere, Father Luc appeared and headed right for her as if he'd been searching for her. He had removed his robe and was wearing a royal blue sweater, the same color the stole had been, over a striped collared shirt and tie, looking very dashing indeed. Flora's heart fluttered as he drew near. 

"Flora, I was hoping I would catch you before you left," he said, stopping only inches away. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. This will probably sound strange, but when you were receiving the blessing, I thought your face seemed very warm. I think you might have a fever. I just wanted to let you know so you could check when you get home."

Flora flushed immediately, fever notwithstanding. "I think you're probably right. I wasn't feeling the best this evening, but I really wanted to make it to mass. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have come tonight."

"Oh no, that's not… it's a blessing to have you with us tonight and I wasn't trying to say otherwise. I just wanted to make sure you're taken care of. No one likes being sick on Christmas." 

She flushed even brighter. "Thank you, Father. I have everything I need back at my parents." 

"I'm glad," he said earnestly. "And while I am excited to gather with the congregation again for Christmas Day, under the circumstances I'll say that I hope I DON'T see you tomorrow!... Unless you make a miraculous recovery of course. And if the Lord chooses to work such a miracle, all the better! But… I guess you understand what I'm getting at," he stammered, his face red now as well. 

She giggled a tiny bit, his nervous rambling somehow cuter to her than anything else he could have said, and also serving to put her at ease. "I do. I promise I'll stay home tomorrow if I'm still sick. I appreciate you checking on me."

"Certainly, and I hope you feel better soon. Take care, Flora." He turned and walked away, both of them still red-faced.

He had hardly turned the corner when her parents emerged at last, and Flora avoided their eyes, lest they notice anything amiss. She ushered them through the door with pleas to head home to bed, not needing to exaggerate the fatigue she felt. She wouldn't tell them she was sick tonight. They would only fuss and blame themselves for bringing her out in the cold weather. There would be plenty of time to be fussed over through the rest of this holiday break. Instead, she let silence reign during the drive home, smiling to herself as she imagined his cool hand on her face over and over again. 

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Xuexiao Goes to the DMV

Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen go to the DMV (aka Where Hope Goes To Die) and share a kiss.

That’s it. That’s the fic.

Xuexiao - T (just for some cursing) - Read on AO3!

*

“If you hear about someone going berserk in a DMV on the news, that’ll be me,” the mechanical text-to-speech voice reads aloud, and Xiao Xingchen turns to Xue Yang questioningly.

Xue Yang reaches over and turns the volume down on Xingchen’s phone. “Meant to send that to A-Qing.”

“Are we going to be escorted out? Again?”

Xue Yang grins and looks around the room. They’ve already been at the DMV for over an hour. Dozens of people are draped limply over the hard orange seats, eyes glazed, going down for the third time in a sea of government bureaucracy.

“Ticket 4352, now being served at window thirty-three,” announces the robotic voice over the loudspeaker.

“It would take an alien invasion to wake these people up,” Xue Yang says as a man in overalls shuffles past. “You should see these people. This must be what a lobotomy post-op recovery room looks like.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like the world’s most incompetent deli, filled with zombie customers waiting to eat the brains of whatever the opposite of employee of the month is. Well, ‘brains.’ They work at the DMV, after all.”

Xiao Xingchen adjusts his sunglasses. “Let's not be mean.”

“And we can all hear you,” adds a woman on his left. “Not that it made much sense.”

Xue Yang makes a face at her and turns back to Xingchen. “If they make me come back a third time, I’m going to go postal. You know, going postal should be called ‘going DMV.’ It’s catchier, for one thing, and I’ve never so much as stepped foot in a post office—”

“I’m keeping you far away from post offices. Those poor people have suffered enough.”

“How so?”

“Well, there must be a reason they go postal, right?”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “If the post office has the same taste in music as the DMV, I don’t blame them. Who picked this station? If it’s not Justin Bieber it’s whoever inflicted ‘Kiss Me Through the Phone’ on the world. I’d like to do something to them through the phone, and it won’t be a kiss, I can tell you that much.”

Xiao Xingchen takes a Snickers bar out of the fanny pack Xue Yang has vainly begged him not to wear. “According to the television commercials, this will improve your mood.”

“My mood?” Xue Yang takes a bite. “If I have to hear ‘Baby’ one more time—”

“Ticket 9753, now being served at window fourteen.”

“ ‘Served.’ Ha. As if.”

Xiao Xingchen feels around for another Snickers bar but comes up empty. He should have planned this better. He’d sensed Xue Yang’s mood coming on last night as Xue Yang went through his documents. He’d been cheerful enough until he found his birth certificate in the bundle of papers he’d been given after leaving his last group home.

Then he’d grown strangely quiet, and wandered aimlessly around their apartment for an hour, carrying his phone around with him and switching between a half-dozen different YouTube videos before deciding to bake brownies at 1am and burning them when he got distracted playing video games. He wasn’t paying much attention to the video game, either, going by his cursing as he got repeatedly blown up by what Xingchen suspects was a twelve-year old somewhere in Japan, and eventually gave that up to go take apart their toaster in the interest of “fixing” it.

Now he sits beside Xingchen, jiggling his leg. Xiao Xingchen wants to ask him about his birth certificate, but he hadn't dared to last night, and doesn’t dare now.

“Ticket 9755, now being served at Window 26.”

“Weren’t you 9754?” he asks Xue Yang.

“Oh, crap—” Xue Yang jumps to his feet and rushes to Window 26, brushing past a mohawked man holding a ticket marked 9755. “I’m 9754.”

The woman behind the glass may as well have been carved from wood. “You missed your number.”

“There was no announcement!”

“Or your number isn’t working. It’s not showing up on my computer.”

“What the hell does that mean? I’m on the screen! Look!” Xue Yang jabs a finger at the screen above the booth. At the bottom of the list it reads Ticket 9754 – Window 26. “9754! Window 26! All you need to do is take my picture—”

“Get back in line. Get a new ticket. Window 13.”

“Get back in line?” He looks over at the line for Window 13. It wraps around the entire room. “I already have a number! I’m on the screen!”

“Back. In. Line.”

“Just take the damn photo—”

Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll get back in line.”

“Like hell we will! I’ve been here since 5 o’clock—I made an appointment! I even brought my own pen! You ever watch Monsters Inc.? You know Roz? Are you her evil older sister? Because you look exactly like—”

“Back of the line.”

“Younger sister, then. Happy?”

The woman doesn’t bother shrugging. “You’re blocking traffic.”

Xingchen begins to move, heading in the wrong direction. Xue Yang has no choice but to follow or else let him walk into a column plastered with posters emblazoned with, Make your visit easy - download the forms at dmv.gov! , Streamline your visit - make an appointment online today!, and We’re here to help!

“Let’s just go home,” says Xue Yang. “The gray, water stained walls are starting to close in. At any second I expect a giant ball to roll towards us. Well, wrong movie—whatever. I’m sick of this place. It’s cursed.”

“We’re just going to have to come back, and you’ll have wasted the hour we already spent here.”

Xue Yang groans and gets in line behind a woman with three small screaming children. “This whole thing is stupid. We can barely afford rent, let alone a car."

"We will, one day. Besides, it's good to have a license."

"We’ll just take trains and buses everywhere, or you can learn to drive. We'll fudge the vision test."

Xingchen laughs. Xue Yang relaxes slightly at the sound. After a moment, Xingchen slips his hand in his. He’s not one for public displays of affection, but there’s an edge in Xue Yang’s voice that has nothing to do with his return to Window 13.

Xue Yang’s hand tightens in his, and Xingchen rubs it reassuringly with his thumb.

“You again?” says the woman at Window 13 when they finally make it there, twenty minutes later.

“That power-mad dictator at Window 26 wouldn’t take my picture.”

The woman tilts her head at Xue Yang. “She wouldn’t?”

Xue Yang tilts his head back at her, as if to say, I know! Who wouldn’t want to photograph me ?

She smiles, a synthetic smile that reminds Xue Yang of his friend Lan Xichen’s dimpled little fiance. “Strange.”

“ ‘Strange’? I knew she could have just done it had she wanted to—”

The woman blinks at him, her smile growing faker by the minute. “I’m sure what she told you was accurate.”

“Sure, and there is no war in Ba-Sing-Se—”

Xiao Xingchen squeezes his hand, and Xue Yang stops talking and passes her his form. She stamps it a second time and hands him another ticket.

He and Xingchen return to the waiting area. Xue Yang puts his boots up on the seat next to him, resting his head on Xingchen’s shoulder.

“Describe the room to me again,” Xingchen says, trying to distract him from his brooding and, with any luck, keep him from taking out his Swiss army knife and carving his initials into the seat and get them kicked out again. Xue Yang has a talent for describing things, and Xingchen has been trying to encourage him to start writing.

Xue Yang begins to play with his long sleek ponytail. “Purgatory’s antechamber. Humanity’s lost-and-found. A void where time has no meaning. Pit of despair and industrial cleaner.”

Xingchen chuckles, making sure it’s loud enough for Xue Yang to hear.

“If their posters were honest, they’d all be in Comic Sans font, with things like, Where hope goes to die; This is your home now; Nothing escapes our pull, not even time; Human sacrifices while you wait—”

“Human sacrifices?”

"Yeah, I think so."

A crackle of static over the speaker as a new song comes on. “You know you love me, I know you care...Just shout whenever and I'll be there….”

Xue Yang starts up violently, but Xiao Xingchen gently pulls him back down beside him. “Some kind of cannibal conspiracy?” he asks, hoping Xue Yang’s knife has remained in his pocket and is not seconds away from being embedded in a blaring loudspeaker.

Xue Yang settles back against his shoulder. “I’m positive Overalls Guy never returned from Window 17. He’s probably in the office barbecue pit.”

“This must go all the way to the top. Shift supervisor too, I’d guess.”

“Baby, baby, baby oh….Like baby, baby, baby no….”

Xue Yang stops playing with his hair and starts picking at his black nail polish. He’s feeling a bit better, Xingchen’s shoulder warm and solid. “I swear that Roz lady put a curse on me. They all probably dance in a circle around a stack of burning Social Security cards every night, chanting.” He squirms, suddenly bored. “You got any more food? I’m starving.”

Xingchen rummages in his fanny pack. “Just a burned brownie.”

“I swear I set a timer!"

The timer had gone off while Xingchen was in the shower last night. Xue Yang had simply ignored it, too absorbed in trying to virtually blow up his twelve-year-old nemesis. He tends to ignore timers while cooking, usually followed by a mad rush to the kitchen to salvage dinner. “You know dinner is ready when the smoke detector goes off,” he likes to say.

Xue Yang sniffs the crumpled foil surrounding the charred black brownie chunk. “Is this the same foil I wrapped your tuna sandwich in yesterday?”

“We only have one earth!”

“Xingchen, I swear—” Xue Yang stops, rolling his eyes fondly. He’s never met anyone who can be so annoying and endearing at the same time.

Xingchen takes the brownie back. “I'll eat it. I like the burned bits.”

"It's all burned bits."

"Exactly. Perfect."

“She knows she's got me dazing, 'cause she was so amazin'....And now my heart is breakin', but I just keep on sayin'....”

“Who wrote this? I swear I won’t hurt them. I just want their address.”

Xingchen knows he shouldn’t laugh at that, but he can’t help it.

They sit there for another half hour, talking. Xue Yang has succeeded in denuding the nails of his left hand when his number is finally called. He gets his photo taken by a man with glazed eyes and no chin, and is shuffled off to the next waiting area.

“They refused to show me my photo,” he says as they settle back down. “I swear the camera stole my soul and is using it to power the fluorescent lights. I feel at peace now. Kind of floating.” He discovers a piece of gum in his jeans pocket and begins to loudly blow bubbles, making full eye contact with the annoyed Bluetooth Guy and irritated Woman With Facial Tattoo Of Bugs Bunny. “I am one with the DMV demigods, part of something larger than myself.”

“Like joining the army.”

“Or drowning in the ocean.” He lays down with his head in Xingchen’s lap, boots on the edge of Bluetooth Guy’s seat. “Why does your fanny pack smell like patchouli? Have you been burning weird hippie incense again? You promised you’d stop after you set fire to your curtains.”

Xingchen would rather Xue Yang didn’t semi-cuddle him in public, but Xue Yang’s energy is calmer when he’s touching Xingchen, and he lets him stay. “It’s that new candle you bought me, remember?”

“Right. Bought you.”

“What do you—”

“I thought it was peppermint.”

Xingchen bites his lip. Xue Yang is…well, he can read well enough to pass a driving test, but his education was…slipshod at best. Next on Xingchen’s list is encouraging Xue Yang to get his GED.

“You smell like a music festival,” says Xue Yang. “I must have grabbed the wrong one in the store. I sniffed all of them. My picture is probably hanging beside the register of every Bath & Body Works in town: ‘Beware the Candle Perv’—”

“At least someone was willing to take your picture.”

Xue Yang laughs. Xingchen rests a hand on his chest, heedless of the people around them. He likes how Xue Yang feels when he laughs, his whole body shaking, making no attempt to hide his feelings. Xue Yang makes him laugh so often, it’s a special joy for him to return the favor.

They’ve been there almost two and a half hours when Xue Yang’s number is finally called. As if the DMV curse is kicking in again, the loudspeakers creep up another few decibels.

“Like baby, baby, baby no, like baby, baby, baby oh, thought you'd always be mine, mine….”

“Xue Yang—” Xingchen starts before Xue Yang can say anything.

“I know, I know. This is penance for my putting that egg in Song Lan’s shoe last week. The DMV knows all. The DMV was here before us, and will be here after we are gone. The DMV—”

“—The DMV will make us wait in line again, if we don’t hurry.”

Together they go to Window 10, where a drab little man sifts through Xue Yang’s documents. “Fifties, balding, completely dead inside,” Xue Yang whispers to Xingchen.

“I’m thirty-nine,” says the man in a monotone, not looking up, “and you’re missing a birth certificate. And what’s this stain on your Social Security card?”

“Definitely not blood.”

The man stares at him with eyes that, had his life force not already been sucked out of Xue Yang by an afternoon at the DMV, would have done the job. “Current passport, or birth certificate.”

Xue Yang hesitates, then slips a folded piece of pink paper under the glass partition.

The man unfolds it with the sterling speed of a drugged snail and spreads it over the counter. He lines up Xue Yang’s Social Security card, bank statement, and birth certificate, and examines them line by line as if he’s a Bletchley Circle analyst and Xue Yang’s documents are intercepted enemy transmissions.

He looks up at Xue Yang. “Is this a valid birth certificate? There are no parent names listed, and the date of birth has an asterisk—”

“I know what it has!”

“What’s your date of birth?” The man slowly pushes his chair back. “I’m going to have to get a supervisor—”

Xue Yang slams the counter. Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. It’s a miracle Xue Yang’s knife isn’t out. “Don’t you fucking dare! This is what they do when—just Google it, okay? I don’t know what day I was born, they just put whatever date they thought was accurate—”

Xingchen swallows hard.

He had known Xue Yang had grown up in foster care, but had assumed he had been given up by his parents as a child when they could no longer take care of him.

Not—not abandoned as an infant—

“And change the fucking station!” Xue Yang adds. “If I have to hear that stupid fucking song one more time I will go fucking berserk —”

The man’s dead-eyed stare intensifies. “Sign here,” he says after a moment, pushing a slip of paper at Xue Yang.

“You want my love, you want my heart….And we will never, ever, ever be apart…”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Xingchen asks as they step outside. The words sound hollow, and he wishes he had simply remained silent.

Xue Yang takes a deep breath. It’s almost cool out, a welcome change from the week’s heat. “Well, we escaped. Now we just have to get help for the others. Or do we abandon them to their fates? I vote we abandon them. You should have seen some of the looks I got. It’s like they never saw someone threaten a DMV employee before, something I’m willing to bet happens a dozen times an hour.”

Xingchen takes his arm as he begins to walk. It’s easier than using his stick in the crowded city. “Xue Yang…”

Xue Yang’s muscles tense beneath his arm. “What?”

“Nothing.” He bites his lip. He’ll have Xue Yang feeling better soon enough. “What street are we on? Turn in on 33rd.”

“What’s on 33rd?”

“Just let me know when we’re there. 33rd and 7th.”

“The train’s on 36th.”

“But the restaurant’s on 33rd.”

“The what?”

Xingchen wants to smile, but is afraid Xue Yang might take it the wrong way after what happened at the DMV. For someone who does his best to project an I-don’t-care attitude, Xue Yang is surprisingly sensitive.

