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afatallovesong · 1 year

Note

Happy New Year you wonderful human! Pleeeease tell me you’re gracing us with more Calum goodness soon?! You’re my favourite writer. Loves

Ask and you shall receive... eventually! This has been a labour of love, I've been writing it on and off since November. Its one of my longest fics so far (I'm sorry) but I really think you'll like it! If there's any mistakes, mind ya business.

Happy birthday to the main man himself

At Your Convenience

A Calum Hood one shot

18+, Smut, NSFW

Word Count: 15,821

You’re fucking tired. It was actually starting to become painful just how tired you were. It hurt to keep your eyes open. It hurt to close them even for a second. They were so insanely dry from tiredness that they’d become sore. Each blink felt like repetitive razor sharp cuts. You’d have done just about anything for a cat nap instead of restocking the shelves. The sun glaring through the window as it started to set didn’t help. You were squinting and covering your line of sight as much as you could, but it still pierced through, targeting you especially, some evil vendetta against you. Its drying your corneas even faster, you really didn’t think it was possible. You manage a not-so-elegant yawn, barely covering the gaping black hole your mouth created. Only four more hours to go. Four more hours of this.

Its crisp and cold out. The early signs of winter were rolling into the city. The leaves were now lacking existence. Fallen branches scattering pavements, cracked under leather docs. Breaths were seen in the air as well as heard. Cheeks and noses were rosy with the bite of a harsh incoming wind. The sun was beginning to set just a little before 6pm. The darkness befalling the streets of California. Calum had often liked a walk at sunset. There was something oddly calming about it. Watching the world carry on as the day was meeting its end. It’s not that he’d even see much of the sun’s disappearance with all the buildings and lights and the busy billboards, but he’d known it was there. He’d known it was leaving him.

He liked walking home in the dark too. The city was so vastly different like that. The stores, the staff that changed over, the people you found wandering through. People were teaming and seemingly bustling with character, not all good, in some circumstances maybe even foul but certainly more outgoing than the daylight crowd. Some were tired and rushed off home from work. Often moving so fast he’d nearly been trampled down into the pavement twice. For the most part, the characters could only be described as friendly, interesting, and easy to watch going by. None could have captivated him quite as much as you though. He’d soon find that out. His friends and family would never describe him as particularly observant, this ought to prove them wrong.

He’d been across the street, a little over 10 feet away maybe when his eyes set upon your figure. It seemed as if the building encasing you hadn’t been there at all. Like you were just stood there on the street corner exposed to winter air as much as he was. The concrete cage above and around you, merely an afterthought. He’d spotted you with an impressively keen eye. He could pin point any detail about you from the style of your hair to the colour of each stripe on your shirt. He may even go as far as to say he’d memorised the order they appeared in. Light blue, dark blue, off white, and black, and repeat and repeat. You weren’t doing anything spectacular to catch his attention in the way that you did. He just knew that you had and now he was stuck watching you on a loop. Stood restocking shelves by the window, a couple of bags in each hand. Despite the averageness of it all, he’d felt the world stand still, calling him inside, calling him to you. The girl in the window.

He went completely unnoticed by you at first. He was thankful for that. You’d had a delivery that morning and spent most of the day painstakingly unboxing and replacing items running low around the store. You were at the last one, placing individual packets of chips on the shelf and the rack beside it. You decided to organise them into rainbow order, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. You had a little song about it, so you knew. You’d been foolish to assume you’d had the whole colour palette. You try to invent a flavour for indigo and violet to rectify that. You could send a strongly worded sales pitch to Lays. For now, though, you were stood atop a step ladder to reach the highest shelf. You weren’t exactly short, but the additional height did come in handy when you couldn’t find the energy to stretch higher than what was natural. Its only as the sun tucks itself away, do you finally brave peering out of the window again for some form of escape.

He catches your eye as you hover there, throwing the cardboard box, now empty, down on the ground behind you. In the space it took you to finish the task and turn back around, he’d crossed the street now looking at you from the corner. He hoped he didn’t look weird. He definitely looked weird. You don’t think much of the exchange at first. But as the seconds escalate you find yourself partaking in a little staring contest. You’d felt that burning sensation in your eyes again after a short while. Just as you go to blink it away, he’d gone. You half wondered if you’d hallucinated his appearance in the first place. Stranger things had happened after a long day after all. Whether real or not, you’d lost the contest. You knew that much. You took your loss and patted down your thighs in defeat.

The door opened with a collection of high pitched tones from your butterfly wind chime above it. It’s just as alarming as it was when you’d first started working there. You thought you would have acclimatised by now but a mixture of tiredness and a slow moving day in store had you beat. So instead, you found yourself jumping out of your skin. You were lucky you didn’t fall. It might have been a more exciting day if you had. You may return to the idea if the day dragged out any longer.

You managed to get back on the ground safely. Your ladders were folded and slotted back against the window where you’d retrieved them from. Your cardboard box now back in your hands to flatten for the recycling bin out back. For now, you’d rest it near the ladders, but you may as well complete half the job while you’re at it to save you doing more than necessary later on. Judging by your exhaustion now, it would be the last thing on your agenda at 10pm. Plus you were never one to leave a customer unsupervised in store. You may have been tired, but you weren’t stupid.

He stepped inside, warmth flooding around him, engulfing him in a large hug. It was a California summer amongst the shelves and aisles. At least that’s how pleasant it had felt. Now that he thought about it, that was a horrible way to describe somewhere that sold fresh food. It’d be a nightmare for food hygiene and longevity. He might have been a touch hasty in his earlier description. It was undeniably cosy though, that was a better fit for it. It was a pleasure to be shielded from the cold.

His eyes easily floated back to you now that he’d entered your space. That was probably just as creepy as it sounded. He didn’t have any sort of plan in mind for entering the store, he never usually did. He’d just made it inside and assumed that that would be enough but of course it wasn’t. It would never have satiated his need to meet you. But he couldn’t just stand in the doorway with his hands in his pockets watching you like some sort of weirdo. Which admittedly, was exactly what he was currently doing. Until he snapped out of it and shuffled himself down the next aisle. He had to approach you somehow though. He’d made it this far; he should follow through.

He could see you through the shelving. There were gaps between produce and items without height, quite similarly to bookshelves in a library. The more he looked the more he could make that comparison. Were these second hand shelves? The shop wasn’t as tiny as it looked from outside either. There were at least 5 short aisles which considering the location, was impressive. The old convenience store seemed no larger than a matchbox from out there. Now he’d stepped inside he’d argue it was more of a healthy apartment, or maybe a doctors waiting room. Yes, those really were the best locations he could think of.

He couldn’t help but notice how the light still caught you as he peered through the confectionary to the place where you stood. The light was illuminating your striped shirt and little blue waistcoat resting in coordination on top. It also bounced off the shiny, scribbled out name badge hooked into the left pocket. He wondered why you hadn’t gotten your name printed. Perhaps you were new here. He’d never seen you in here before. He’d like to think he’d remember you if he had. Not that he was the biggest or most loyal customer to ‘Convenience Corner,’ but he had made it inside once or twice before. It was mostly while drunk, just picking up extra supplies for a party or so but it was enough for him to know. No, he’s certain he’d not seen you before. He ought to find out your name before he forgets to.

“Can I help you?” He jumped at the sound of your voice. It was melodical and cheerful, sweeter than he’d expected. He’d not been prepared to feel even more intrigued by you so soon and in a situation like this no less. You’d caught him staring hadn’t you? He could never show his face in here again if you had. He’d have to leave immediately; God forbid pretend to buy something to make the interaction less awkward. That’s if that was even possible at this point. He wasn’t that sure that it was. His fight or flight had to kick in sooner or later. He looked up from the pack of pistachios his hands seemed to instinctively land on. “Sure, the freezer’s in the back.” He lifts his head to follow your voice with an eyebrow arched. He hadn’t asked for anything in the freezer section. You weren’t speaking to him at all. He’s not sure which was more embarrassing, the fact he was self-centred enough to believe he’d been caught or the fact he was now too aware that he hadn’t been.

“Guess I’m buying the damn pistachios,” he muttered under his breath before grabbing one packet off the shelf, heading in the direction of check out. He was about to make it there too, before he changed his mind, turning back to grab another just to be safe. Surely it was weirder to buy one packet. Or was that just him? He made his way to the counter for good this time. It was adjacent to the entrance as one might expect, easy escape route if things went south. He hovered in place, occasionally stretching onto the tip of his toes and then back down again as he waited patiently for you or another employee to aid him. Though he hoped, deep down in his soul that it would be you.

During his wait he noticed the green chair behind the register. The chair clad in worn leather, looking about as old as the building itself, tucked away neatly. The next items he spotted were the locked cabinets with indication to liquor and tobacco from the warning labels and age restrictions printed on the doors. The little bronze bell atop the counter was next. Then it was the vintage green radio buzzing to the left of it, sputtering out some classical tune he’d never for the life of him be able to recognise. Then it was the cup of what he assumed was coffee, in a branded cardboard cup he also didn’t recognise.

The more he looked the more he found. The walls were patterned with blue and white vertical stripes. The floor shared the same colour scheme with checker tiles. Suddenly the blue uniform was making sense. The décor reminded him of the 80’s, bright, in your face and yet comforting and familiar. His favourite piece of décor in the whole store had to be the painted sign that read ‘please don’t fucking steal.’ He wondered if it worked much as a deterrent or if he was gullible. His second favourite was the collage of confiscated fake id’s with various graffiti vandalising the faces. He laughed at those harder than he thought he would. The Marlboro’s in rainbow order weren’t far behind.

It was cluttered and unorganised, certainly had an eclectic vibe, but he felt strangely at home in his surroundings. He’d liked that. He’d also liked that the price labels on everything were the same shade of green as the chair and radio, some kind of extreme case of colour coordination. Perhaps there was an ongoing discussion about replacing the walls and flooring. It seemed like the favoured shade in the establishment in its current state, was green. It would look pretty green. He really was dull today.

“Hey, sorry I took so long.” You had appeared behind the counter slightly out of breath, hair swept over one shoulder, slipping down your back in an untidy fashion. You were rubbing the back pockets of your blue jeans, looking from left to right and all around for something, he couldn’t quite fathom what. You’d moved so fast he barely registered your arrival there at all. Let alone be able to guess what you were doing there now. You’d startled him in the best way, rushing in to save him just as he feared he was losing grip on reality.

You’d smelt so sweet, next to the dust heavy, 80’s vibe of the shop floor. You had this fresh aroma of apples mixed with mint or something similar, and he liked it. He really liked it. He could have bottled that up. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you scrambled around. He watched you in awe like he’d never seen a retail worker before in his life. You’d seemed so colourful and lively against the drab old signs pinned behind you and it was absolutely mesmerising to him. What was a girl as bright as you doing in a place as drab as this?

Another customer entered with a gust of wind following shortly after. Trickling that breeze across the back of both your necks. Both your eyes floated over to the doorway and back simultaneously. A shiver had shot up his spine when your eyes had met his for the first time, well second actually. He quite enjoyed the feeling of your gaze on him. “Just those?” You asked sweetly. It took most of the energy you had left to lay it on thick for him.

You never enjoyed taking your tiredness out on customers. Not just because it was unprofessional but because you quite liked other humans. You liked them a lot. They were the sole reason you were employed, sure but you also just liked the experience of your fleeting moments with the rest of the human race. You didn’t need to know their life stories. You didn’t need to chit chat and ask about their day because it was simply polite to do so. Any conversation carried between you and the passers-by, the window shoppers, and the regulars, was a part of your day that you enjoyed and often craved. Somewhere, not so deep down, very clearly found instead, you hoped this new customer would allow you more than just a fleeting moment.

You eyed him with large, soft eyes. A genuine glimmer of happiness was lit within them. Despite the bags beneath them which made his heart ache for you, he thought you had the prettiest eyes he’d seen. So much so that it took him a while to return to you, remembering exactly where he was. Buying something. He watched you peering down to the items he’d handed over, fascinated by literally anything that you did as if it were his first day on earth. And for the love of God, how could someone so tired be so devastatingly beautiful?

“Uh, yeah, that’s it.” He really took over a minute to pause and then came out with that. Pathetic. He’d kick himself for his lack of conversational skills later. For now, he just glanced down to your name tag with curiosity but not enough guts to back it up. You caught him, addressing it immediately. It seemed you were paying just as much attention to him as he was to you. Funny he hadn’t noticed it, since he clearly saw everything else that you did.

“Printing error, would you believe it?” He shook his head, he’s not sure why. “You’d think I wouldn’t need one at all, owning the place.” He was quite impressed by that; he hadn’t shown it as well as he’d have liked to, but he was. He wouldn’t have guessed it. You started shuffling around, just like before. Your eyes dart beneath the counter, then above, to the side, even to the ground. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen some keys on a lanyard?” You eye him hopefully, anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip. Stay strong Calum. You rushed a hand through your hair as your panic set in. He had a feeling this wasn’t the first time you’d lost them.

Ever the hero, he glanced around to where you were stood before. He remembered your position exactly. He might have been a serial killer. He’d have to book himself a therapy session later that evening. These were early signs for sure. There kicked beneath the bottom shelf, a slither of silver caught his eye. Before you could clear the counter yourself, he’d already grabbed them, wrapping the sunflower printed material around his hand.

The smile you greeted him with was similar to that of a damsel who’d been delivered from distress. He knew he wasn’t worthy of such praise, but he so enjoyed the sight of it as it was presented to him. “Thank you.” You gestured a prayer as you said it, bringing the keys to your chest, your breasts squishing together significantly. He wished he hadn’t noticed that. “I swear that’s the 6th time I’ve done that.” You sink the key into the cash register, springing it to life, opening the drawer beneath it.

“Just today?” He dug at you, earning a blush, he felt blessed to have seen it let alone to be the one to cause it. “Well, that’s 2.75 then.” You said happily, hands flattening atop the wooden countertop as if you were smoothing out a piece of fabric. He hands money over the with a “keep the change” and a smile that flashed his perfect pearly whites. You placed the 5 he gave you in the cash register, eyeing him sceptically as did so. “See you around big spender.” His breath escaped him at the nickname, the possibility of seeing you again too. That was the most fun either of you had, had all day.

“I should give you a job since you’re in here so often.” He doesn’t fight the smile that braces his face when he enters the place this time. “Then you’d have to finally tell me your name.” He knows he’s got you there. “On second thoughts, you’re my best customer and you’re so, so welcome here any time honestly.” You slam your magazine down on the counter for emphasis, resting your face in both your palms, elbows on the wood. “Oh yeah? Don’t get a lot of pistachio fiends?” He wanted to be embarrassed; he had no legs to stand on. He’d been coming in every Thursday for the past 5 weeks, buying a pack of pistachios each and every time. His car was just about overflowing with them at this point. The shells, bags, full pistachios he couldn’t quite toss and catch in his mouth in less than a minute. It was an addiction to most, you included.

“What brings you in today?” You held your hand out to stop him answering you, only he never began to speak in the first place. He was proud to say he was used to you doing that. “Let me guess.” He flipped you off before responding light heartedly. “Maybe I’m just checking in to see how your name tag is coming along.” You thought for a moment before responding. “You know, it’s taking a whole lot longer than I thought, guess labels aren’t on trend right now.” The sarcasm was dripping. He nodded as he headed down the aisle, fighting heart palpitations as he went. He didn’t have to get the same thing. There was no reason to now. He wasn’t in a hurry. He wasn’t panicking only grabbing the first thing he found. Yet, he still grabbed a bag like clockwork as if it would ever be impressive to you.

“I never thought anyone liked pistachios.” He jumped about 3 feet as you appeared beside him. This was the closest you’d ever gotten to him. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You sniggered a laugh at his expense, thoroughly. “No, that’s not my name but it’s a good guess.” You patted him lightly on the shoulder. He felt like he’d been shocked by electricity. “As I was saying, scaredy cat, I thought it was just something adults lied about enjoying to seem more mature or something.” Every bone in his body had him wanting to agree with you. They tasted like dog shit, but he couldn’t resist them.

“Rude of you to give me another nickname without so much as a whiff to your own name.” He raises you. You didn’t think he had it in him. “Would it please you if I let you provide me with a nickname?” Its patronising as fuck but he’d already been glad to accept your offer regardless. “You sure you’re ready for that?” You shrugged it off, there was no way he’d think of one on the spot. He was so painfully awkward and flustered around you at all times, the tiny burst of wit he pushed out a few seconds ago was probably all he had left this week. You could let him do his worst with full confidence. Knowing he’d never conjure one good enough to knock you down.

“Stripe.” Your eyes widened to the point where he feared they might pop out of your skull. “Fucking Stripe?” You half yelled, repeating the word far too many times in disbelief. He was fully aware of how awful it was, really, he fucking knew. But your reaction made it all the more worth it. “I’ve never seen you in anything other than a stripey top and that blue fucking waistcoat, it was the best I could do.” If that was the best, you’d hate to see his worst. “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” You then rubbed his back so platonically he thought he might scream.

“But uh, they’re great yeah, yummy.” He shook his head at his own awkwardness. “Yeah, must be, you’re the only reason we replaced the stock you know.” You pointed at the tiny marking slammed on the shelf just below the item up for debate. An “out of stock” label was scrawled out messily in black marker. “Shit really?” There was that laugh again. He could record that and sell it as a cure for depression, it was the happiest sound he’d ever heard. You could cure all ailments with a laugh as cute and dorky as yours.

“Nope, but it did make you panic for a second huh?” You were facing him, arms behind your back, chest pushed out proudly as you smiled at your own mischievousness. You tended to do that a lot. You weren’t ever aware of the way your breasts pushed forwards like an offer he couldn’t refuse. But he had so hoped that he was right in assuming it was accidental. Although, if that was just how sexy you were even without trying, he could only melt at the thought of a real attempt. Pull yourself together man, you’re not 14, not every pair of tits has to destroy you. Even if yours were perfect. “Do I really come in here that much?” He's white knuckling his way through that question until you finally relax your shoulders, the tension also leaving his own.

“Yeah you do.” You said it with sympathy and a kindness as if that was the making of an intervention. “I could lie.” You offered. He thought about it. Then he thought about the way he could recognise every single note your wind charm had been able to make. The way he knew the floor creaked in the centre of every aisle but never the edges. How the lights only flickered above the freezer section and buzzed like a swarm of bees when they did. How there’s always an excess of toilet roll stacked the near the door because you’d accidentally ordered too much. How you’d tripped over it most days despite you being the only reason it was there. How you’d told him you’d done it only once, but he knew for a fact it was 5 times just in his presence because he laughed every single time. Yeah, he might come here a little too often.

“Would you please lie?” His face heated in several different shades of red, one after the other coordinating with your striped shirt of the day. A blush brown, red, and orange. You were yet to repeat an outfit. The horizontal stripe was the same, but the colour was not. That wasn’t really saying much in the grand scheme of things. He had only met you 5 times so far. But 5 different stripey tops was still arguably hard to come by. “You just really love your nuts.” You dragged out your s.’ He hit his head on the shelf before him with a thud. “That’s even worse.” He mumbles while continuing his downward trajectory into self-loathing.

“Yeah, maybe you should go with your dignity still intact.” You nodded, brushing off laughter. “You’re right. Though I think that would require having any in the first place.” He made a lot of jokes at his own expense, more so than anyone else you’d ever met. You hoped he didn’t really feel like that about himself. “Yeah, no I was lying to make you feel better.” You nodded repeatedly. “Didn’t really try it before, now I did. I don’t really like it.” You shrugged. He smirked.

“So, same time tomorrow?” He did the same old thing with his feet, standing on his toes, slotting back down, his tell-tale sign that he was waiting for something. “Maybe.” He left it open for interpretation. You leaned in close, your face not far from his, like the counter had disappeared altogether. “Oh, a maybe huh, that’s how we’re playing this now?” You’re so close to him he can now identify the exact kind of mint you carried on your breath. It wasn’t peppermint like he’d assumed at first. It was spearmint. You were spearmint and spiced apple rolled into one. It should never have worked but on you, it was perfection.

“Can’t bear to see me twice in one week Cal?” He thought he might combust as you shortened his name. It took every ounce of energy he had left not to melt at your feet. “I am getting too predictable, do need to keep it fresh. Can’t have you sitting there all day just expecting me to arrive.” He was proud of himself for keeping up. There may be hope for him yet. “Oh, but it’s such a crucial part of my existence.” Your hand slid across countertop, and he thought he imagined it even as his own lifted involuntarily, aiming to meet it.

“Very funny. So witty.” He was reduced to two word sentences and sarcasm, brilliant. “I know, I know, keep going, talk dirty to me.” You were definitely a dork; you both knew it. One of you found it endearing. Your hand touched his, he was almost certain it wasn’t an accident by now. His heart still didn’t believe him. “I will see you, eventually.” Your fingers pried his open, hands joining, fingers bumping knuckles, fumbling around in a beautiful whirl. He didn’t know when your relationship got to the point where you’d been able to touch like this. He also didn’t know what it meant. He just knew he enjoyed it, and you could touch him wherever you desired.

“Eventually?” You say it slowly, breathing it out to see if he’d like it. His eyes couldn’t avoid your glittery lip gloss any longer. It was all he’d thought about for the last 45 seconds since he’d noticed it. He wished he never noticed it. Now he can’t do anything but notice it. He also thought about the possibility of wearing it himself. Not because he wanted to go out and buy the same one but because he so desperate to feel your kiss, he wouldn’t mind the transfer. Those thoughts weren’t helping anyone.

“Mmhmm, sometime, somewhere.” Did his voice go up an octave? “Probably here.” You corrected him, thumb smoothing over his. “Definitely here.” He confirmed, he’d not taken a new breath since you’d touched him, and he might have started going purple because of it. “But sometime.” You poked with a smirk. “Exactly.” He said inching closer. As much as you liked it, you panicked. You released his hand in a flash and stepped back, legs knocking into the chair behind the counter. He’s gutted to lose your touch but chooses not to hold it against you. You must have had your reasons.

You pretended it didn’t make you want to yell out every curse word under the sun under the scrutiny of his stare. The way your chair dug into your calves was dire. You cut your flirtation short and hoped that masked it adequately enough. It didn’t. “Get out of my store.” You bossed him around with a smirk. He felt relieved by it. At least he hadn’t fucked anything up. You smiled away at him as he did as he was told. Holding it right until he’d disappeared, not only from the shop, but the view of the exterior too. You sank into your chair safely this time and let out a deep sigh. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

“I get off at 10.” You rush, bringing your hands back down to your sides. You didn’t smile, you didn’t wave, you didn’t breathe. You just blurted it out. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards but didn’t react more than that. “You do?” He isn’t really sure what to say, he never is. He wants to ask if you mean what he thinks you mean, and what he thinks you mean is that you’d like to see him when you finish. He’s not sure if he has the courage to do something about it. He still needed to work on communication, if you had taught him anything, it’s that his verbal skills were lacking.

