#obligatory first draft warning

[wisteria-blooms]

Hey! I just finished long hair and tattoos and it's be a lie if i say it wasn't one of the best fics I've ever read! I'm in love with the fic, the slow burn, the sibling banter with Draco (for first time ever Malfoy family was tolerable) the chemistry with twins and everything else!! Also I'm so bummed because I was expecting some steamy smut (not too late to add an smutty chapter don't you think?) But as I said I love it soooooo much and thank you for this amazing fic!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much!! I'm glad you enjoyed the family dynamics/banter. I love the idea of an uppity family having to deal with their daughter's upsetting choice of.... boyfriend. And having the twins as your supportive but devious best friends is the dream.

So, speaking of smut... I wrote the series before I got around to reading more and realized all/most romance books have an obligatory smut scene. I recently wrote strawberry wonderland (ii) from Bill's perspective. I think it was a horny outlet for me. But I think I can wedge something else in... so stay tuned.

I have two possible Bill Weasley smut fics in the works. I'm happy to share some excerpts but it's all unfinished, unedited drafts... so be warned. MINORS DNI.

The first one is called empty bars:

“Our department’s budget is going up.” You changed the topic, not wanting to know what anyone was saying about you. “You remember that Perce and I work together, right? As soon as we got wind of the good news, we went out for a glass of wine.”

Bill raised his eyebrows. “You got Percy out for wine?”

You did a little shimmy of victory. For once, there was a genuine smile on your face. “I know what makes him tick, I guess.”

When the bartender came back, noticing your drained glasses, Bill called for another round.“You’re quick,” he remarked. “I didn’t know someone like you could handle so much liquor.”

“You’ll have to try me,” you said with a smile. “I’m in the mood nowadays, I guess.”

Bill leaned back and took another sip. You watched his lips tight around the glass, and you wistfully wished they were around something else. Something more receptive.

“How ironic that Percy is the only one with any taste?” he laughed blithely, his tone suddenly sharp and biting. “Besides me, that is."

“What do you mean?” you asked, but you knew what he was talking about. The light overhead did no good in concealing the blush that was spreading over your cheeks.

You were intimidated by his gaze, so you focussed on the spare hand on the whiskey glass. The sheer size of his hand made the glass look like a child’s plaything. He could make the circumference of your bare waist amount to nothing if he wanted. You know what you wanted to.

“You know very well what I mean,” he stated, his right eye creasing into a half-wink as he stared over you. Then he set his whiskey glass down and leaned over to you and whispered, his lip just inches from the skin of your cheek, his voice butter, “Don’t play coy, (Y/N).”

“I am not,” you retorted weakly. His words drew some goosebumps. Was Bill Weasley flirting with you or were you so touch-deprived that you were wrongly assuming so? You turned around to face him, trying to stand by your words but you were unravelling quick. His eyes were so gorgeous. He was so close you could identify hazel specks near the rim of blue.

A delicious smirk unraveled on the eldest Weasley’s face. It looked so good that you wanted to fucking kiss it off him. “Are you the type of woman that likes things spelled out for you?”

“No,” you countered quietly. You were so nervous that you were chugging your liquor instead of cherishing it, but if it meant breaking free of any social constraints, you were happy to almost be done your second.

“Let me verbalize it, then. Look at yourself.” You couldn’t follow his demand. You were too busy looking at Bill still, indulging in his strong nose bridge down to his slightly chapped lips. You were burning, dying, to kiss them. “You’re young, accomplished, hard-working, successful, smart, and beautiful.”

You wondered if he’d performed Legilimens on you, because you’d said the same thing to yourself moments earlier. Now you were more than concerned if he could read your mind because his hand had travelled up the slit of your dress, gently caressing your bare thigh, and your mind was a mess of nervous neurons.

“I could say the same for you,” you complimented. ‘Weak,’ you chided yourself. You were going to lose Bill’s attention with your attempt at flirting and go home alone tonight.

“Unlike some of my brothers, I turned out pretty alright, didn’t I?”

“One is a genetic train-wreck,” you said too quickly. You were immediately remorseful for the comment. Fred was still Bill’s brother—family. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” You gestured to your bartender, seeking a third round.