“What’s today’s date?” He already knows the date, of course. It’s been on his mind for weeks now.

Xue Yang’s arm grows even stiffer. “Is this a ‘you-don’t-know-when-your-birthday-is-so-every-day-is-your-birthday’ thing? Because—”

“Not at all… Remember the day we met? You made fun of my shirt—”

Xue Yang frowns at this sudden change of subject, but goes along with it. Better than talking about that damn birth certificate. “It was white, and ruffled. You looked like an escapee from a high school production of Hamlet. What was I supposed to do?”

“You crashed a motorcycle not three feet from me. An unregistered motorcycle with stolen plates.”

"I bought you coffee to make up for it, didn’t I?”

“You had them put four sugars in my cappuccino. It was undrinkable.”

“One was a Splenda, and anyway I took you to dinner to make up for the coffee, didn’t I?”

“Pizza at one of those dollar-a-slice places you have to stand at a counter to eat. I paid for it.”

“And I paid for your kombucha, whatever the heck that is.”

“And I paid for the band-aids we had to go buy after you cut yourself after playing catch with your knife.”

“You were distracting me!”

“I was quietly eating my pizza.”

“The light reflecting off your shirt ruffles got in my eyes.”

“Four dollars for the band-aids. You insisted on Hello Kitty.”

“Spongebob was also on the table." He wrinkles his nose. "I've got about three-fifty in my pocket, if you want it. But what’s your point, exactly?'

Xingchen smiles. He enjoys winding up Xue Yang, and it’s by far the most effective way to distract him when he’s in a dark mood. “Just that you better not put extra sugar in the fondue.”

“The what?”

“A-Qing read me the dessert menu. Chocolate fondue with bananas, blueberries, pineapple, and cherries. Strawberries, too, I think, and marshmallows, maybe even non-charred brownies—”

Xue Yang stops walking. “Xingchen—”

Xingchen lets go of Xue Yang’s arm, takes his hand instead. Kisses him soundly, right there on Sixth Avenue.

“Forget your birthday," he says. "We have a new date to celebrate every year." He gives Xue Yang's hand a little squeeze and kisses him again. “Happy anniversary, Xue Yang.”

*

Liked it? AO3 👉👈

Ruffle shirt reference

Obviously, Xue Yang was simply distracted by how pretty Xingchen was.

[spencerreidslove]

Puppy Love

A/N: First of all, I stared at this gif for way too long. Second, I mostly wrote this fic because I have 2 border collies named Jinx and Luna and I love them more than the world and they deserve recognition. This fic works better with one dog though, so I kinda combined them.

————

It was almost like a movie, the way you and Spencer met.

You were taking your dog, Luna to the park for her daily walk. Suddenly a squirrel jumped out in front of her, and she ended up dragging you halfway across the park, trying to chase it.

As you struggled to get Luna to slow down, she ended up knocking into a lanky man, causing him to fall into you.

“I am so sorry!” The man said, sitting up to get off you as fast as possible.

“No, it’s my fault. Well, it’s Luna’s fault.” You said. You pulled her leash so she was right in front of you. “Bad dog Luna!” You said.

Luna put her ears down and put her head up against your chest, her way of hugging you. You sighed and began petting her.

“Sorry about that.” You said. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, how about you?” The man asked.

“A scratch or two, but I’ll be alright.”

You reached forward to grab the book that the man had dropped when he fell. “Murder on the Orinet Express?” You asked.

“Yeah, it’s one of my friends favorites. I never read it before so I thought I’d give it a try.” The man said.

“I prefer And Then There Were None, but this one’s good too.” You said, handing him his book. He smiled and offered his hand to help you up from where you were still on the ground.

He accepted his hand, and while you handed him back his book, Luna began sniffing his legs. “Again, I’m sorry about her.” You said, tugging on her leash a little bit, trying to get her away from him.

“It’s alright. I’m Spencer by the way.” He said.

“Y/N.” You said. “You’ve already met Luna.”

As if she knew she was being talked about, Luna sat down and then let out one bark.

Spencer looked at her and then back up at you and smiled.

-

And that’s how it began. After that day you started seeing Spencer more and more at the park, and then eventually you asked him out.

That was four months ago.

You two were currently in the park, throwing the ball for Luna to chase and catch.

“Y/N.” Spencer said.

“Yeah?” You asked, picking up the ball and throwing it.

“I don’t think Luna likes me very much.” He said.

“What makes you say that?” You asked.

“Whenever I’m at your house she stays far away from me and always runs when I try to pet her.”

Spencer’s cute little pouting face made you laugh. Before you could answer, Luna came running back with the ball. “Luna, give the ball to Spencer!” You said, trying to show him that she didn’t hate him.

Instead of dropping the ball, she went to the side of Spencer and began to poop. “Or crap right next to him, that works too.” You said.

“See! She hates me!” Spencer said.

“Luna does not hate you, it’s just because you’re new. Soon she’ll warm up to you.”

-

From Spencer’s point of view, Luna was not warming up to him at all.

There was one night where he was spending the night at your house and he got up to go to the bathroom. When he came back to the bedroom, Luna was laying on his side of the bed, stretched out so he couldn’t lay back down.

“Get off!” Spencer whispered, as not to wake you. Luna lifted her head, looked at him for a moment and then went back to sleep. Spencer spent that night on the couch.

There was the time where Spencer went out with you and Luna to a dog park that was a little ways out of town and Luna immediately climbed into the front seat of the car. “Sorry, Spence, you’ll have to take the back.” You said, laughing.

Things were not going well.

-

“You and me are going to like each other.” Spencer said to Luna one day.

“Are you telling Luna she has to like you?” You asked, coming out of the bathroom.

“Yes, nothing else is working.”

You sat down on the floor and Luna immediately trotted over to you, tail wagging. “Listen, Luna, you’re going to have to like Spencer because he’s going to be here for a long time. I know it’s just been us, and he’s a boy, but he’s really nice. I promise.”

-

There wasn’t any progress in Luna and Spencer’s relationship until a week later. Somehow, you had convinced Spencer to come hiking with you and Luna.

You took a break at one point and sat down on some rocks. Luna sat in between you two for a moment before setting her head on Spencer’s leg.

Spencer looked up and you and then down at Luna. He carefully placed his hand on her head and began to pet her.

“Right there behind the ears.” You said, telling Spencer where Luna liked to be pet. Luna’s tail started wagging.

“I told you she’d like you!” You said.

Spencer smiled. “Guess this means I have stick around, huh?”

“Luna’ll make sure of it.”

Tags! (Open)

@rexorangecouny @magnificentmgg @just-damn-bored @rachelxwayne @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @andreasworldisboring101

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show’s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

[catboyyukineapologist]

welp, this one’s a bit later than the last one but it’s that time of the month again! no, not your period. (although noragami hurts about the same...)

dim rambling under the cut~

---

Trash dad lost an eye! He got stabbed in the shoulder! Time to break out the champagne!

EBI AND TAKE CRIME SOLVING POWER DUO I LOVE THEM

Those two probably have my favorite dynamic out of the entire manga. It’s in the top three at least.

And now, a segment I like to call “Uncle Take Gets Ruthlessly Bullied By A Child“.

Take singing my beloved. TAKE SINGING MY BELOVED.

“I’m gonna be so damn dim” I LOVE HIM

That said, “Seemingly cryptic text is meant to be taken literally” is my FAVORITE DEVICE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, like “no I’m sure there’s a deeper spiritual meaning to this, something to do with the subtlety of the soul, or the musicality of the gods’ dance upon the line between the shores, maybe-” “what if we just fuckin uhhh do what it says on the paper”

DAD KIUN DAD KIUN DAD KIUN I KNOW A LOT OF PEOPLE SHIP TAKE AND KIUN BUT DAD KIUN AND TINY TAKE

Alright who had “Trash Dad Buried in a Magically Hidden Island Shaped Like a Giant Tooth” for July?

So trash dad is going to die, now it’s just a matter of who gets there first, I guess. Would he respawn if Yato kills him? would he possess a different body like he did with Fujisaki? can his soul be killed  by any means other than desecrating his weird tooth grave?

Is the netting tangling around Amaterasu Yukine’s righteous net? please tell me the netting tangling around Amaterasu is Yukine’s righteous net.

OK HOLD ON OOKUNINUSHI IS PART OF THE SORCERER TASK FORCE??? HE’S ON THE INSIDE INDSIDE

FERAL YATO IS BACK AND I AM EQUALLY SCARED OF AND ATTRACTED TO THIS MAN (which sounds like something Hiyori would say)

I’m sorry but whenever I see “and this is the thanks I get?” all i can think of is that one vine-

“I’ll kill you, you ungrateful brat!“ good luck with that with no depth perception, my guy.

Because we all know Adachitoka wouldn’t kill off their main character, right?

...right?

......guys?

Please fuck let Yato be okay emotionally after this (he’s not and won't be anytime soon, who am I kidding)

“In anger sometimes we forget that which we should not” Well, now I’m scared.

(shameless plug incoming) ...is this an appropriate place to plug my own fic? anyway if you’re somehow short on Yato angst and want another healthy helping of his daddy issues, and you don’t mind OCs too much (they’re fun assholes I promise), you can always read this one-shot fic i wrote like a year ago, (it has Sekki in it, can you imagine?), featuring Yato going off the fucking rails and projecting a little too much.

And as always, here’s your monthly reminder that trash dad is dead. trash dad remains dead. and Yato has killed him.

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

TINSITOGS, a retrospective (happy birthday)

(yes I’m like two days too late I know I’m sorry) 

Why hello followers and ass class fandom, nice to see you there. I’m sure MOST people know about this, but in case you don’t, hi. On AO3 I’m better known as livixbobbiex, writer of maybe one of the most infamous Assassination Classroom fics. 

Which I mean like, if you haven’t read it yet you totally should it’s fanlore at this point I promise- 

Shameless plug that I don’t need aside, I felt that, on its first birthday since actual completion, I just wanted to share some things about it. Some tit bits about writing it, fun facts, maybe even some author advice TM. I appreciate that it’ll be super annoying if I do that in the tags, though, so that’ll all be under the cut. If you don’t want to read the whole post, then no matter what, thanks for the support in general! 

I also want to take the opportunity to announce that I’ve reopened my discord, so if you want to talk about my fics with me (and others), you’re more than welcome to join! (the link is here) 

The origin story 

I’ve stated this many times, I think, but TINSITOGS was never supposed to be a serious story. Taking you back, quite a long time, it actually started in a facebook DM with a friend. We used to come up with “head canons” with each other, which were basically just very condensed fanfiction plots over a multitude of text messages. I believe I was trying to cheer her up, and I tried to come up with some kind of plot line. 

At the time, I was fairly fresh to the Ass Class fandom, and I was joking about how there were no teen pregnancy melodrama fanfictions. It wasn’t that I wanted one, I just thought it was strange for a school centric anime with a bunch of ships to NOT have one. And, back then, I only really cared about karmagisa. So I just decided ‘right it’s happening’. The reason I decided to make it ABO was due to ‘it making sense’. Fun fact: it was almost written as AFAB trans Nagisa, but I decided against it as I didn’t rate my ability to handle it well back then. Looking back on it, I’m glad I made that decision. 

Over around two months, writing out the plot of this story took over my life a little bit. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I was having so much fun with the drama that I decided that Karma and Nagisa shouldn’t get together soon at all, and I had a lot of fun teasing my friend with the ‘will they won’t they’. It was only when I got bored that I invented this intense drama plotline to finish it all off. 

That period of time was a lot of fun. And whilst that friendship didn’t end well, I still have a lot to thank her for. She chose Daichi’s name because I had no idea, and she wanted to annoy me because I didn’t like Haikyuu. When I couldn’t decide on his hair colour, the purple was her suggestion because ‘why logic?’ Daichi speaking Korean was because of how much she liked Kpop. She even helped me choose the title of the actual fic, so there’s a lot you can thank her for, honestly. 

After I finished that story, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I daydreamed, I used to think about that damn Daichi Akabane, and how much I wanted to tell his story. I’d even come up with extra stuff to fill in a lot of the gaps, and developed his character in my mind. I decided that I was really desperate to write it down. Usually that worked when I had an idea I wanted to work through. 

I wrote the first chapter in late 2017, and then the next two as well. I just, kept going, and realised that I could go further still. TINSITOGS was never something that was supposed to be shared, but I decided I may as well. After all, that fated ‘teen pregnancy drama’ fic still didn’t exist, and I thought it would be funny to make it happen. 

Yes, as I’ve stated publicly a few times, TINSITOGS was a crack fic. If I wanted attention from it, it was infamy. We even joked about me cursing the fandom if it ever became the most popular fic (whoops?). What I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of people, in a fandom where at the time there were NO ongoing karmagisa fics and it was pretty dead, to really seem to enjoy it. It was enough to have me keep writing it, at least. I still don’t know at what point I actually started taking it seriously, but somehow I did, and the rest is history? 

The reception 

In my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would be the author of one of the most popular fics in the fandom. To this day, the amount of views TINSITOGS has is insanity to me. For the record, across all platforms it’s on today it has 238,000, which is literally a number I can’t even visualise anymore. Almost quarter of a MILLION. To this day on AO3, it’s the most viewed Ass Class fic that’s an ACTUAL ass class fic (the others are multi fandom compilations). So yeah, I achieved the original goal, I guess? 

Now you might be wondering, “omg the karmagisa fandom is fujoshi trash”. And, considering the origins, it is kind of funny. The thing is, though, TINSITOGS was written at incredibly good time. It was written when there were, essentially, very few long form Karma/Nagisa stories. If any other fics did get posted on occasion, they were usually just oneshots. I was also, at that point, writing very fast. A symptom of ADHD is becoming obsessively productive over certain things. Since I was able to get a 3k chapter out every few days/once a week, TINSITOGS was consistently bumped to the top of AO3′s default view. And some of those first few chapters were altered canon, and transcribing the canon dialogue didn’t take very long. The more views it got, the more people would read it out of sheer curiosity. 

I think it also helps that, at least after it started getting some positive feedback (which was honestly after the pre written chapters), I purposely tried to make it ‘not terrible’. I mean, I personally think the first chapter is pretty weak and if it wasn’t somewhat iconic to a lot of people I’d rewrite it. But in general, I purposely tried to make the world of ABO my own, to make it more accessible to those who don’t like that genre, and stay away from the inherently grosser stuff as much as possible. I genuinely do get comments about how I introduced people to the genre as a whole, still not sure if that’s a GOOD thing but hey, it happened. 

TINSITOGS turned into a lot more than just a joke. It turned into my favourite hobby. It turned into a research project (honestly, you would not believe the amount of mummy vlogs and legit scientific articles about child development I consumed). It turned into something that, at least I believe, was widely loved. 

Meaning 

I think it might be wrong to say that I don’t have AN idea of when I started to take the fic super seriously. For me, it was around the time someone commented something along the lines of saying my writing meant a lot to them, that they’d spent all night reading it and had been unable to put it down. 

Not to get too dark here, but I do have a past in writing a very long, somewhat popular fic (it’s still on my fanfic net profile if anyone’s interested, but I don’t recommend it). However, in the latter part of my teenage years, the depression struck. Writing was the love of my life, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Maybe I’d be able to muster an idea or even a chapter at the best points of that, but I’d never completely finished any story. Starting to write again was a huge step in my recovery, and one of the reasons I convinced myself that life was worth it was being able to impact someone’s life somehow. Even to this day, I still remember the fics I read when I was, like, thirteen. How much I still remember them, and how much they meant to be at the time. I wanted to be that writer for someone else. To be honest, it was actually Yuri!!! On Ice that got me out of the super bad, but I still never wrote anything of real consequence. TINSITOGS was the first time in a long time I actually committed to something. 

And, to be completely honest, there were a lot of times I was tired of it, and wanted to just quit. But, the thing was, I felt like people depended on me in a way. I got so many comments that were just FILLED with support, telling me how much they looked forward to every update. It wasn’t just empty words, either, a lot of the times these comments would be super engaged with the actual writing. I can’t even describe just how much they meant to me, how much I would look forward to reading everyone’s opinions. And then discord happened, which was a lot of fun. 

TINSITOGS went a lot further than I ever thought it would. There were comments, discussions, fan art, fan FIC (which is honestly incredible to me). Someone even added it to TV Tropes, at one point. Not to mention the Cards Against Humanity deck and quiz It makes me so unbelievably happy that I could inspire that much creativity, but it’s a two way street. It was all of that which inspired me to write, too. 