“I get off at 10 and I think you should come hang out.” Your spare hand floated to your hip; you hoped it appeared as casual as you intended it to. But truth be told your grasp on it was nothing close to gentle. The silence growing between you was painful. “I’ll see you then.” He said, just as quietly, just as unsure.

“Fuck, you will?” You stepped in closer to him, absolutely relieved. He reached out to you; you’re attempting the same. “I uh, yeah.” This is the only time you’ve been tongue tied around him and you’re not enjoying a single second of it. “Now please leave before I have a meltdown over this.” He didn’t budge. He still wanted to touch you, hold your hand, your hip, your scissors that you were previously using to cut open packaging, anything he could. “Seriously oh my God.” You’re laughing but you need it, you wouldn’t think straight again until he left. “I’m gone, I’m going, I’ll see you at 10.” Fuck yeah you will.

“What can I help you with today?” You asked as softly as you always did. You leant right over the counter already cutting the distance. It was 10:02pm. There was no more wasting time. He started to lean in a little too. You wet your lip in anticipation. The way you often did when you saw him. Because you couldn’t keep it together for even a minute, needed that sensation across your lip to prevent you from finding another. Under the watchful gaze of those fucking browneyes, you’re helpless. “I actually panicked when you didn’t come in at 6 today.” Distracting yourself with conversation was something you’d always done; may it help you now.

“I didn’t think you’d miss me too much.” He was happy you did. He was selfishly ecstatic if he was being completely honest. “Well, I did.” He nodded at the information, letting it sink in. He also let it go straight to his head. It wasn’t his fault. When a girl like you says she misses you, you’re living the fucking dream as far as he was concerned. He leaned in, elbows nudging yours on the counter, a parallel to a couple of weeks back when you’d held hands in the very same spot for the first time.

It felt much more natural this time. Hands gravitating towards each other without a care in the world. Nothing but the brushing of fingertips against knuckles and blushes being hidden with large smiles. You supposed without the worry of any other customers entering the store, you could finally relax into this. You weren’t being unprofessional by seeing to your urges. It felt so incredibly good. You’d like it like this more often. Probably not in this exact location. You think you’d seen enough of the inside of this place for a lifetime.

“I can tell you what I’m not here for.” You nodded along intrigued. “Fucking pistachios.” You snorted a pretty hearty laugh. “I knew you didn’t like them.” You raised your voice accusingly. He was shaking his head in disagreement but the way he laughed wasn’t fooling you. “No one likes them that much I don’t care who you are.” You’re determined to receive his admittance. He’s gone beet red in the face, willing to pull his beanie down over it to save him further humiliation. That should have been enough for you, it wasn’t. You had to hear it.

He’s shaking your hands in his to grab your attention back and your heart is just bursting at the action. You wouldn’t mind holding his hands all day. “No, I do like them, I do, stop shaking your head, I do. Just yeah, not that much, I don’t know what I was doing.” He’s looking at your hands as a source of comfort, fiddling with them while he reflected on his past decisions regretfully. “Think I just really wanted to impress you, clearly did that. Shows I’m committed though right?” He lets one of your hands slip free. You lift it into the air and draw an invisible tick. “Oh yeah, honestly there’s nothing sexier than getting 2.75 from a hot stranger every week, ticking that right off my bucket list. And yes I like your level of commitment, I will consider it heavily in your application.”

His brows arch. “Hot stranger huh?” You’re not surprised he’d only listened to the part with the compliment; you’d be the same. “You’re kind of hot I guess.” It was your turn to blush, coyly looking anywhere but at him as if you’d save yourself that way. It didn’t stop him looking at you like you thought it might. He was still peering down at you, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, your hair falling down into your face like curtains ready to close on him. He didn’t want to be closed out. He needed more access in fact. He just needed to be subtle about it as not to spook you, or him for that matter.

He was careful when he pulled his left hand from yours. It was so cautious and polite you didn’t even miss it when it was gone. He just reached forward, touching you elsewhere. Tucking his thumb beneath your chin, lifting your face so you’re back looking at him. He could look at you for hours. You’re like a piece of art that had come alive, and he needed to appreciate you for that. He was equally as pretty, his eyes big and beautiful, with a softness you wanted surrounding in. You wouldn’t ever get used to a stare like his.

You combed some of your hair behind your ears to give him a better look at you. You’re not sure why but you felt it was important for him to see you like this. With more vulnerability. He may have seen you every week, but your time was so fleeting. You’d been working a million miles a minute. Your head was often fuzzy. Not to mention your hair was a constant tangled mess. You rarely wore makeup either, sweat too much stocking shelves which you did pretty much every single Thursday, his day. It was absolutely crucial to you now, for him to see you and really seeyou.

Not you that wore the uniform. Not you that lived and breathed this shop or this job. Not you that made witty remarks about other customers because that was your only form of entertainment during a shift. You needed him to see you in a way that he couldn’t associate you with this place. You wanted him to like you separately. You had other interests. You had other clothes. You had a whole other personality. If you let him look at you like this, perhaps he just might find it.

“I might be wrong.” His voice had gone unintentionally gravely allowing his accent to shine through. “But I think you might like to kiss me.” He says it barely above a whisper, but you heard it in the deepest parts of you. You tried your best to remain composed as he’d read your mind exactly. All these weeks of flirting with no result, building and building tension with no real end game in sight. But now, finally, there was opportunity. “It’ll cost ya.” You whispered. He grinned back down at you affectionately; he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I’ll tip you generously” he goes to say more but you’d already shot forward. Everything he could possibly have said was now well and truly out of the window, gone and completely forgotten. You had erased his mind and it felt wonderful.

“You’ve been on my mind for fucking weeks you know that.” He’s taken aback, from the kiss, your hand clutching his, your confession. He was flattered to say the least. “I watch the damn clock every day, even though I know you only come in on Thursdays.” You retreated your hands away from him and he’d have been offended by it if he weren’t still pining for your lips back on his. He could settle for hearing your truth first. He was a patient man when it came to you. “Why do you only come in on Thursdays?” He wonders if you were actually asking or not and then he realises it’s just a stepping stone in your monologue, so he kept it zipped and watched you with a bemused smile.

“I was scared, did I tell you I was scared? Thought I’d never see you again Calum, I mean fuck I was about to mark down pistachios to 1 cent if it would bring you back in here, what the fuck were you playing at?” He’d say he was shocked at the way you’d overreacted, but he’d been wracking his brain just as heavily. The entire day, he watched the time flying by, his leg tapping, his riffs never sounding right, his vocals never hitting the right note, his lyrics not carrying into verses with fluidity and synchronicity, every second he spent away from this God damn store was an additional second of insanity he couldn’t bear.

“Promise I’ll never ditch you again.” You tugged him in close. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Calum.” You breathed out grabbing hold of the collar on his fleece. “I would never do such a thing.” He tipped his head down at you, thumbs reaching out to stroke adoringly over your cheeks, your aggression dissolved as quickly as it came. “Shit, kissing you is like, I can’t even think of a word for it.”

“That’s awfully romantic, wow Calum.” You said between kisses. “Shut up.” He bit back. “Trying to but you keep pulling your lips away.” You’re mumbling into his mouth. “Feels weird kissing here, like some other customer is gonna pop outta nowhere.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of it, biggest turn off of the century. “Would you like me to put the shutters down so you can feel safer hmm?” He smirked down at you. “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Swoon.

His hands squeezed where he now held your hips fondly. His eyes were shining, even in the dim light. His brows were furrowed with concern, you couldn’t be sure what for. There were so many things either of you could have been thinking at that moment. You were checking his deep eyes for signs of distress or regret, a hint of regret would certainly destroy you now you’d gotten to this stage, but you’d still wished to know if he was okay with all of this. “Are you okay?” You weren’t sure why you said it so quietly. If anyone were to break from a loud and startling voice, it would have been you more so than him.

He nodded his head into the palm of your hand. You’re heart fluttered but you still wondered. “Promise me?” He nodded again but it wasn’t enough truth for you. “Need to hear it.” You nudged. “I’m more than fine.” It sounded calmer than either of you had expected. You were eyeing him with your lips tucked neatly between your teeth and he swore he’d lay down his life to feel you do that to him instead. “Gonna kiss you now.” You said it as if it was the first ever time. It was at least the third, maybe fourth or fifth but felt just as fresh. Somehow more important than the others. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was planned and it was delicate, and it had mattered.

He leaned into your mouth; plush lips gently caressed yours. You knew he was more eager than he let on, felt it in the way he clutched at your belt loops like he himself was the one to hold up your jeans instead. “You don’t have to be so gentle.” You muttered through fluttered lashes. “Wanna treat you like you deserve.” You didn’t expect such a response, never being taken care of before. You were glad to receive it. “Kiss me sweetly later, I want the good stuff.” His lips didn’t miss the opportunity to send a smirk your way before he swooped in, arms wrapping around your middle, lips plummeting down onto yours. A moan teared from your throat sending his stomach churning and flipping with delight.

It’s a tender kiss still, even if he weighed down heavy on your lips. His cushiony mouth took the fall. Your arms were thrown messily around his shoulders, finding a home there, your fingers combing the hair at the base of his neck. He gave you his tongue, offering it like a gift. He wrapped it in your lips, sliding between them, teasing your own tongue with it. There it is, your signature scent, apple and mint, a taste so distinctively yours. He tasted of tobacco and coca cola, and you hadn’t a single complaint about it. You’d happily keep that recipe locked in your mind to associate him with forever. He retracted his lips and you found yourself chasing him, rising onto the tips of your toes, nearly toppling the both of you over in the process. He grinned wide from ear to ear, and you just stood there with your eyes big, gawping at him like a goldfish.

“You might be the sweetest thing I ever tasted.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing your heated cheek with a precise and carefully crafted technique. “Can’t really trust your tastebuds though.” He would never live down them pistachios. “I’m gonna make you forget all about that.” You knew he wasn’t really embarrassed about it, but if he really wanted to offer a mind altering experience, you wouldn’t dare decline. “Is that right?”

“There’s only one room in this entire building without security cameras you know.” It’s far too detailed to be a hint but you hope he took it like that anyway. “What would we need that for?” He pecked you over and over, your body squirmed in is grip. “I think you know what.” He did, he loved idea of it too, it was unique and adventurous and sure maybe there wasn’t much risk of getting caught but that didn’t make the location any less scandalous and out of the ordinary. Calum needed you somewhere private around yesterday. “Care to enlighten me?” He saw the cogs turning and ticking away in your pretty little head. He had a rough idea of where you’d take him, but it didn’t make it any less fun to ask. He needed to hear you say it.

“How sexy is the idea of making out in the stockroom?” You just came out and said it. “How sturdy are the shelves?” You shoved him. “Shut up.” He snickered. “Keep that up and you’ll be banned for life Mr.” He leaned down to kiss that thought from your mind. “You know I can’t survive without this place, it’s just so- “ he paused purposefully, he knew exactly the words he needed but chose not to speak them, “convenient?” you finished for him, to which he nodded along happily. “Convenience corner where all your needs are at your convenience.” You cheerfully recited your slogan, it was adorable to him, nostalgic and cringey to you.

“What else in here is at my convenience?” He pushed the boat out a little. “What would you like?” You played along too, enjoying the way his blush didn’t end with his cheeks but fell down towards his neck as well. “To speak to the manager of this establishment.” You wanted to roll your eyes so badly, but he was just too charming to ridicule. “Think she’s a little busy right now, you’ll have to come back later.” You pulled him back down to kiss you and he relaxed into you within an instant. “Mm, I’d like to ask her something.” He kissed you again. “Oh yeah?” He took a little bit longer to respond that time, your tongue sinking into his mouth, making it pretty difficult for him. “Want her to check something in the back for you?” You encouraged. He nodded down at you eagerly. “Right this way sir.”

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, tugging his body close to you. He’s about to trip and fall right into your arms for the remainder of the evening but you had other plans. You were leading him elsewhere. In reality, you hadn’t even needed to touch him, he was like a lost puppy in unfamiliar surroundings, only latching onto the one figure he knew, he’d have followed you anywhere. He was whipped. He stumbled along in your path, you may have been short, but you were awfully fast. His vans scuffed across the tiles, squeaking as he walked. It was a step up from his docs but just as irritating. If you weren’t so set on becoming a cliché snogging in the back room, you’d curse him for it. Nevertheless, you lead him to the door just right of the freezer section, you weaved through a sharp right hand turn and kicked open the stockroom door. He wasn’t sure what to expect from it. He’d never really had the need for a job anywhere like this. He didn’t know the ins and outs of what a stockroom could provide. The answer being not a fat lot.

There’s towers of shelves in 3 aisles. Boxes both filled and emptied are spaced out throughout the room. Its colder back here than it was in the main section of the store. It made sense when storing products and trying to preserve them, but it was awfully uninviting. “So, this is kinda the break room too.” You let out. He felt nothing but sympathy for you. There was barely enough room for the 2 of you, let alone any other employees coming and going. He followed you through the aisles toward the back door. Hanging above was the inevitable gleaming green exit sign that glowed more than it should have, casting a faint green light over that portion of the room. His eyes then followed you, stepping on without him, gesturing to a green leather couch he was surprised he hadn’t clocked yet.

“You want a beer or something?” You awkwardly fiddle with a stray, loose strand on your jeans. He shook his head slowly, stepping closer to you. Your legs were already open to straddle the arm of the couch making it easy for him to find himself between them, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You let your arms encase his waist, pushing you face into the fleece he was adorning. Your hair smelt so nice he had to force himself not to take a deep inhale of its fragrance. It wasn’t the weirdest thought that had ever occurred to him in your presence but that just made it worse.

“You’re like a fuckin siren or something.” He blurted out. He expected the way you pulled back, biting your tongue as an attempt not to snigger at him for his comment. “You know what I mean.” He barely defended himself. He started to talk with his hands, and you huffed at the lack of his touch while he did it. “You drag me in here every week. You’re always on my mind. I literally don’t even know your name yet I’m falling over myself trying to be here. I’m back in here like clockwork.” You really ought to tell him, put him out of his misery once and for all.

“It’s Y/n.” You said gently. You should have said more after he’d rambled on like that, but you were struggling on what you could say. You were far worse for expressing your feelings than he was and that was a great feat. “Y/n.” He repeated it a few times, testing it out, deciding he quite liked the sound of it in his mouth. “Yup, not a siren, just Y/n.” You giggled, like a schoolgirl you actually giggled. “Really stepping up our relationship here Cal, what’s next you want my last name too?”

He was already letting his hands cup your chin, deciding he’d been lacking your intoxicating lips for far too long. “I have a couple of ideas in mind stripe.” Before you could protest the foul nickname his lips were back against yours. They slot against your own so neatly you’d argue they were a piece to your puzzle, finally settling into place. You moaned against the tongue swiping across your bottom lip and his knees nearly buckled under the heat of it. “When you moan like that pretty girl,” he can only pull back for a second or two, “makes me weak.” You’re pushing him back; he stumbled about as gracefully as you could imagine in a moment like that, little to 0%. “I like you weak.” You toy with him, stepping towards him, sparking him to back his way up against a shelf.

The wood creaked under the force of him. It dug deep into his spine, but you hadn’t given him a moment to complain before you tangled yourselves together again. “I think your nicknames are getting better.” You praised, looking up at him through your long, curled lashes. The sight had him thinking sinfully. You also took the time to admire him. His curls were messy, framing his face in every which way beneath the pressure of his woolly hat. You needed to see his hair without that god damn beanie on or you might explode. You tugged it off him slowly, grateful he didn’t object. He only squinted at you now that he was aware of just how wild his curls had actually become. They’d sprung out in every direction, you weren’t prepared for the volume, not that you’d even minded. “Fuck.” You sighed. He wished he knew what the context was behind that hot little expression of yours. “I love your hair.” Your eyes were so focused on it as you tangled your fingers briefly, catching a couple of curls accidentally. He let out a puff of air as you caught him like that. “Shit, sorry, couldn’t resist.” He shook the comment away, he knew he was in for it with you.

“So, you’ve lured me back here, now what will you do?” You felt his eyes watching you expectantly, you tried to remain as calm as you could in responding but his gaze burning into you had you tripping over every word before they even threatened to come out. “Have my filthy way with you.” You were dripping with a false confidence; one you hoped he didn’t catch onto. He didn’t. He was heavily convinced you were the filthy minx he’d been dreaming about none stop since he first saw you across the road. Might as well live up to those expectations somehow.

His hands were no longer soft and sweet, barely caressing your frame. His fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, scooting your body forward till you lined up just right with him, just enough to make him pant with those peachy plush lips. Your own fingertips were buried in the curls at the nape of his neck, and he urged you to tug them in his mind. The guttural moan that escaped him when you finally did it, had you dying to hear it again and again. “Jeez take me to dinner first.” You managed before he’s tucking your bottom lip between his own teeth. “I think you owe me more than one.” You continued in a sudden array of nerves he wasn’t quite used to you having. “Do you ever run out of things to say?” That was his polite and desperate way of asking you to shut the fuck up. You might have done it too.

His hand slipped dangerously onto your throat, light pressure building when he introduced you to the idea of his hand sitting there, capturing you. “I could, but I’d rather not.” He had to smile proudly when you pouted up at him, nails digging into his shoulders when he blocked your airways, little gasps the only sound running from your delicious, fuchsia stained mouth. He leaned in close to your ear, lips brushing the lobe, your eyes were sent rolling back. He’d found one of your weaknesses and you’d only just begun. “Think you should try and stay quiet for a little while.” As much as you loathed being the quiet, obedient woman, if he asked you to jump off a bridge, you were certain you’d do it.

His fingertips pulled back and you surged forwards, lips crashing into his own. You whined a breathless moan into his lips, and he still wasn’t happy with the amount of fuss you were making for him but if you rocked into him the way that you were for much longer, he’d be the one struggling with the silence. As if you were reading his mind, always one step ahead of the game. You were tugging at the green, oversized fleece you’d hoped he’d worn for you.

It hurt to be away from his lips even if it were to rid himself of the many layers that concealed him away from you. “Come on now stripe, wanna see what’s under them.” You wanted to send a snarky comment his way, but you were so breathless at the vision of him stood there without a shirt on and in your fucking stock room no less. “Fucking hell.” Your hands were forgetting every instruction he’d given you. You had a childlike curiosity that needed fulfilment, you’d always wandered about his tattoos. Sometimes for days at a time. Not always at the most convenient of times either, you just couldn’t help yourself. When they graced the back of his hands like that it was only natural to consider how they’d look in situations like- well situations like this one.

“I’ll give you a tattoo tour later.” His forehead was fitted against yours, fingers combing through your hair as his lips ghosted over yours. You closed the gap momentarily, enjoying him before his other hand flushed across your stomach beneath your shirt. Your stomach flipped at the contact. His hands edged over the pudgy skin that was a source of anxiety for you, it always had been. You’d wondered how much he’d actually like you underneath those stripes. “Can I get this off you?” He was trying to connect with you, sensing your hesitation. “You don’t have to.” He promised. “Just really want to see you.” You appreciated his honesty and his kind encouragement. You lifted your top yourself, grateful you couldn’t see his face when it was pulled over your head revealing your upper half to him. The strong urge to suck in a breath hit you like a freight train.

He nearly growled at the sight of your breasts spilling over the cups of your bra. He’d always agreed with women when they said they hated the claustrophobic item of clothing. But seeing your boobs bunched up like that, toppling out of them, he thought he might like bras for the first time in his life. You avoided his gaze. Even going as far as to closing your eyes to avoid the scrutiny. It doesn’t come. His lips were on you so fast, he doesn’t even bother unclipping the thing. He yanked down the cups, bending down at the knees, stuffing your nipples into his mouth like a starved man. You choked out a cry when his teeth tugged at the hardening skin of your nipple. His hips bucked helplessly into yours while he continued his assault. Any fear you’d had was now out of sight and out of mind because the boy before you didn’t care if you were fat or thin, you were his pretty, witty, annoying girl and he wanted to love on every part of you that you’d let him get near which was honestly, all of you.

“Jesus Calum, leave some for the rest of us.” His eyes opened, blinking a couple times as he pulled away, a trail of spit formed between you, connecting his lips to your breast. His cheeks flushed crimson, lips about the same shade, pupils blown out entirely. He was love drunk and as dazed as ever. He caught your eye like the very first time, an accidental staring contest forming from a glance he just could not stop taking. You’d been more than willing to participate this time around.

“Best tits I’ve ever fucking tasted.” You stroked under his chin; he leaned into your palm as you offered him the much appreciated affection. “Anyone would think they’re the first.” Had he really gone that nuts? (Pardon the pun). “Weeks’ worth of pining make you go a little crazy?” He furrowed his brows at the mock hidden poorly in your question. “Wait, wait, wait, you knew?” He was dumfounded. “That you were buying pistachios left right and centre to keep coming back in here?” He nodded along like he was amazed you’d caught on. As if he had even a shred of subtlety. “Doesn’t take much genius.” You tapped your temple symbolically. “So, this whole time you let me buy you out of stock, and didn’t say a damn thing?” You gave him your brightest smile. “You’re so cute when you think you’re undetectable.” Your finger prodded his cheek and he huffed against it.

“I didn’t know you wanted to pound me in the break room or anything, but I caught onto the crush pretty early on.” He was truly mortified. He may have gotten the girl, even had you whining for him tonight, but his pride was certainly damaged. “And you-“ he asked before he wondered if he even wanted to know the answer. “Was hooked day 4 when you tripped on your way in.” He leaned back, eyes closing, hands coming to cover his face, sadly leaving your body. You’re giggling before him, and it feels incredible to witness the joy of hearing it, but his embarrassment was a much stronger sensation.

“It was very cute how you then proceeded to shuffle every step just in case you did it again, even if your damn docs left track marks across my floors.” He was sheepish about that part; he’d find a way to apologise for it at some stage. He’d clean it with a toothbrush if he had to. “This might be super unprofessional of me,” you said as if your entire relationship thus far had been anywhere near adhering to your code of conduct working here. “But the part apart pounding the in the breakroom-“ he was already cutting you off “yes fucking please.” His lips were on yours like they’d never left. Arms wrapped round you so tight you could scarcely breathe. Hadn’t even wanted to.