“I know what you mean,” Bill assured, his words unapologetic. “The greatest thing he’d ever had this entire life fell right onto his lap and he fucked up because of his own immaturity.” He didn’t even mention Fred by name but there was a shared knowledge that it was him you were talking about.

 His gaze was intense, ocean blue eyes darkening like the storm outside. “Do you know why that is, (Y/N)?”

Your breathing became laboured. “No.”

“It’s the sad state of being a boy,” he explained. You shouldn’t have, but you inched closer, letting Bill’s hand, thinly veiled from public view by a few degrees, travel dangerously higher up your thigh. “Let me show you what it’s like to with a man.”

The second one is called 'paradise potions'. IT'S THE SEX POLLEN TROPE, DON'T JUDGE ME.

He was still ever so handsome, with his soft ginger locks that framed his sharp cheekbones. His blue eyes glinted in the morning sun. You peeked at his chiseled jaw and his--dare you say--kissable lips. His t-shirt barely hid the muscles in his arms. He might’ve been tall and predisposed to being lankier compared to Charlie, but you knew he worked out plenty. 

You were so busy being entranced by Bill that you’d lost track of time and space. It was the best daydream, sitting in front of him, surrounded by faint windchimes and the chirping birds outside to the window. You were imagining a domesticated life with him here when suddenly--

A large explosion jolted you and Percy. You yelped and ducked. The others were unfazed.

“What was that?” you asked, trying to settle your heart. 

“Fred! George!” Molly cried, walking over to the stairs with her spatula still in hand. “What have I told you about your experiments?"

“Sorry, mum,” George said, running down the stairs, a smidge of ash on his face. “That’s it for today, I promise.”

“I don’t want to hear this again, ever!” Molly shrieked. Then, she calmed down when she realized she was in front of guests. “Well, if that’s it, then help out a little bit, won’t you? We have to get going in less than an hour.”

“Sure thing,” George said with a smile. He ran over to the table and to the coffee pot. He gave it a jiggle, letting the remaining liquid slosh around. “Anyone need a top up of their coffee?”

“Mum made that pot, you can trust it,” Percy advised.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, and then looked up at George, “I wouldn’t mind a cup.”

George sauntered over and poured you a cup. “Coffee, Bill?” he asked. 

“That sounds good,” Bill responded.

“You’ll have to wait another ten minutes then,” George said with a frown. He tapped the empty glass container. “I’ve just run out. If only (Y/N) didn’t drink for two.”

“Quit it,” Percy warned with a low tone. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You were about to offer Bill your cup when Percy held out a hand to stop you. 

“Keep it,” Percy countered as she shoved the white mug back to your side. “I wouldn’t trust anything they put out. I’m glad it’s you that took the last of what mum made.”

While Percy could be harsh on his siblings, you were grateful for his looking out for you. To be fair, you were also skittish around Fred and George. They weren’t as easy to read as other people. A friendly smile could mean something sinister. 

Then...

Bill raised his hips up to help you bring the last bit of his undergarments down. You closed your eyes when you felt something whip out in front of your face. 

Well, Bill was clearly very well-endowed. You had nothing but anatomical pictures and the circumference of your wrist to compare him to, but even you knew he was bigger than average. Not only was his cock hefty and veiny, but his balls were very present. 

“I reckon I was cursed or hexed by someone,” he concluded. “It’s not like me to be so….”

He gestured to his raging erection. “Can you… do you mind?” He attempted to lift his hands, but they gravitated down to the bed. “I’ve tried but it’s made it worse, and now I can’t even manage to move my arm.”

“I’ve never, erm,” you started. A rush of heat kissed your cheeks. You didn’t want to admit to Bill that Fred was right and you were a virgin. You reckoned he would’ve found it uncool. “I’ve never done this with anyone.”

He chuckled suavely. “I figured.”

You wanted to shrivel up and die. 

“But it’s fine,” he said quickly, knowing he’d offended you slightly. “You don’t need to have done it to know how to do it. I’ll guide you."

“Grip your hand firmly down here.” You obliged, holding him at the base. For an usually flaccid body part, Bill was very, very hard and warm. All the blood in his body must’ve concentrated into one area. You were grateful when your thumb overlapped your other fingers, because, well, he was quite big and you weren’t sure he was going to fit in your hand. 