Writing 

The only real goal I actually had was aiming for around 3000 words per chapter. I had a whole facebook log of plot points as planning, and I was mostly just trying to expand on them into prose. I honestly thought that, at its completion, the entire fic would be around 100k words, if that. Not, at one point, being literally the longest ass class fic on AO3. 

There are a lot of aspects that were directly adapted from the original messages, and I tried to stay faithful to it more so at first, even if I later removed some of the pure crack. But the style was also vaguely similar, with the story being told mostly from Nagisa’s perspective with swaps to Karma when it made sense. All the main plot beats, too, are pretty much identical. The plus to this was I was able to add a lot of really fun foreshadowing, and I feel like it’s a fun reread because of it. 

Honestly though, if there’s a demand to release those OG message logs, I will. Mostly because it’s kind of funny, and interesting to see. Isogai and Nagisa were engaged at one point, even. 

Obviously, it changed somewhat. 3000 was the minimum length, and the time to completion was whenever it felt right. One of my big concerns was about pacing, so it took a lot more fleshing out and maybe ‘filler’ content for some of the main arcs to work. 

There’s parts of TINSITOGS I don’t think aren’t written that well, and some that I’m still super proud of. I think you can definitely tell there’s a gradual shift in style, and I get a lot more comfortable with writing them as characters as it goes along. To be honest, my pride for the fic overall is what it represents. 

It is funny to think about the places it got written in, though. I started it when I worked at McDonalds with no life direction, then it went through my first year of university with me. It’s been written in at least four countries. Aeroplanes, night clubs, long haul buses, a train through the Japanese southern coastline. Even the start of covid. TINSITOGS managed to see a lot. I even turned a scene in (the boat scene during the India chapter with altered names) to my university as a legitimate assignment. 

There were also a few messages I wanted to achieve, once I realised I had the platform to put them across. One of them was, obviously, ‘use protection kids’. It was important to me that I didn’t glamorise it too much, and I think that came across. I also wanted to dispute some of the issues with ABO, and subvert the consent issues as much as I could. An arc I really ‘liked’ writing was how abuse doesn’t always look the same way, and that it can be a drawn out change in behaviour. How the most important part of ‘being a good parent’ isn’t perfection, but genuinely loving and doing the best you can for your kid. How love doesn’t solve everything, and effective communication can take a very long time to learn and build a functional relationship. I mean, there definitely was a lot I tried to put in, and you’re free to interpret it all how you want. But, I like to think some people learnt some of these things, at least. 

Daichi 

Honestly, Daichi developed almost of his own free will. I had a good idea of his appearance, and that he was smart. Writing him from birth until around nine years old (older if you read the sequel fic) pretty much allowed that fluidity. It was really fun to explore a nature vs nurture development, and let his own characteristics speak for themselves. 

He’ll always have a special place in my heart. 

This is the first image I ever made. When I was trying to figure out what Daichi looked like, I honestly just edited Karma’s hair (pretty well, actually? I’m impressed with my past skill). That’s where the ‘he looks just like Karma’ meme kind of came from. 

This was the first image I actually created of Daichi. I THINK it was on rinmaru games mega anime creator or something, but it’s literally not available on the internet anymore as far as I can tell, so I can’t double check. This was in the pre-piccrew days. His eyes are closed because they didn’t have the right tone of goldish/silver.  

His sister, Kaguya, didn’t even exist originally, even though I decided on that ending pretty early on. Actually, she was going to be called ‘Irina’ due to some hijinks. Initially, when Karma found out about Irina’s pregnancy, she was going to get super emotional and mad at him and basically force him to name his first born daughter after her. Karma agreed to shut her up, never intending to have another child, so when the surprise second child later came along they had to live with the pain. However, to be honest I just forgot to write in the actual scene that set it all up, and I decided against adding it anywhere else. The name Kaguya was a very last minute decision, and it was a chance for me to explore some ideas that didn’t fit with Daichi’s character. 

Interestingly too, Daichi and Nao were never intended to be a thing. I only decided that towards the VERY end. Even though the reason I named Nao that was because of a ship I had in a J Drama (Good Morning Call). It just kind of ended up happening because I won myself over with imagining the cute. 

The music 

I used to write with a lot of background music, though not all the time. Particularly towards the start, there was a lot that didn’t really make sense thematically, yet I would write to a lot. 

Here’s a link to the spotify playlist if you want it it’s basically all the ones I noted I’d listened to a lot. Not including the smut ones, though, I have a whole playlist for that. 

Some of the notable ones: 

Five String Serenade - the first scene I wrote of the entire fic, in Chapter 25 New Year Time where they fell asleep cuddling. 

Cosmic Love - when I wrote Nagisa’s love confession scene in hospital (I also wrote this pretty early on) 

Northern Downpour (though it was actually a cover by Emma Blackery) - The chapter after Daichi’s born (30) 

When The Party’s Over -  Confession Time Third Period, Chapter 69. I literally listened to this song on REPEAT when I planned and wrote the kind of ‘break up’ scene, and it’s one of the few parts that made me cry writing. 

Turning Page - I know I said no smut, but this song actually gave me the idea to have the “I love you” in chapter 108 be less on a whim and actually more built up. In the original plan, Karma really did just say it without thinking. I’m glad I changed that.  

Bury Me Low and Numb - pretty much all I listened to when writing the last few chapters, because Evil Nagisa core. So much so that Bury Me Low was in my top 2020 songs rewind. 

As for the title, there’s actually quite a funny story. I had no idea what to call the fic, and when that happens I usually just try and find some song lyrics. I really wanted to use something from ‘October’ by the Broken Bells. Not only because it’s my favourite song (has been for years), but thematically it really worked. The issue was, it worked as the WHOLE song, there were no individual lyrics that captured everything. And, if they did, they didn’t flow very well. And naming the fic ‘October’ would have been weird for a lot of reasons. There Is No Sweeter Innocence That Our Gentle Sin really was just plucked randomly, in a desperate search to find any snappy lyrics from any song that had some kind of meaning. After a bit of discussion, we settled that it kind of worked... if Daichi is innocent and they committed a sin or something. It also wasn’t the most obvious lyric from the song (Take Me To Church if anyone doesn’t know) so I just went with it. It works out, I think, because TINSITOGS turned out to be a pretty good acronym and pronounceable word in its own right. 

The merch  redbubble drama 

It’s a well known fact that I’m not very good at art. However, I decided to try pixel art because it seemed the easiest to not mess up. I made Karma and Nagisa, before deciding to also give Daichi a try. 

This, to this day, is the only good quality art of Daichi that I actually own. The only one I’m actually happy sharing and thinking it doesn’t look terrible. As much as I love people sending me fanart, it’s not ‘my property’, right. 

So, I was kind of joking about TINSITOGS having merchandise. At first I just made two funny quote things, and uploaded it to redbubble. I was never intending to actually make money from this, and I’d agreed to myself that if I did, I would just donate it to charity. I was joking with the quotes, but since I had this artwork I figured I may as well uploaded. Separately, there was also an image that had pixel Daichi next to pixel Nagisa and Karma (which I also created). 

Aside from showing up in a few people’s adverts across the internet, there was no real harm with this. In fact, I didn’t make money anyway. It was just... more the joke of it existing. I did, however, buy myself a Daichi phone case, which is one of my favourite possessions. 

The funny ‘drama’ comes in when they got taken down due to copywrite. Sure, the one with Nagisa and Karma, I understand. But the other three literally had no mention or anything to do with Assassination Classroom, aside from being from a fanfiction. So basically, someone who owns those rights claimed my OC as theirs. Which makes Daichi canon? Whatever the case, I found this hilarious don’t worry. 

How has TINSITOGS changed my life? 

This is quite a strange thing to think about. Because, in a lot of ways, it really hasn’t. As I’m sure a lot of people know, I don’t really consider myself to have any real ‘fame’, despite the impressive numbers. Whenever I tell people in my personal life, they seem to think I’m some sort of internet celebrity, but that’s never been the case for me. I mean, it’s hardly a cultural phenomenon. 

In a lot of ways, I’d much rather befriend someone than have them admire me. Possibly because being someone’s inspiration is kind of weird... I’m just an awkward duck who likes to write after all. I don’t mind it, though. I genuinely find it an honour, even if I don’t necessarily agree. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone ever wants to talk or message me, you’re more than free to do so. I’m usually super casual with people who do that, I promise. 

TINSITOGS was the first story I ever finished in the way I truly wanted to. Start to end, a full narrative. And it took a LOT. There were so many times I almost felt like quitting, or took super long breaks. For me, ADHD queen, actually finishing something was a huge deal. And I know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t owe it to everyone who read it, and myself, to see it through. You know like, if I were to die tomorrow, at least I’ve left something behind. 

In a lot of ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s helped me develop my writing styles, and way of thinking. It encouraged me to become more active in the fandom, and develop some important friendships. I always feel like my Tumblr and Fanfiction ‘known’ factor is separate. I think most of my Tumblr following is more to do with my theories/Japanese context research if anything, for example, but I know I wouldn’t be so interested in that if TINSITOGS hadn’t lead me to deeply examine character and really look into analysing source material for clues. I also think there’s just... a lot of myself in it. 

I was 17 years old, when I first came up with the idea. I finished the story when I was 20. Now, at the time of writing, I’m 21. That time has seen some pretty significant changes - just in general life facts and my own personal human development. For me at least, a lot of that was pretty turbulent, and TINSITOGS stands as a time capsule for that, in a way. 

I know I gained a lot of confidence, and it affirmed to me that writing is what I love. Telling stories and sharing them is what I love. 

Conclusion

Do I think TINSITOGS is an outstanding piece of writing, or the best fic ever? No. I really don’t. It’s strange to say because I definitely spent a lot of time on it, but it’s not like I put my full unbridled efforts into the story. I don’t fully plan, use a beta, or even read through on my own. And that’s okay - that’s not what I write fanfiction for. Fanfiction is my place to have fun with characters and stories I like, without the pressures of having to stand on my own complete originality. Yes, I’m fully confident that I can write at a “higher quality”, if I really wanted to. I’m also aware that some authors put their full effort into their fics, and that’s just as valid! 

It feels odd to say this about my own writing, but I honestly think there’s just something in this story. It might not be written in the best prose ever, and the premise might be kind of dumb for a lot of people. But, I think, there’s some part of this fic that managed to grab people. Somehow, at some point, many readers get captured into the emotions and so drawn in that ‘they just have to finish it now!’ Again, I’m not sure myself how I actually achieved that. Of course, that won’t apply to everyone, but I do feel there’s some truth in it. And it makes me happy, to have caused that. 

If TINSITOGS is your favourite fic, or if you genuinely think it’s the best story you’ve read, then thank you. I really appreciate your support, and I’m happy to have been a part of your life, I guess. I know how much fanfics can mean to a person, and that’s why I’m not going to take it down, or edit it at all. And it’s fine too, if you loved the fic for a while and moved on -i t happens. Whatever the case, I’m very honoured to have been able to occupy a moment of your life. Or if you find this fic in 10 years time, even, I still wholly appreciate you. 

This story was incredibly important to me, and thank you for reading if it was ever important to you too. 

You may ask, what now? Well, this is only intended to be a detailed look back for whoever’s interested, and it’s likely the only one I’ll actually do, a year after completion. Of course, if you ever want to ask me anything or just discuss the story, you’re honestly good to contact me in whatever way I have available. 

I’m still writing my ongoing stories, of course, despite taking a small break due to the university work load. I fully intend to complete the stories I’ve already started to tell, at least. After that... I’m not sure if I’ll still write fanfiction. Don’t panic, this isn’t a ‘I’m quitting writing’ thing. I may, however, have bled the Karmagisa genre a bit too dry at that point. Who knows? I am pretty interested in writing something original for once, so maybe that’ll work out. 

For now, at least, thank you to anyone who read this fic. To anyone who commented, liked, or interacted with me over it. To anyone who created or learnt from it. I’m really glad that I got to share this story with you all, and ultimately left some kind of mark, no matter how big or small. 

Happy birthday, TINSITOGS. I had a lot of fun writing you. 

[transientwordsmith]

The Swear Jar

Ok so I wrote some fanfic for yall :) its MCU fanfic, in an AU (idk which just go with it my dudes). I hope yall like it :D Here is a link to the fic on AO3. Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov | Word Count: ~1900

This story begins on one fine Sunday when Mr. Steve Rogers purchased a rather large jar. He bought a package of labels and a large sharpie as well. When he got back to the Avengers Tower, he took a label, wrote “SWEAR JAR” on it, and stuck it to the side of the jar. Then, he put it on a side table for everyone to see.

“Rogers, what the fuck is that?” Tony had asked when he saw it.

“A swear jar,” Steve explained simply. “Which you should put a dollar in, by the way.” Tony sighed dramatically. He then took out his wallet, removed a single, and leaned over Steve to get to the Swear Jar.

“Fine. Here you go. One dollar.” Tony said.

Now, whenever a resident of the Avengers Tower heard the call of “Language!” from Steve, a few moments later they also heard the clink of the glass jar. Peter Parker, who was a spectator of these rather funny events, noted that Clint and Tony were the ones called out most often.

But, alas, most adults do swear, and everyone eventually put at least a dollar in the Swear Jar. Even Peter had added a dollar or two to the Jar. But it was truly self-imposed. He hardly ever swore around adults, and if he did, it was a “Damn!” or the occasional “Shit!” that had slipped out by accident. But, since the appearance of the Swear Jar, that hardly happened anymore.

This went on for about a month before The Incident, as Peter called it.

Peter had been working in the lab with Tony. They were working on their own projects but they enjoyed each other’s company, so they worked in the same lab. They had been working for a while when Tony leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“You want something to drink, kid?” Tony asked.

“Sure,” Peter said. “How about a coke?”

“Sure thing,” Tony said and promptly left.

Peter was unfazed by Tony’s abrupt exit and went back to working on his project. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Tony?” Peter looked up. It was Steve. “Oh, hi, Steve,” Peter greeted him. “What’s up?”

“Is Tony here?” Steve asked. Peter shook his head.

“No, he just left. You can stay, if you want to, though.” Peter indicated to an area next to him where Steve could sit.

Steve sat, and Peter went back to his work. They sat there in silence for longer than Peter would have expected. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve flipping through papers and poking various parts and tools. Peter didn’t mind, but he wondered if Tony would. When will he be back? Peter thought.

Then, all of a sudden, Peter was ripped from his thoughts by a sharp yell.

“Fuck!”

Steve was sucking on his finger. He took it out of his mouth to look at it.

“Fuck, that hurt,” he said, quieter this time.

Peter realized in that moment that he had a decision to make:

Confront Steve now, make him deposit a few dollars to the Swear Jar, and tell everyone

Don’t say anything and use this as blackmail

Peter went with option number 2.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked Steve. Steve looked at him and they made eye contact for just a moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a paper cut.”

“Oh, that sucks. Do you want a Band-Aid?”

“Sure.”

There is actually another Incident that Peter would rather not talk about. In his mind, this is dubbed The Moment.

Peter and Steve had been helping some SHIELD agents move some things from one side of a building to the other side. One of those things just so happened to be a fridge. The agents expressed that they would feel a lot better if Peter and Steve carried it together, even though either one of them could hold it by himself.

They were squeezing through one of the narrower doorways when Peter caught his hand between the fridge and the doorway.

“Fuck,” he swore quietly. Peter let go of the fridge with that hand and shook it out.

Before Peter could grab onto the fridge again, he made eye contact with Steve. Just for a moment. And when Steve didn’t call him out, he realized Steve had made the same decision he had made.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Steve asked.

“I caught my hand between the fridge and the door,” Peter explained.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

This arrangement continued for around a month and a half, where Steve and Peter felt comfortable swearing when they were alone together, but kept the secret when they were around others.

The only thing that threatened this secret, was Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes had been on a mission in California for the past two months and was finally allowed to come back to New York. When he walked into the common room in the Avengers Tower, one of the first things he spotted was the Swear Jar. Peter watched him eye it for a few minutes. Finally, Bucky caved.

“Steve?” he called.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve called back.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding like a parent that had just discovered an impromptu mural.

“...It’s the Swear Jar. See? It’s got a little label on it,” Steve explained, indicating the label on the front.

“Ah, I see,” Bucky nodded condescendingly. Peter watched him from across the room and came to a realization: Bucky knew that Steve had the dirtiest mouth out of all of the Avengers, but he decided to use it as blackmail, just as Peter had.