“You know, I was hoping you weren’t all talk,” he beamed with pride, taking in the sight of your bite swollen lips and chest heaving with ragged breaths, his trail of saliva still glistening across your breasts. He placed a hand on either side of your hips, his head dropped to mouth hungrily at your neck while he’d fastened you in place, a sort of retaliation for your comment just before. Sure, you could talk but he could take action. He could mark a sweet and tender bruise into your collarbone to prove just how much he could back up those words.

“Been wanting to mark you up since we met,” he sighed deeply into the hollow of your throat, you can feel the air leaving your lungs, “what if I’d been wanting that just as bad?” You responded, he didn’t even mind that you did, he may not have been able to shut you up completely but the hint of whining and tiny noises just beneath each word was certainly a victory for him. He had been the only cause. “Oh yeah?” His words vibrates as he dragged his lips across your neck. “What else have you been wanting pretty girl?”

You leave him with nothing for a few seconds. Just weighing up the options in your head. There wasn’t much that you didn’t want him to do. You’d allow just about anything at this point. The lack of an answer was slowly destroying him. He could go ahead and try something he’d wanted but for him, sex wasn’t about that. He needed to tend to your needs. He needed to make you feel good. “Come on baby, don’t hold out on me now.” It’s impatient and desperate and it had you gripping onto him for dear life, a very clear image flashed into your mind of just what you’d wanted from him.

“Your fingers. I need your fingers.” He was already letting his hands slip down your bare tummy before sentence could dare meet its end. Just as quickly as those fingers began drifting, he was retreating. Hands fluttering in the opposite direction, much to your dismay. You barely pout before he’s focusing his gaze on you. He has half the mind to scold your battiness but he’s just so keen to give you what you need, he couldn’t deprive you, not when you looked so sweet. “Do me a favour real quick pretty girl,” you needed a second to recover from the pet name, “suck my finger real slow for me.” You needed several hundred to recover from that. “That’s it, good girl.” It’s extremely condescending and under any other circumstances, you’d be sure to give him a piece of your mind, but this wasn’t a casual scenario. The roles were well and truly reversed and you were throbbing from the realisation that he just might be as fucked up as you were in the bedroom.

“Never been this quiet for me.” You hum sweetly around the second finger he’s pushing into your mouth. You do as you’re told initially, just sucking the digits plainly. Its only when you notice the jagged breaths he’s taking while watching you, that you decide to show off. Just sweet little licks, swirling your tongue around the tips of his rough fingers, admiring the salty taste of his skin across your tongue. When you take him to the knuckle you know he’s fighting all the restraint he has not to ram his fingers right down your throat. “I wish that was my dick so fucking bad.”

Although you don’t expect the blunt and brazen confession, you’re not at all alarmed at the content of it. You knew the tricks to captivate your audience. It was no secret that the two of you would never be anywhere close to each other’s first time but that hadn’t taken any of the excitement and uncertainty away that kept the air heavy with tension. You could never have anticipated just how successful your performance would be with him. “Gotta give me my fingers back now.”

He makes no effort to retract them from the vice grip of your lips despite the contrasting command and his genuine eagerness to hurry this along. “Come on.” He’s grunting, tapping his feet with urgency. You released them with a wet pop that near echoes throughout the room. He’s sliding his now glistening fingers, back down between you both. He’d not noticed, too distracted by your tongue no doubt, you’d already made quick work of unbuttoning your jeans and pushing them down along with your underwear. All he had to do was slip a finger or two daringly over your pussy. A slow stroke through the soft, sweet heaven. It was so inviting, so pretty. He’d not needed to see it at all to know it was perfect. Not in the sense that it was the most attractive or most neat in terms of aesthetic but simply because it was yours, and he wouldn’t dare dream of a better haven than the little mountain peak between the valley of your thighs.

You both let out a rushed sigh. He captured your lips as they invite him to meet. His fingers are met with a soft, supple, soaking welcome. “Baby.” He was about to lose his mind over the sweet wave of wetness that washed over the digits of his fingers as he barely pushes inside. “You’re so fucking wet.” He’s thanking and begging whatever deity above for more of the pleasure of your touch and the ability to make you feel as sticky and sweet as you do across his fingertips. He’d done something very right and wonderful to deserve you in this state and he couldn’t fathom what on earth it may have been, but he’d be sure to repeat it once he did.

All for him, this was all for him. Oh, if only he knew. All his, you were never for anyone else. From the second he walked into your life you were his. He was hoping that too. You thought your eyes were telling him too much, showing him too easily the depths of your affection but they weren’t even close to letting that secret out. He had no idea how you’d wanted him until this moment. This wasn’t even the first occasion you’d been damp at the idea of him. This was just the only situation in which you’d actually be able to do something about it without carrying a backbreaking amount of guilt. He must know this is how it’s been for you.

His fingers don’t dive into you like you may have needed them too, and you did, really. They simply explored you. They were slow to enter but were keen to twist and turn and stretch. He was learning the gateway to your paradise. He was finding the secrets you had hidden. “Fuck.” You were sighing so sweetly for him at each given breath, he might just have figured you out. “Oh, that’s it.” His smile was hard to miss, hard not to mirror too. “Yeah.” You try with all your might to compose yourself, not fall to pieces from the brush of his thumb to your clit while his fingers flickered a beat to the soft and sweet space inside of you. “God yeah that’s it.” You rolled your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d barely twitched his wrist to aid you, hadn’t needed to. It was far too hypnotising to watch you take it for yourself. “So, fucking pretty baby.” He’s watching with a childlike curiosity, eyes wide, lips parted, brow’s quirking upward with inquisitiveness. “Finally shut you up.” He couldn’t resist the dig. You don’t resist the harsh shove you give his chest. Sending him backwards but never letting his fingers escape you. No, you needed to be filled, you would be filled.

“Gonna get all bratty on me now?” You opened your eyes, a panic washed through them, and he spotted it because he’s not taken his own eyes away from your face from the moment he tucked his fingers inside your damp little pussy. “Not gonna punish you, don’t worry.” You weren’t really worried. It was more of a muscle memory. It was an instinctive reaction to the response you were used to receiving. Even if you hadn’t gotten anything it was nice to know it might have been something he was into, once again checking off an invisible tick list of activities you might enjoy together if you ever did this again and God you hoped you would do this again.

He stroked your hair then, the side of your cheek just after. Your eyes hadn’t opened for the last few minutes, maybe even longer. So difficult to keep them anywhere near open when he’s plunging his fingers inside you like that. It’s not precise, it’s not clean. You wouldn’t say it was particularly clumsy, but it was far from perfect, and yet, you had so enjoyed it. He filled you in a way that there was room for improvement but not enough to avoid the urge to clamp down on his fingers when he’d curled them inside you. He certainly had a handle on that little trick. “Shh, you’re getting so loud sweetheart.” His grin wasn’t seen but it was certainly heard. “Gonna keep it down for me?” You knew he wanted to hear you, couldn’t want anything more actually but the prospect of teasing you and having one over on you where he usually couldn’t, well that was far more tempting to toy with. You knew damn well no one was close enough to hear a peep from either of you even if you screamed and honestly, you just might have.

“Fuck Calum,” he picked up his pace, his lips ghosted over your neck as he reached a new depth inside you. Your pussy clenched on his fingers. Your own nails scraped into his shoulders, biting into his skin, slipping a hiss through his teeth. “Come on baby.” Your eyes fluttered open to catch the look of concentration on his face, his eyes met yours with a twinkle of knowing. He can feel that you’re about to cum. He just knew it. Without your confirmation he knew. Your eyes rolled back, your head too, dropping far enough that your hair dripped down your back like water. He caught the back of your neck to support you. As if he’d really thought of everything. Knew to rescue you from that deep dull ache you might have gotten if he hadn’t bothered. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” His words had you squeezing him again, so hard he felt his pulse throbbing in his fingers, as well as your own beating deep in your cunt. “Come on sweetie don’t you wanna cum for me, know I’ve thought of little else.” It was like he’d been reborn the second you moaned his name. He was a different person here, he was remarkable. There was a burning passion within him that you’d only hoped he might have but seeing it in practice, confirming your fantasy of how good it could be, God that was enough. You were coming undone.

“So fucking pretty when you cum, you know that?” His fingers left you. You protested with a whimper and the rutting of desperate hips, but it was too late, his fingers were sinking between his lips. You were eyeing him like a tiger watching its prey as he tasted you, devouring your cum slicking his fingers. The noise of satisfaction and crude slurping is pornographic, and you simply can’t bear to be without his touch any longer. If he didn’t bury his stupid cock inside you, you’d never shut up ever again so long as you shall live. You’d make his every visit here his personal hell until he gave in and gave you what you needed. “You taste fucking delicious.” That tiny restraint you’d mustered in the past five seconds. Instantly disposed of.

Your hands flew to the zipper of his jeans, slinking inside them, hands coming down to grope the bulge concealed by his underwear. His lips parted as you kissed him, curiously gathering your own taste wrapped around his tongue. His back slammed roughly against the shelf and his only retaliation was to bite down hard on your bottom lip, fingers pulling on your hair to make you back up and add some space between you. “Jesus Calum, I know you want me to shut my mouth but biting off my bottom lip won’t do it.” He was apologetic in his mind but only in his mind. “Couch.” Is all he said. You shook your head. “No?” He took a daring step towards you unhappy with your defiance. Just as he’d tamed you, you go and act out again. It would never be enough, you only needed more. You shook your head, holding a breath as he looked around the room for other possible locations. He was sure he’d fuck you on the floor if it came to it. He hoped it wouldn’t come to it.

“I’ve never fucked standing up.” Is what you offered him, shoulders shrugging as you come out with it. He’s amused for sure. Not exactly the way he’d imagined his first time with you going but then again, he also didn’t imagine it being in the break room or this shop at all really. “Okay.” His calming smile settled the tension in the pits of your stomach. “Okay?” You asked him quietly. At first he thought you were just mimicking him in efforts to gain control but then he heard the way it wavered and pitched higher at the end. He broke his tough act and cupped your face in his hands. He adored the way you looked back at him, not a rain cloud or single storm in your sky. “Gonna need you to turn around for me.” He made no effort to let you move just yet, awaiting your willingness to comply before he set you free. He kissed you briefly before you did as he wanted without question, turning 180 degrees to face the shelves pressed to the wall.

He took both of your wrists from behind. You allowed his grip to guide you, first assuming he’d be crossing them behind your back, a flurry of excitement tingling within you. But instead, you found he’d lifted them forwards, your hands slipping onto the shelf in front of you as he’d wanted, holding onto it instinctively, realising now that he’d been offering you stability instead. Your body burned even brighter than before. You’d be needing something to grip because he wasn’t going to take you lightly, you needed to hold onto something if you were going to cope with him.

He knew you couldn’t possibly break. You’d proven to him already that you could handle it. You were so prepared to take him. Until you’d noticed the one little error of your ways. You’d not had the chance to see him, to wonder if your assumptions had been correct. You’d not known how big or how thick he was or how it’d curve and which direction it would curve in if it even curved at all. You may have felt your arousal trickling down your thighs. You may have been holding your breath and white knuckling the shelves before he even attempted to prick you but oh my. You were not even remotely prepared for the fullness.

Calum’s hands rested heavy on your hips. You expected to feel the nudge of his hand grazing your backside as he touched himself in preparation to graze your cunt, but he does no such thing. He simply thrusted himself between the hot, wet mess of your lips and cunt with no attempt to enter you at all. He didn’t dare stop until he was satisfied with the coating of your dampness now slicking his cock ready to take you. He leaned forward, chest embracing your back. He flipped your hair over your shoulder, his chin resting in the now empty space he’d created on the other side. You felt a slight drag of stubble close to your neck before he’s uttering his instructions for you. “Take my cock in your hand.” You shuddered under the breath he fanned across your ear. “Come on baby, just for me.” He kissed your neck in encouragement. His arms wrapped around your middle. Your left hand released the shelf with a crack at the knuckle, finding a new home now between your legs. You leant down, back arching, ass pushing out, bumping him as you refrained from hunching to complete your task.

You didn’t miss the way his hips bucked, and his cock jumped when your fingers found him. You didn’t miss how only your middle and ring finger could span the entirety of his thickness. You didn’t miss how one hand wasn’t nearly enough to capture his full length at once. And you certainly didn’t miss the amount of exposed skin going untouched when you glided your hand up and down him just to gather a better picture in your mind of what he might look like. You knew that in fact, it may take two. Two of your palms and even the addition of your lips at his tip to fully encase him. He was big. He was mouth-wateringly, cunt achingly big. You tugged him inside of you and braced the for the heat of the fever it brought upon your body. “Jesus fucking Christ.” A groan ripped from his throat.

He expected to give you a moment. He expected you to need adjusting like those he’d had before. He expected you to cry that it was too much and all too soon and that you couldn’t possibly take him completely. He expected his ego to be boosted so high he wondered how we was ever nervous of being with you in the first place. It never came. You didn’t dare wait to accept the intrusion of his thick cock. You didn’t dare to linger and wonder if it would ever start to feel better than a stretch. You just pushed your hips back onto him, your ass flush against his pelvis, cock sheathing itself inside you as far as it could go and then some. And then some because you’re not just taking him whole, swallowing him up till he couldn’t reach any further. No, you’re wiggling your ass, skin recoiling and wobbling against him with the quickness of your movement. You’re taking his cock so deep he’s feeling claustrophobia from the way your cervix is blocking his path, walls closing in on him preventing him from travelling deeper. And it excited you to think about the delicious specks of pain his hot cock was pricking your insides with.

It took every ounce of his strength not to flood you with his cum that very second. He could have done it. He wouldn’t have been embarrassed, not when it felt that good just to be inside you. Not when you really were made to engulf him in your flames. If he finished, who could blame him? To be hugged like that. To be warm and snug and held so tight. It would be cruel for anyone to tease a premature finish from a predicament like that.

“Baby, baby please.” Your voice was shaky, breathy, and so quiet. No wonder he hadn’t heard you over his own thoughts. How was it that you were the one stuttering when it was you that had felt so transcendent, not him? You had no fucking idea how well you took him. Even when he’d been standing there in bliss so long he’d forgotten he was supposed to be moving and enjoying you in the first place. It slipped right by you.

He kissed your neck, sucking sweet bruises beside those already scattered there previously. His hips pulled back, cock barely leaving you before surging back forwards. He pulled back further each time, pulling more of him away only to force it back in again with the echo of your wet cunt bouncing around the room. You gripped the shelves so hard you feared you may dent them, as he drove his cock into you. His hips pulsed into yours, balls slamming into you whenever his pelvis made contact. His one hand dug into the flesh of your waist, bunching your skin in his fingers, gripping so tight you worried he might pull the chunk clean off of you. Every now and then he bit down on your shoulder when you convulsed around him. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna fucking lose it.” You took it as an invitation to grip him again. He felt good because of you. You felt good because of him. Might as well enjoy it.

You threw your head back, resting it against his shoulder, exposing more of your throat to him as you started to fuck yourself onto his cock. He was losing it, not sure he ever had it to begin with actually, not around you. With every second passing by. Every time you made a fucking sound you drove him to madness. You were absolutely feral. You had all of the power. You met his every thrust. You angled him towards you, to your liking, even standing on the tips of your toes to feel him rub your sweet spot the way you’d needed. How was it that you’d ended up back in charge? Even when he’d been so convinced he’d gotten you where he wanted. Your pussy was so damn distracting, that’s how.

“Oh Calum.” He was revving himself up to regain control of you. His spare hand trapped your throat, his fingers and thumb adding little to no pressure around your neck just yet. “Please, God please fucking choke me.” His lips grunted heavily into your ear. Of course, you wanted it before he’d really thought about it. Always one step ahead of him even now. “This what you like?” He was beginning to constrict you, knowing full well you couldn’t communicate effectively now that he had but this time, he’d actually force you to.

“Come on, tell me.” Despite the steadiness of his tone, his lower half was anything but steady. He was pounding into you. It was so hard for you to focus and feel the structure of your own body as well as the shelf before you rattling away violently. You were trembling at his thrusts. Your back arched involuntarily. You pushed back to meet his hips whenever you could, and he certainly didn’t let you slip away far enough to make it easier on you. You were so overwhelmed you couldn’t tell which way was up, down, left, or right. He’d fucked you completely dumb, no thoughts swirling around your pretty little head anymore and yet, he needed the conversation. Why would he dare to make your life easier now?

“Tell me you like it; tell me you like my hand on your throat. Tell me how you like my cock fucking your pussy. Tell me this cunt is mine baby come on.” He was pushing you; he was forcing a response you’re too embarrassed to give and he was desperately hanging on the edge waiting to hear your confirmation. “Tell me baby!” He was the one crumbling to pieces now. His fingers loosened around your throat in an attempt to draw the words from it but it’s not his hand that was the problem. The problem was that you couldn’t dare speak because if you did, if you even attempted to produce a sound he’d know what you were doing. He’d know that you were so needy and gagging for it that you’d been cumming all over his cock just from the way he spoke to you. “I- love-.” You just couldn’t say it. You couldn’t catch your breath, you just moaned hard. “Fuck, did you just, did you just cum?”

You were so embarrassed. You knew he wasn’t upset; how could he be? He’d made you finish not once but twice in one night; your first night together might he add. Your embarrassment was lying in the fact you weren’t even close to being finished with him. You needed more. You had to get more. You’d had a taste of his addictive drug and you were not going to relinquish it now. “Good fucking girl.” He rasped. “Fuck you’re so good, unbelievable, unreal.” He was a mess of praises and curses. He was mind blown at the response he received from you. He knew it was good, knew you were feeling good but if he’d known you’d fall for him like this, he’d have made a move a lot sooner.

“More Cal, I need more.” His eyes nearly bulged from his skull. “What’s fucking wrong with you?” You snorted out a laugh to his question. You wish you fucking knew. Your body was way out of your control now. “Just fucking me so good.” You knew he wasn’t buying it. “Please baby.” He scoffed at your level of greed. You’re not playing it up to make him cum, you’re doing it because you want to another orgasm for yourself.

“You’re such a slut, you know that?” You did, you really did. “You’ve been holding out on me hmm, standing all sweet and precious behind that counter. Made me think that glitter lip gloss smile was sent from heaven above. You’re just another whore though aren’t you?” You were nodding furiously. “Been wanting this the whole tine haven’t you?”

His hips were more erratic and aggressive now. He was fucking into you so hard it actually started to hurt him as well as you. It was so hard your feet didn’t stay in the same spot for long, his thrusts forcing your form forward each and every time no matter how much you fought to remain still. “Fuck fuck.” You weren’t sure who it came from. You were reduced to nothing. No words, nothing coherent anyway, I mean fuck, you couldn’t even breathe properly, couldn’t stand properly. You were getting fucked rougher than you ever could have imagined and your whole body ached in pain but just to feel him you stood there and took it. You took it all.

“Cum already.” He half demanded half begged. He was on the cusp and would be damned if you didn’t finish before him even if it was your third time. “Or I finish without you.” A very empty threat. If he’d held it this long, he had the patience of a saint and he could wait a bit longer for it. His hips snapped into yours, cock so sharp inside you, spearing into you, ramming inside your cunt like it was the last thing he would ever do. He chased and chased the euphoric feeling, suddenly neglecting to check if you had found your own, so ready to take you for real, to give you all he had. “Fuck, where should I?” He tried to string the thought together before it was already too late.

You wanted it inside, more than anything you want it inside you, flooding your pussy, filling you up so much you overflow. You couldn’t be so irresponsible. Not this time. “Pull out, cum on me, come anywhere on me.” He pressed sweet kisses atop your spine while his cock still rocked into you milking your tight cunt for all it was worth right up until he couldn’t bare it any more, cock slipping out, his hands gripping it, pulling on the wet flesh before he jerked off, his release dripping hot beads of cum to coat the roundness of your ass. He gasped and grunted as he emptied himself, forehead pushing into your spine, sweat sliding down it. His left hand clutched yours pulling it down from the shelf to interlock with his. Once his breath was less short he brought it to his lips for a sweet kiss so unlike your treatment a moment ago.

The two of you stood there with your legs shaking and your breath ragged. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You broke the silence with a croaky voice, a surprise to neither of you with the amount of screaming you’d done. Calum sighed deeply, and you thought he might tell you to shut the fuck up, wouldn’t even blame him for it actually, but it never came. He instead pulled away from you, slinking down to his knees to grab your jeans and the panties crumpled inside them, sliding them back up your legs.

He used his discarded shirt to wipe the mess he’d made of your back, before tossing it to the ground, making a move to grab your striped top. He prodded your hips to get you to turn around, gasping at the blood trickling down your lower lip. “Oh sweetheart.” His thumb dipped to gather it away, lifting to show it to you briefly before suckling it into his mouth like some kind of vampire. You simply couldn’t avoid the way your lips whined at it. “Oh no, no way, you’re not getting turned on again, you’re banned.” He pecked your nose to lessen the threat before pulling your shirt over your head. He was hoping you might lift your arms to slip inside the material but not he wasn’t upset or surprised when he’d had to really commit to dressing you by himself.

When your head poked back through the material, a pout was coating your lips. “No seriously, what’s wrong with you?” He tried to deadpan the question, but you knew he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned for you. He enjoyed your neediness, it had him unashamed of the throbbing sensation returning to his cock at the vision of you bloodstained lips. The lips you’d bitten cause his cock was too fucking much for you, he adored that thought.

“You’re pretty mean.” You commented with lack lustre intensity. “And you’re pretty.” He responded, he didn’t even cringe, neither did you, thankfully. He continued to dress you till there were none of your clothes left lying around. He guided you over to the sofa, letting you rest before he even considered throwing his fleece back on. It wasn’t as if he was cold enough for it anyway, your comfort was more his concern right now. If that was the state of your lip, he can only imagine the damage to the rest of you.

“Can we cuddle?” You didn’t really think about how possible that would be on the tatty couch you now sat upon. The one you’d gotten from a thrift store a couple months back, painstakingly dragging it through the fire exit singlehandedly. Once he’d gathered his belongings he sat beside you, the couch dipping where his body sank down. He grabbed you with ease, bringing you into him. You cuddled into his side, your head first on his shoulder before dropping lower with your fatigue. You were now resting somewhere across his chest, low enough for him to rest his head atop yours. He stroked over your back absentmindedly but soothingly enough to have your eyes closing in relaxation. He caught your head drifting, twitching as you stumbled into slumber, the peace of being in his arms just carrying you far away.