“Move up and down,” he said. When you started shifting your hand from the base to the tip, he let out a low groan. “Yeah, just like that.” Precum touched the skin of your hand as you moved faster and covered more ground. 

You kissed the red and leaking tip. Bill let out an audible gasp that was swallowed by a moan. He was not expecting you to be so brazen. 

“How does that feel?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Good.”

You licked the precum--salty, you noted--off his slit. You enveloped your mouth around his tip and focused there. 

“Fuck, (Y/N)!”

His hands were fully entangled in your hair as he guided you up and down. Tears welled up in your eyes when his cock hit the back of your mouth. Your cries were muffled. You shouldn’t be enjoying being used so much, but you loved it, especially when Bill held you in place and began thrusting into your mouth.

Yeah, these are all drafts. I hope to get them up soon!!

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley smut #bill weasley x you #harry potter smut

[topgunreacts]

softsealman help

the concept has infiltrated my brain i am here to humbly ask for crumbs

The jacket that Maverick handed to Iceman was old. Not tattered or frayed. Just old. It was a bomber jacket; like Maverick’s, but patchless, gray, and furless, the spotted leather made velvety soft by years of use. It was a good jacket. Sturdy. Far too cozy for the southern California heat, but then so was Maverick’s. But Maverick kept his own jacket on for the look of things, and for the memory of his father. Maverick wasn’t sure what Ice kept his around for; it was strange, the way he never wore the thing and yet carried it with him nearly everywhere. A just in case jacket. But ‘just in case’ hadn’t come yet. Not to Maverick’s knowledge.

~*~obligatory first draft warning~*~

#top gun #icemav #top gun fanfiction #writing #selkie #selkieposting #Softserveman #softsealman #ask #homeward to a harbor

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

📒‼️‼️‼️

Warning: on PC it takes 8 lenghts of the screen to look through the entire draft, I think posts are a little wider, but still

So, this is something I'll never write out because it has the core elements of most of my daydreams: unrequited feelings for Kokichi, unnecessary martyrdom and overpowered self-insert original character

meet the Ultimate Manic Pixie Dream Girl, they were born out of my reading of the "Obligatory Chatfic", it stays focused on v3, but I wanted to play with the ideas of all the classes interacting together after going through their games in vr, and Hope's Peak having history of human experimentation on students, putting all of them through it so casually because They ARE The Bad Guys and have been doing this shit to students for decades like they're free lab rats

My OC joins the v3 class about a month or two after they left the simulation, bullshits something about special circumstances for transferring at that point, makes some suspiciously too accurate guesses about people, as if playing Sherlock Holmes, jokes about being a whore after revealing their talent, seems to be under the influence, but they say it's just jet-lag, they arrived freshly from America. And on the first lunch break they have an obnoxious reunion with Junko, they've partied together many times before, after clicking instantly on some formal fashion-related celebrity event. They throw an ice-breaker karaoke on the soonest free Friday evening to show the v3 babies how to party, at least the select few that decide to come (as most doesn't want to be anywhere near Junko or parties), notably, Kamukura is also there, he's always close to at least one of my two girlies. Generally, they make a big deal out of music, quote lyrics, assign people songs (a part of their "too accurate guesses" gimmick), make karaokes a regular thing, Junko rarely joins the later ones, it actually becomes a v3 class thing they wanted it to be in the end, but in the meantime they bring in various friends they make at HPA.

Their immediate & obvious crush on Ouma makes everyone cringe and brace themselves, thinking it'll crash and burn sooner rather than later as they'll get to see more of his personality, but they become friends, as our MPDG collects all outcasts and freaks of this school, but those who pay attention can tell they give extra attention to Kokichi, so those observant classmates (minus Saihara, who, of course, doesn't know) are waiting for them to realize that Kokichi is pining after Shuichi (but they know that, they knew from the start, they don't mind). They gush about him a lot, both to Junko and Izuru, sometimes to Miu, but as a running joke where she always reacts with fake gagging, highlighting how amazing it is that he doesn't want anything from them, that he makes them feel free (watch my aro ass re-invent being lithromantic on accident, I had this OC for... more than a year, and heard this term while having this in the draft). They spoil Ouma as their bestie, but since they're touchy with all their friends (and more touchy with people they want something from, using their talent to manipulate) and throw grand gestures left and right they play it off, even though their jealousy shows around Saihara sometimes. They have a brief phase where they took on an appearance that was just Saihara with their spice added (brighter hair, bolder make-up, expensive suit with suspenders... they disappeared for a bit after that stunt, equal parts ashamed and proud for pulling it off), they like intimidating him and asking him questions he doesn't know how to answer. They have mood swings between trying to wingman for saiou and antagonizing Shuichi, circling around him, during a particularly bad episode they decide to seduce him like everyone who stands in their way (even though they still wouldn't pursue Kokichi if he wasn't in the way).