About a week later, Peter decided to organize another video for the Avengers YouTube channel that he ran, called Miscellaneous Inc.

The video begins with this opening card:

It’s animated. The sparkles come and leave out of sync.

[cut]

Some of the Avengers are sitting in a circle. They each have a whiteboard. Someone speaks:

“I swear to god, Clint, nobody’s forcing you to do this!”

[cut]

Peter Parker is sitting on his bed, criss cross applesauce. He waves at the camera.

“Hey, YouTube,” He greets the audience. “It’s me, Peter, saying hello to you on this fine Wednesday afternoon. Today, I have somehow convinced a whole bunch of the Avengers to play ‘Who’s More Likely To’ with me! I honestly don’t know how I convinced them to do it, but I did. Anyway, I asked you guys to ask some ‘Who’s More Likely To’ questions on Twitter, and I went through them! FRIDAY’s gonna read them out, though, so if you put emojis it might sound a little weird.”

[cut]

Peter, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Clint, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, and Vision are sitting in a circle, each equipped with a handheld whiteboard and a pen.

“Hi, camera!” Peter waves to the camera, mostly to make sure everyone else is aware of it. “You may notice that we are a few Avengers short. I promise, they are not dead. These are the only people I could convince to play with me. So far, that is. Should everyone introduce themself?” Peter asked and looked around the circle. Nobody really gave a definite reaction.

“We’ve all been on your channel before, yes?” Wanda asked.

“I guess…” Peter said.

The video froze and became a bit dimmer. Suddenly, names and arrows appeared on the screen, going around the circle, each appearance being noted by a small ding.

← Tony Stank (Iron Man)

← Peter Parker (me :D)

← Steve Rogers (Cap)

← Bucky Barnes (the coolest)

← Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

← Natasha Romanov (Black Widow)

← Sam Wilson (Falcon)

← Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

← Vision (Vision)

“Peter,” Peter said to the camera. “Do something cool during editing. A message came up on the screen: “I got you ;)”

[cut]

“Okay.” Peter clapped his hands. “Let’s get started. To reiterate, this is the ‘Who’s More Likely To’ Challenge. How you play is basically, a question is asked, like, ‘who’s more likely to land an arrow in the bullseye on the first try’. Then you write down who you think would be more likely to do that and then we all compare our answers. Does that make sense?”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“Great. FRIDAY, please read the first question.”

“Who’s more likely to say something they’re not supposed to in front of the press?” FRIDAY’s disembodied voice said.

Everyone wrote on their whiteboards for a few moments.

“Okay, let’s see your answers,” Peter said and turned around his board. Everyone followed suit. There were quite a few answers. The two most popular were “me” (“That’s not an answer, you guys,”) and Peter.

“Next question!” Instructed Peter.

“Who’s more likely to break something and leave it for the next person to fix?”

The most popular answer for that one was Tony.

Who’s more likely to accidentally knock someone out?

Steve.

Who’s more likely to keep saying “one more try” on a trick shot?

Sam.

Who’s more likely to have a weird secret habit?

Clint.

Who’s more likely to tip off a metal detector by accident?

Answers evenly split between Natasha and Bucky.

Who’s more likely to swear the most?

Peter had been waiting for this one. He curated the questions so he knew this one would show up eventually. He saw Steve and Bucky make eye contact. He watched as Bucky turned toward him and looked him straight in the eye. It was as if he was saying, “Now is the time to break our silence.”

“Turn your boards!” Peter instructed. They all did. Apart from Peter and Bucky, the most common answers were Tony and Clint.

“Steve?” Tony asked. “Peter, did you hear the question? They said the dirtiest mouth.”

“Yeah, I know. Bucky, you can back me up, right?” Peter looked to Bucky for someone to back him up.

“I only have my word, kid,” Bucky said solemnly.

Then Peter remembered.

“Hold on, actually. I have something. FRIDAY, show me that day Steve and I were in the lab together!”

FRIDAY rolled the clip. Then, everyone was able to see the true Steve Rogers. They were all shocked, to say the least. Steve sat there with a dumbstruck expression, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“So what do you have to say for yourself, Capsicle?” Tony asked him.

“Uh...I’m sorry?” Steve tried.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry!” Clint yelled playfully. “I’ve lost at least $100 to that damn Swear Jar! Speaking of which, what do you do with all the money?”

Steve stalled for as long as possible, but it was inevitable. He would have to tell them.

“I spent it on art supplies and ice cream.”

“You did what?!”

[cut]

Peter was back on his bed. He waved to the camera again.

“Thank you guys so much for watching! I can try and convince them to do this again sometime if you’d like! See you next time!

The video ended. Peter turned off the camera.

“Steve is going to kill me…”

[fanfics4all]

I Hate U, I Love U

Request: Yes / No Draco malfoy x fem reader inspired by I hate, u I love u by Gnash Anon

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Male!Reader 

Word count: 2110

Warnings: Breakup, Sadness, Blackmail 

Y/N: Your Name 

Song: I hate u, I love u by Gnash ft. Olivia O'Brien 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Draco and I broke up a few months ago. He broke up with me for what seemed like no reason, but a few days later he started dating Pansy of all people! She was obsessed with him and I suppose he realized he wanted her. I couldn’t help but feel like he used me. I tried to move on, but I always ended up wishing he was Draco. I missed his sweet soft lifts on mine and I wanted that so badly again. Even after months I still feel that pain in my chest every time I see him, especially when he was with her. I needed him in my life, but now he was gone… 

Feeling used, but I'm

Still missing you and I can't

See the end of this

Just wanna feel your kiss against my lips

And now all this time is passing by

But I still can't seem to tell you why

It hurts me every time I see you

Realize how much I need you

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

Draco’s POV

Y/N was still always on my mind. Whenever I found myself awake at odd hours of the night Y/N was there in my mind. In the mornings when I was having a cuppa and I saw her smiling with her friends, I couldn’t help but let her take over my thoughts. On the days that I just couldn’t bring myself to eat because of stress, she invaded my thoughts once again. A few times I thought about how our families had gone on vacation together and Y/N and I would sneak off with a bottle of fire whisky at night. We never could totally remember what the nights consisted of, but sand was always in my sweaters and she had sand in her hair. I wonder if she missed me like I missed her. I was warned I shouldn’t get attached to my best friend like that. That if things went bad we’d lose each other. Now our hearts were broken and we weren’t even friends anymore… 

I’ve been finding myself tired of everything lately. All the stress for school and my family finally catching up to me. However, I never found myself tired of Y/N. She had gone out with another guy a few days after we had broken up and I was hurt. I thought about how if I did that to her she’d be pissed. I tried to talk to her, to get her back because I was jealous of seeing other guys touch her like I would. She didn’t want to talk though, she would always make up an excuse and leave or just leave without a word. I thought about sending her an owl, I even wrote a letter out, but never sent it. It sat in my desk collecting dust. 

Part of me knew she was still in love with me. I saw her stealing glances at me a few times. I’d smile at her when I saw, but she just quickly looked away. The whole school thought she was over me, seeing as she was dating other guys. But the fact that they never lasted more than a month and that she was always looking at me made me realize she was still in love with me. Her friends didn’t have a clue. No one did. But, if she really wanted me, wouldn’t she just tell me? If I was her I would and I would never let me go again. Perhaps it was because I was with Pansy, not of my own free will of course. She had found out I was failing one of my classes and threatened to tell my Father if I didn’t break things off with Y/N and be with her. I couldn’t risk her actually telling my Father, I’d be severely punished if he ever found out. So here I was with Pansy and not the love of my life… 

I miss you when I can't sleep

Or right after coffee or right when I can't eat

I miss you in my front seat

Still got sand in my sweaters

From nights we don't remember

Do you miss me like I miss you?

Fucked around and got attached to you

Friends can break your heart, too

And I'm always tired, but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn't like that shit

I put this reel out, but you wouldn't bite that shit

I type a text, but then I never mind that shit

I got these feelings, but you never mind that shit

Oh oh, keep it on the low

You're still in love with me, but your friends don't know

If you wanted me, you would just say so

And if I were you, I would never let me go

Y/N’s POV

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

Draco’s POV

I wish she would just talk to me! I didn’t want to hurt her, I just desperately wanted her back in my arms. I wish I could tell her that Pansy was blackmailing me to date her, but I couldn’t. Pansy was already talking about the possibility of marriage and it was honestly scary. I knew I would never marry her no matter what. My Father’s wrath would be less terrifying than that. I found myself thinking about the possibility of marrying Y/N one day. But then I would see her with her latest boy toy and get pissed. She lied to me. She said I was the only one for her and yet here she is with another guy every month! Seeing this so often led me to drink more and I found myself angry, sad, and in love. I shouldn’t miss her, because it’s clear by her actions that she doesn’t miss me. Maybe I should just let her be. Be distance to her like she is to me. I should stop reminiscing about our past, but I couldn’t help myself. Mother always told me it’s good to have feelings, that I shouldn’t keep them all bottled up. Is our love really gone? Has the trust run out? I suppose I’m moving on in a way, but it doesn’t feel right. I feel more alone than I ever have… 

I don't mean no harm, I just miss you on my arm

Wedding bells were just alarms

Caution tape around my heart

You ever wonder what we could have been?

You said you wouldn't and you fucking did

Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix

Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed

Always missing people that I shouldn't be missing

Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges just to create some distance

I know that I control my thoughts and I should stop reminiscing

But I learned from my dad that it's good to have feelings

When love and trust are gone

I guess this is moving on

Everyone I do right does me wrong

So every lonely night, I sing this song

I hated her for being with different guys. I loved her for how she always knew just what to say to people. I hated that she was moving on. I loved her for that kind heart she always has. I tried loving Pansy the way I loved Y/N but she’s not Y/N and she will never be Y/N. I hated her for letting them touch her the way I was meant to. I loved her for that perfect smile she has. I hated that I wanted her so badly, but she won’t even talk to me anymore. I hated that I was forced to be with Pansy now and that she’ll never be Y/N.

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

Y/N’s POV

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

I would sometimes sit alone in the common room reading a book, then they would come in and I saw him watching her. He looked at her like she was the only girl in the world and my head broke. Did he ever care about me? Was I just to make her jealous? Was he lying to me this whole time? All alone, watching him watch her. She’s his world now. She’s the only thing he ever sees now. Did he even notice that my heart is breaking more and more? Did he even notice that he’s killing me with those looks?

All alone, I watch you watch her

Like she's the only girl you've ever seen

You don't care, you never did

You don't give a damn about me

Yeah, all alone, I watch you watch her

She is the only thing you've ever seen

How is it you never notice

That you are slowly killing me?

I hated him for what he did to me. I loved him for everything he used to do to me. I hated him for being with her. I loved him for giving me part of his heart. I don’t want to at all, but I can’t help having him as my number one. No one could ever be better than him, even still. I hated him for having his lips on hers. I loved him for the way he used to do that to me. I hate myself for still wanting him. I hate that he wants her, needs her. I hate that I’ll never be her…

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you, I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

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[arofili]

how’d u get into writing? like, writing fic and being part of the silm community, being Known, that stuff? i’m really new to being a silm cc and i’d love to know ur advice! also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs? bc i have a Lot of hcs and meta ideas but also i’m really anxious abt posting them bc yknow anxiety is like that

these are some great questions, anon! I’m gonna go through them one by one :)

how’d u get into writing?

not to be like, super cliche, but I’ve...kind of always been a writer? as long as I can remember I’ve been telling stories, and when I was too young to read or write I would dictate them to my mom, who would type them up for me and help me choose clipart illustrations to accompany them. when I got old enough I would always be writing; I attempted my first novel at age 9, and while that never really went anywhere I did finish the darn thing and it had some pretty sophisticated plot twists for a 9-year-old!

like, writing fic

around the same time I got into fandom! I was deep into Warrior cats (like. really deep) and I believe I started writing my first fics when I was like? 10 or 11? my memory is kind of fuzzy on the order of things, but I know I got an account on the Warriors forums when I was 9, and that I was already posting my fic there when I made my FFN account. I believe I was 12 when that happened, but who knows. I haven’t the faintest idea of what happened with those forums, but uhhh pretty much all of my Warriors fic is still up on FFN lmao. you could probably find that if you want to but um...maybe don’t?

my first Big Fic was a self-insert of...my entire 5th/6th grade class into the then-current timeline of the Warriors books...well. I honestly think that might still be my most popular fic of all time l m a o though I try not to think about it because Hashtag Cringe. though as much as I look back on that time with a “yikes,” I am very grateful for the Warriors fandom in a way? that place was so accepting and encouraging of OCs, of AUs, of completely disregarding canon, of worldbuilding that is completely alien from canon - it was a fantastic sandbox to begin with, there were so many ways to write stories and practically all of them were accepted and had fellow fans invested in them!

and being part of the silm community, 

soooo I wrote Warriors fic until my freshman year of high school (wow sdjfhkdsjfh), which was when BOTFA came out, and I was absolutely wrecked by the ending and immediately started writing my own fixit fic. I was also super hooked on Kiliel! so that was my intro to the Tolkien fandom; and simultaneously, I joined tumblr, and, well, the rest is history tbh.

I honestly do not remember when I first read the Silm, but I kind of got into the more obscure parts of the Tolkien fandom through fandom osmosis, and I do have a vague memory of doodling the Finwean family tree in geometry class so it might have been later on in freshman year? that was also the same time I was having my Queer Awakening, and Russingon definitely contributed to me unlearning my internalized queerphobia, so probably around then.

anyway - queer awakening, tumblr, Tolkien, transitioning from FFN to AO3 - all of that was happening around the same time. I know I dipped my toes in the Silm fandom then, but I was still primarily a Hobbit fic writer focusing on Kiliel. toward the end of high school I kind of shifted to LOTR and (qp) Gigolas...but somehow the Silm fandom is the most active of the Big Three within the Tolkien fandom, and I was getting dragged further and further in.

it wasn’t until @backtomiddleearthmonth 2019, my freshman year of college, that I really dove into writing Silm fic! I picked some Silm-specific bingo cards and never looked back :D that was really not all that long ago but I am obsessed in a way I don’t really remember being even with TH/LOTR, I obviously cannot see the future but I anticipate hanging out here for a long time. the Silm fandom is great overall and there’s just so much material to work with!! <3

being Known, that stuff?

so I don’t really have a whole lot of context on how “well known” I am in the fandom?? definitely within the past year and a half or so I’ve noticed that I like, get asks like this, and get a significant amount of notes on my posts, and I’ve made a lot of fandom friends especially since I joined some Silm servers on Discord (hmu if you want invites; I’m on the SWG server and 2 general Silm servers and the Russingon server) this past year. and I have 3,000 followers as of this month - and while ever since I hit 1k I don’t particularly pay attention to my follower count I can definitely say that I have more engagement now than I used to! but it took me a long time to build this “audience,” I suppose; I’ve been around the Tolkien fandom since late 2014, so nearly 6 years of this, lol.

really the best way to build a following, in my experience, is to just post a lot of stuff. when I started making edits I got a lot more engagement, because for a long time I would post one every day! (I made them in batches and queued them; I didn’t actually make one every day lol...and now I’m too busy to do that, so I just make edits for events and whenever I feel like it) And I have [checks ao3] 145 works in the Silm fandom as of today - I’m fairly prolific! I’ve come to generally expect 3-10 comments on most of my oneshots, which is a lot more than I used to have back in the day. consistency and quantity are more likely to attract people to your work - and quality, of course.

also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs?