“Hey pretty girl.” He nudged you lightly. “Don’t really think you wanna fall asleep right here.” He knew he wasn’t far behind you, but he had no intention of spending the night in that store room, even if the building was becoming his favourite place on earth. “What about upstairs?” You half yawn. “Upstairs?” He repeated it as a question. “Mmhmm.” You responded, as if it made it anymore clear to him. “A shred of context might be nice stripe.” You may have been exhausted but you were not about to let that nickname go unpunished. “Firstly, fuck off, secondly, when you fuck off, be sure to go through that door.” You weakly pointed at the door adjacent to the fire exit, again, something in this room he’d never have noticed unless it was pointed out to him. It must have been some kind of magic, surely he wasn’t ignorant enough not to spot that. “I live upstairs if you haven’t caught on yet, handsome.” He rolled his eyes playfully and you knew what was coming next when he started smirking before he even finished the sentence. “Well, isn’t that convenient?”

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phanfictioncatalogue · 1 year

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Fics Named After Animals Masterlist

Bear - softnerds

Summary: Dan stays at Phil’s house for the first time and leaves his bear at home. At first he can’t sleep, but he ends up with a very pleasant surprise.

bear - virtual-homo

Summary: pastel!Dan and punk!Phil go to Build-A-Bear for Valentine’s Day because I am tRASH

bunny (ao3) - lionkid

Summary: Dan and Phil try out rope bondage for the first time. (It's mind blowing.)

Butterfly (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: Phil Lester, a lonely writer, finds a dying boy with beautiful black wings on a cold, rainy night in a dingy alleyway. He recognizes the boy as one of the winged men hated by human society. They are considered to be wild, ferocious beasts, but Phil's sympathy forces him to help the boy.

What happens when the boy, considered to be a wild beast, gets too attached and follows him home with an innocent, dimpled smile?

cat and bear (ao3) - furryphil

Summary: 2009!phan in which dan finds something unexpected on phil’s phone. it’s not a bad thing, though phil is a bit embarrassed by it.

Cat And Mouse - jilliancares

Summary: Dan Howell is the Panther. He's evil, nefarious, ingenious, and good at coming up with adjectives for himself. The Raven is a nuisance, but he's definitely the most fun part when it comes to being a villain. As a child, Dan had been scared of his powers. He'd been weak. He'd become strong, though. Strong enough to torment the city; strong enough to annoy the Raven with every opportunity he got.

Phil Lester only had one goal these days. To become strong enough to defeat the Panther.

Chicken (ao3) - philsdrill

Summary: Dan is worried that his social anxiety is going to mess up his job interview, but that becomes the least of his problems when he gets his vibrator stuck up his butt the night before.

Cicadas (ao3) - softiedanniie

Summary: Pancakes and tour busses don’t always mix.

Crow & The Butterfly (ao3) - HeartsAndSpades

Summary: Dan was once a boy with dreams, that was before his life went out of whack, his mental state crumbled, and his parents screamed for hours. Dan had nobody, he was nobody, but then Phil, A ray of sunshine and hope came along. Will Phil fix Dan or just get hurt trying?

dog (ao3) - howelllesters

Summary: Dan and Phil get a dog. Except Phil didn't agree to getting a dog.

Dogs - dans-awkward-phanfics

Summary: Phil’s dog has the habit of getting him into bad situations and Dan is Phil’s next door neighbour that seems to hate him and his dog. Oddly enough, their dogs like each other. Really like each other.

Dragonfly (ao3) - lvckyphan

Summary: Something terrible happened in Littlerock Mental Asylum in the 1970s. Dan and his group of historically-crazed friends know this for certain. But when you throw in corporate secrets, paranormal activity and a chilling boy with very, very blue eyes, things begin to get a little more complicated.

firefly (ao3) - bloodyscarab

Summary: dan and the youtube incident from wiqy, but make it cute hurt/comfort

based on dan posting that he was listening to this song

firefly by shygirl

Hawk and Dove (ao3) - aprilflowers96

Summary: In a world where super powers plague people all over the world, Dan Howell fights to keep his emotions and pyrokinesis under control. After years of success, Dan is outed and whisked away to a school that claims to teach him to use his abilities "safely". Still unable to control the fire that seems to rage under his skin, Dan's only solace is in his roommate Phil, who can't seem to stop turning things to ice. While trying to end the corruption at The School, the team discovers the real reason they're being held. In an explosion of fist fights, super suits, and betrayal, Dan and Phil try to do what they feel is right.

Kittens - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil buy a kitten.

koala (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan's just trying his best to stay warm under the covers, and the last thing he wants is Phil's cold hands ruining his comfort.

Lamb (ao3) - det395

Summary: Phil goes to the house that has plagued him with nightmares for two decades

nelson's sparrow (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: recently joining the FBI's behavioral analysis unit, dan and phil find themselves dealing with their first case.

Pigeon (ao3) - your_starless_eyes

Summary: Why the hell is Dan so special? Why does everyone love him so much? What did he do?

More importantly...

Why is Phil nothing in the eyes of so many people?

***

"Circling around the kitchen / Why has nothing changed? / Feed cucumber sandwich to a pigeon / Chipping nail varnish on guitar strings / Got a pillow case made out of money / Feeling pretty fake when I wake up..."

the alligator (ao3) - vvelna

Summary: Dan and Phil meet on a rollercoaster.

The Badger and The Snake (ao3) - amazingloren

Summary: Dan Howell is a curious muggle born who doesn't know the first thing about magic. On the train ride to Hogwarts, he meets a raven-haired, blue-eyed boy who soon becomes his best friend.

The Black Cat - jilliancares

Summary: In which Dan Howell is gay, homeless, and also part cat, and Phil Lester is the nicest stranger ever.

The Canary (ao3) - galaxy_ash

Summary: Dan is a famous singer called The Capricious Canary, but known as The Canary by his fans and the public. Phil is a paparazzo who hates his job and is assigned to stalk Dan to get insider pictures.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #masterlists #animals #animals masterlist

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jennagrinsoverml · 3 years

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ML Fic Recs - Marichat

I’m back with your weekly rec list. As usual, I’m trying to rec fics that readers are less likely to have read. (I base that off of kudos on AO3, under 1k kudos, but trying to keep it under 500.) You can find my other rec lists on my blog under the hashtag #jennarecsml

If you enjoy these, please reblog so more readers can find these awesome fics!

Marichat is hands down the most popular side of the square, and that increased popularity makes it a little more difficult to find those hidden gems. So hopefully you’ll find at least one amazing fic you haven’t read before on this list!

Where timing is kind to us by @deinde-prandium

"What if there is a universe out there where there I’m a different kind of Chat Noir? Where some tiny decision, possibly not even made by me, has had the power to alter my reality as I know it in this world?"

An impromptu physics lesson on the roof leads to unexpected revelations. MariChat.

Written for the ML Writers Guild September 2020 Event. Based on the prompt: “Ever wonder how different your life would be if that one thing never happened?”

One-shot. This is one of my most favourite Marichat fics ever! It works on so many different levels and incorporates so many things I want to see in the show and I just love it. There some beautiful mutual pining here with an amazing, satisfying ending.

Crushed by @p-artsypants

Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

One-shot. Ladybug and Chat Noir get trapped, and Ladybug’s identity gets revealed. While they’re trapped, there’s nothing for them to do but talk and they DO and OMG the feeeeeelinggggssssss.

A Ring For Marinette by Rikkapikasnikka

When Ladybug's responsibilities start to catch up with her, Chat Noir suggests that she takes a break. He offers to watch over the Miracle Box, and he'll play the role of Mister Bug while she enjoys a mini-vacation. In the meantime, he'll select a temporary black cat he trusts to be his partner.

Nothing can go wrong! Just-A-Friend Marinette will make a purrfect black cat!

Okay, so this fic is technically incomplete and marked 1/2. And I very much hope it will be continued. However, it ends in a perfectly respectable place and can absolutely be enjoyed as a one-shot. And who doesn’t love a fic where Chat Noir tries to give Marinette a miraculous? Poor Marinette. The shenanigans!

The Right to be Angry by Cochrane

Chat Noir checks on Marinette after an Akuma attack at their school, and discusses how Hawkmoth affects his victims.

One shot. This is an amazing exploration of the chilling effect Hawkmoth’s attacks have on the city. Cochrane deftly ties into Gabriel’s emotional abuse of Adrien in a way that just breaks your heart. Add in a PERFECT Adrien POV and this is a fic you really want to read!

Glad We're Friends by @botherkupo

Marinette probably should have listened to her instincts the first time. It was risky to get too close to Chat Noir, even if they were just friends. (Because the fact her heart was pounding a little faster around him meant nothing at all. Absolutely nothing.)

One-shot. OMG the TRUST between them!!! Marinette cares about him so, so much, and he trusts her a ridiculous amount. And then there’s this amazing flirty banter between these two supposed just-friends and asdfghjkl

hope dangles on a string by FastPacedFreeFall

Marinette gets a surprise visitor, who comes bearing a little sore-needed solace.

One-shot. A Marichat coda to Dark Cupid, where Marinette and Chat Noir are both disappointed that they didn’t manage to confess to their crushes, so they get some comfort together. I really like the next in the series (they’re not sequels so much as different snippets the writer wants to see in the series), which deals with Adrien’s feelings after Syren too.

Her Good Opinion by @mikauzoran

“I only seriously flirt when I’m in love with someone.” Marinette rolled her eyes, losing patience. “Chat Noir, you flirt with me all the time.” Abruptly, he fell silent, and when he didn’t reply, she turned to look at him expectantly. He was staring at her with a strange expression, a mix of pain, sorrow, regret, and embarrassment. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered.

When Marinette discovers that Chat Noir has fallen in love with her on both sides of the mask, she has a hard choice to make…except that the answer is easy because she can no longer deny that she loves him too.

One-shot. I think Marinette really has a lot of misconceptions about who Chat Noir is and what he’s like in his civilian life and that’s played with to perfection here. It’s funny and sweet and soft and embarrassing and the ending is absolutely wonderful.

#miraculous ladybug #fic recs #ml fic rec #marichat #ml love square #ml lovesquare #love square #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #jennarecsml

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

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Highway 63 (Almost-there 2K writing challenge)

On a dusty stretch of highway that connects two cities, a few aged establishments have made themselves part of the land. They say that some days you wouldn’t find anything but boarded-up buildings and old “Do Not Trespass” signs but there will be nights where people find themselves mingling with the patrons. You have to visit on a warm summer night, though. When the moon is shining and the air is light.

There, you would find a Bar that attracts all kinds of people—city folks, locals, people who wanted to disappear amongst the crowd of faces. The building reeks of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor and yet they see groups of people coming in and out, trying to grab a fix of their favorite sin.

Weary travelers often find themselves checking into the Motel, just a few hundred steps away from the infamous Bar. Some rooms are occupied, some things go bump in the night. It makes a decent stopover rather than sleeping in your car.

Patrons love to rave about the Diner near the Motel. The food tastes like home! they say. The booths are aged and yellow, the buzzing overhead lights are dusty and yet it feels familiar—even if it was your first time here.

Venturing further down the road, you’ll find a dilapidated barn. Nature is on its way reclaiming rotten wood posts and rickety doors. Rumors of ghost and unfriendly souls keeps the walls intact; the rusted tractor sits idle on the side.

If you’re lucky, you’ll find yourself driving down the stretch—catching glimpse of faces you’d never see again. The Motel would’ve had its no vacancy sign up, the Bar would be full of people dancing, the beats spilling onto the street. The Diner would’ve been serving pancakes, chicken, and waffles. Pass by the Barn, maybe you’ll see the vines crawling and waving onto the posts.

If you’re luckier, a postcard would be stuck on your windshield, “Welcome to Highway 63!” it would say. Would you take it as an invitation?

—

Welcome to Bitchassbucky’s almost-there 2K writing challenge! With my blog turning 3 years old this June, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been there since day one. I made lots of friends throughout the years, I even found a bunch of people that I would call my family too.

I’ve decided to take a little break from writing, just until I can find my traction again. Don’t worry, I will be coming back! Hopefully, a better writer.

Anyway, I just really want to thank you for the laughs, for the ugly cries, for the rage, for the keysmashes, and everything in between. You’re always in my heart.

Enough sentiments, let’s get down to business.

Guidelines:

🟪 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. You are responsible for your own media consumption. We don’t exist to babysit you.

🟪 Send me an ask (with your @ if you’re on anon) with the prompt you’d like to take.

🟪 All stories should take place in the Bar, the Motel, the Diner, the Barn, or along the road. Welcome to Highway 63.

🟪 No minimum word count! If your entry goes beyond 500 words, please use the read more tool. All forms of content is welcome: moodboards, playlists, drabbles, one-shots, series, headcanons, etc. are counted as a valid entry.

🟪 To send an entry, mention me @bitchassbucky and @bitchassbucky-afterdark and use the Welcome to Highway 63 tag.

🟪 Marvel/MCU characters are very much preferred. Let me know if you want to write for another character.

🟪 Maximum of two people can take a prompt.

🟪 Warnings, warnings, warnings. Tag your fics appropriately. Dark (noncon, dubcon, etc.) fics are very much welcomed, just tag it. No cross-tagging too.

🟪 NO DEADLINE, we all hate deadlines. KEEP IT COMIN’, FOLKS.

🟪 Hard no-no’s: bathroom play, blood-incest, underage pairings.

🟪 No RPFs (Real Person Fics). Reader inserts or character/character only. OCs are welcomed!

🟪 Let’s keep all entries inclusive, please!

🟪 DO NOT REPOST WORKS OF OTHER PEOPLE.

Prompts under the cut!

Song prompts

You're Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring

Bad To The Bone by George Thorogood

Don't Stop Me Now by Queen

Girls on Film by Duran Duran ( @belladonnabarnes )

Highway to Hell by AC/DC

Precious Love by James Morrison

Sugar for the Pill by Slowdive

Everybody Talks by Neon Trees ( @blackberrybucky for Bucky)

The Boy from NYC by The Ad Libs

Knock On Wood by Amii Stewart

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye ( @buckyblues for Bucky)

MONTERO (Call Me By My Name) by Lil Nas X

Streets by Doja Cat (@luxeavenger)

Tokyo Love Hotel by Rina Sawayama

Lover Boy by Phum Viphurit

Nobody by Mitski

Take Me To Church by MILCK

Curious by Hayley Kiyoko

Line prompts

"Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" // "Are we even allowed in here?" ( @vibraniumqueen for Bucky)

"The GPS fucked up, didn't it?" ( @phant0m-queen for Bucky) ( @uncensored-steve-the-platypus for Steve)

"Drive slower!"

"Not bad [name], not bad."

"Can you shut the fuck up for just one second?!" ( @whoth3hellisbucky for Bucky)

"What did you do?"

"You don't deserve to know me like this."

"Oh, fuck."

"Do you want any advice?" / "If it's from you, then no."

"If you're reading this, I'm dead." ( @buckycuddlebuddy for Bucky)

"Close your eyes, I wanna surprise you." ( @lokiscollar for Bucky) (@drysdale-barnes for Bucky)

"What are you doing here?" / "What are YOU doing HERE?"

"Are you following me?"

"I'm gonna need a drink." (@fuckandfluff for Bucky)

"Keep walking. Just keep walking."

"Hey, I think I saw something back there."

"Come with me!"

"Hand me the car jack."

"We're in Bumfuck, Middle of Nowhere, what do you think?!"

Trope and AU prompts

Biker AU (very on-the-nose, eh?) ( @mxsamwilson for Bucky) ( @thefallenbibliophilequote for a series)

Rom-com AU

College AU ( @babyboibucky for College!Bucky)

Vacation/road trip AU

Band AU ( @hey-its-grey )

Mob/Gang/Criminals AU ( @buckycuddlebuddy for Bucky) ( @xbuchananbarnes for Sam)

Spies AU

Stalker AU

Dystopian AU

Fuck buddies/friends-with-benefits trope ( @whoth3hellisbucky for Bucky)

Found family trope

Mutual pining trope

Idiot x Dumbass trope ( @vibraniumqueen for Bucky)

Amnesia trope

Unreciprocated feelings trope ( @buckyblues for Bucky)

Lovers-to-friends trope

Friends-to-lovers trope

Enjoy yourself and I’ll see you around.

#bitchassbucky's almost there 2k writing challenge #welcome to highway 63 #writing challenge #writing prompts

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arllenn · 4 years

Text

Maribat au - big sis tomb raider mari

(Salt not Adrien friendly)

- the prelude -

• same as cannon only the temple is never brought back in feast, the building itself is brought back but the monks are gone Mari may be a powerful ladybug because she’s a true holder but they’ve been dead for a century and she has a cap on her powers because of her age (Chloé also only leaves for about a month or two)

•before fu goes bonk he actually teaches mari some shit abt the miraculous and the order. (The language, history and as much magic as he can)

•after she becomes the guardian she no longer has the time for class drama and resigns as class pres

•she can also train with past guardians and holders of any miraculous that she’s used (only ones that have died already so in this au not hippolyta or Alfred)

•she throws herself into finding out who hawkmoth is because now she has a secret order to rebuild and she’s done with not being able to cry

•she tells chat noir at their next battle to shape up after he almost gets her killed because stealing a kiss is more important than the battle at hand

•chat throws a fit and doesn’t show up for a while(how long is up to the writer)

• during all of this we still have lila and her classmates being dickheads so she has to deal with being all alone cause Adrien doesn’t have her back and she knows this because it’s been months and he hasn’t helped her once

•mari gets close to a previous ladybug who teaches her how to remain herself while putting up a front to intimidate the enemy (she uses this to appear disinterested in lila and her classmates effectively telling them fuck off idc what you think)

•after Lila says that marinette pushed her down the stairs again mari gets harmed in some way and decides to take tomoe up on her offer to learn fencing (as a result she and Kagami get closer)

•mari brings up wanting to be able to carry a self defense weapon on her person at all times but also doesn’t want to carry something like a taser or a knife so Kagami suggests war fans

•mari is like hell yea because a. She’s now closer to her culture and b. They look sick and she’s been wanting a style change for some time now

•Chloé is back at this point and sees what’s happening in the class and is like wtf

•while away she decided to improve herself so when she sees this she begrudgingly is like fuck it alliance

•mari and Chloé after an apology and a few tenative weeks become friends

•they have their style change together we now have techwear and occasional soft girl mari who constantly has a fan on her that matches with her outfit

•thanks to her training with the Tsurugis she now has an excuse for being so well versed in self defense

•she makes Chloé and Kagami permant holders and while Luka always has sass on him she only tells him to transform when she’s positive she needs him (watching your friends die time and time again and having the future of everything weigh on you being able to turn back time is stressful and she doesn’t want to fuck Luka up like fu fucked her up)

•at this point mari has also gotten closer to aurore who starts to run a blog once the ladyblog goes to shit and gets the turtle

•unlike the others she’s a hero whose focused on the citizens, she gets them to saftey and defends them if they get caught up in a battle rather than fighting Akumas directly

•chat noir hasn’t been present in any battles so they’re easier for mari and it reduces her stress over it

•they discover gabriel is hawkmoth (how it is is up to the writer)

•they have a showdown in which chat defends Gabriel because ‘he could never be hawkmoth what are you doing’

•because of this mari now has both the ladybug and the black cat miraculous on her during the fight with hawkmoth

•she ends up having to use both at the same time bacause training or not that power cap is a bitch when she’s fighting two people who don’t have it

•divine being mari because the two miraculous if not used to make a wish will just transfer the power it would take to make the wish into whoever combined them

•she beats hawkmoth and says fuck it hands him and Mayura over to the cops and peace’s out

•she doesn’t take back the miraculous from her team only Adrien gabe and nath

•she then chills out for the remainder of the school year and decides to visit the temple during the summer

•(wether she told her parents about everything or got disowned is up to you)

•by this point mari has made plenty of money as mdc and can afford to just fuck off to Tibet and rent an apartment for the summer

•(if she goes alone or with someone else is up to you)

•she spends the summer recovering all that she can from the temple (scrolls, additional miraculous, a grimoire that all guardians use)

•so by the time she returns to France for her senior year she’s got a good grip on magic and what she needs to do starting with recovering a box of miraculous that was apparently lost before the temple even fell

•she works with the others to pinpoint where they could be (museums, ruins, family heirlooms, buried under centuries of dirt, at a thrift or jewelry shop)

•eventually she ends up in Gotham for her senior trip

•where she gets caught up in a two face/scarecrow attack at Wayne enterprises (dick was leading the tour so he can’t get away to nightwing and Damien stuck around because it was either help with the tour or school and he fucking hates it there)

•she slips away and transforms (pleas e I’m begging for a costume change the onzie is hella ugly)

•comes back and kicks ass fixes the damage so no one needs the actual cure to fear toxin and peace’s out again

•she ends up doing it a few more times while she’s there somehow always around Damien/Robin (hes like 12-13)

•she nails him out of a bad joker situation (use your imagination) and he’s like yes my sister my hella suspicious sister I’ve adopted you now 😌

• so that’s how she ends up eating dinner in her ladybug get up with the Wayne’s

•she decides to go to college at gotham academy cause Gotham needs healing and there’s more than one miraculous in this town

•so now here she is tellin robin/Damien that she’ll be back in like a week or two because she needs to get everything in Paris sorted out before she chills here

•(wether they know ladybug = marinette is up to you)

•she goes back to Paris to finish out the school year going back to Gotham on the weekends to heal it the best she can and hang out with her cool murder baby brother

•she gets along with Jason the best after Damien cause it’s fun to fuck shit up with someone who is just as chaotic as you but slightly adjacent

•no romantic parings with any of the batfam cause she sees them all as her family (if she has a romantic thing going on with someone it’s probably with Chloé cause I’m a hoe for Chloénette)

•eventually Damien has a really bad day and he calls her at what he’s to be 1 am because he almost killed someone again and he just wants to be distracted from it

•so mari takes him to some old ruins she was planing on going to

•que Damien coming into the dinning room the next day with a magic sword and looking surprisingly content

•now mari is just the cool tomb raider sister who will takes Damien ruins when he’s feeling down hands him some cookies and let him sleep over

•eventually she gets caught stealing from a museum and now Bruce is talking about what a bad influence she is on Damien and how she’s not allowed to see him anymore and she’s like 😦

•ends up explaining everything (if they didn’t know her identity before they know it now)

•and Bruce is like wow shit do you need a parental figure

•mari now has been officially adopted as a Wayne

And there it is tomb raider mari. Idk if people are interested i could write an actual fic or go into more detail on certain parts

#marinette dupain cheng #adrein salt #miraculous ladybug #maribat #platonic daminette #chloenette #ml x dc #tomb raider mari au #au marinette #marinette au #fic ideas #maribat au #guardian marinette

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sunshineandbnha · 4 years

Text

Forever Mine - vamp! Mirio x oblivious! reader

Word count: 3,381

Warnings: oblivious reader, toxic relationship, any OOC-ness is explained/justified by changes in his past in this au, minimal editing because I was trying to get this out today, we die like procrastinating fan-writers.