As people start to notice they know too much to really be just analysing what they see & that they seem to grow lost in their increasing amount of notes (carrying a bunch of notebooks, recording their voice) and in their head (spacing out, repeating themselves, changing personas faster) they throw out pieces of their convoluted backstory to cause a distraction. How they ran away and don't talk to their mom. How their first heartbreak changed them. The many friends they lost in their time in Hollywood, not to mention partners, it's always others that the death touches so don't worry about them. Izuru gives them knowing side-glances and takes them on breaks, those two have Talks about life that tend to go nowhere. Sometimes Junko joins them and they only mean less and probably smoke. (I am super averse to smoking, but this one just has to, so yeah, the trio does). It's revealed that they are so close as a trio because they have a shared lab and work on something together (Enoshima technically has a second lab as a fashionista, but this is an analyst, MPDG & "Hope" lab). It also becomes known at that stage that they disappeared from Hollywood nearly a year before they officially joined HPA. They use Shuichi's curiosity about the matter to get closer to him & succeed in their goal.

The truth is they were originally offered to be the Ultimate Actress in Junko's year, but turned that down (important: they already knew Junko at that point) and got scouted again under a different name, from a school in some small town in another state after using that place as testing grounds for their plan, polishing their skills and purposefully pulling some shit to get scouted on their own terms. And it's pulled out of them in a full story instead of little hints by Kokichi, because (as he doesn't know what they did to Shuichi) they're best friends and he can't be easily distracted from warning signs that he knows from experience. They get him in on the plan to destroy Hope's Peak. Yes, they knew about the human experimentation before they came there, always hanging around older rich people with their "I'll fuck my way to the top" mentality allowed them to hear lots of stories from the prestigious world that are otherwise kept under wraps, and meeting Junko when she was recently scouted, looking into it and willing to talk about it solidified the idea they had about the place.

Even without knowing much they were growing convinced that the whole showbiz world is rotten to the core and Talent is a bad thing that burns you out, they watched people die chasing fame and ones becoming hollow once they got it, how everybody seems unhappy and only wants more of something, exactly just how fake all that jazz is. They make many comments about being expected to die young & beautiful, getting irrelevant if they don't, being special just because they're tragic, how being gifted fucks up kids, how this isn't designed for them but for people who watch them. They look at Hope's Peak and see what it symbolizes. And they want it gone.

So they say they accepted HPA's second scouting (without coming clear to them about the previous one being them as well), and became Ultimate MPDG, since they were late to join the class, their participation in this year's project was studying its events and assisting everyone's recovery with their talent. That is not the whole truth, just enough of it to make Kokichi think it is. The half-true reason for proceeding slowly with the plan to burn down the school is avoiding suspicion and making sure everything will go right. They don't buy big quantities of gasoline, not from one place, not with one face. They acquired the building plan and mapped out how the fire should spread. They collected the files with all the dirt on HPA. They arranged for a date when students won't be inside, when they will be at an event and therefore have alibis. They prepared their escape. It makes sense for Kokichi to believe that all the planning is what's wearing them down, he did think they had something in common there.

But they omitted that they enter virtual reality on a daily basis, that they die in it more often than not, that they're helping develop it and the main reason they were scouted this time was their ability to switch personas on a whim and become them, creating full lives as if they actually lived them and being able to contain those multitudes. They wanted to push that potential, to push the VR's limits and see how much it can manifest and how real it can feel. They're testing how it affects them, reducing the time needed to recover after a death, disconnecting from the body via replacing it with various avatars, separating it into elements that can be controlled & don't need to be in the same place or even present at all for other elements to work, turning sensations into sliding scales that can be manipulated. Junko and Izuru also enter the vr, usually there's one person observing from the outside and two in the simulator, but it's MPDG that took on the "effects of repeated deaths as time progresses" test, and it's eating away at them. They're losing touch, dissociating a lot, forgetting the boundaries of the real world and their mortality. And most importantly, that they've been doing it since before v3.