I’ve been writing since I was very young, and I’ve been writing fic for like...11 years? I think? in that time I’ve produced a lot of garbage, but imo most of that was in my Warrior cats phase, so I came into the Tolkien fandom with confidence in myself and my writing. I’m also working on original fiction on the side (I hope to eventually become a published fantasy author, but right now school takes up most of my time that I don’t devote to fandom, which gives me more immediate gratification and also is just Very Fun) and I know I’m a good writer.

basically, I’ve been doing this for like...half my life, and I’m still fairly young, so I’ve had time to build up my skill and confidence and I know I’m only going to get better with time. you will get better with practice. like I said, I’ve written a lot of terrible stuff, and it’s only through sucking for a long time that I’ve gotten to the point I am now. and I am far from perfect; I know I still have lots of room to grow!

for meta and headcanons specifically, I started with writing fic, and then when I didn’t think I could stretch something into an entire fic I would just make a hc post. I have a vivid memory of writing my first meta in a notebook during driver’s ed because it was so goddamn boring and I had Thoughts about Tauriel and Thranduil!

in my experience, meta comes from having Opinions and wanting to share them and most importantly to back them up - you need to have sources! you need to have reasons! you need to have justification! otherwise it’s not meta, it’s a headcanon or an AU. which is fine!! I love hc/AU!!! but they are not the same as meta, and I’m a stickler for being accurate when it comes to meta. if you have sources and shit to back you up, that will help you build the confidence to share your meta.

sharing disinformation and passing it off as meta instead of just coming out and saying this is a headcanon/baseless theory/AU or whatever is such a fandom pet peeve of mine; it’s not bad for something to not be Accurate! you just have to have that disclaimer - and even when you’re writing meta, you’re offering an interpretation of the text, and you need to acknowledge that other interpretations also exist and are valid.

um. I hope this answers your questions? and sorry for basically word-vomiting my entire life story, lol. this post got long; the main reason I’ve written so much fic is because I really just cannot shut up for the life of me. sooo if you can tear of that filter of being shy and just. say shit. you can go so far~!

OH and one more thing - I can’t believe I almost forgot this - but part of being a writer is participating in the community. this is code for LEAVE A DAMN COMMENT IF YOU LIKE A FIC. that’s how I made most of my fandom friends before Discord! I follow @ao3feed-silmarillion and stalk that blog for new Silm fics; I read the ones that interest me and comment on them.

I know this is not really the most common way for folks to find fic but it’s so rewarding to interact with new fic, new writers, new commentors, new stories - you can find gems that don’t rise to the top of the kudos/bookmark lists; you become friends with your fellow writers; you can watch people grow and change; you support smaller content creators. yeah, you might not be getting Just The Best Stuff, but it’s so so so worth it!!

and if you make friends in the comment section of other people’s fic - I guarantee you some of them will go to your AO3 profile and check out your fic, too! and they’ll leave comments! this is a fic community, and that’s what I cherish about fandom most of all, tbh.

anyway - again - sorry for rambling so much, but I hoped this helped! feel free to send in another ask, or to come talk to me off anon if you’d like! and definitely send me your stuff if/when you decide to share it; I would love to support you!!! <3

[girlbabyvelez]

Hasta La Muerte // Chapter Eight

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None

Note: Not me updating this fic like ages later. I’m truly sorry though I just lost inspo but here is another chapter to anyone who still currently reads this!

Everyone around you burst into cheers and applause as Christopher stood up and pulled you into a kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling your body close to his. Once you pulled away you were able to face the man you were going to marry in just a few months, a wide smile on his face as he looked down at you and the sight made a smile grow on yours.

“I know you’re the one who made a wish but my wish came true tonight.” He said loudly as everyone began to step closer to bombard the two of you with congratulatory statements and questions. This caused a blush to spread over your cheeks for a moment before remembering what the true reason for this engagement was. You turn your head and scan the crowds, eyes landing on the two men who threatened you not long ago.

Sergio and Paulo stood at the back with scowls on their face. Sergio had already pulled out a phone and you knew that he must be informing Santiago about this new move.

“Hey it’ll be okay.” You hear Chris and he pulls your attention from Paulo and Sergio back to him. You look over at him and see a reassuring smile on his face. 

“You’re right. I just have to be extra cautious now. We don’t know what this news will cause Santiago to do.” You whispered. You felt Chris’ hand at your waist give you a comforting squeeze before turning over to all of your friends, coworkers and family. You convincingly and excitedly grabbed at your closest friends to gush about your engagement, making sure that it looked like you and Chris had been ready to marry.

~

The anger pulsed through his body as he heard the news. His hands were clenched tight, the knuckles turning ghostly white and the vein in his neck was popping out, both obvious signs of his fury. Y/N Camacho was now engaged to Christopher Velez. Santiago knew how this business worked, you were engaged to Chris only to protect you and the precious business that took so long for your family to build. The engagement sets his plan back, but he knows you and he knows exactly how to take you and your family down.

“Paulo, tell Yarliza to come in here.” Santiago orders and within minutes he sees Paulo escorting his girlfriend into the room. 

“Amor why did you call for me?” Yarliza asks as she walks towards Santiago, arms outstretched towards him so she could easily slide into his side. He placed a hand on her thigh, his eyes meeting hers that were so familiar to yours. A smirk crossed his face at the thought of what was coming.

“You know what you have to do.”

~

The engagement ring that was wrapped around your finger still felt foreign to you, even after you had worn it for a week trying to get used to it. Your plan worked, everyone believed that you and Chris were a real couple who were deeply in love. And you knew that Chris was starting to have feelings towards you, and it wasn’t love but he did feel affectionate towards you. 

“Hola hermosa,” You hear him say as he steps around the couch of his apartment, well now the apartment the two of you shared, he leans down and places a quick kiss on your forehead. It had become a routine of his whenever he was about to leave the house to go with your brother. 

“Good morning Chris,” You respond, allowing him to move to sit on the couch besides you. He smiles warmly at you as he pulls out his phone. You position yourself to fully face him and bring your arm up on the back of the couch.

“Richard said you should start planning the wedding while we do business today.” Chris states as he began to text Richard about the meet up. You furrow your brows at his words and you sit up to get his attention back to you rather than his phone, which he quickly does, eyes meeting yours.

“You don’t want to plan anything?” You question. This wedding was for the both of you and it would probably be your only wedding. He laughs at your question before dropping the phone onto his lap and turning to face you, doing his best to assure you that this was something he wanted as well.

“Of course I do amor but I need to do this business before we leave.” He tells you but his words only made you more confused. Ever since Paulo and Sergio had cornered you that night, you were aware of everything involving the business now, and you had no clue what your fiance was talking about.

“Leave?” You question, moving your arms to cross against your chest. He noticed your uncertain and angry position as soon as you did it. He let out a sigh before moving his hands to uncross your arms and moving them down to intertwine with your hands.

“Well I was going to tell you later tonight but I got us tickets to Ecuador. I want you to meet my family before we get married.” He explains and he removes one hand from yours and you slightly miss his warmth but instead he reaches his free hand out to your face. Your face slightly falls at his words and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Christopher. Just as he was about to question it, you took the opportunity away from him. 

“Really? When do we leave?” You ask, you knew that his family was important to him but you weren’t sure if you were ready to meet his family. He turns his body to fully face yours and he could see the uncertainty in your eyes. He felt his heart fall at your reaction, he wanted you to be happy and excited to meet them but he knew it was a big step. 

“We leave at the end of this week.” He answers. You let out a small gasp at his response which he heard. “I know everything that happened between us happened fast but I want you to meet them and they want to meet you. In plus, I’ll be by your side the entire time amor.” He whispers to try to comfort you. And the warm smile on his face just made you want to do whatever he wanted to. You nodded at his words before returning the warm smile.

“Okay. I want to meet them too and maybe hear some stories of Chris before he became a mafioso.” You joked and Chris winced at your words because just like you he was also lying and hiding from the people he loved. His family wasn’t aware that Chris was a part of the mafia, he had been feeding them lies for years that he worked at this fancy business.

“About that...they think I’m a businessman.” He admits

“So I guess I’ll have to ask about stories before you became a businessman.”

~

You looked at all of the options laid out in front of you. You felt stuffed from all of the cake samples you had to try. And now you couldn’t make a decision, you were always indecisive and now that you were having to pick things for your wedding it felt worse. Mariana was sitting on the other side of the table, looking at you expectantly for an answer while Tati said beside you for moral support. 

“I can’t choose.” You admit as you looked at the two of them before moving your eyes back to all of the cake options in front of you. 

“I know it’s hard. But we have two months until the wedding so you need to start making decisions.” Mariana tells you which causes you to groan. You throw your head back before getting yourself together. You look at the options laid before you for a few minutes, making the decision in your head. 

“Fine. The base tier, let’s do chocolate with mocha mousse filling. Second tier will be red velvet with cream cheese. And the final tier will be white chocolate raspberry with vanilla buttercream.” You answer and look back at Mariana who was writing down your order. She smiles at you and pushes the notebook aside before pulling out her planning binder. 

“Okay now onto flowers and table arrangements.” Mariana continues and you sigh at her words. The only thing holding you over was the fact that you would be travelling with Chris to Ecuador tonight. You just had to finish this wedding planning first and then you could take a break with your fiance. 

“So are you excited to meet his family?” Tati questions as the three of you finally take a break from the wedding planning and arrangements to grab a cup of coffee. You sigh at her question, you were excited but filled with nerves. You were going to see a part of Chris’ life that many haven’t seen, it was going to be meaningful to him and that scared you. 

“No, I'm nervous. This is something new.” You answer honestly. You see Mariana and Tati nod at your words, they understood where you were coming from. Your relationship with Christopher seemed to be moving at warp speed, and to you it was so unsteady and you weren’t sure that you could handle any more bad things. 

“Oh by the way, when you come back we need to pick the dress and do the bridesmaid fittings. Which I advise getting a friend from your normal life to make it seem more realistic.” Mariana advised and you were back to remembering that this was just a business negotiation first and foremost. You weren’t planning a wedding just because you were in love, you were planning a wedding because you needed to help the family business.

-

Taglist:  @phanislife124 @bbyyelyah  @zabdisamor @xxxstormyninixxx  @babecita-1 @yashuazbabygirl @getmealifepls @cyaneaa @codename-nyx @cncoh-damn @mamacamacho @smoljoelito @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @ladykxxx08 @la-undercover-latina @lostpil52 @undeadspazzattack @plentyoffandomss @babyyynatty @juneninetynine @cnchoe-imagines @valeriiaaass @moonlitzabdiel @damnthoseyes  @ourkarlanicoleuniverse @niallisworld @multi-fandomgoddess @california-creator @ ego-allie-bap @zabdicl @chellybear98 @sometimesbadalwaysboujie​ @estoy-enamorado-de-ti @nochillnelly @ericksmamita @cncoamor @you-kinda-smell-like-christmas @pizzaspirits​ @josiemara​ @deniseasonrisa @nqbmf @afro-doll @h-bea92​ @the-almond-dinger​  @miericksongo​ @cncosoftie​  @ohitsnicolexo​  @midnightjmadness

Note: This chapter was really short dskdk I was gonna do the trip but I wrote the trip and it was super long so I made it the next chapter instead. I hope you like :)

[knoepfchen]

Thank you Alex, my fellow “I have a URL that no longer really fits the fandom I’m in but I’ll be damned if I change it now” TOG AU conspirator, @meet-the-girl-who-can, for tagging me in this!

I enjoy “end-of-year reflection” a lot actually, but I’ve not really gotten round to it much in previous years, and so I’m making the best of my planlessness this year. (Also it’s Theodor Fontane’s birthday tomorrow, and I believe it’s what he would have wanted.)

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in  2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

The Old Guard found me at a strange little time in my life. I lost my job earlier this year and decided to take it as a clean break, try to go back to university and take it from there. The Old Guard came out the day I got the acceptance letter from my uni, which was great – but also meant I would definitely be starting all over again, and find myself in a long-distance relationship after years of living with my partner. I guess what I’m trying to say is, when I randomly saw the film on Netflix and pressed play, I was in a bit of a mental and emotional limbo from all the uncertainty suddenly going on in my life, and I latched onto the ideas of immortal love and the only true difference we can make is through acts of kindness like a baby koala to its mother. I wrote my first TOG fic a day later, and what a ride it’s been since.

I’ve read fics by and spoken to so many amazing people in the past couple of months, but I think they’ve all already been tagged (because I’ve been reading these posts like the morning paper) and so I will cop out of tagging on this one. (If you haven’t been tagged and want to do this, feel free to use me as your tagger though – I mean it when I say I love reading these posts!)

5 - a slow landslide AND what i wouldn’t gif

I can’t pick between the two so I’m including them both. This is probably surprising to anyone who’s read both because they could not be more different if they tried, but that’s exactly the problem – I like them equally, but for entirely different reasons. (I also wrote them really shortly after one another, and so it’s quite hard to disentangle them in my mind.) But because while I think I personally just want to read the same fic with the same topic from the same authors over and over, the fics I write sure are all over the place in tone, theme, setting and relationship tackled, and nothing has made me happier than seeing people read and enjoy both :) 

4 - i am lost, in the robes of all this light

Writing Andromaquynh fic can be a bit demoralising if you also write Joe and Nicky – and I don’t mean this as a dig at all, it’s just that that part of the fandom is smaller and so there’s less people reading/commenting/leaving kudos – but I really like how soft this one got. My friend somewhat rightfully pointed out to me that it’s basically an atonement fic because I felt guilt for writing an absolute angstfest of a witchhunt retelling beforehand, but if you can’t guilt trip yourself into writing fix-it fics, who can you guilt trip?

3 - and you smiled, because you knew.

This is the first thing I wrote in this fandom, and it’s a silly idea (five times Joe proposed and one time he didn’t) executed with a degree of serious introspection I’m not sure the trope is made for. Looking back, the narrative voice is off, the tense I used for flashbacks questionable, and the imagery quite literally all over the place, but it also has some of the best lines I’ve ever written and it introduced me to @avaniesque, who has taught me so! much! about history and been a wonderful beta whenever I forayed into historical settings with the guard, so I can and will not complain about it. (She’d tell me to shorten that sentence, too.)

2 - we that are true lovers run into strange capers

Okay so. For my brain, writing this fic was a little like going to my favourite fast food restaurant every day for a month. It was a strangely addictive endeavour, occupying most of my waking thoughts and causing my Spotify Wrapped to look like a fever dream, but it was also the most fun I’ve had writing anything, ever. By all rights, it should have been a hot mess, (I guess it kind of is, but by the time I noticed it seamlessly transitioned from rom-com to corporate heist it was too late) but that’s the way of self-indulgent fic! I still read the comments on this fic when I have a bad day, because everything about it is my happy place.

1 - not sleepy enough to give it up

I was tempted to put this here just because it’s the last thing I’ve written, and the last thing I’ve written is always the momentary best thing I’ve written. But more than that, I think this is the first time I managed to actually write the fic I intended to write; a fic that, reading it, feels exactly the way I imagined it would in my head. I don’t usually reread my own work, but I’ve reread this one a couple of times for non-editing purposes, and I still love it.

[sinner-as-saint]

Capital Letters.

Bucky Barnes AU.

Requested.

 Run-through: You were fortunate enough to work for who was considered to be one of the best, most admired and affluent authors of your time; Mr. James Buchanan Barnes. And soon, things weren’t so professional between you and the man…

Themes: SMUT, ANGST, language.

A/n: Hi babies, just a word of caution, the Anon who requested this told me that I could end it as I like, and by now I believe everyone knows that I am a sadistic fuck so… don’t say I didn’t warn you ;)

Also, unfortunately, this will not be made into a series. Enjoy! Okay, okay, change of plans, this fic will have a part 2. Soon, I don’t know when, but soon. 

  The ding of the elevator caused you to abruptly place the book you were currently reading down, and caused you to jump to your feet.

The floor where you worked was not that busy, just a couple of people who worked close to your boss. At the very brief thought of the devil, he appeared; stepping out of the elevator.

Your e/c eyes watched him as he walked across the dark marble floor, focusing on the screen of his phone and ignoring each and every greeting which was spoken at him.

There was no denying that James Buchanan Barnes, probably the most well-off and most talented authors of the past years, was in fact super arrogant and rude. Unlike the characters he wrote.

 You watched as he passed by your desk – ignoring you just like he did with the rest, his cologne following him and lingered in the air for quite a while. He was . . . enticing. Despite the standoff-ish manner, and arrogance, you had to admit that the man could make anyone weak in their knees just by sparing them a glance with his ocean eyes.

The slam of his office’s door as he shut it broke you out of your reverie and you hurried in collecting your phone, a notepad and a pen and you rushed into his office right behind him.

You usually didn’t interact with him. The only thing which linked the two of you was that he signed your paycheck every month.

You were his assistant’s helper. And since the assistant was away with her husband for her honeymoon, you were to be Mr. Barnes’ assistant for the next couple of weeks.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a hard task. But you had been hearing around lately that Mr. Barnes was having a little bit of trouble in writing his current novel. Apparently, the word got out that he was having a writer’s block moment since he very publicly broke up with his long-term girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff.

Given the circumstances, the publishing house was putting a lot of pressure on the man, and he has been having a terrible temper lately.