A/n: This was something I wrote because my friend, @sunflower-kami-boi, wanted something like this. And the #Hauntober prompt for today was vampire. I hope it’s good enough.

Also, something that happens in the end is inspired by a very short fic @tomurasprincess wrote with Shindou. This one

This is also a outlier to the majority of my fics. Hope you like it.

Everything was quiet. The streets abandoned. A streetlight flickered as you walked past it. The air seeped through your clothes and sent a shiver down your spine.

Music blared into your ears through your earbuds. A cheery tone you skipped to. A smile was ever present on your face as you made your way home.

You only stopped when you noticed something on the sidewalk. It was black, so you first assumed it was a shadow. But then you realized it was round and stuck out. You began to approach more cautiously until it began to move. It became less of a ball as a head poked out into view. Large green eyes stared at you.

"Mew"

"Awww. Hello, kitty!" you cooed. You crouched down and held out your hand to the cat.

It hesitated, but came closer when its nose began twitching at your scent. It slowly crept closer to you to sniff your fingertips. The small puffs of air tickled them. The cat apparently found you trustworthy and nudged your hand with its head. Rubbing its face with your hand pulled its mouth into a smile. If you leaned in close enough, you could hear the low rumble of a pur.

"Aw, are you alone?" you said. "Don't you have any kitty friends? Well, if you don't, I could be your friend."

You adjusted your hand to glide along it's back. The black fur felt slightly coarse on your hand. Flakes of dirt began sticking to your hand as you pet the cat, but you didn't care. It rubbed itself against your leg. You couldn’t quite see its head anymore since it was going around you, but you were perfectly content with petting the tail.

The cat's body went tense and its back started to raise rigidly. It turned. Scatting off into the alleyway within a second. Leaving your hand floating in abandon.

You were confused and the feeling of joy sank away. Did you somehow scare the kitty?

You slowly stood up.

"Hello." A voice sounded behind you.

You jumped and turned as you pulled out your earbuds. Standing directly behind you, a little too close, was a boy. He had big broad shoulders and arms that appeared to be very strong. His blond hair stuck up slightly. His blue eyes bore into yours with curiosity and expectation.

"Hello," he said as if to taste the word again.

"Hello," you took the smallest step back, but didn't make too big of a deal about his closeness.

"What's your name?"

You blurted the answer out without a thought. Then you noticed a detail that wasn't simply a trick of the light. "You're looking a little pale. Are you cold or sick?" You placed your hand on his forehead, on your tippy toes so you could reach it.

His eyes went wide and the smallest amount of color came to his cheeks. He seemed to stiffen up at the contact.

"Are you okay?" You asked.

"Yeah." He answered as you pulled away your hand. Why did he look sad? But it must have been your imagination because his face turned into a smile. "Hey, why don't you meet me tomorrow at this one restaurant tomorrow?"

"That sounds fun!" You smiled. "I heard tomorrow was going to be a nice sunny day! We c-"

"Actually, I was thinking more like after dark. I'm free then."

"Okay. Can you text me the address of the place?" You scrambled through your messy bag. "Where is it- oh! Here's some paper." You scribbled down your number and handed it to him.

"Yeah! I'll text you." He took the paper.

You both stood there smiling at each other for a second. Not necessarily because you were feeling happier than usual, just because you smiled all the time. And you were wondering what you were supposed to do next.

"Oh! Right! I need to get back home!" You turned your body to begin walking again and waved to him. "Bye! See ya tomorrow!"

"Bye." You heard him as you began jogging away.

You didn't look back, but he stood there. He stood and stared at you. He smiled. He couldn't wait to have you all to himself forever.

You rushed out the door and onto the street. The moment you woke up, your mind replayed the meeting from the night before. At about 3 am was when you had gotten the text about the address. Though you didn't see it until morning when you woke up. You asked him when you should meet him. He responded 'after the sun goes down.'

You slowed down as you wandered in front of the restaurant he described. A couple walked past you as your eyes searched for him. Darkness engulfed everything, making it harder to recognize anyone. You bit your lip.

"You're here."

You turned. There he was. Staring right at you with a huge smile, his skin still pale. Did he just walk out of the shadows?

"Yep. It's great to see you again," you bounced on your toes. "So are we going to go in?" The lights and laughter from inside sounded so inviting.

"Actually, I got somewhere I want to show you. It'll be great. I promise" He gently grabbed your hand and began to pull you along.

Your feet stepped along the pavement. A magical force seemingly pulled on you. It felt like you were being swept into a dream. He began to pick up speed while pulling you by tall buildings. Though as he went quicker and quicker, you found yourself stumbling more and more. You would have fallen on your face if it weren't for his firm grip on your hand. How was it humanly possible for him to be that fast? He must have gone to the gym a lot. At least that's what his body would suggest.

"Can you slow down just a little bit?"

He looked back at you and stopped. The sudden change caused you to bump into him. Before you could apologize, you felt yourself being picked up. A hand under your legs and one on your back.

"Better?" he looked at you with the most gentle, caring expression.

Your heart picked up an extra beat. Forcing yourself to respond in some way, you nodded your head. With your confirmation, he began running again. The wind patted you and you blinked several times with the wind in your eyes. Your face heated up slightly. There was nothing to be nervous about. You had just told him you had trouble keeping up, so he picked you up. Simple as that.

The buildings suddenly cleared. The clouds were illuminating in an enchanting blue as they wrapped around the moon. The light shone on the water and reflected onto everything like a blanket.

You were barely able to take it in when you lost your sense of what was going on. Everything blurred, the wind seemed to change in different directions and intensities, and you felt a force pushing on you like you were going up an elevator.

When you looked around again, you were on top of one of the buildings by the water. He set you down as you took in everything. There was a picnic dinner already set up. Lit candles were scattered around it along with some rose petals.

"Wow! This looks amazing! But, how did you climb the building so fast?"

"I'm glad you like it," he laughed. "Here. I got you some steak." He motioned to the plate on the picnic blanket.

He had probably just quickly climbed up a fire escape and you had just become disoriented. You walked to the blanket covering the cold concrete. With carefulness, you set yourself onto it. You looked up at him as he sat across from you to join you.

"This looks like a lot of work. Thank you so much- Oh! I don't even know your name yet. I forgot to ask yesterday. Sorry." Your hand came to your mouth

"It's alright. I'm Togata Mirio."

"Okay. Thank you for all of this Togata." You smiled.

"Call me Mirio." He insisted. "That's what my friends called me. Before..." he trailed off. The light from the candles shone off of his eyes.

You tilted your head. Did he lose his friends? How?

"Okay, Mirio."

Then you both proceeded to enjoy your meal.

(If you're vegan or vegetarian, just imagine that you never ate the steak and that you explained to him you don't eat that and he got to something else.)

He seemed to be eating a rare piece of meat. You didn't know if people ate things that raw. Then again, it may have just been a trick of the light. The candles only served to bring a light layer of golden light that blended with the moon's silver rays. Even stranger, he seemed to suck on it quite a bit. Though you chalked that up to just a strange eating habit.

You tilted your head and moved in closer to get a better look "You're still pale. Like you're sick... Why don't we go back to my place? At least after we're done here. I have soup there and I heard soup is good for colds. At least I think."

He nodded. "Yeah. You're right. That sounds good." He adjusted himself to sit right next to you. For several seconds of silence, you gazed at the moon.

"Will you be mine?" He whispered.

"Yours?"

He nodded.

You thought about it. What did he mean being 'his'? Actually, he just mentioned something about losing his friends. And he had asked you to call him by his given name, what his friends called him.

You wanted to be his friend. Especially after everything he did for you. And he seemed lonely.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Sunshine." He hugged you close to him. "I promise I'll be everything you need."

He remembered that night so well. He was just sitting on the rooftop. The moon was his only friend. The only one he had in a long time. He had sighed and looked down. And there you were. Looking so adorable and perfect. A smile brightening up your face like a ray of sunshine.

That was when he knew. You had to be his.

He greeted you and you responded well. It felt like a dream. You touched his forehead and he blushed for the first time he could remember. He wished your hand would never leave his face.

And then when you pet that cat. "Are you alone? Don't you have any kitty friends? Well, if you don't, I could be your friend."

After you left, he had stolen and phone off of a guy. It took longer than he wanted to because he wanted to pick someone who was rich and would have no trouble affording another phone.

After he had gotten turned into a vampire, everyone had grown suspicious of him and never trusted him like they used to. This along with only being able to come out at night meant he was unemployed.

He had managed to survive. Though none of it was very pleasant. Except for when he was with you. All the years of solitude and misery faded away. It gave him a feeling of euphoria. Something he would kill to keep.

He got everything ready, including a piece of meat he could suck the blood from. And you loved it. He could see it. And you said you'd be his. He never wanted to let you go.

And he never would.

From that day on, you spent more and more time with him. All of your freetime was spent with him. His apartment slowly became more like your second home. He always wanted to hang out there during the day. You slept over a few times.

It was strange how he didn't seem to have very much. And it was slowly getting nicer as if he had only just begun fixing it up more. And he would always have you go in through the window using the fire escape.

You were partly right.

After you finished up with work, you found yourself walking to his place on auto pilot. You couldn’t wait to talk to him again.

You never asked him about this in fear it would be rude or spring negative emotions. He was probably just in a rough patch of life and was making it look better since you were coming more often.

It had been four hours since you talked in person. Twenty minutes since you had a conversation through text. He was so upset when you had to go. You wished you didn't have to work.

The metal rattled until you were at the correct window.

And like always, he was right by the window, waiting to let you in.

"How have you been?" He hugged you close to him as soon as you came through.

He kissed the top of your head. No big deal, right? Though, if you were being honest, you were starting to catch feelings. However, you were afraid that he would think you were being weird.

"Good."

"But better now that you're here, right?"

"Yep!"

You both sat on the couch and you began giving a brief description of your day.

"And this one nice guy came in and we gave each other our numbers-"

"Wait." His expression turned dark as he looked down at you. His grip around your shoulder tightened. "Who? And why do you need to talk to him?"

"Well, he was nice and he wanted to. And I didn’t see any problem with it..." Your voice slowly died out as none of your words changed the constricting change in tone that threatened to choke you out.

"Why would you do that?" He asked, pulling his arm away from you. "Why would you talk to anyone else? Are you trying to replace me? You aren't going to spend more time with him and forget about me, are you?"

His eyes were pleading. His tone sounded so hurt. Like you betrayed him.

You sat up. "Oh! No! Of course not." You moved your hand to touch him as if you were calming down a large, rampaging animal.

"But why would you want to be with anyone else?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think about it. I promise. You're the only one I ever want to talk to."

His breathing finally slowed and his muscles untensed. "Okay. You're important to me. I'll always be loyal to you. And you'll always be loyal to me. Did that guy recently meet you?"

"Yeah. While I was working."

He hummed. "People, especially ones you meet like that, might be trying to trick you or take advantage of you."

"Really?" Your spine straightened. Your eyes went wide in fear of the very thought.

"Why would someone like that want to talk with you so quickly?"

Your breathing quickened and your mind was blurring and spinning. Would it really be that easy for people to take advantage of you? How many people would try to hurt you or take you? What if you didn't even notice someone was like that and fell into their trap?

"B-But I don't want that. I'm sorry. I didn't think about that. I promise to be careful next time." Tears began springing out of your eyes

"Oh, it's okay. Shh. Shhh." He pulled you into him which you gladly accepted.

His shirt soaked up your tears. His hand glided along your back, soothing you. He kept hushing you reassuringly. Rocking you in his arms.

"I won't do it again," you whimpered.

"I'm just glad you told me in time and realized it," he whispered in your ear. "You're my smart girl. Don't worry. I'll protect you."

One day, he finally confessed to you that he was a vampire. It all suddenly made sense. His pale skin, never wanting to go out during the day, being so lonely. It turned out his apartment was part of an abandoned building.

He told you about how he was bitten one day when he was younger. He had no idea if it was away actual vampire or a quirk that produced the same effect, but over the course of a few months, all of his dreams and loved ones seemed to fade away.

He became lonely. And it became clear he wouldn’t get into U.A. Especially if he could only go out at night. No one wanted to be around a vampire. He lost everything.

He said how vampires, at least him, didn't need to feed as often as humans. But he often found it difficult to get the amount of blood he needed without hurting anyone.

You asked if he would be able to take a small amount of blood from you. He told you that he could. You would only get turned into a vampire if he made too big of a puncture and you drank blood afterwards. But all he would need was a small hole every once and awhile.

You hugged him and comforted him. He needed you. And now you saw how important you were to him.

And thanked you and you felt reassured that he didn't have to starve and had a friend.

You came over to his place, once again. At this point, you didn't even need your apartment anymore.

"Hey! I'm here!" You called.

"Where were you? You're 10 minutes late. Why didn’t you respond to my texts?"

You pulled out your phone and looked. "Oh, sorry. My phone was on silent because my boss didn't like all the noise it made when you kept texting me."

"Why is texting you a problem? Is your work more important than me? I thought you said you'd always be there for me." Those sad eyes bore into you and you surrendered.

The worry lines on his face softened. He gently led you hand to his cheek and held it there. You both there for several moments.

"No. Never in a thousand years." You walked over to put your hand on him. "I'm sorry I got held up. I'll be on time next time."

"Is something on your mind?" He asked when he noticed you gazing down.

"Well... my family and friends stopped talking to me. I don't think they want me around anymore," you admitted while biting the inside of your lip.

"Why? Didn't you say they loved you? Why would they do that to you?" His voice was filled with concern.

"I... I don't know. I text them and ask about how they are, but they never answer." Tears began to blur your vision. "The least they could do is tell me they're busy."

"Listen to me," he lifted your chin to face him. "You're the most amazing girl ever. And if they decide to do that to you, then they don't deserve even a second of you thinking about them."

"Thank you, but... I guess I feel really alone. Y'know? I know I should get over it, but it still hurts," you sniffled.

He squeezed you tighter. "I know exactly how that feels. But you don't have to worry. We got each other. And I love you. Why don't you quit your job and move in here with me. That way we won't ever have to part."

He felt so relieved that you were finally going to only be with him. Everyone else would have just kept you away from him and never truly appreciate you like he would.

You didn't need to know that he was the one sneaking onto your phone and deleting messages. All you needed to know was that you were safe and he would never let you go.

You nodded into him. "That sounds nice. Thank you, Mirio."

You felt so safe and warm in his arms. Like a soft blanket wrapped around you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck. He lightly kissed the top of your head.

"It's okay. You'll be safe and happy with me forever."

#Mirio x reader #Mirio Togata x reader #Togata Mirio x reader #bnha Mirio #mha Mirio #bnha vampire au #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #tw toxic relationship #tw toxic behavior #hauntober #vampire

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fanfic-corner · 3 years

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Cafe AU

6/11/20 - Someone requested I do some Cafe AUs, and boy am I glad they did, or else I wouldn’t have read these fics. They are just another level of relaxing (mostly!).

A Little Slice of Heaven by onamelancholyhill on AO3. (112,265 words).

Tags: Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Falling in Love, POV Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, POV Third Person, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Friendship, Family, Episode s04e17 It’s a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Bisexual Dean, Idiots in Love, Making Out, Apple Pie Life.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Jim Morrison once said, “The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are.” That was Castiel Novak’s motto in life, and the reason why he accepted his grandmother's inheritance and took the responsibility it implied. Dean Winchester, a remarkable accountant at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., however, had other priorities. He lived to serve, hidden in a mask that didn’t allow him to be honest with himself, but lonesome and boring. When destiny made their paths cross, in a less than promising way, with Dean as the instigator and Castiel as his victim, Dean’s mind started wandering, in between pies and cakes, coffees and muffins... What if Mr. Morrison was right? After all, as the guy used to say, "there can’t be any large-scale revolution, until there’s a personal revolution first."

Notes: So cute, and the plot was great! It’s really making me want to rewatch It’s A Terrible Life. I did have to google who Sarah Blake was though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fic with her in.

In the House of the Rising Bun by imissmaeberry on AO3. (9,046 words).

Tags: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Baker Dean, Barista Sam, College Campus, Poet Castiel, Mutual Pining, Daddy Issues, Background Sam/Jess, Past Balthazar/Castiel.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester only has three rules concerning the cafe he and his brother Sam own, "House of the Rising Bun".

1. Any and all opportunities to make a pun will be taken. 2. Free regular coffee with your student ID (If you want some of that fancy nonsense you gotta pay, sorry kids). 3. Anyone and everyone is always welcome.

Between Dean running the shop full-time and Sam helping out whenever he isn't in class, there really isn't a whole lot of time for romance for either of them. But that all changes when they gain a new regular - some writer from London - who may or may not have the bluest eyes Dean's ever seen.

Notes: First of all, the puns were amazing and I am willing to fight people on that. Secondly, that was so sweet and funny I am afraid I might have to disappear under mysterious circumstances and open my own cafe...

Just Your Heart, In Exchange For Mine by noxsoulmate on AO3. (46,808 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bakery Shop Owner Dean Winchester, Retired Hunter Dean, Cas is a witch, Canon-Typical Violence, Witch Curses, Demisexuality, Dean Winchester’s First Time With a Man.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean owns a bakery and Castiel loves his pie. This could be such a cute little bakery love story – if it weren’t for the fact that one was a retired hunter and the other one a powerful witch. There’s also the matter of the black little cat Dean finds in front of his bakery one cold and rainy night. Not to forget the crazy witch on the loose, ripping out other witches’ hearts.

Notes: Absolutely adorable, and the artwork was phenomenal! This fic also hit me right in the feels.

Through a Bakery Shop Window by thatwriterlady on AO3. (2,860 words).

Tags: Dean Has a Crush on Castiel, Shy Dean, Sweet Castiel, Dean has Asperger’s, Dean has Social Anxiety, Socially Awkward Castiel, Fluff, Coffee Shop Owner Castiel, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Discussion of Asperger’s, Mention of Autism, Dean has OCD, Castiel has OCD, Castiel has ADD.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Dean passes a bakery every day on his way to work and it smells so good. Through the window he catches glimpses of the man that works there. Dark, messy hair and a bright smile intrigue Dean and he decides to break his usual routine and drag his brother in one Saturday for breakfast. He didn't intend to even so much as see the man, let alone talk to him, but Sam is rather persuasive...

Notes: Okay, this was so precious! Plus Sam and Gabe having a conversation about their little brothers was so cute.

My Own Little World by tale_to_tell on AO3. (6,858 words).

Tags: Hurt Dean, Protective Castiel, Meet-Cute, Fluff, Pining, Coffee Shops, Implied Domestic Violence, Abusive Alistair, Abusive Relationships, First Kiss, Human Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, POV Castiel, Love Confessions, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Happy Ending.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Castiel stumbles into a local café in order to avoid the rain, and during the process he meets a very attractive barista by the name of Dean Winchester. It doesn't take long for Castiel to fall in love with Dean's wit and charm.Too bad that Dean has a boyfriend.

Notes: This was fairly sweet, and I was not expecting the Sabriel content (always read the tags, folks). Also, return of Alistair being an asshole! I would have forgot he existed if he didn’t keep popping up in these fics.

Alfie wears a dress by Morethanacupcake on AO3. (2,402 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Bakery and Coffee Shop, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, Kid Fic, First Kiss, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: "But the little boy watching TV on his living room is sporting a huge bruise on his cheek, the dark and purple kind. And he’s wearing a dress.” Dean meets Alfie Novak, a sweet little boy who likes to cook and wears dresses. He meets Alfie's dad, Castiel, and starts a little revolution in their little town.

Notes: This was so sweet, Cas is the best dad, and I will be forever plagued by the image of Ash and Benny in a dress.

Finding the Words by Honey_Bee80 on AO3. (1,530 words).

Tags: Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Baker Dean, Writer Castiel, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Cas is Clueless, Bisexual Dean, Pansexual Castiel, Writer’s Block, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Human, Human Castiel, First Dates.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Cas is a writer who's stuck. Dean and Sam own a bakery. Basically I'm a sucker for coffee shop/bakery stuff and needed Cas in glasses.

Notes: This was fairly adorable and the way the author managed to slip in a hint of Cockles was very smooth (although shipping real people makes me a little bit uncomfy).

Chocolate, Caramel, and Zombies (Of a Metaphorical Sense) by TextReciprocation on AO3. (1,461 words).

Tags: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Castiel approached the counter and looked at the menu contemplatively. The barista spun around to face him, eyes bright and hair untidy. He was roughly Castiel's height and build, with sandy hair and lightly tanned skin. Castiel's breath caught at the sight of him, but he bit his tongue, chastising himself.Cute baristas were rarely gay and always taken. Castiel knew this. Fate, as it happened, was a cruel mistress.

Notes: Very cute, and Cas was an absolute mood in this. It made me feel tired just reading it!

And as a bonus for all the Good Omens fans...

The Angel Cake Challenge by almaasi on AO3. (8,132 words).

Tags: Canon Universe, Fluff, Romance, Team Free Will 2.0, Day At The Beach, Mistaken For A Couple, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Food as a Metaphor For Love, Public Displays of Affection, Pet Names, Endearments, First Kiss, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Closeted Dean, Coming Out, No Prior Knowledge of Good Omens Needed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: There's a kooky gay couple sitting in this little beachside bistro, at the table next to Dean. Dean's biggest mistake was telling them they looked cute together. Now they've noticed Cas, and they're silently encouraging Dean to be as openly affectionate as them. Dean didn't sign up for this challenge. But now? Hell, he's in it to win it.

Notes: Okay, technically no one owns/works at a coffee shop, but it is set at one, and it is adorable. I love my Ineffable Husbands, and I love Destiel, so this was perfect. Also, I may not have met him yet, but Jack was adorable.

So, if I disappear forever, you’ll all know where to find me. Seriously though, these are some of the cutest fics I have ever read. And if you ever want to suggest a fic or a list, please don’t hesitate to ask me!