They've been at the academy since they got scouted, which not only wasn't late for the start of v3's first school year, it was late in the previous one, v3 applied some things they were testing out and when they found out it was happening they stormed headmaster's office and demanded to join their classes and oversee their recovery, because they were supposed to be the Head Researcher (it seemed beneficial to have them see it this way, who knew they'd be this bossy?) of this, and they were not done testing, so why the hell did you use this on a whole class of ultimates?! There are still things with defined plans of improvement, besides the applied features that might have side effects, months of work load on their project, this wasn't in their plans. Really, in the moment they might be more livid about it being outside their control, done without their knowledge, not to mention approval, one that they would not give.

Feeling for those inside comes with watching the footage. They're not a very empathetic person though, there certainly is sympathy, but that's mostly for the ones they grew to have positive opinions of. Now, unlike the real me, MPDG learned to hide their negative feelings quite well, they're used to acting nice with people they dislike, but that's when it aids their goal. They do not feel like they have to be nice to Momota, there's nothing they want from him, they're trying to get Maki and Shuichi away from him and his influence, actually. In a timeline that doesn't end in tragedy they could be convinced to give him a chance, get to know him for real, deal with the feeling of self-recognition through another (derogatory) and both of them would come out of it as better people, bickering in more friendly ways, helping keep each other's burst of righteous anger contained. But in the main-line, when MPDG holds back from punching him after blowing a fuse and ranting excessively in reaction to a comment he made during lunch, in front of everyone, they revel in the sense of superiority over him it gives them to come off cold in their hatred and don't resort to physical violence like he would, their next move is to pull strings to get him expelled, very satisfied with themselves, fully believing that somebody like him doesn't belong there. (elitarian, playing into the system, becoming the very thing they swore to destroy, etc; etc.)

Nothing quite like this, but they have issues getting along with a few others, get into arguments with Kaede despite trying to be friendly, they're uncomfortable around Gonta (oh, they despise feeling small and fragile, muscular men just so aren't their type, it's not a fear, it's not a fear, it's not- oh fuck, he could kill them on accident, what if he finds out they hate bugs?), and honestly they just find Korekiyo too much to unpack so they don't get in his business the way they love to do with most people.

When they can't drag it out any longer, their research is done, all information they wanted to sell is sold, everything is prepared to burn the school, the final karaoke is arranged and everyone but them and Izuru is at the venue, they finally set the flame, it's done. But the next step was to join others at the venue, have Izuru drive them there, swap places with their bodydouble, do a big reveal by showing them The MusicalTM (a movie they made mostly with the use of NWP, showing their story along with a very dramatic soundtrack, dancing performances included), give their friends the playlist they made for them and finally ask Kokichi to run away with them in a moment of having nothing to lose, leaving either way. That doesn't happen, because. Because their affair with Shuichi. No, the guilt isn't getting to them that much, maybe a little. They're pregnant and don't want anyone to know. It ruins their plan, so they choose to leave without saying anything, this way Kokichi won't hate them and at least saiou will have a chance. They sort of confess with a song in the musical, but they leave without goodbye, leaving him no way to reply. Telling Shuichi would only complicate things, since he's a good guy, who'd take responsibility and they don't want him.

Being a wanted criminal, they definitely leave Japan and live somewhere on the down low. They stop detoriating but the damage is already done, and they never rocover, so they're very scatterbrained and often dissociate til the end. Izuru also runs away and lives a quiet life. Junko gets arrested but gets out pretty quickly, she refused to help trask down MPDG or Izuru, but expressed certainity that neither of them will cause trouble again and proceeded to instead testify against HPA scientists, helped find people who were involved in the Kamukura project (they're not dead here, but if MPDG didn't show up with their dramatic ass plans, who knows what Junko & Izuru would have done on their own, it probably would be a lot closer to the Tragedy), used her Analyst talent to prevent some bigger terrorist attacks that would have hurt a lot of people (when theirs only destroyed the building and everything to do with NWP, except for the notes MPDG took with them. They considered selling the concept just like they did with other secrets, but even though they believe there could be better uses for it, it's too dangerous, so not a word of it gets out), she refuses to continue working with anti-terrorists later once she's not obligated to. Saiou get together and seem to have their happy ending, domestic ever after, except a few years later... a child shows up at their doorstep.