You took a deep breath once you stood outside the dark, wooden doors of his office. You quickly straightened your knee-length, long sleeved navy blue dress and secured the notepad in your hand as you knocked on the door, twice.

His name was written in black, bold, capital letters on a thin, shiny, silver plate situated on the door.

You waited for two seconds and then came the reply.

 “Come in,” he said, the annoyance could clearly be heard in his voice.

 Already? It’s barely 10 a.m. and he’s already in a bad mood?

You whispered a quick prayer in your heart as you pushed open the door, stepped inside and closed the door quickly behind you.

 “Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” you spoke as you took in his majestic appearance. Sat in his chair, carelessly scrolling through his phone, as he slowly looked up at you.

You approached his desk, yet as soon as his baby blue eyes met yours, you could’ve sworn that your heart skipped a beat.

You had met with countless blue eyes before, but none quite like his. None with this many flares of grey in them.

 “Who are you?” he asked in pure confusion and nonchalance.

His eyes narrowed slightly at you as he placed his phone down and leaned onto the table, folding his arms in front of him.

The gesture caused his dark suit jacket to tighten up around his broad shoulders and you found yourself momentarily daydreaming about your boss.

 “I, uh, I’m replacing Peggy for the coming few weeks since she’s away. And I should inform you that the publishing people called and scheduled a meeting for this afternoon. Is there anything you want me to do right now?” you asked in your ‘professional’ tone.

It was the voice you used whenever you had to conceal your nervousness.

 “What’s your name?” he asked. He looked calm, and looked like he was in deep thought.

 “Y/N Y/L/N,” you replied just with what he asked.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. It seemed as though he was studying your face, as if he was remembering each one of your features.

He stared at you for so long that you were beginning to think that your hair must be messy or that there must be something funny on your face.

 But there wasn’t.

And unknown to you, in that moment, a devious, cruel plan was made.

  ---

 The days at work went by rather smoothly. Given the reputation he had, James Barnes was actually behaving in a much more tame way.

You were handling his life at work perfectly; and he even told you that he was impressed with you. That comment of his caused all the other people to wonder how come you could bring out the good side of him.

You were getting much more confident around your boss. Confident meant that you weren’t on the verge of sweating each time he looked into your eyes.

He was . . . different. A little demanding and arrogant yes, but charming nonetheless.

  You found yourself in his office for the third time one morning.

 “Mr. Stark wants me to inform you that he’s extremely pleased with the advancement made in the novel,” you said with a faint smile.

Your boss leaned back in his chair and toyed with the pencil in his hands, flicking it around his fingers as a smile formed on his face when he heard that the head of the publishing house was finally content.

“Well, I’m glad. Tell me, Y/N, have you read any of my work?” he asked, casually.

You studied his appearance quickly; dark grey suit, his long, dark hair in a man bun with a few strands falling around his face. His pink lips lifted in a smirk, and a confident yet slight narcissistic demeanor around him.

You nodded at his question.

 “I have,” you answered, with absolutely no idea where he was going with this.

 The smirk never left his face as he got back to staring at you with his piercing blue eyes. You never admitted this out loud, but with the sun rays illuminating the room, making the color his eyes pop out even more – you thought that his blue eyes matched those of the White Walkers from Game of Thrones.

 “Which ones?” he seemed genuinely interested, and you wondered why.

 Embarrassment rushed through you.

 “All of them,” you sheepishly replied and lowered your eyes to the ground as you felt like you would collapse under his stare.

 You saw him moving. He stood up, walked around the desk and approached you; slowly. Once he stood in front of you, he inched closer to you; his breath hitting your face as he curled his finger under your chin and lifted your face up until your eyes met his again.

Your heartbeat quickened when you noticed the lack of space in between your bodies. One of his hands was stuffed in his pocket, while the other gripped your chin gently.

Your thoughts were a mess.

 “Have dinner with me. Tonight. And I might even exclusively share the plans I have for the next one with you. Sound good?” he basically left barely any room for negotiation.

The fan girl in you jumped with joy at his suggestion. You didn’t lie when you said that you had read all of his books. You owned all of them, and you loved each one of them.

There was something about the way he wrote that made him seem like an angel, even if he was the complete opposite in real life.

Some of his books had very detailed, intimate chapters. Ones which made you blush, also ones that you couldn’t stop re-reading.

You often wondered if any of the sex scenes were based off his real life experiences. Because if they were, then that would make Mr. Barnes damn good in bed.

 He said your name to drag you back to reality.

 You couldn’t find any excuse not to, so you agreed to have dinner with him that night.

So you agreed, with a smile on.

 Or maybe you didn’t want to find any excuses.

 ---

 Sat behind your steering wheel, you blushed on your way home that evening.

Mr. Barnes told you that he would be sending his driver over at yours at around 8 p.m. to fetch you. So, that left you with 2 and a half hours to get ready for your rendezvous with your boss. For dinner. At his house.

As it became too much for you to handle, you texted a close friend about it. She replied almost immediately with how excited she is to receive the details later.

 Could it be that your boss had a thing for you? Would that explain why he was nice to you these past few days while he was impolite towards the staff?

Could this be the start of something beautiful?

 For quite a long time now, you had been shamelessly developing a crush on your boss. I mean, what’s not to like, you thought.

The very brief thought of him reciprocating what you felt for him, had you feeling lightheaded.

 You made good use of the time you had to get ready. Took a bath, applied a light makeup, and got dressed in a casual, flowy white dress. You had your hair down, since it was always tied into a neat bun at work.

Pairing the dress with black heels, you stepped outside your apartment as soon as you heard honking downstairs.

Your ride was here to take you to your boss.  

  ---

 The driver dropped you off right at the front door of Mr. Barnes’ mansion. And you were practically shaking in nervousness as you pushed open the front door and stepped inside.

The house was well lit, and well furnished, but silent and empty.

You sensed the very faint aroma of food in the air and kept walking forward in the hallway, which eventually led you to a grand, spacious living room.

You looked around for a few seconds, taking in the interior which mainly consisted of reds, and white and black – occasionally.

 “Mr. Barnes?” you called out and heard a rather clear voice reply back; which meant that he was close by.

 “In here, Y/N!” it said, and you followed it across the lavish living room.

 The fine, elegant all white/black kitchen was not hard to find actually.

You walked in and found him pouring red wine in one of the glasses he had in front of him. He stood beside the kitchen island, with an unfamiliar, genuine smile on his face.

 “You look beautiful,” he spoke, his voice softer than it usually is. His hair wasn’t tied in a bun anymore, it was down, wavy and framing his gorgeous face flawlessly.

He wasn’t wearing a suit anymore, just black pants and a dark blue shirt. He looked good. Like, really good.

The shirt seemed a little too tight around his muscular arms as he extended his arm to offer you the half-full glass.

You accepted it and whispered a ‘thank you’ at your boss.

 “You have a lovely home, Mr. Barnes,” you spoke and took a sip of the wine. He observed you intently as he poured himself a glass as well.

He placed the bottle back on the table and leaned against the counter, just a feet or two away from you.

 “It’s… lifeless, but thank you. And please, call me Bucky when we’re not at work, Y/N,” he spoke and took a seat on the stool by the end of his sentence.

He had said it so effortlessly, yet his words caused your heart to skip a beat.

Bucky…

You repeated the name a couple of times in your head as you took a seat as well, opposite of where he sat.

 “Okay, Bucky,” you tested the name and it rolled off your tongue perfectly.

He liked it, judging by his smile, you could tell he preferred that to ‘Mr. Barnes’.

  Dinner was great. Simple food, simple conversation. You noticed that 2 glasses of wine later, your grumpy boss was actually a funny man.

 ---

 “I hope you know that I still haven’t forgotten about the next novel. You promised you’d talk to me about it, I’m waiting, Mr. Bar- I mean, Bucky,” you spoke as the two of you put away the plates and the cutlery into the sink.

You offered to place the dishes in the dishwasher but he promised you that his housekeepers would handle it, so you let it go.

 He finished his third glass of wine and gave you a fake, shocked look.

 “Wow, Y/N, is that really the whole reason why you accepted my offer? All for that book, not for me? I’m hurt,” as he spoke, he gradually made his way to you.

And in no time, he had you trapped between him and the counter.

Your bodies were so close that you lost your ability to think straight. His eyes were darker and glossier than earlier this evening.

The scent of wine was evident in his breath and his lips looked even more pink than before. His face was inches away from you, and you blamed it on the wine in your system but leaning forward and closing the gap between the two of you was incredibly tempting.

 His fallen lock of dark hair tickled your skin and you let out an involuntary giggle.

Bucky’s body tensed at the sound. You don’t know why.

 “Come on, everything’s in my study upstairs,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him up the stairs.

   Something changed once you entered his study. Maybe it was he demeanor, or his intentions or perhaps even the temperature. You couldn’t place a finger on what it was, but something definitely shifted in the air as you walked into the room.

It was a cozy room, with couches and even a fireplace in one corner. Book shelves were filled with works of other authors, his awards and trophies stood proudly on a shelf on the other side of the room. A large desk was planted in the middle, and a bunch of papers scattered all over it.

 Your thoughts were foggy from there on, one moment you were listening to him as he explained his supposed endings to his next novel. And the next moment, you stood in front of him – stripping.

 You weren’t drunk completely, but you definitely weren’t thinking straight.

You found yourself standing in front of your boss, while he sat on one of the dark red couches, enjoying the show.

 “Why did you stop, Y/N? Go on, take it all off,” he urged you to take off your white dress, followed by your lacy set of underwear as well.

His voice barely hid the lust he had coursing through him. His breathing got more and more shallow with each article of clothing that you discarded.

You felt naked, and very, very nervous. But seeing his reaction to your bare body caused an unfamiliar sense of confidence to erupt in you.

 Bucky shamelessly eyed you up and down, taking in every inch of your skin. Studying your body, observing each one of your features intently.

His eyes lingered around your breasts and your hips. All your curves drove him crazier with each passing second. The perkiness of your breasts matched the growing hard on in his pants.

 With the discussion over the upcoming novel long forgotten, Bucky reached out and pulled you into him.

You straddled his thighs as you landed on his lap. Your breasts merely inches away from his lips, he smirked.

Slowly, he took of your sensitive buds in his mouth. He sucked on the soft skin as his teeth applied just the slightest bit of pressure upon the bud.

His warm tongue swirling around your nipple had you throwing your head back in pleasure. Your eyes closed as you relished his touch.

His hands gripped your waist as he pressed you to his clothed body. You instinctively bucked into him and he pinched your ass as you did.

 Never in a million years had you thought that one day, you’d be grinding on your boss in his study. But here you were, guess life was unpredictable like that.

 Bucky released your nipple and kissed his way up until he reached your collar bones. He nibbled on your skin and the sweet pain had you whimpering in no time. One of his hands moved away from your waist and slipped in between your thighs instead.

His knuckles rubbed against your wet folds as he smeared the wetness around, making you moan quietly against his cheek. His beard scratched your skin but you enjoyed every second of it.

 “You are so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered along your skin as he pushed two fingers into your entrance.

He let out a series of swear words when he took note of how tight you were.

 “Fuck!” you whined when he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting your most sensitive spots.

His touch left you wanting more, and more. His fingers slipped in and out of you at a steady pace and you were a messy, moaning mess.

He stroked your walls with his two fingers and he soon had you coming undone around his fingers, which were now coated with your arousal.

 You muttered his name over and over again as you rode the waves of euphoria which washed over you. Bucky slowly slipped his two fingers out of you and placed them against his lips, sinfully licking them clean.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed your taste.

The sight had you blushing like crazy. You tried controlling your intake of air but just as you regained control over your senses, Bucky flipped the two of you on the couch and knocked the air out of you again.

Your bare back came in contact with the velvety couch and you mentally moaned at how soft and comfy it was.

 “You’ve been driving me crazy since the day I first saw you, you know that? Ever since then, I can’t get you out of my mind and I’ve been dying to touch you,” Bucky whispered along your skin as he left marks all over your neck.

You could only whimper in pleasure under his touch.

His hair fell around his head and you constantly had to remove it from his face just so you could get a good look at him.

He was beautiful, in the dimmed lights of his study, he looked angelic even.

As he was straddling you, you could clearly feel his growing bulge as it rested against your dripping core. The only thing keeping him from fucking you was his clothes. And for a second, you wondered why he wasn’t getting undressed.

But before you could dive deeper into that thought, he placed his mouth on yours. Your lips moved in perfect harmony; tongue rubbing against each other’s.

You sighed in delight through the kiss.

 He deepened the kiss by stroking the top of your mouth with his skilled tongue, and you were on the edge just by that simple action.

 His scent filled your senses and suddenly he was all you could think of. His hands roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, memorizing the shape of your figure until he finally cupped your core and rubbed the sensitive skin around your swollen clit – making you shudder under him.

 “Bucky, I- oh fuck!” you whined as he slipped his fingers into your entrance yet again. His head dipped into your neck and he licked and bit around your skin until he found your sweet spot.

  He messed around with you for a little bit, then lifted off of your body for a quick second; removing his pants and briefs and unbuttoning his shirt in no time.

It seemed weird, having your boss standing naked in front of you, but given that the man looked like his body had been crafted by Gods – you didn’t mind it a bit.

 Bucky climbed back into the couch and hovered over you, stroking his thick length while he did so. Your mouth shamelessly watered at the sight of his Adonis belt.

Damn, he’s fit!

 He placed his mouth on top of yours again, to swallow the winces which came out of you as he pushed his length into your tight entrance. His long hair fell and tickled your skin. His breathing got shallow again as he pushed himself fully into you.

He lifted his head and watched you frowning as his cock stretched you to your maximum. He watched you attentively as your lips parted and you moaned his name once he filled you up nicely.

 “B-bucky, I- holy fuck-,” you whined as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you with a slightly bigger force.

 He groaned at the feel of your walls wrapped around him, squeezing and clenching around him.

 “I’m right here, Y/N, tell me if it hurts too much. Okay?” he whispered against your mouth, before he tugged on your lips and he started moving his hips – rocking into you slowly, then gradually increasing his speed.

 You were too caught up in pleasure to even make sense of what he said to you. Your back arched off the velvety surface of the couch and your chest pressed to his.

Bucky’s lips kissed your face; all over. He seemed to be compensating for the sweet pain he was causing you.

You hooked your legs around his lean waist as his thrusts got rougher than the last. You were a moaning mess under him.

 “So tight, fuck! You’re all mine, babe you get that? All mine,” he spoke in your ear, groaning as you bucked your hips to meet each one of his thrusts as well.

He slammed into you, his hands travelling all over your body, until one of them wrapped around your throat. He fucked you raw and relentlessly, watching how your face morphed into frowns of pleasure.

Bucky applied just the slightest bit of pressure at his grip and your eyes flew open in surprise at the revelation of this more dominant side of him.

 “That’s right, look at me. Look me in the eyes while I fuck you like no one ever has. Look at me babe, you look so beautiful, fuck!” Bucky mumbled under his breath as your moans got more and more high pitched.

His voice was gravelly and laced with lust and passion as he rammed into you like he owned you.

Your body shook against him, your legs felt numbs as he relentlessly slammed into you. Bucky slid his hand in between your connected bodies and furiously rubbed your bundle of nerves, earning a loud moan out of you.  

As he did so, the pressure at your core became too much to handle, and you craved for release. Guess he noticed, as he slipped his tongue back into your mouth one last time and took your bottom lip between his teeth again.

 “Come on, baby, cum for me. Let me see how pretty you look when you cum around me, with my cock buried so deep in you… fuck,” he finished as he came, cursing some more as his seeds spilled in you, coating your pulsating walls.

In your haze, your foggy brain managed to notice that Bucky was just as vocal as the characters of his novels.

Were his love-making scenes inspired by his experiences in real life?

 You came right after him, back lifting off the couch and moaning his name out loud. Bucky kissed you wherever he could and whispered how good you were to him in your ear as you tried gaining control over your senses again.

Your vision was blurred as you slowly opened your eyes again.

Somehow, his cock erected inside of you again.

He removed his cock from your warm entrance. His strong hands found your waist again as he flipped you over; you lying in your stomach and your ass up in the air.

You were still breathless but he wasn’t quite done with you yet.

 “Just can’t seem to get enough of you,” he mumbled, breathlessly.

 The palm of his hands hovered over the skin of your ass cheeks as he traced all your stretch marks and whispered how beautiful you looked under him.

His finger ran up and down your spine, leaving goose bumps in its way. Bucky chuckled at how responsive you were, and bent down to place kisses along your shoulder blades and the back of your neck.