#spn #spnfamily #cafe au #fanfic #ficrecs #supernatural #destiel

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ariaadagio · 5 years

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Aria’s Long List of Lucifer & Deckerstar Fic Recs (Part 6)

Hello, all! It seems like it’s about that time again to continue my fic rec series! I haven’t had a ton of time to read since the S4 finale because I had a pretty hellacious summer, after which I’ve been so focused on writing. Hence why this has taken so long.

DISCLAIMER: These recs are organized by author, and the order is not meant to imply an order of preference. All recommendations are completed fics unless otherwise noted. If anyone knows the @ tumblr names for any of the authors I missed tagging, or if I got anything wrong, please let me know. Lastly, this is just a list of things I’ve read that I really enjoyed, and I want to spread the love. That’s it. Period. It’s not politics, and I have no ulterior motives, okay?

NOTE: You can find my previous five rec posts here (part 1), here (part 2), here (part 3), here (part 4), and here (part 5).

And, so, without further ado!

The Devil Goes to Shul by @arlome. Deckerstar. 7k words. Post-S4. In which Lucifer meets a Rabbi. This is such an interesting commentary on the differences between the various Abramahamic religions’ perceptions of the Devil. Rabbi Schulman is a well-drawn, fascinating, fantastic character. A fic that’s great food for thought, with a dash of good humor, and a little smut thrown in for good measure.

Of Honey, Sulphur, & Bone by @aryanightshade. Deckerstar. 35k words. Post-S3. In which the end of 3x24 goes a little differently. Cain captures both Lucifer & Chloe and takes them prisoner, absconding with them to his bunker in the desert. This fic has some graphic blood and gore scenes, so be wary if that’s a trigger for you, but the revelation; Chloe’s dueling panic, doubt, and empathy; the beautiful hurt/comfort; and the emotional pulse of this story makes for a riveting read.

The Ghosts of Picnic Table #29 by @elleflies. Deckerstar. Maze & Chloe. ~50k words when completely posted. Post-S4. This story is technically a WIP because it’s still in the process of being posted, but it’s already completely written, and I know it’s good because I betaed it and got to see how it all ends up, so I feel confident recommending it, now. A year after Lucifer departed, Chloe is still grieving his loss, when an unusual case at a haunted picnic table crops up, and she enlists Maze’s help to investigate. Lots of female bonding and fun in this story. And a ton of emotional intimacy and mutual pining for Deckerstar when Lucifer mysteriously starts showing up in Chloe’s dreams.

Boom by emynii & @obliobla. Lucifer & Dan. 4k words. In which Lucifer & Dan get trapped under an exploded building, and the only thing that’s stopping Dan from being crushed are Lucifer’s fanned out wings. Cue revelation. Cue platonic Douchifer stuff. And have some hurt Lucifer and hurt Dan to top it off. A lovely mix.

Trouble by Design by @hiromystory. Deckerstar. Lucifer & Dan. 76k words. Originally recommended as a WIP, now it’s done! A post-S3 Deckerstar scenario told in novel form. My favorite thing about this story is actually the author’s in-depth exploration of how Dan might react to a Devilish revelation. Hint: not well. Hiro deftly tackles Dan’s feelings about some of the questionable stuff he’s done through the lens of him now knowing the punishment that awaits him, and it’s both captivating and heart wrenching.

Guilt by liannabob. Deckerstar. 22k words. Post-S3. In which Chloe doesn’t take the revelation of Lucifer’s devil-ness all that well, and dire consequences ensue. This fic. Was. So. Angsty. The idea of Lucifer slumming in Hell loops for things he loves about Earth is just ugh. So good. And awful at the same time. But in a good way. And I promise the payoff for this angst is so touching and very worth it.

Patrick the Bartender Is Not Paid Enough for This Shit by liannabob. Patrick. 15k words. Canon-compliant S1 fic. I know, I know. Patrick, you’re saying. Who the hell is Patrick? Remember way back in the S1 pilot, when that bartender pops up from behind the bar, after having given Maze some head, and Maze is all cat-caught-the-canary, “You can go, Patrick.” Yes. That Patrick. This fic basically takes that character who never got a single line and gives him a whole personality and backstory and POV. The premise of this fic is that pretty much every employee at Lux low-key knows (and is fine with the fact) Lucifer is the actual Devil. And it’s. AMAZING. HYSTERICAL. And PERFECT. If you never read another OC fic in your life, at least give this one a shot. You won’t regret it.

Smoke & Mirrors by @theleafpile. Deckerstar. 80k words. An all-human mobster AU. In which Lucifer is the Devil of Los Angeles, and Chloe is still a homicide detective for the LAPD, who gets involved with him against her better judgment. This fic manages to maintain the integrity and essence of the characters we know and love, while simultaneously transporting them to an entirely new premise, and I loved it. I love theleafpile’s lyrical writing style. And I love the little bits of mythology she injects that suggest … this “all human” AU might not be what it seems on the surface. It takes a special kind of writer to pull off this kind of transformative AU, and theleafpile does it aplomb.

The Free Parking Jackpot Rule by lilith_morgana. Deckerstar. 3.8k words. Interstitial, canon-compliant S3 fic. Offers a little bit more context for the unicorn Trixie painted on Lucifer’s cheek in S3 on monopoly night. A concentrated shot of angst, with some lovely characterization to boot.

The Delusional Devil by @maimat2. Deckerstar. 25k words. Late S2 era. A casefic case-study on Chloe’s empathy. Based on the premise that she naturally assumes Lucifer’s wholly human self has some kind of mental trauma or disorder. When Lucifer starts acting more … more, she assumes he’s losing his grip on reality. I loved the touching way this story delved into Chloe & Lucifer’s friendship, and of course I loved all the hints of Lucifer’s otherness, which were tempered by Chloe’s human perceptions.

I Will Fear No Evil by @miahclone. Lucifer & Dan. 18k words. An interstitial S4 piece, arguably canon-compliant until proven otherwise. In which Lucifer & Dan are taken prisoner by some cultists, and Lucifer is subjected to an exorcism that goes horribly wrong. WARNING: if you suffer from emetophobia, this fic will be extremely triggering. I don’t have emetophobia, and I still got a bit queasy. There is also some pretty graphic blood & gore. This is quintessential whump. But this is well worth a read if you’re a sucker for Dan & Lucifer platonic bonding, hurt Lucifer, hurt/comfort in general, endings that make you go, “Whoa! New head canon!” and humor in the face of shit circumstances. Which I very much am. So. There you go :D

De Profundis by @mswyrr. Amenadiel & Lucifer. 3k words. Post-S4. Amenadiel offers Lucifer a solution to the problem of Hell needing to be ruled by an angel. A beautifully written brother-bonding fic, and, honestly, I think it’s the most straightforward way to fix how S4 ended.

Time Heals All Wounds by @notonelineff. Deckerstar. 23k words. Post-S3. Fills in the blanks for how things could have gone after S3. Lucifer is in dire need of medical aid, and Chloe tries to help. Satisfying hurt/comfort, and a lovely resolution.

Ouroboros by @pandainthestars. Deckerstar. 3k words. Events happen slightly differently in 4x09. Chloe & Lucifer chase after Kinley. Lucifer goes full-Devil when they’re in pursuit, not when they’re at Lux, which prompts some very interesting/poignant discussion between Chloe & Lucifer. I loved Chloe’s assertion of the ouroboros metaphor. A quick, angsty read.

A question of faith by @pixelbypixelfanfic. Ella & Lucifer. 2.1k words. A post-reveal fic for Ella, in which Lucifer & Ella discuss her faith. A poignant, thoughtful little piece that I really enjoyed.

Soup Kitchen by @tarysande. Deckerstar. 1k words. Speculative scene-replacement, S4. A heart-wrenching little interstitial scene for 4x03 that looks at how things may have gone if Lucifer hadn’t already been pushed by Father Kinley into doubting Chloe’s intentions.

my definition of holy (changes with each loss) by @thewollfgang. Deckerstar. 3k words. Post-S4. So … this fic doesn’t end happy. At all. Beware if that’s a problem for you. But if you want some delicious, cutting, heart-wrenching angst to roll around in for a while, this fic is your jam. The concept of Chloe praying to Lucifer intermittently, giving him updates, sending him her love, as she lives her life on Earth, and he’s stuck in Hell is just … oh, my god, my heart.

drunk in love by @thewollfgang. Deckerstar. 4k words. Post-S4. This fic isn’t in alphabetical order with wollfy’s other fic on this list, but I’m doing that intentionally, because if you want a happy ending for the previous nuclear angst bomb, I recommend head-canoning this as your ultimate resolution, where Lucifer & Chloe are reunited, and everything is gooey and perfect and the world is puppies and kittens. I live to see tipsy Lucifer & Chloe at Lux through the perspective of their friends/found-family. I hope we get something like this in S4.

The Trouble with Brittanies by @theyahwehdance. 500 words. A hysterical little ficlet in which Lucifer calls Chloe and asks for help with the Brittanies. I saw this ficlet evolve from a live discussion that made me laugh so hard my belly hurt. I mean, it’s an honest misunderstanding ….

#deckerstar #lucifer & dan #lucifer & ella #lucifer fanfiction #fic recs #aria recs #lucifer on netflix

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anakinthetrashking · 4 years

Note

Ok, so you reblogged my post about bnha fic recs and I also looked through the ones you linked and I LOVED THEM. If its alright to ask, would you happen to have more Protective Aizawa or possibly Dadmic or Protective Present Mic? Also Protective Midnight or Momnight? Only if you have! Thanks! -bnhastanning

I somehow stupidly lost my reply to this ask, not once, but TWICE. at the end, when i was almost done. im so sorry but this will be the crappiest version yet... (also! hello, fellow batfam fan... *spiderman pointing meme*)

I read a lot of fic and i loooooove sharing them with people, so thanks for giving me an excuse to do this!! :D

lots of fics, so im putting them under the read more! One of these days I’ll get around to making more organized fic rec posts...

Dadmic: only a couple, and tbh i think they have more dadzawa in them?? Secondary Colors by NaoNazo

"You got pushed down the stairs... and you're apologizing for it," he stated blandly. "That seems counterintuitive." "Um... sorry?" Izuku whispered. He was starting to shake a little, adrenaline flooding his veins and leaving him cold. He had no idea what Purple was going for with his blunt statements and the hand reaching toward his shoulder as if to steady him, but apologizing was generally safe. "You don't have to apologize, dude. I don't know your name, but I doubt it's actually Deku." "Um. Midoriya." Izuku peered sideways at Purple as they rounded the corner. "Izuku Midoriya. Deku is just, um, just what my... friends call me." He winced. "Sounds real friendly."

and Cat Days by Griffinrose

Izuku has a shapeshifting quirk. He's not the best at controlling it, especially under stress. So when tragedy strikes and he gets lost in the city, he's stuck as a cat. At least he found a nice underground hero to take him in?

Pied Piper by Blackholeca has some really great concerned Dadmic in recent chapters!!

If they wouldn’t give him a chance then the solution seemed simple, he’d give himself one. He’d force the world to see him, force them to recognize his hard work. He wasn’t missing a quirk, it was simply that everyone else had been given an advantage. He wasn’t broken, or useless, or incapable, and he’d prove it by outrunning all of them, he who was quirkless, he who had started in last.

As for momnight, there are also only a couple, and im also not caught up with these either. i have a little bit more of an excuse with these, as Indefinite by OwlF45 is really REALLY long, as well as intense. Worth the read though! I just gotta catch up! So much mindblowing stuff in that, and the Momnight is really sweet.

It comes with the package deal of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Midoriya gets another chance at life, but he must throw it away when that dreaded day comes. After all, a life for nineteen is more than a fair trade.

Or: the world will rise or fall, and it depends on one boy protecting Class 1-A to prevent the inevitable.

The other Momnight one I have is A Single Reason by TheDeepSeaWitch. Also really good, but really intense and I’ve had to take a break because I was getting a bit depressed, whoops. But I liked it!

Training begins the next day, and doesn’t stop for any reason. They wait for heroes, then for police, then for anyone to save them, but nobody comes.

It’s only a month before Izuku forgets their names. It’s a year before he forgets his own.

It’s only a chance meeting with an impassioned soul eight long, painful years later that saves them.

---------------------------------

They thought they were lost forever, that there was no future out there for them with their scars so visible and the blood on their hands still pungent and red. But if they have the strength to try, then perhaps, one day, they may yet find their forgiveness, and rediscover themselves along the way.

The Reforming Villains AU nobody asked for.

For Dadzawa:

Flare Signal by achievingelsium, of course! Annie writes some of my absolute fav dadzawa content, so definitely check it out!!

AU. Midoriya Izuku shouldn't be surprised he ended up like this: hiding the secret of One for All from his own father, the notorious villain Dragon. The path to being a hero is a hard one.

Or; Izuku is an aspiring hero forced to work for his father’s villain organization. Then he runs into All Might.

Izuku Ya’broker by Dreamillusions, is a fic i loved a LOT.

Perhaps you should actually listen to the news every once in a while, so you wouldn't end up in these kinds of situations. What kinds of situations? Glad you asked. Look at Izuku, for example. You would think Izuku would be at home after school, safe and sound from anyone attempting to, you know, kill him. But no, Izuku decided to roam around. Because of a bet. This is the kind of a situation you shouldn't end up in. Don't be Izuku.

Butterfly by aconstantstateofbladerunner, is rightfully popular! It has some horror/suspense themes though, so if thats not your style, try one of Blade’s other fics!! She’s a seriously good writer.

The first over-night trip off campus since the training camp was supposed to be a fun break from more intense work back home. But between a bleak introduction to chaos theory, a chilly reception from the locals, and the looming threat of a villain attack, Izuku has too much on his mind to properly enjoy the fresh air. But those worries are a light breeze compared to the hurricane that accompanies what he finds on the outskirts of town.

Or rather, what finds him.

A House Divided Against Itself by BeyondTheClouds777, another one of my fav fics by a great writer!

"Become a villain," they said.

“I’ll be a villain,” he said.

He lied. He’s only there so he can tear apart the League of Villains from the inside out.

The scars we carry by Banana_Ink is a great AU with plenty of Dadzawa

Aizawa rescued Izuku from the league of villains and takes care of the child for now. Izuku has two quirks in this AU, one natural - Forced Quirk Activation - and one that AFO 'gifted' him with - Self-Heal. He has a pretty big handprint-scar on his face and started as a problem child, scared and wary of people. But Aizawa managed to help him slowly heal.

This AU is just some silly little thing I came up in my freetime and like to add to it as I go, so I don't have a plan at all. Mostly I write for fun so I hope you might enjoy this as well :D

Ticked Off by Xenolis is a fic that I just want to rec all the time,,, for some reason...

~ ON HIATUS/OCCASIONAL UPDATES ~ Midoriya Izuku attracted trouble. It was just a fact of life – the sky was blue, the grass was green, and Izuku constantly found himself in an absurd number of deadly situations. He was okay with that. Mortal peril was an average Tuesday afternoon for a Pro Hero like him. Being kidnapped was practically a holiday. Saving civilians as a building collapsed around him was easier than facing his worried mum afterwards. He had dealt with All Might's disappointed dad stare and only cried for two hours afterwards. A serial killing villain with an unknown Quirk would be no problem! ..but even Izuku had to admit that being sent back in time to his first day at UA wasn't on the agenda. Still, there was no-one more spitefully determined than him – he was going to make the most of it. Yeah, good luck, heroes and villains alike! Deku was here to cause mischief and love his friends!

Toward A Bright Future by LazyRainDancer holds a special, soft place in my heart. I always want to go reread it after watching the show and I always want to rewatch the show after reading it. it never ends

You wake up at UA, the highest ranked hero school in the country, with no recollection of how you got there. Unfortunately, those aren't the only memories you're missing. Still, you can't let a little amnesia get in the way of you warning the school about the attack you know will happen during Class 1-A's field trip to the USJ. After you deliver your warning, you're beyond shocked when the principal offers you a position as a TA for Class 1-A. You accept the position in hopes that you'll be able to use your Quirk to help protect the students. It'll be far from easy, but you're determined to do whatever it takes to change the students' future for the better.

The rest don’t really have Dadzawa? But theyre really good so I had to rec them anyway

once forgotten, twice removed by blueh, good writer for multiple fandoms

“Yes,” All for One agreed. “This will be the final resting place of All Might.” “You,” Midoriya Izuku said and paused, thinking over the words. He sounded taken aback. “You want me to help fight All Might.” “Of course,” All for One nodded along. “I can offer you double of whatever my counterpart is paying you currently, along with anything your little heart could desire. Of course, you would get to help out drastically—" “Did you happen to check what world you were pulling me out of when you did this?” Midoriya Izuku interrupted and it was said in such an incredulous tone that had the situation not been as critical as it was, All Might would have laughed. Also known as: number one hero Deku has been through a lot of things, but being thrust into an alternate reality where he’s All for One’s Successor is a first. He has to navigate this world when his alternate self is a villain dead-set on killing him and all of this version of class 1-A. All the while, his friends search desperately for a way to get him back.

Office Space by Caelismylife quirkless izuku gets a job at UA analyzing quirks, HECK YES

It took a little time, but he eventually found himself with a job at UA. The revolving door of heroes was not in the contract.

To Repair with Gold by TitleUnwanted FEEEEELS

AU. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, biggest lie in the world. Tattoos, which appeared when quirks did, are when a person feels an impact on something they are told and it becomes inked on their body, the closer they show to your heart the deeper the impact it has on the person.

For Izuku this is a blessing and a curse.

An Accident at Workstudy by Galactic_Jax been enjoying this one!

Izuku is working hard to prove himself at his work study, but it's hard when Sir Nighteye has made it clear he's not wanted. But what happens when Izuku is caught in a villain attack on his way to the agency? Will a few revelations about his most recent intern's past be enough for Sir Nighteye to change his mind about All Might's successor?

Nice to Meet You? by Allwalkfree didn’t know i needed this until i read it

Kirishima introduces Bakugou to his favorite senpai. In which over several encounters Bakugou and Amajiki learn to become tentative friends.

A Study in Firsts by Oceanbreeze7 dorm shenanigans AND feels

There’s a first time for everything. The first time everyone crammed in Momo’s room to study, a mess of limbs and books on her bed. The first time Mina burned crepes so badly the smoke alarm went off. The first time a jumpscare got Sero so badly, he flipped off the back of the couch. The first time Uraraka fell asleep at the table and accidentally sent it floating. The first time someone realized Todoroki walked far too quietly, and far too cautiously around the dorms to be normal. The first time Midoriya broke his toe on a door frame and kept walking through it. The first time Kirishima woke up screaming through the walls. The first time Tsuyu blanched at the sight of a needle. The first time Bakugo dropped, clutching the back of his neck with eyes scarily vacant and detonating everything around him until Aizawa had to intervene. It wasn’t always pretty, but the dorms were filled with firsts.

Hero Class Civil Warfare by Roguedruid extremely satisfying to read

Heroes lead by Bakugo. Villains lead by Midoriya. Seven days prep time. Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

A Fleeting Smile by AnonymousTwit good bakugou content

Or a collection of fifteen Bakusquad one shots where someone outside of the Bakusquad catches a rare glimpse of a friendlier side of Bakugou Katsuki, and one time that is specifically reserved for the four people that he hates the least.

Hope this gives you something to work with!!! I have more(and am always adding) in my bookmarks on AO3, but this should be a good start! Hopefully you’ll find at least one that you love! have a great day!!!! -Ani <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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xxx-cat-xxx · 4 years

Note

absolute top favourite tony h/c fic recs?

Thank you for the ask and sorry for taking so long to answer! I have a recommendation section here on my blog, but I extended it a bit and posted it below:

Cat’s Tony hurt/comfort fic recs

Long works

If you’re up for a dark, violent, and incredibly touching and well written novel in which Tony and Peter are broken and put back together countless times, go for How to repair a broken heart by InfluentialPineapple. In my opinion, it’s one of the best pieces of literature ever written anywhere, even outside of the fanfic-realm. It describes a journey on which Tony and Peter slowly grow together, and although it´s terribly sad and extremely whumpy, you can see the love the author has for their characters in every single line. Injury, illness, violence, torture, anxiety, PTSD, this one´s got everything, so please heed the TWs.

Dark Memories by @trammelsb: This story is centered around child (sexual) abuse. But it is so much more than Tony suffering through flashbacks and panic attacks (although there is a great deal of that) and being comforted by his team members, especially Bruce, his partner. It is about Tony going through a great deal of character development, learning that he is not to blame for what has happened. The author doesn´t shy away from all the heavy topics, but she also never ceases to treat the characters with respect, In the end, it seems to be a story about not giving up, and despite all the pain it causes when you read it, the feeling that stays is that it´s worth to keep fighting.

Arc Tremors by @rose-on-the-mountain: 44 epic chapters of Whump and the kind of fluff that is not fluffy at all, rather makes your heart overflow with emotions. It´s Avenger-family centric, including Pepper and Rhodey and wonderful robot characters, themed around an illness that forces Tony to go through a difficult heart procedure. Everyone’s shadows and traumas get their due, and it balances darkness and light admirably well.

One Hell of a Show by MillyVeil: Clint and Tony get kidnapped and tortured. Heavily. This is one of the physically most brutal whump-fics I know - Milly is like the Tarantino of fan-fiction - but god, it´s well done. TWs for detailed descriptions of rape and violence.

Resistance by thegraytigress: Tony and Steve are captured by the Kree and held in a concentration camp-like environment for months. This is a slow-built, well thought-through love story with a lot of pain and a deep exploration of Tony´s and Steve´s characters as well as their emerging relationship. It has one of the best and most realistic aftermaths to traumatic experiences that I´ve ever read. It’s basically a book worth of heavy, heavy, heavy physical and emotional whump. Please mind the TWs.

She’s my Ride Home by OfMonstersAndMe: The most beautiful recount of how Nebula’s and Tony’s friendship develops in the 23 days they spent in space. Lots of great hurt/comfort scenes and spot-on characterisation.

450 Feet Under by Veldeia: Tony is trapped in a cave with no way out. The Avengers are on the way to get him, but when he gets seriously injured, the rescue mission becomes a race against time. 15 chapters of absolutely satisfying whump, snark, and feels. Background Stony. Simply brilliant!

Short(er) Works

Basically all Tony fics by @builder051. I especially like this Pepperony Christmas fic and this Nat & Tony cave anxiety fic.

Strong Enough by Ranni: Steve, Tony, and Clint are held prisoner, but the real danger begins when their captors abandon the prison to let them die in their cells. Injuries, torture, pneunomia, great dialogues. Platonic relationships between the three men, really touching, but not cheesy. Ranni is one of my favourite writers, and all her other stories are equally intruiging. Monsters and Beloved Companion also have a lot of Tony Whump.

Five Times Bruce is Not That Kind of Doctor™ + One Time He’s Perfect For the Job by @whumphoarder and @awesomesockes. The most amazing mix of humour and whump you’ll ever find. I love all their fics, so some more of my Tony Whump faves are The After Party and Desperate Times.

@taylortut writes beautiful and touching fics in which Tony gets whumped around other Avengers. Mostly h/c with illness or injury (and some adorable daily-life drabbles).The stories are generally light-hearted, but not at all superficial. I still can´t decide which one is my favorite because I love all of them, so I´m putting up the general link to Taylor´s Blog. Find her here on A03.

The Minor Fall, the Major Lift by sahiya: This one is about Bruce coming back to the compound after Civil War, trying to pick up Tony´s broken pieces. It has the best characterization of Tony, Bruce and Rhodes I´ve seen in a while now. Everything about this fic seems fragile, the characters, the conversations, the shaky comfort they manage to build. It´s slow-paced, and it´s not a fix-it-all, and this is what makes it so good. Sahiya is one of the best writers out there and her series “Me through Him to You” is printworthy.

Bruce and Goose´s Truce by @twentyghosts: After Infinity War, Tony is saved from space. Bruce medically examines him while being heavily flirted at, then they bathe together, and Tony cries, and Bruce holds him tight. Everyone is more than a little broken, but it´s okay, because they have each other back. More Tony Whump in Cold, Comfort and Unmasked.

nimentia by TinyFuryCloud: Tony and Steve have been married for more than 20 years when Tony is diagnosed with Alzheimer´s disease. This story is so terribly well done. The whole process of Tony slowly disintegrating, slowly getting lost, but somehow, somewhere, still being Tony, is recounted in precise detail with just the right mixture of matter-of-fact descriptions and emotions. Also, A+ characterisation of everyone who is and was part of Tony´s life, including Peter and Jarvis.

Hubris by @writingromanoff: Tony gets kidnapped and tortured by Justin Hammer. Tortured, as in forced to walk for days and days in the desert without a drop of water, and that´s just the beginning. When Steve finally shows up, Tony doesn´t even know whether he´s real anymore. I still can´t decide whether the whump or the whump´s aftermath is better in this one, both are very well described. Heed the TWs (torture and humiliation, obviously, as well as ED behaviour and others). By the same author: somno, the best concussion fic in the universe, and Blue Lips, Blue Veins, which is on some other level of genius alltogether.

Just a rather very intelligent system by @darkestsight: Seven instances of Jarvis taking control over the suit and saving Tony´s ass without anyone noticing. Not all of them are sickfics. Chapter 3 is my personal favorite and contains a physically and emotionally beaten-down and extremely tired Tony; chapter 5 has him dealing with PTSD and chapters 6 and 7 involve him getting injured. I liked the idea of it and enjoyed the interactions between Tony and Jarvis.

Pressure Point by ratherastory: Another migraine fic, with a very precise description of the pain Tony´s in and a nice amount of Starkasm. Steve as caretaker. Can be read as Stony, but doesn’ t have to. Pain and vomiting.

Home by @saber-wing: All Tony wanted was a cup of coffee. But then Thor’s Asgardian monster pet decides to try and eat Tony’s leg for breakfast. Excellent whump, Avengers family feels and a lot of humour. The author has many more amazing whump fics!

I Can´t Exactly Hold Your Hair Back by SirSapling: This is based on the comics and not the movies. It features Tony with cancer and Steve taking care of him on one of his bad days. I like this one for its slow whump build-up. Stony. Tags for migraine, vomiting, mentions of cancer.

Bust a gut, Tones by @whimsicalethnographies: Tony has appendicitis and Peter is the only one who realises it. Perfectly balances between humour and seriousness.

Fool’s Luck by @msermesth: Steve arrives on his doorstep exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes after Tony finishes the last word of his eulogy. LOTS of pain. TW alcohol abuse, angst and suicidal thoughts. This is short, but extremely well done.

don’t let the blue skies fade by @blancheludis: This starts as a mission-gone-wrong fic with a perfect whump setting (of course Tony has to hide his injuries from everyone) and character depth that focuses on team dynamics and the evolving relationship between Tony and Steve.

Side Effects by discipulapauper: Steve and Tony are stuck in the desert, and Tony discovers that the serum causes unexpected complications when Steve doesn´t get food and water for a long time…Nice whump scenes, good characterization and mostly non-cheesy, non-stony dialogue. Featuring heat stroke symptoms and hallucinations.

Presenteeism by Veldeia: Tony thinks it is a good idea to send an empty suit along with the team on a mission while riding out his hangover alone somewhere in the middle of Russian nowhere. Too bad his hangover turns out to be something worse…

Mohini´s prompt fill for Nov(emeto)ber 5 by @mohini-musing: Tony is sick and Bucky doesn´t really know how to handle it. A short but greatly written fic with emeto and fever, no WinterIron.

My own fics : 40+ stories of physically and/or emotionally hurt or sick Tony

#fic rec #fic recs #hurt tony stark #sick tony stark #tony whump #tony stark whump

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kc-anathema · 4 years

Text

I’m so sorry I did another long post so soon...

So a long time ago, I received a flame on Spec Ops 98: Jazz's Interrogation at Soundwave's Pedes. I hadn’t received a flame in a long time, and I haven’t received one since (which is amazing, since this was on chapter 26 back in...dear heavens, 2015. This fic is officially an epic.)

In fact, I stopped reading the flame once I realized it was a flame, about four chunks in. 2015, five years ago, I was changing principals, changing schools, trying to figure out how to marry my Canadian then-fiance and figure out immigration. (Fun type--marry her in Vegas, wait a couple years, bring her over. Use a lawyer to make sure it’s all kosher.) So yeah, didn’t read.

And then a concerned reader mentioned to me that I didn’t deserve this awful flame and that they loved the story. And I thought...oh yeah, there was a flame on this. That was a couple months ago.

I finally decided to break the flame apart like I used to. This feels very nostalgic to me. I found out that this is really the flamer’s only claim to fame--they flame fics and troll writers. I’m not going to name them then, although you can find the easily on the ff.net review page for this fic.

My father once told me that, if anyone ever spraypainted slurs across my house...leave the slurs up. Don’t pay to remove them. Let the awful words stay up until everyone in the neighborhood is begging us to take them down again.

I think leaving the review there says more about her than me. And I’m going to enjoy clawing this apart, I think, like a cat scratching apart a lizard.

Flame begin:

We’ve got a problem if Soundwave is involved here and he’s not pulling his usual ‘Decepticons, Superior’ line. Add on a fic about perverts and we get this. Ah, well. What are you gonna do?

Remember the character Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory, and how he said “Bazinga” all the time? That kind of went from a joke to an overused character crutch. Like ‘dynomite!’ or ‘did I do that’? Is it really good to rely on a character line to the point where we can call it ‘usual’?

“I’ll take my pleasure and that sweet aft” – Sounds like a cheesy commercial for Robot Chicken. Fireflight is locked up in a dungeon and is about to be whipped by a BDSM Starscream. That’s not at all OOC. Basically it’s a fanfiction that talks about fanfiction.

I...um. Yes. Yes, it’s an OOC line modeled directly after pulp fiction zines and tijuana bibles. I literally looked up several of those on the Internet Archives and various old men’s magazines covers. It’s not fanfiction directly, although it’s certainly what fanfic evolved out of.

Do these look subtle? Low key? Classy? Tasteful? It’s cheap trash and it’s fun as hell. I don’t think readers at the time thought that these were in any way true. This is right along the lines of drawn hentai. So I think the flamer admitted despite themself that I did good.

“We’re stuck here in the middle of a war...we don’t have time for sex” – That’s right. But that fact doesn’t apply does it?

...reading trashy, porny magazines is not sex. It’s actually something you do when you can’t get sex for whatever reason. I would know. A lot of us would know. Apparently not the flamer. No one thinks that “hey, I got a chick/dude willing to bang right now...but the new issue of Men’s World is out! Can’t miss that!” Unless you have some serious fetishes that your partner is too weirded out by, I think this does indeed apply.

Then Jazz gets captured and lo and behold, Soundwave is revealed to be the Christian Grey of the story. I hope he has some maid outfits for Jazz.

...our flamer hits the sludgy bottom of the joke well and grabs their shovel. They do not try very hard for originality in their insults. And, while Grey was a jerk, Fifty Shades wasn’t quite a prisoner of war scenario. No, that was a cheap romance for chicks. I’m writing more akin to men’s...oh.

The flamer is a chick.

Their only bdsm or bad romance experience is with Fifty Shades.

I don’t think they read much.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnd we have a shower scene. Damn if it’ll be Carrie!

Iiiiiiiiiiiii did not write a shower scene?

Dudette, did you even do the reading you say you did?

There’s no point in adding moral ambiguity, especially in regards to Soundwave. He won’t be swayed easily, or at all, by Jazz’s speech. He’s cold hearted for a reason. He serves the Decepticon cause until the very bitter end. He’s a lot like Shockwave that way. Highly doubtful he would find meaning or even the relevance of writing pornographic fanfiction, but eh, this was never meant to be serious, was it?

...no. It’s a humor fic. The flamer is criticizing a humor fic for being humorous. Kudos for identifying the genre? I mean, the flamer is also complaining that I did not write Soundwave as a one-dimensional factionalist without examining what that means for him and how the mission creep has left the original political crusade behind. It’s not like I took pieces of Soundwave from Gen1, IDW, and the comics and blend them all together.

This reminds me of the fanboys in the TMNT fandom who keep pushing for every iteration to simply rehash their nostalgia boner for the original toon. I feel like I’m getting the Transformers version of wanting less of this:

because it isn’t the familiar characterizations of this:

“So what’s the down low?” – You, Jazz. You’re going to give the down-low to Soundwave. I can’t wait to read how shiny his robo-vagina is.

...wow. Classy there, flamer. Also I really don’t think they read anything. This whole fic is plug n’ play. There’s exchanging of cables, talk of code and positronic souls and sparks and revving engines. There isn’t a drop of sticky, spike, or fluids.

Chapter 15’s sex scenes bore me. Nothing is worse than having a guy ask to remove every bit of clothing. Just do it already! And why is Jazz a virgin? Come on!

Look--the thing about sex and fetish and whatever revs your engine is that it’s not going to rev everyone’s engine. You don’t like the type of interfacing here? Fine. I don’t like those kind of sex scenes in my porn either. But I wasn’t write that scene for porn. I wanted write warbuild Jazz dealing with violent subroutines while interfacing with Prowl. I had fun with it.

Why is Jazz a virgin? The previous 15 chapters discuss that.

I really don’t think the flamer read the fic.They scanned for anything remotely sexual, so I don’t think I’m going to take anything they say about this fic being ooc for perversion’s sake.

“Everyone here is damn pervy” – In which a character talks about the author.

“We gotta get Soundwave to finish writing his story” – Why? I mean, what’s the point? It’s not doing anything for them, unless it’s to show how castrated Soundwave is. I’ve seen him act better in Mary-Sue fics.

There is a whole plot about Starscream and Skyfire, and I thought I could trust the readers to be intelligent enough to make the leap with the parallels between Soundwave and Jazz.

This is literally the only review that questions why Jazz said that.

The Mary Sue shot just echoes the Fifty Shades swipe. I think this flamer did most of their flames roughly ten years ago--the insults are pretty dated.

The Decepticons don’t know about Ratchet? Why? I mean, he’s one of the oldest dudes there. He has a reputation. When you have a reputation, people know about you. It’s inevitable. I think your inner logic slips a lot.

At this point, I literally have 21 previous chapters of world building.

I am not surprised that the story’s logic was slipping away from one of us.

It’s funny to read the forum responses in the story. It’s like the author is trying to make fun of detractors yet ends up making fun of herself.

Okay, this part is hilarious for a reason only briefly noted in the fic. I think that the only things this can refer to are the comments from the chapter titled Flames of the M4gn1f1c3ntSkyPr1nc3--because those are literally the first flames/comments I put in the fic. And I didn’t write them!

My wife wrote them! I don’t write Starscream well but she just poured those out like water--she’s seen more of the hysterical side of fandom, particularly the earlier TF fandom, and I snipped out pieces for the fic.

So...I mean, we’re pretty happily married, so I don’t think she counts as a detractor. ^___^ Ultimately I started writing this fic for her.

“Your optics make me crazy” – Not at all a cliché.

Good thing I didn’t write that, then. Here is that little section in the Prowl/Jazz section. (Took me a bit to find it since I plugged that into the Find and couldn’t bring it up.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I like what you do to me. Jazz allowed him in, tilting his helm. I never really understood it, y'know? How mechs could lower their guard so much. Let someone this close.

And now? Prowl drew back, wanting to see Jazz for the answer. With a quiet ping, he warned the other mech even as he raised his hand, touching Jazz's visor.

I still think you're crazy always going on about my optics, Jazz said, venting even as he disengaged the locks and let Prowl gently remove the blue polycarbon.

Your optics are perfection, Prowl corrected him. And you let me see them. Hundreds of mechs wondering what's under that visor, but I get to see.

Still shy about letting someone else see them, Jazz turned his head, only for Prowl to touch his cheek and turn him back, coaxing his optics to open with a soft brush of his thumb.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not bad for an asexual, I think. I mean, it’s not like I have a ton of hands on experience, being kinda broken that way. But I have read plenty of pulp magazines and pulp radio shows!

This didn’t take long. I skimmed through this work, because there was so little content. Lots of ridiculous shit, though. Soundwave writes fanfiction, the Autobots are weirded out/turned on, capture Soundwave, Soundwave realizes that his whole life was a life and decides to defect. Yeah, about that. He wouldn’t do it lickety split, let alone EVER. Hell, the reactions in the forum bits show what some would think of this, if they weren’t too busy fapping.

The funny thing is I don’t think the mechs can even fap. I don’t write them doing that. But yes, flamer, I do believe that you skimmed through the work. Particularly since you’ve recounted it backwards...Soundwave captures Jazz as the capstone to a long internal conflict within himself, but rather than go through chapters of internal monologue and Decepticon politics, I started the story as close to the inciting action as possible, not quite in media res.

I won’t hash out why Soundwave defects. I mean, I spent 22 chapters at that point explaining it. But it’s my fault the flamer skimmed, I guess?

Needless to say: the romance bored me senseless. It was poorly written, and overall there’s really no skill attached to this. You don’t grip the audience and Jazz’s virgin mode made me roll my eyes. Reads like a first-time waifu manga.

Nah.

I’ve been writing way too long and am more than self-aware enough of my own failings that I’m also pretty self-aware of my own strengths, too. And no. It’s not poorly written. I definitely feel I could improve the first few chapters a bit, but that’s because I wrote those over five years ago and I’ve improved since then, too.

Empty insults. Maybe if the flamer had gone so far as to give a critique beyond a couple of misquoted lines and their own headcanons, I might have listened, but there’s literally nothing of substance here beyond a child tantrumming that I’m stupid and bad and should feel bad.

As for the other pairings, booooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring.

Usually I have a fun time setting these fics on fire, but this one bored me senseless. Yes, it was stupid, but the author’s attempt to authenticate it are just as sloppy as anything else.

“Authenticate”?

Is this person talking about using fandom tropes as my setting?

There are 22 chapters at the time, and now 51 chapters, building up this world and using roughly 20 years of fandom background to inform the fic.

Maybe if they hadn’t skimmed, they might have found something interesting. But considering that they skimmed over anything character related and stopped for the sex scene--I don’t think that says anything about my writing and more about their own proclivities.

They were trying to read one-handed. A plug n play fic. A long meta look at fandom in war in a humor fic. And they came here for the sexy times.

I don’t have to draw the conclusion here, do I? Well, for the flamer, probably. And then they’d glance at it for a second, call it sloppy, and say I showed nothing, and what I showed was boring, and that boring stuff was ooc anyway.

One thing I am thankful for is the fact that it is not long.

51 chapters later and I’m still not done.

Nothing’s worth remembering in this and I don’t need to tell you that these characters either act like simpering imbeciles, or are virginal waifus. All I’m missing is a senpai in the bed, some tissues, and some high quality lotion.

...why do they keep referencing gay human sex? I mean, I get it, they’re saying that it’s similar to yaoi fics, but.

This is anti-yaoi with its last hurrah, isn’t it? The late 90s, early 2000s, rising from its sludgy well to try to shame the easily cowed and intimidated, the young writers easily startled by long lines of text. No wonder the citations used are so...15 years ago. I mean, who was talking about Sues even 5 years ago. That criticism kind of faded a long while ago, even then.

I think the sad thing is, even the badly written Sue sex fics end up being more interesting than this. If Ebony Darkness D’Mentia Raven Way were to come along, I think this story would get better. What with her ‘I shot him a gazillion times’ lines.

...and there’s the cherry on the top. Third cheap shot firing blanks. Sue + Fifty Shades +...shit, I can’t even remember the title for that infamous fic. It’s that old.

...this fanfic flamer is old.

Like, don’t get me wrong. We’ve got fandom moms and grandmoms who cut their teeth on fandom print zines in the earliest conventions. They’re not “old” in the same way.

This person has lost any joy, humor, or playfulness that fanfic comes from. No one should go into fanfic expecting fine art. I mean, sure, it happens sometimes, but this is a playground of pulp, experimentation and just plain childish fun.

All in all, not worth remembering. It’s makes me tired to read it. It’s not even stupid enough to make me laugh. You’ll still get a fail rating for me, especially with the shitty version of Soundwave here.

Yes, fanfic flamer. You are indeed tired.

He should be on Big Brother. He’d be great making soy lattés and purees.

Big Brother in 2015 was in its 17th season. There were roughly around 6 million viewers at the time. The demographics for the tv viewing audience were graying even by the 2000s, and by 2015-18, it was significantly older.

Granted, it’s a very tenuous conclusion to draw, but combined with the old fandom references, the anti-yaoi vibes I’m getting, and the fanboyish desire to curate their own headcanon of a character to the point of insulting writers on the internet...

Flamer grew from being a reader to a bitter, old person angry and the whipper snappers for writing stupid, trashy crap that they criticize with broad, unspecific insults.Flamer is the stereotypical mean adult in any 90s cartoon or heavy metal rock video.

A little depressing. Poor flamer. I do hope they found more creative, engaging, and positive things to do.

Me? I just wanna rock.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk on pulp fiction and bitter cultural creators.

#in a nutshell #sorry for another long post #I just wanted to finally do this #after thinking about it for awhile #felt like a loose end #fandom #fanfiction #transformers fanfic

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iseultdeservedbetter · 4 years

Text

With Her Sweetened Breath, And Her Tongue So Mean

Brida x Skade (Modern AU)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I just wanted to put a huge disclaimer over this fic, because I do have to say that I haven’t any experience in the foster care system, so my judgement of it is mostly based on what I have seen and heard through media.

I do know that isn’t always as it goes, many times it is a way for children to escape abusive households, instead of ending up in one, and many people have good intentions, so please don’t think that what I described is my thought on all foster care.

I just felt like it’d be Brida’s personal experience and feelings she felt in it.

I have no intention of insult/make fun of such a system or people who have been in it!

(I hope it wasn’t offensive but do let me know if it was so that I can remove it!)

As always, feedback is very welcome, it makes my fingers writer faster and my heart beats stronger!

Have a lovely day!

SUMMARY: After the break up of her life, Brida is thrown in a confusion that risk being extremely destructive for her heart, which never learned that love should be free and sweet and adorable... and not a constant struggle.

WORDS: 1, 9

WARNINGS: Mention of Abusive Household, Unhappy Childhood, Internalize Misogyny, Mention of Casual Sex, Modern AU.

Brida hadn’t known much about love, but she knew one thing for sure about it.

Love was a constant battle and struggle.

As a child in foster care, she had seen this happening continuously.

When you were raised in foster care, you weren’t a child, you weren’t part of the family, no matter how much the people in it treated you better than the previous one you had been pushed in.

You were simply there because your ‘parents’ got paid a special extra to take in ‘rascals’ like you and although her latest and most-lasting family, who had later adopted her alongside another boy, had been absolutely the best she had ever known…

… the sensation of having to fight desperately for their approval had been constant.

And it hadn’t helped in the slightest Brida to grow with a notion that love was free and shouldn’t be something that is bargained or bought with small gestures and such.

That it was much more than being the perfect girl, the one that was different from everybody else so that she could stand out above everyone, surviving through high school successfully and then moving in university with a law enforcing degree, becoming the lawyer her ‘parents’ had always wanted her to be.

She had harbored so much pain and hurt through those years still, feeling like there was this desperate rush in her to show everybody how truly strong she was, how successful she could be.

Almost to thank them for having chosen her.

Eventually she had gotten to a breaking point.

She had discovered at twenty five that she couldn’t have children, a problem with her ovaries due to the starvation she had suffered as a child, before she was taken in by her ‘beloved family’.

It was something that had hit harder Brida’s partner and fiancé, Ragnar, her first love, than her, truly.

She remembered his desperation for it and how well she had faked being disappointed in her ‘unworking body’ but internally, she was glad.

She had wanted to become a mother… eventually.

But not at that age.

Not when she had fought so hard to obtain everything that she now had, wanting to enjoy the freedom of being without duties.

Eventually she would have liked to become a mother.

But did she want to become like her ‘parents’?

Pushing her children into choices that weren’t theirs and forcing them through the notion that all pain and suffering was worth it if they brought you to his ending, and most importantly that all this heartless conquering would be one day what they would have given to their children.

What kind of children would she have raised?

Heartless monsters like her.

So, when she had found Ragnar’s ring left on his side of the bed with a note, she had been strangely euphoric.

No wedding to prepare, no people to disappoint because of her choices and no children to think yet.

Although her eyes had leaked tears for a few minutes, she had then danced around the sitting room, like a crazed woman, feeling like for once, she wasn’t loved, but she wasn’t also struggling to fight through a life she didn’t want and through a love that hugged her too tight to be truly free.

Still the following months had been hard on her.

And confusing.

It had then suddenly hit her how truly alone she felt and she had to admit that she hadn’t gone through the best of remedies to soothe the ache of freedom, still burning in her chest, mostly using the taste of whiskey, which matched perfectly the fire in the pit of her stomach.