He breathed in your fresh, floral perfume and mumbled under his breath something you didn’t catch.

He lifted your hips upwards and bent your knees under you so your glistening core was on full exposure in front of his face.

You blushed as he placed yet another kiss on your ass before running his fingers up and down your wet folds. You shivered as you felt him aligning his red, leaking tip to your entrance again.

He rubbed the tip of his member along your folds; coating his length with your cum as he rubbed your clit and wet folds, separating them as he glided his cock in between them at a pace so painfully slow that you felt like you were slowly collapsing into insanity.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back as you surrendered to him completely. Your face against the velvety surface of the couch, your hands unmoving under your chest and your ass in the air – you were happily helpless.

A toy for him to use as he pleased.

 He groaned as he slipped into you, the new position granting the two of you immense pleasure simultaneously.

Once his cock sank completely into you, you felt his fuzzy base against your ass and whimpered as one of his hand slipped under and rubbed your clit.

You let out a series of cuss words as Bucky bucked his hips against you, slipping in and out of you with ease.

Soon, he was slamming into you all over again. The pace he chose was much faster than earlier, it was almost animalistic.

Your body moved against him like a rag doll; you tried meeting each one of his thrusts but you gave up midway because you were too focused on the pleasure his body brought you to be able to focus on something else.

 Bucky slammed in and out of you continuously, moaning and grunting in the process. Tears fell out of your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle; and your felt the pressure forming again.

“You take me so well, Y/N, fuck!” Bucky murmured as he increased his pace; ramming into you mercilessly.

Your thoughts were a mess yet again as you felt your vision becoming blurrier with each passing second. Your squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up.

 The sweet, familiar pain formed again, and you came without any warning – gushing out all over him as he kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm as your walls clenched around him, squeezing him all over again like the first time that night.

You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, so you collapsed onto the couch, him following right after. His sweaty torso pressed against your back, he rubbed along your sides as he whispered comforting words in your ear.

He did that a lot, you noticed.

 His member throbbed as he slowly removed it from inside you. His cum dripping out of you as he did you. It seemed as though he took a moment to admire his cum dripping down your folds and onto the couch.

Soon, he got off you and disappeared for a little while. Your eyes remained shut as you rode out the waves of euphoria. You were too worn out to even move.

Your body shuddered as you felt the loss of contact. You missed him against you already.

 You felt a sweet fatigue washing over you. It was satisfying almost, and the next thing you knew is that you were being scooped up in the arms of the man who had just fucked you into oblivion.

 He walked for what felt like forever until he finally reached his destination.

 He laid you down on cold, yet comforting satin sheets and you peeled your eyes open to see him. Bucky bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead.

 “You did so good, Y/N, thank you. Thank you for your help, now get some sleep, you need it,” he whispered against your forehead and left.

You wanted to question him further, but you figured that it was rather late, and your body was shutting down. And sleep seemed really tempting, so you gave in, and allowed the soothing darkness to engulf you.

However, one last thought rushed through your mind

 What help was he talking about?

  ---

 The next morning, you woke up rather late. The antique clock situated on the wall facing you indicated that it was 9:15 a.m.

Fuck! You thought, I should be at work.

 You removed the covers and realization hit you gradually. You weren’t home, no. You slept over at your boss’ place.

Your nervous eyes looked around the room. It was well furnished, yet it seemed as though no one really used it on a daily basis. It had that stuffy smell.

You looked down at your bare body and panicked. Yet, relief quickly washed over you once you noticed your white dress and underwear carefully folded and placed at the corner of the king-sized bed you were currently in. Your purse was there too.  

You were in desperate need of a shower. You wrapped the cover around you as you sheepishly walked towards what should be the bathroom, yet the click of the door handle stopped your advances.

You were frozen to the ground as the door opened.

You were half hoping it was your boss, but much to your disappointment, it wasn’t. Instead, it was a middle-aged woman with blonde hair.

She walked in with ease and smiled at you.

Her actions seemed much… practiced. As though she had done this a million times before.

 “Hello, Miss Y/N, I’m Lily, the housekeeper. Mr. Barnes told us you would be here. He asked me to let you know that you may have today off. You won’t be required at his office today. The car is waiting for whenever you wish to go back home. Breakfast is downstairs,” she informed you with an equally practiced smile and a tone which made it seem like she was forcing herself to sound cheerful.

You nodded, in shame and disappointment.

 “Is Buck- Mr. Barnes home as well?” you asked, your voice hoarse and you sounded dehydrated. Which was of course, no surprise given the activities of the previous night.

You were sure that this lady was able to see all the marks Bucky left on your neck and you noticed how her eyes briefly flashed a strange emotion; pity?

 “No, Mr. Barnes is at work. I’ll be downstairs, Miss, call me if you need any assistance,” she seemed like she walked away to avoid any follow up questions from you.

 Bucky was at work, and told you to take the day off?

Well, that was weird.

  You shrugged at the thought and moved into the bathroom. You took the well-deserved and much needed shower and allowed the warm water to take away all the tension from your muscles.

You found a spare toothbrush and continued with your morning routine. You washed the remnants of your makeup and wiped your face once you were done.

 You walked back into the room, wrapped in a towel and stood in the middle of the room for quite a while.

Was your boss avoiding you?

Well, clearly he was. But why?

Was it something you said, or did?

 You replayed the previous night’s occurrences over and over again, yet you couldn’t find anything which would explain his sudden hostile behavior.

You rushed to check your phone, hoping that there would be a message that would explain why he wasn’t checking up on you. But there wasn’t.

Involuntary tears formed in your eyes.

Did he not want you anymore? Or were you overthinking it all?

 You refused to let the tears fall as you slipped back into your underwear and finally your dress. You looked at your appearance in the nearby mirror.

The marks of his kisses and his bites on your neck in contrast with your pure, white dress. The contrast was rude.

 You picked up your purse and slipped your phone back inside it as you quickly made your way down the stairs.

You weren’t angry, you were embarrassed. Really, really ashamed at the situation in which you found yourself.

 You rushed outside and found his driver standing next to the car. He smiled apologetically at you and simply nodded when you told him that you wanted to get home as fast as he could get you.

You checked your phone obsessively as you sat in the backseat of his car. A lump formed in your throat as you thought about him.

It was a Friday, so thankfully you wouldn’t see him for the next 2 days. And hopefully you’d get over the sadness which flooded your senses.

Or, perhaps he actually was really busy and would get back to you over the weekend. You hoped to hear from him.

 ---

  You were a complete mess during the weekend. Every time you phone signaled that you had a new notification, you would all excited thinking it was your boss. But each time, you could feel a piece of yourself sinking in disappointment as you realized that it wasn’t him.

You were falling for him, hard and fast. And he wasn’t there to catch you. Your life had become a broken fairytale.

 You sent him a few messages, not getting into details, but just asking him what the problem was. None of which were replied to.

You had internalized that he was ignoring you, but the one thing which bothered you was that you couldn’t figure out why he was doing so.

You were miserable during the two days you had spent away from the office. And Monday morning was no different.

 You got ready, barely paying attention to what you looked like. All you knew was that you needed to confront Bucky about what was happening.

 You drove silently, not even bothering to play your usual playlist. You had skipped breakfast and even skipped your morning coffee.

You were a mess.

   Sitting at your desk and waiting for him to arrive must have been the most difficult 15 minutes of your life.

You thought about everything. Even went to lengths you shouldn’t have.

Would he sack you out?

Would he apologize for ignoring you?

While fucking you, he did mention that you were his, did he mean it?

 Was it wrong to fall for his charms in the first place?

Yes, yes it was.

  Sometime later, the elevator dinged, he was here.

You stood up, straightening your burgundy dress and hoped that he would at least spare you a glance, but he didn’t.

It felt like a déjà vu. Him ignoring everyone, focused on his phone as he walked into his office.

He passed by you just like every day and didn’t even look up from his phone.

The lump in your throat came back. And it stayed for longer than the last time.

You gathered your phone, your notepad and a pen and made your way into his office. You knocked just like you are used to, and his reply came back just like every day.

“Come in,”

 You pushed open the door and walked in; heartbroken.

He had his glasses on and he was typing something, eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop. The silver screen held his attention more than you did. And you hated how insignificant you felt.

 “Mr. Barnes, um, is everything okay?” you asked, and he still didn’t face you. He was busy writing whatever he was.

His reply came back monotonous.

 “Yes, Y/N. Why?” he asked back, clearly not wanting to know why you asked him that in the first place.

 You didn’t know what to say.

Why did you ignore me for 3 days after fucking me?

Why aren’t you acknowledging the night we spent?

 It would all make you seem so desperate.

 “Nothing, I was just w-,”

 “Y/N, if it’s nothing important, would you mind stepping outside and closing the door behind you. I’m rather busy at the moment. Thank you,” he spoke, monotonously still.

You nodded; taking in his appearance one last time before turning away from him. Dark blue suit, a silver tie, his hair up in its usual bun with a few strands still framing his face. His beard was a little more untidy than usual, but he looked good nonetheless. His black framed glassed sat on the bridge of his nose and he looked just a majestic as ever in his dark leather seat.

 The room was silent as you walked back towards the door. The only sound was made by your heels clicking on the marble floor.

You stepped outside and mentally cursed yourself for even thinking for a moment that there was a chance of him and you being a thing together.

You were nothing compared to him.

 Realization hit you as you finally came to the conclusion that you had been so easy. All he wanted was to get you in bed, and he succeeded. And now, you were just another woman who had been used by him. You weren’t special, and he confirmed that.

 You took a deep breath as you turned around to face the closed door again, his name written upon it in bold letters added to your injury.

James Buchanan Barnes.

As if you needed another reminder of how small and powerless you were compared to him…

  ---

 The following week went by as painfully as the first day. He ignored you and treated you like you were just an assistant. He refused to even spare you a proper look, he was engrossed in writing and people soon found out that he had come out of his writer’s block moment and that he was hell-bent on finishing the book now.

 By the second week after your intimate moments with your boss, Peggy was back. And she took over her job so you very rarely saw Bucky.

Bucky… even just saying his name brought back all the memories.

 Your feelings were bottling up inside of you; the shame, the anger, the embarrassment, the feeling of having been nothing but a toy to him – it all remained unspoken inside of you.

Until one day, a Thursday in the second week post your sexual interaction with your boss, you decided to confront him.

You found yourself in his office one afternoon. And he was still writing, typing furiously on the keyboard.

 “Mr. Barnes, I need to talk to you about something,” you spoke, trying your best to hide your nervousness.

He didn’t look up from the screen.

 “Sure, Y/N, go ahead,” was all he replied and you knew for a fact that he wasn’t paying you any attention.

 And that was it. You reached your limit and your patience ran out.

 You stepped closer to his desk as you raised your voice.

 “Oh for fuck’s sake! Stop ignoring me, and don’t pretend like you aren’t avoiding me ever since we fucked! I need to know what the fuck is going on. What did I do?” the desperate tone in your voice was hard to ignore.

 And your slightly raised voice caused him to finally look at you. He didn’t have any emotion on his face as he looked at you. No apology, no remorse, nothing.

You noticed that the skin under his eyes were darker than usual.

 Without saying a word, he removed his glasses and placed them back on the table. He stood up and walked around the table, approaching you like how an animal approaches its prey.

Slowly, confidently – knowing damn well that he was the superior one in this situation.

 “Watch your tone with me, Miss Y/N. Now, tell me, what do you want to know?” he asked again as if he hadn’t just heard a word you said.

 “Are you- who do you think you are? What makes you think it’s okay to avoid me like the fucking plague after we’ve-,”

 Before you could finish telling him off, he pushed you back against the wall right next to the door and grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head.

His legs on either side of you as he trapped you between him and the wall.

You winced when your back hit the wall, but he didn’t care.

 “I told you to fucking watch that tone when you’re talking to me, Miss Y/N,” he whispered sinisterly. A completely different person to who he had been the day you went over to his house.

 “Frankly, I have no interest in you, Miss Y/N. I just needed the right . . . muse to help me write the ending of my novel. I needed an elaborated, steamy, intimate scene, but with Natasha gone, I couldn’t write without experiencing it first. To be honest, you were an immense help in helping me get out of that headspace,”

He spoke, looking you dead in the eyes. His blue eyes, the ones you often daydreamed about, now had this look in them which reminded you of how heartless the man in front of you was.

 He continued.

 “I should be thanking you, in fact. Thank you for being so easy, so naïve and so fucking good to me. Really, Y/N, I fantasized about your body for days after I fucked you. Even got hard while I was writing the scene, just thinking about how you moved while I was buried deep inside you,” he whispered, darkly, against the shell of your ear.

Silent tears streamed down your face as each one of his words hit you like a punch in your face.

 “You’re sick. Let go of me,” you tried to free your hands from his tight grip, but you failed.

He moved his face dangerously close to yours, and if you hadn’t moved your face to the side, you were afraid that he might have brushed his lips with yours.

 “No, you said you wanted to know why, well here you go. You’re beautiful, Y/N, so fucking beautiful but God are you fucking stupid, I mean, you didn’t even put up a fight, didn’t even to chase you, all I did was ask you and you gave in to me. So fucking easy,” his words hurt.

Tears threatened to fall as he spoke; humiliating you.

 “I still vividly remember the sounds you made, and how I got you moaning in no time. So responsive, so beautiful and so fucking naïve. Tell me, do you let every man take you with such ease?” he mocked, and chuckled as you tried to move away from him but again, failed to do so.

 “But don’t worry, I’ll get you a free copy of the book so you can finally see what you helped me create. Now go on, and stop behaving like a child. You’re gonna stop acting like I owe you an apology, and you’re definitely not going to mention any of this to anyone. Understand?”

His voice reflected the power he had. Of course you wouldn’t tell anyone, you couldn’t. It would only ruin your reputation.

Silent tears streamed down your face as he released you, finally. He walked away from you and got back to his seat.

 “Go on now, I would really like a cup of tea. Black, no sugar. Thank you, Miss Y/N,” he spoke as if he didn’t do anything to hurt you.

He acted as though he didn’t just break your heart. Of course, he didn’t know that you had started to develop feelings for him.

He was right, you were naïve. So fucking naïve.

How could you think that he would even consider to reciprocate the feelings you had for him?

  You got him his tea, and avoided looking at the smug look on his face and you went on with your day; heartbroken.

 ---

  The week ended and over the next weekend, news circulated around that the publishing process of his book was nearly over. That meant that he would be having his launch party very soon. Something you were initially excited for, but now dreaded.

The day he had invited you over for dinner, for a brief moment, you had indeed thought about what it would be like to be his date for the party.

But now you simply felt like you were stupid for even having thought about such a thing. You laughed humorlessly at your stupidity.

 ---

  Earlier that week, the paparazzi had caught him and a certain dark haired beauty having dinner at some posh restaurant which you couldn’t afford anytime soon.

And the mystery woman turned out to be a rather well-known model. And ever since, she was rumored to be his date for the party which was to be held the following weekend. The magazines and websites believed that the two made a ‘perfect’ couple and that they looked great together.

Even your friends and colleagues thought the same.

And it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Even if your boss indeed turned out to be the same arrogant, savage man every one said he was; it didn’t change the fact that you were actually falling for him. Nothing would change the fact that you felt a connection between the two of you when he fucked you that night.

And being the overly emotional, apparently naïve, person you were – you couldn’t simply get rid of the thought of him.

  The night of the launch party, you missed it. You made an excuse of being sick and your colleagues easily bought it.

You cried yourself to sleep that night; thinking about everything was . . . heartbreaking. You were in pain.

Thankfully, you wouldn’t have to clean up for work the next day, so you basked in your miseries thoroughly.

 ---

 Saturday morning was just as miserable as the previous night.

You roamed around your apartment aimlessly, purposely avoiding your phone and PC because you knew that your social media would be filled with pictures of last night and frankly, you did not want to see his face, nor his new girl’s.

 An hour spent doing nothing later, you decided that going to the gym and working out might actually help take your mind off him and help clear whatever it is that you were feeling.

You got changed, grabbed a water bottle and your keys and made your way to the front door. As you opened it, you found a white box right at your door step.

 Hoping that it is not what you think it is, you picked it up and made your way back inside. You didn’t know whether to be angry or cry when you finally opened it.

Inside the impeccable packaging, laid carefully in the middle of the box was the new novel by James Buchanan Barnes.

The book had a hard cover, it was pure white and the title was written in dark, red, capital letters across it.