An ache that she didn’t know how to use, and it burned her to the core, with a coldness that risked freezing her heart and make her mind go crazy.

And after one of these awful nights, she had woken herself in the arms of a pretty blonde thing.

The surprise had paralyzed her in the bed, meanwhile the woman onto her, obviously half-naked, moved lightly on her bare chest.

She hadn’t known what to do.

Had she seriously just had her first experience with a woman?

Was she seriously too drunk to remember it?

What the heck had she put her body through?

And then the beautiful blonde thing had quirked an eye open at her, a smirk on her face, almost playful and yet it held so much darkness that Brida wondered whether she was under some kind of enchantress and about to be offered to some dark god.

Later on, she had discovered that Skade, that was the name of the girl in whose bed she had ended up, was indeed a witch, but she hadn’t put any enchantment against her.

‘It goes against my professional values’ she had commented, meanwhile she wore back all her clothes, discarded through her room, designed by an elegant emo phase that Brida almost would have appreciated, hadn’t it been one of the many things she had stopped herself from having.

Emo kids, back in high school, according to her brother and boyfriend were creeps and although Brida had admired their bravery and loved their songs, she had just repressed herself through showing any sign of her interest.

‘… and what about taking strangers in your bed?’ she hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but she had to admit that she had never had an experience like that and all her reactions right now were based on the ‘flight or fight’ thought ‘… is that something that you do usually?’.

Should she do some test for STDs?

She wasn’t a saint and she had had her own experience before becoming Ragnar’s stable girlfriend (looking back to it, she also realized the title was horrendous) but she hadn’t ever been one to ‘stray around’, since she had been taught that it wasn’t something ‘people like her’ did.

She was still wondering what ‘people like her’ meant, because if it was some way to describe the middle-class behavior her ‘parents’ and ‘friends’ followed, she had to say she had never belonged with them.

‘Oh but, my dear Brida, we aren’t strangers” Skade commented, licking her lips with the face of a cat who had stolen milk from her owner.

A cunning expression that almost made Brida reason why she might have been interested in the blonde witch

‘… we talked a bit at the bar, although you were utterly smashed, and you commented about how you had never experienced with girls in college… and I thought about suggesting a little experimentation…’.

Gosh, what had seriously gone through her mind, the previous night?

‘… a little experimentation with a stranger?!’.

Brida should have seriously stopped making questions and gotten the fuck out of there, before she got probably killed by some kind of Mason fangirl.

She had seen too many ‘Criminal Minds’ episodes to know how this would end up.

But blondie over there didn’t seem to acknowledge her uneasiness as she moved to put on a ruined band t-shit on, something metal and Nordic.

Something that didn’t surprise Brida in the slightest

Skade then moved to collect her ruined thighs, probably a gift from Brida.

She had never had too much patience with those things, always ending up with various ruined pairs of thighs because she just didn’t have the patience to roll them up properly.

She had then pushed herself to solely wear pants.

‘You are a tomboy!’ had thrilled her mother with disappointment when she had told her that and Brida had pushed that to become her new identity, throwing herself away completely from all the girly thing she liked and pushing herself to constantly repeat ‘I am not like the other girls’.

She wondered if it was more a compliment or an insult.

Either way that phrase had fucked her mind up greatly.

‘…again… I don’t think that you are a stranger…’ had commented Skade, her voice was suddenly deep and any trace of amusement had left it, and although Brida should have seriously run out of the fucking building, she had turned around, halfway through adjusting the bird nest that her hair was in an high ponytail.

Skade had immediately caught her eyes and she had known that she had spoken the truth.

‘… I do think that I have known you before’.

It had sounded extremely creepy.

And yet she had found the way right back to that apartment the following week, not knowing how much truly it was the alcohol’s blame since she had kept herself sober that night, having Skade guide her through a ‘sober exploration’.

‘Nothing happened last time’ she had commented and Brida knew that she spoke the truth, this time ‘… you just seemed very lonely, and drunk… and you got naked and tried to actually “have your way with me”…’.

‘I don’t do this often’ Brida hadn’t know why she had had to specify it.

Although she had never been a prude with sex and such, she had always stuck with guys, simply.

And even back then, it hadn’t like she had explored much, having had two boyfriends for most of her life, one of them having become her best friend, although it went through periods.

Meanwhile Ragnar was still somehow an interrogative point.

A bracket left open.

She knew that she had hurt him, somehow.

But she didn’t feel in the slightest guilty for it.

And yet she knew she should.

But here she was, again, in a stranger’s bed.

A stranger that said they knew each other from some kind of past life.

She had seriously reached a new low.

Even more because, as she got to know Skade, she soon realized what a pain in the ass the woman was, hysterical at times and definitely manic in others.

And yet, she felt good with her.

Much better than with everyone else she had been all her life.

And suddenly their meetings weren’t simple exploration (although Brida had understood that she certainly wasn’t as straight as she had thought herself to be) not only because they’d have breakfast in the bar in front of Skade’s apartment (at first Brida had tried hiding herself, but right now she honestly didn’t care who saw her).

But Skade had started casually dropping small gift of protection in her clothes, something that she had dubbed as straight up psycho at first and then had slowly classified as a nice gesture and now she pinned the small objects in every coat she owned.

‘They just bring luck’ she had muttered as a justification, as Skade smirked back at her.

‘Oh, of course’ she had teased her, but it had felt so soft and yet so light that Brida could allow herself to be ‘undermined’ by her for once.

It had felt strange falling in love with Skade.

She had known deep downm she should have been afraid of it, but yet, it was so natural and it wasn’t a struggle for once, although there was plenty of teasing between them, mostly from the blonde woman.

But it felt harmless.

It wasn’t a struggle.

It was a power exchange.

And yet it didn’t lessen the competition between them.

Mostly for questions such as the anniversary presents.

She knew that Skade was quite the sneaky bitch when it came to this, going as far as go through her thing to catch a glimpse of her plan so that she could outmatch it, something that Brida had never allowed her to do, since she wanted to always come up on top.

Old habits died hard.

And yet it always felt like a playful competition.

There wasn’t any prize in this one.

Love was already between them

She hadn’t to win it for once.

And she felt amazing, for once.

#Brida #Skade #Brida x Skade #TLK Brida #TLK Skade #The Last Kingdom #TLK #TLK Fic #The Last Kingdom Fic

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

The Bad Guy (3)

Bucky x fem!Reader

Smitten Kitten

Theme: It’s a good day in New York City for Bucky Barnes, who seems to feel right at home till his morning is disrupted by a bad guy. Maybe New York isn’t the same place after all. Now he has teamed up with the Bad Guy to fight the good fight. But this Bad Guy is bringing things on his surface he never knew he had

Chapter warnings: horny dumb asses and one thicc ass cock blocker

A/N: @writing-prompt-s once gave a prompt last year that stuck with me…I don’t remember the exact wordings but it had something to do with the reader/writer being the villain having a crush on the hero, always finding excuses (or crimes) to meet them. One day they are getting their ass beat and you decide to jump in and save the day. This one is same but with a liiiiiiiitle twist

Word Count: I hate periods!! Unless someone is paying me for this blood and mucus please just make it staaahp! I don’t know how many of you will get the reference of those dog and cat names. But oh my God if I could hug each and every one of you who reads, reblogs and comments on my fic I would hug the living souls outta you...five...people!!!!! Hnnnnghhhhh!!!!!

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

“Are you sure this is the location?”

“That’s what she texted Bucky.”

“...I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“...you…don't have a good feeling about...this mission or Y/N texting Bucky?”

Steve retreated his gaze from the binoculars to give Natasha a knowing look. The latter just shrugged her shoulders with the display of her innocent face. “He didn’t show you the text. He just told you the loc-esh. It’s normal to worry about it.”

Steve sighed and went back to the binoculars, looking at Bucky playing with a rock at the entrance of the warehouse before kicking it away. Steve hated the idea of Bucky wearing his favourite grey Henley shirt for a meeting with a bad guy.

“If I didn’t know him any better-” Tony’s voice crackled on the comms- “I’d say he was going on a date when he asked me if he could borrow my cologne. And if we go by our history, I really don’t know him any better.”

“Come on, guys. Cut Cap some slack,” Barton- who was screening the whole area from the top of the local water tank a couple of miles above the hill- added, “it’s not every day you see your best friends fall for the bad guys. Twice.”

A giggle and snicker eroded through the comms and Steve rolled his eyes while pushing himself into the seat. “Thanks for the input, Barton.”

“Alright, everybody shush,” Natasha interrupted the tease session, “she’s here.”

A Land Rover smoothly turned into the rundown estate to come and stop by Bucky’s Mustang. Those stooping shoulders suddenly found their rigidity and turned towards the car to welcome whoever was about to step out.

For a hot summer morning with plans to make plans to take down an entire cartel, you were dressed in a floral sundress. Brown shades covered your eyes and most of your face from that merciless sun. What they did not cover was the smile on those naked lips that had been painted the most enticing red Bucky had seen, apart from the gun you held in your dominant hand.

“Hello Sergeant,” you sang while taking patient steps in those white wedges that were in no way shoes made for a fight, “did you get my texts?”

Bucky, the soldier had already evaluated all the entries and exits, the type of gun, it’s range, the best stances if it came to playing offence or defence. Bucky the himbo from the past, though, was having a hard time concentrating on anything else but that suggestive smile and tilt of your head; the light hitting your hair perfectly while the languid breeze annoyed your strands now and then.

“Of course, that’s why I’m here, aren’t I?”

You tsked. “You know what I mean Sarge.”

Of course, he knew what you meant. He could feel his chest flutter by just the thought of those texts last night.

You: meet me @ the warehouse on boulevard street tomorrow. We’ll come up with a plan to bust those bitches. Gimme a suitable time.

Bucky: Ok. How does 12 sound?

You: In this weather? Sarge, we’ll be sweating like a bunch of pigs under the sun!

Bucky: *typing* How about 7? am?

You: Do you feel like going skinny dipping tomorrow with me?

Bucky:

You: I know a really good spot a little away from here. Might end up on a road trip.

Bucky: *typing* I think we should concentrate on the miss-

You: Where do you live, btw?

You: *sends location* This is my place

Bucky: *erases everything* shouldn’t you keep your home location to yourself?

You: Hmm...But if I do that, how will you come over?

Bucky: *silence* *types* why would I want to-

You: It’s not every day I feel like sharing a bottle of some good stuff with someone.

You: It is soooo hot. I’m taking my pants off.

Bucky:

You: The top’s gone too. Phew! Just my lingerie now.

*one minute later*

You: Yeah, it’s not working. Bra is never comfy. Ever.

You: It’s better now! The night breeze is hitting every sweat bead on the spot.

You: Every window is open now.

You: Hmmm...Sarge. Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?

You: Well, thinking isn't gonna do you any good, Bucky.

You: Thinking about my clothes on the floor.

You: Thinking about my skin.

You: Thinking about how much more this wind is getting action than someone you know.

You: Thinking about my hands roaming on my chest.

You: And then my stomach.

You: And then down further…

By this time the phone was a crushed pile of junk in his hand and his cock a frustrated bulge in his boxers. Oh, the dissatisfaction of not being able to push you against a wall and grind his needy bulge against you was frustrating at best. The want to see you naked in the sheets under him while you called out his name increased with every second. Why did you have to be such a fucking tease?! A great one at that. Now he did want to dash out of the facility, steal one of Tony’s cars and drive to your home to take your by your hair and shut that pretty mouth of yours. He did think about it. But imagining you seeing him at your doorstep stopped him for some reason. Instead, he got out of his boxers, jumped on his bed and took care of that urge himself, fantasizing you, your touch, your moans, your highs with his hitting the rocks, till his legs were shivering and he had to stop himself from groaning out loud.

“I...fell asleep.”

Your tongue played with your upper lip and a tiny shudder in his pants was enough to tell him, you knew it was a lie. A lie through and through. There was a point when he started to fear that you might even know what he did after reading those messages.

"Sure, ya did," you chuckled the words through your teeth. "Anyways-" lifting your gun up casually to stroke it- "I was wondering about you last night. A lot. And there were things I did not like."

The safety clicked off and your arm turned straight to point it right at Bucky's forehead.

On the other side of the binoculars, Steve was already shouting his team to move in. Natasha was already driving forward, skidding to a stop right next to Bucky's wheels.

You could hear the commotion all around you but you were more interested in the disappointment building up on Bucky's beautiful face, looking at his pal with a hint of resentment.

"That-" you tilted your head a little in Steve's direction- "is what I don't like. You thought I wouldn't find out?"

"I told you to stay away, Steve!" Bucky yelled at him.

"Alright, this is over," Steve fumed from where he stood, "I knew we should not have trusted you."

With the right force, the gun crunched in your palms as turned towards Steve. You said nothing to the blonde. Removing your shades, you nodded at Natasha. "Hey, Nat."

"Y/N. How's Mr Fuzzy Boy."

"It's Fluffy Boy. And he still hates you. Talking about boys-" you looked around with your arms across your chest- "I thought you would have knocked some sense into them by now."

Natasha shrugged. “Not really. No.”

“She tried but we are too stubborn and our egos are bigger than our-”

“Hey, Stark,” you announced at the voice breaking out through Natasha's car. Turning to Bucky you sucked at your teeth. “I honestly thought you were doing this little team up because you wanted to work with me. Clearly that is not what this was about. You wanted to find out if I was working with the cartel, didn’t you, James Barnes?”

“Oooh, full name,” Clint cringed from his nest.

“You’re not really known for your goodness, Y/N,” Steve broke it down for you. “No offence.”

“Save it, Captain,” you spewed in his direction, “and to think I wanted to crush that face between my thighs.” Digging into your sundress’ pocket, you took out a burner cellphone and threw in his direction. “Happy hunting, you fucked up psychopaths.” You turned towards Bucky with no sign of any empathy in those y/e/c eyes. “Don’t expect anything more from me.”

The Land Rover moved out and away and with a part of Bucky’s broken heart that wanted to stop it so bad but had to do with turning to Steve and yelling out his anger at him. “You had to put your leg in the door, didn’t you. I had it handled!”

“Handled? Handled?!! Buck, she’s been playing you like a fiddle!”

“And you think I can be played?”

“I saw her texts for God’s sake!! Don’t tell me you’re going to defend her.”

Natasha cursed under her breath and stepped away from Steve. “Wow,” Bucky breathed in disbelief. “So just because she is horny on the phone means I am her little puppet? Is that how little you think of me, Stevie?”

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Buc-”

“I am not fourteen anymore! Neither are you! You know what, I’m out. I’m done. She’s given you something. Go use it and go punch some Nazi heads. I don’t want anything to do with this.”

And so he went away too, leaving everyone but Steve standing there to uncomfortably watch the captain look at the car.

“So…” Tony’s voice muttered over the comms, “which ice-creams should I keep ready in big dessert bowls when you guys get back home?”

It's good. Whatever happened was good. I mean, Steve and Tony got what they wanted. Y/N is no longer in the picture and...and…I don't have to interact with her...anymore.

The ball bounced from the ceiling into Bucky's hands, going back and forth without a pause. The other hand rested under his head- the very head that was blankly staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in there like a freight train. Wait, no, scratch that. No trains. They were running more like a leopard- just running around, presenting a brooding picture on the outside while on the inside- just like that very leopard, this poor muscular soul was dying of overthinking and anxiety. The agitation was on the level of a nine-year-old sulking in his bed because his mom was not letting him play with his friend. It was reasonable that the friend was bad, could be a bad influence, had been directly or indirectly leading him on some things he hadn't thought of in a while. But he had just made a frieeeennddd!! Hngh!

Crack!

The sound brought him out of the huffing trance to watch the paint and plaster crack in the ceiling. Fuck! Stark's gonna be pissed.

Bucky closed his eyes and let the hand engulfing the ball rest of his forehead.

Well, to be fair to his 'mom', Bucky was sure he was worried about what would happen if his new friend took him to the dark side again. After all the efforts and blood so many people had gone through, for one woman to undo it all. That was a genuine concern. But then again, she has been more interested in Sergeant Barnes than the Winter Soldier. Except for the part where she said she wants to see him…under the…sheets?

Right! What is with this woman! She speaks without a filter!! Does not care who's listening and what they'll think. I like that. I really like that. But all she wants to do is fuck me? And then what? Go back to ogling America's ass?

A part of him nudged at those angry corners, pressing at the fact that you had been too engrossed to be angry at him to even think about Steve today. So, maybe it was not all about the ass.

Bucky turned to his side, rolling that thought along with him. The ball was moved around by his flesh index while his mind jogged with the possibility of doing something next.

Well, there was one thing he could do. It would drive Steven Grant Rogers crazy but it would be worth all the trouble he would be going through. Well, if he were to get caught he would have been caught last night when he sneaked out of the facility to go check to your place.

The distance had not been much on the bike but the New York heat hitting his face the moment he entered the city was more unwelcoming than the people living in the city. Parking the bike in an alley, he had pretty much parkoured his way over the houses to reach the building next to yours. Silent as a cat in the night looking for its prey, Bucky had planted himself on your apartment’s balcony and watched in impressive horror the modesty you lived in. Paintings made by kids were pinned all over the living room walls while a volcano sat on the coffee table- half done. An empty bottle of orange juice lay on the kitchen table while cushions were sprawled over the floor. Taking a step to his right, he was looking through the french windows into your bedroom where you slept in your queen-sized bed like a baby. All around you were oil paintings in blue and green of what looked like ocean waves in different art styles. On the bed lay your worn down laptop still running. Bending at an angle, his throat let out a muted gasp at collage with his photos on the screen, suggesting you had fallen asleep looking at his photographs. What was weird for Bucky was that his accelerated heartbeat had not found a single photo of his winter soldier avatar in there. What cooled down his burning chest was the serenity on your face. Sleeping under those thin grey sheets with a plushie of a right next to your head, Bucky almost had the urge to grin so wide. He could not believe you were the same woman who had threatened his best friend in full public view. And he knew exactly what he was going to do. Take a picture and blackmail you with it.

Looking down at his jeans to take his phone, his heart felt like he had fallen down the stairs when a pair of glowing eyes caught his. Gaining his mental footing, he breathed in the fact that it was actually a cat staring back at him from the other side of the window. White fur stood out in the dark of the night as it hissed Bucky and tried to claw at him, clearly seeing him as a threat. Sensing the feline’s uneasiness with his presence, he thought it better to leave before that little white monster woke you up. But not before he left a bunch of biscuit crumbs on the balcony tiles as a sign of peace for the little fanged beast.

Now, he wanted to go back through the front door and get face to face with that rage today- not something he had expected after last night’s scenic view of that perfect face.

Pausing movement of the ball, he picked it up in his metal hand, got himself up from the bed and slid towards the edge to put on his socks and boots only to pause and form an attack stance with his metal arm towards that svelte figure leaning by the door.

“Gonna hit me with the ball?” Natasha cocked a brow at Bucky.

Loosening his muscles at Natasha and went on to put his boots on. “Going somewhere, Grumperella?”

“Outside. Away. Somewhere I can grump in peace,” Bucky stated, getting up.

“Take this pretty lady too,” Tony announced as he walked by his room and tossed a pair of car keys at Bucky, “I don’t think you’ll improve those points by going to her place on a bike.”

Silence.

The flutter in Bucky’s heart drowned by Natasha’s words. “Don’t worry. Only Tony and I know. We’ll handle Steve. Just don’t let our image fall further,” she concluded, walking out with a smirk.

“Truffle, Fluffy, stop looking at the neighbour’s lunch and come eat your chicken thighs,” you announced from the kitchen. With a bandana on to keep your hair as far away from your skin, your skin itched for something colder than what the air conditioner was providing right now. This was the third time you had fiddled with your thermostat today. Damn this summer! That’s it, I’m moving out of this fucked up city.

Fluffy’s taps came to a skidding halt at the doorway to slip towards his bowl while Truffle gracefully walked to his bowl and ate his share while keeping a paw between him and the corgi’s audible gobble and chomps, nearly pushing his face away.

Sighing, you sat down on the seat by the kitchen table, looking at your two kids devour their lunch while you questioned the disappearance of your appetite. Maybe it’s the PMS. Is it the PMS? You looked at the calendar over your fridge. Still a week to go. Maybe it is him. That stupid fucker.

Your thoughts started forming around that magnificent frame of Bucky. There were not enough times you could say you had been left attracted to a bewildered face of a guy in awe of your skills. Men would mostly take that power inside you as a wrong stroke on their ego. But this one? This one just stood there looking at you as if the theme of Love Story 1970 was playing in those anime eyes while he watched in gasping admiration at something out of this world. That was the first time someone’s face had given you such warmth. Well, a stranger’s face. Don’t let my family hear it, you thought to yourself. Just then, Truffle looked up from his bowl to turn and stare at your for a solid minute before going back to his lunch.

The doorbell rang, getting you out of those dreamy thoughts- for barely a second- that were making you sweatier by the minute. Getting up and walking to the door, you kept wondering about that metal hand, those absolutely luscious lips, those surprised yet aroused eyes and oh Gods! Those shoulders. Those beautiful shoulders you wanted to bite into. Arrr!

You did not realise when you clicked the door open. But you did feel like eating your own words when that Love Story 1970 theme started playing in the background just as your eyes locked onto those beautiful oceans of blue; the abyss inside them widening just as you came into view.

Bucky forgot how to breathe. For a second you did too. You did not expect him to be standing here; not after the humiliation you put him through in front of his team/friends. And yet, here he was. At your door. Standing in front of you, the bad guy, moving his hair back with his hand, revealing the redness of those kissable cheeks that had been struggling to keep the blood inside the veins the whole elevator ride to your floor. The rubbing of his hand fingers against his palms while his legs shifted his weight on each other.

“Hi,” his husky, barely audible voice sent shivers down your spine straight to your core.

“Hi,” you responded with a softness you had not heard in ages. And the guitars strum in the background, the tune carrying all the unspoken feelings in the shape of melodies in the air around the two of you.

“Can we talk?”

Bucky was almost scared of having the door being slammed in his face. But when you moved aside to let him in, he felt live rush back into his bones. He had not felt this alive since Wakanda. With sure steps inside, he was not letting this feeling go away anytime soon.

The gush of that one magical wind inside you made you discreetly smile to yourself and you could not help but wonder if it was his last night’s visit to your place that brought him back or just his curiosity with this mission. Whatever it was, you challenged yourself to not let this one get away till you had explored every little inch of his being in person.

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