 Weirdly enough, it reminded you of how you looked the morning after he was done with you. How your neck was covered in his cruel, red marks and how your white dress taunted your stained reputation.

 A part of you screamed when you opened the book. You briefly skimmed through the foreword page, and you kept turning over each page – dying to read the novel yet wanting to burn it at the same time.

Something in the acknowledgement page caught your eye.

Instead of thanking the usual; he showed his appreciation to a certain Muse.

  To all my loyal readers, without whom I would be here today.

Big thanks to my Muse as well; the one who helped me during a tough time and provided me with the right inspiration.

   You scoffed as you read it, knowing perfectly well that he was talking about you. No one would ever be able to figure out that you were the Muse. And to be honest, you preferred it that way.

 Before you knew it, you were flicking through the book, looking for the last chapter. The chapter. The one written while keeping you in mind. The one written thanks to you. The one which caused your humiliation in the eyes of your boss. The one which acted as a blemish on your image, in your own eyes.

 Chapter 21 was the last one, and the most important one. It was the one in which the two main characters got together for the last time, before going their separate ways “for the better.”

 Your tears fell uncontrollably as you read it.

The description of the female character matched you perfectly. Her naked body, her appeal,  her features – the unkind author even mentioned that she had a mole on her right hip bone. And so did you.

Now you knew why he was observing you as such. Now you knew why he was taking his time in memorizing each part of your body. All because he wanted to write about it later.

The sex scene at the very end was an exact replica of how you and Bucky had fucked each other. He had shamelessly written it all; detailed perfectly. He had written about how her body moved, exactly like yours did.

He described what she tasted like to the male character, probably how you did to him. The description of the white dress his female character wore matched the one you wore to his house as well.

 You slammed the book shut and threw it on your bed.

You felt used. The selfish man had used you and there was nothing you could do about it.

You couldn’t believe how easily he had manipulated you. And how easily you fell for his charms.

 The book laid on your bed, the red title in capital letters taunted you. And there was still nothing you could do about it.

The book; the soon to be best-seller by J.B Barnes contained a secret only you knew about. Well, you and him.

One which you would carry in your heart for a long, long time – along with the heartache.

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[queen-scribbles]

Sol system, earth, moon, sun, stars, meteor and stardust for your shepherds :) 🌍☀️🌚⭐🌠

Sol System - What is your Shepard’s class, background, military history?

Emily is a Spacer/War Hero Vanguard

Lisa is a Colonist/Ruthless Infiltrator

Quinn is a Colonist/Sole Survivor Adept

Charlie is an Earthborn/Ruthless Soldier

Earth - Where was your Shepard born?

Emily was born on a ship. She came five weeks early, Hannah had technically just started her medical leave bc ~8 months pregnant, but the cruiser hadn’t made it back to Earth yet(she was planning to go home to Sydney (as in Australia) and then whoops). So she had Emily on the cruiser and they transferred to the hospital as soon as they got back.

Lisa and Quinn were both born on Mindoir

Charlie was born in New Orleans, Louisiana. 

Moon - Did your Shepard have any dreams as a child? (dream job, plans for future etc)

Emily always wanted to help people. She wanted to be a doctor, but then the biotics showed up and she was kinda destined for the military or something after that. She has always liked the idea of husband and kids, it just takes a really long time(and a galactic-scale war that almost kills her) to get.

Lisa didn’t really have any. She was pretty undecided up until high school. Always figured it would be something to do with tech; she’s had a talent for and interest in that kind of thing since she was really young.

Quinn wanted to be a pilot, and then his biotics manifested--and very strong from the get-go--and he changed course.

Charlie grew up on the streets and eventually in a gang, his goals were pretty much always just survive til tomorrow “maybe if I’m lucky I’ll make it to 20″ sort of mindset.

Sun - Was there a person in your Shepard’s life that changed their view on life/the world?

For Emily, it was the woman who owned the gym where she picked up boxing when she was about 13. She was really struggling with the whole “lack of friends/connections” thing that comes with being a Navy brat, and her dad died shortly after she picked it up as a hobby, so she had a lot she was bottling up, and Ms Rose gave her some very good advice on both life and her form.

Lisa it’s Gabe. He’s the soldier who found her on Mindoir. (Their relationship plays a pretty big part in the MEBB fic I wrote for her, and I really wanna meta about him at some point, but we’ll still tldr for now) He checked up on her after, gave her a place to stay when the foster system wasn’t working, and was like a brother and best friend and proof the entire galaxy didn’t suck.

 Quinn and Charlie both it’s Anderson. Quinn’s dad worked a lot, so wasn’t really a presence in his life even before the batarian raid, and Charlie’s parents both died when he was about eight, so they even more than my girls latched on to him as a father figure of sorts. Charlie especially needed someone who cared about him enough to kick his ass in line so he didn’t waste his potential.(god he hates that phrase. But it’s TRUE.)

Stars - Who is your Shepard’s LI?

Emily’s is Kaidan, went for it in ME1, stayed faithful through ME2, picked things back up in ME3

Lisa’s is also Kaidan, but they didn’t sleep together in ME1, just put a pin in it for later and then *waves hand at ME2* shit happened. Lisa feels like she owes it to the Alliance to be a good soldier for saving her on Mindoir, doesn’t like to break regs if she doesn’t have to. But that’s less important in ME3 when staring at the literal end of existence, so she and Kaidan finally get to pursue things. 

Quinn’s is Ashley, they bonded over poetry and watching each other’s back

Charlie’s is Jack, and neither was expecting to actually fall in love, but they just turn into each other’s home(something neither’s really ever had before) and it catches them completely off-guard how much they love each other. (the tattoo scene in the Citadel DLC? OH MY GOD. They’re each other’s home and they belong to each other and it’s wonderful and terrifying all at the same time)

Meteor - Does your Shepard have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

Emily twirls her hair when she’s reading or working on reports, or doing anything that involves sitting still.

Lisa loves to sit on the back of chairs with her feet on the seat.

Quinn cracks his knuckles all the damn time and it makes his biotics flare up just a little whenever he does. 

Charlie refuses to sit anywhere he can’t have his back to a wall and eye on at least one door/window/means of escape. He’s also an amazingly good ballroom dancer even if he sucks at all other kinds(him and Jack doing the tango is a mental image I enjoy greatly)

Stardust - What kind of clothes do they usually wear off-duty? (sporty, elegant or specific clothes like sweatpants, jeans etc )

Emily’s very casual and comfy; jeans or leggings and a long tank top, flats or slip on shoes, which comes in handy when she’s recovering after the Reaper War; bc she’s in a wheelchair for a while and it’s easier not having to deal with laces). She adds a hoodie or sweater if she gets chilly, but she’s rarely cold enough to need anything heavier than that.

Lisa is cargo pants, flip flops, and t-shirts until it gets cooler out, then she’s switching to work boots and throwing on a flannel shirt over the t-shirt, adding a jacket over that if it’s straight up COLD.

Quinn likes to wear khakis and a nice t-shirt, maybe with an open button-down over top(very preppy looking; Ash gives him SO MUCH SHIT over it) and then Doc Martens or some other shoe with a nice thick rubber sole.

Charlie will wear anything, but his preference is for jeans and a hoodie with combat boots.

[70ships-moved]

untitled | honeymoon suite

very brief summary: patrick can’t sleep. his solution? interview your boyfriend.

pairing: malcolm (oc) / patrick (s/i) | honeymoon suite

words: 2088 (yikes!)

notes: this is the very first fic i wrote about malcolm and it turned a year old like two months ago (wow! i didn’t even know that until now), i didn’t want to change or edit too much because this holds a special place in my non existent heart :), written in the pov of my s/i (first person)

   Today I found a magazine with one of my idols (and celebrity crushes) on the cover in my nightstand drawer stashed away like a porno magazine. I remember the exact day I bought it too. I was at a bookstore and I saw it in the checkout area and the moment I saw who was on the cover, I made a mad dash for the checkout area. I did contemplate it though; the magazine was like twelve bucks which is stupid for something no one really buys but skims through and puts back. (When was the last time you bought a magazine? Man, wait until you hear about the internet.) But for who was on the cover, I was more than willing to pay the stupid twelve dollars.

    Like any child that picks up a book, I looked at the pictures and read some of the interview. My only takeaway from the interview was that he liked this Bolognese recipe he found- or made himself. I didn’t read it all. He puts bacon bits in it, and he says it’s even good when cold. I took this magazine with me to school almost every day. I really liked the guy, okay? I’d show it to my best and only friend at school at the time who hated my obsession with him. It was weird because she was one of those friends who would always get an ugly boyfriend and would force you to compliment him- no matter how ugly you thought he was but proceeded to get mad at you when you were being honest about his looks. I could handle her opinions about this man I claimed to love but have never met in my life.

    Four years later and I finally read the interview. It was a good read. The interviewer had nothing but nice things to say about him, mainly because he was and still is a sweetheart. And he only had nice things to say about the people he talked about. After reading the interview, I had something other than his good looks to admire. As far as I know, there isn’t a hateful bone in his body. When talking about his controversial relationship with his ex (long story short, the public wasn’t buying it), he said he only knew the girl he fell in love with and that’s saying something for a relationship that felt like it only lasted a week.

    It inspired me to conduct my own interview with someone who I love just as much, my partner Malcolm. I’ve interviewed other people before rather awkwardly but this is Malcolm we’re talking about. He has walls. We all do. He's a bit on the reserved side but with the time I’ve spent with him, I’ve seen these walls come down. These demolished walls are my favorite part of him. I even went out of the way and got a recording device from a buddy who works in film. I like being extra.  

    It’s about 2 am. There’s this thing my body does where I just have to wake up at this time. It’s every day too. When this happens, I wake Malcolm up. He encourages me to do so because it is incredibly difficult for me to go back to sleep once awake. Also, it’s kind of boring being awake all by yourself. In these hours, I learned how to call from a private number (*67, for prank call purposes), learned useless but interesting facts about space and how sex can be one hell of a sleeping pill. Tonight, I wanted to do something different.

    We’re sat in the kitchen area of the suite. The only thing separating us is the kitchen island. My recording device sits in the middle of us. Are you ready? “Mhm.” Great, I start with an over-the-top introduction of him. Ladies, guys, and people who don’t care what’s between their thighs, it’s two in the fucking morning and I can’t sleep but the man I’m sitting across from makes it all worth it. He’s got great hair and even great taste in men. He’s dating me! The man, the myth, future astronaut, and legend: Malcolm Hall! I feel like a podcast host. It’s a good feeling. “You’re so annoying.” That’s why he loves me.

    I have a list of questions I wrote down in less than five minutes. They’re nothing special and I want this to be fun and not so serious. This man constantly throws himself at his work- spending endless hours at a desk. Serious is his middle name. When he’s not in his office, he’s at the bar talking to you about a film he saw with a margarita in front of him or playing blackjack with you and your coworkers. Maybe he’s in suite 505 kicking it with yours truly, telling me about his day while I struggle to put a face mask on his moving face. How are you doing? He chuckles. That fucking chuckle. “Tired. But I’m with you, so I can’t complain. How are you?” I’m not so tired but I can’t complain. You’re here.

    I see you’re well-dressed for our interview. A bit too casual but you look good regardless. “Fuck off.” He says this in a whisper but it’s almost too quiet, it almost looks like he’s mouthing it. He’s in a bathrobe, his hair tossed from sleep; strands of it falling into his face. His face is resting in his palm as he looks at me with a tired smile, his eyes struggling to stay open. This is all unintentional, but I think this is extremely sexy of him. These small things have such a tremendous effect on me. They light the pit in my stomach and make me squirm in my seat a little. I’m messing. You look great as always. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.” I know. If I ever die in my sleep, I want to be in the best damn pair of silk pajamas there is.

    The coffee machine makes a noise indicating that it’s done brewing his cup of caffeine. That’s a nice coffee maker. When did you get it? I’m going off-script. “This thing?” He taps the machine like the hood of a car. “It came with the room. The interior design people take care of that. I just run the place, so I don’t really know when it got here. But I do know that the other machines were really fucking old.” Oh, interesting. “Not really. You know, I was expecting you to give me much harder questions.” Really? Well, it’s important to expect the unexpected. “Now you’re scaring me.” Good. Part of me can’t tell if he knows I’m teasing him.

    I’m not a coffee drinker like him but if it tasted as good as it smelt, then I could be. It’s a hazelnut blend. He mixes it with half-and-half and three scoops of sugar. His sips are slow and cautious. He seems to have bad luck with hot objects. He burnt his hand in a waffle iron one time and a dozen more times while preparing dinner. Maybe a hot object, liquid, or thing is the reason for the tape on his right hand. What happened to your hand? He looks up at me through his mug. “Masturbation incident.” By the way, I am madly in love with this man.

    Do you remember when we met? This is a weird transition because it was on my list of questions and my timing couldn’t be any worse considering moments ago, I asked a question and the answer I received was masturbation. The question makes him smile though. He either remembers or he’s pretending to remember. “Yeah. Of course I do.” He takes both my hands, gliding his thumbs across my knuckles. I want dates, times, names, everything. “I don’t remember the exact date, but I believe it was March.” He’s correct. “It was at the hair salon and I booked an appointment with you.” He’s correct again. I cut his hair for free now- well, unless he’s pissed me off. Then, I charge him ten bucks. Twenty if I’m really upset.

     Do you remember what time you showed up for your appointment? “Late. Very late.” He came in about two and a half hours late. I was pissed. “You were pissed.” He apologized profusely, and I still cut his hair. I remember it being soft and full. It still is. That's just one of the perks of having a hairstylist as a boyfriend. “I remember when you washed my hair. It’s my favorite part of you doing my hair.” I remember that too. The shampoo had a minty menthol smell. When it was on your head, it added a cooling factor and when you inhaled it, your lungs felt like winter. Basically, vapor rub for your hair.

    He got lost in the way I massaged his scalp, his eyes closed and smiling. I can still hear his Yorkshire accent telling me “Tha’ feels good.” After I washed it, I blew it out and started cutting it. That’s when I told him his hair was soft. “Looking back on it, you kept your hands in my hair way too long.” It’s part of the job. “That’s what they all say.” He takes a long sip from his mug, his eyes not leaving mine. “Your hair was...interesting as well.” Interesting, in the way he’s using it, is slang for saying you don’t know whether you should like something because you’ve never seen it before. Back in the day, I’d dye my hair all types of colors. Shit, I thought I looked good.  

    “The Smiths played on the stereo and your singing was terrible.” That’s a lie. I’m not Morrissey but I try to stay on key. “I’m kidding. But when you moved around the shop, you were always swaying to the music. You were fun to watch.” He winks at me and my face heats up at the memory. I danced like no one was watching. “We talked and talked and next thing I knew, I was asking you out on a date.” The first date was meant to be memorable but due to one incident, I feel like our date was memorable for the wrong reasons. “We went bowling. I’ll never forget it.” I know why. “You slipped and fell in the aisle.” I was so embarrassed. Is that the only thing you remember? Whenever we talk about it, you always bring it up. “That’s how I break the ice. ‘My boyfriend and I went bowling and he fell in the aisle. It was our first date. It's nice to meet you.'" 

    I’m a little tired now, my eyes a bit heavy and my voice softening. He answered the first date question I had prepared, so I decided to move on to my last one. Have you ever been in love? “Yes. I’d say so. Are you or have you ever been in love?” I’m supposed to be asking the questions, but I answer anyway. Yeah. I am right now. It’s a funny feeling because I’ve never been in love before. “Really? Who with?” You. My eyes can’t take the weight and close. “Good answer.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

    It’s a few minutes to 4 now. Our interview is done, and we’re ready for bed. We don’t go straight to sleep though. I listen to him talk some more with my head on his chest, his little chest hairs tickling my cheek. I begin to absently trace patterns across his chest. He says it tickles. His hand goes up my shirt, moving his hand up and down my back almost in a soothing rhythm. Sometimes, he stops, and I think he’s asleep, but I get the feeling that he realizes that I sensed he’s stopped and keeps going until I’m asleep. The hum of his chest when he speaks, combined with his hand and heartbeat is enough for me to call it a night.  

    His skin radiates a warmth that can’t be duplicated. His hands have a pattern like no other, each touch raising the hairs on my body. Despite it being hours since he’s showered, I can smell the scent of my cherry soap on him. This moment is something I never knew I needed and if it were to be taken away, I would be devastated. I close my eyes. I cannot think of any other place I’d rather be than here.