But that would be a sequel/an entirely separate thing, because it's just a little scenario I had, a maybe preteen-at-most weird girl shows up and flips their life upside down, MPDG left a will & letters in envelopes titled "Open when [specific situation that's kinda expected to happen happens, first one being "open when you've met her"]" and they're actually mostly adressed to Kokichi, some to Shuichi and some of the later ones are adressed to their daughter, set for birthdays and other big occassions. They always expected to die young and it never becomes evident or relevant how they died exactly, but there are things that could lead to it, like the damage from the NWP, their even older history with drugs, with dangerous people, their own mind becoming too restless after a few years of a peaceful and normal life, no matter how much they tried for their child, something was going to catch up to them, they were sure, so they were writing letters since they made their escape. All of that is not easy on saiou's relationship, but at this point they're either married or at least engaged, so it's not enough to tear them apart, once they calm down it's not like Shuichi did anything wrong by sleeping with MPDG months before they got together, frankly, he got played and Kokichi can recognize that. But the kid is there, and not only is Shuichi the closest & only* family (*technically, MPDG's parents are alive, but the link got lost a long thread of identities ago), but they're both written in the will to inherit everything, except for what they already put away on their daughter's savings account. So they're in for a ride.

#made by me #asked/answered #saiouma #I mean... it is. technically #original character #if you cringe at it imagine being me #I am sorry this is so long and took so long to get out and it literally sucks #like. I am not being self-deprecating. I could do better. I am not making it a full fic because the concept sucks #it's too much. it's way too much and I skipped over some side plots that don't add to the main story #am I the first person to make a self-insert the main character and then not even try to make them out to be a good person or in the right? #this reveals so many things wrong with me like #hi. I'm a weird pervert. I want to be the dead mom in the movie. I am an untrustworthy and power hungry asshole. I'd be friends with Junko #making this post was painful #when thinking about singular scenes as my bedtime daydreams it was fine. it was cool. it's a huge monstrosity. overarching plots that crash #into each other and stop making sense because when could it even all happen. head in hands

[hecckyeah]

Okay I saw your fic behind the scenes ask game and I MUST know behind the scenes info for "So A Crazy Thing Happened At The Terra Bella Lodge"

Oh my GOSH I'm so excited to tell you all of it!!!!

First, obligatory link to said fic in case someone would like to read it! (But be warned-- I spoil everything below)

A couple of fun facts:

I can't remember for the life of me what exactly spurred this idea, but it's heavily influenced by Leverage and some of the more bottle-like episodes they've done. Very heist-y origins! Although I wish I was better at writing heists, because a Brooklyn 99/The Rookie heist would be the crossover fic of the century.

I spent roughly 15 entire hours watching episodes of Brooklyn 99 and clips of Jake and Amy so I could get their voices in my head, since I'd been on a Rookie spree and all I was hearing was Tim and Lucy, and while they're similar in some ways I needed to remember how to write Peraltiago! Pretty sure I've watched every single b99 clip that exists on Youtube

The inspiration for the Terra Bella Mountain Lodge is actually a real place!! It's a wedding venue in Estes Park, CO called the Della Terra Mountain Chateau. I've sadly never been there but it looked GORGEOUS, and if I ever get married, it'll be on my top 5 venue options for sure

I tossed around the idea of whether or not to have Jake and Amy's kids there with them, since it's kind of a romantic spot, but I opted for my own enjoyment of getting to write the kids instead of being realistic and keeping them in New York with Jake's mom or something

I listened to basically nothing except this chenford playlist I made, the whole time. music on repeat is very effective for my writing brain :)))

I had a couple deleted scenes where Jake and Amy solve the whole case from the minivan, then Tim goes and busts Lucy out by fistfighting 3 guards at once in a superhuman throwdown brawl, but I went back and added those scenes where Lucy saves herself like the queen she is since she was feeling a little too Damsel-in-Distress and not enough Badass Officer (Detective) Chen, and I'm SO glad I did. It's a better story for the grandkids ;)

Also, in previous drafts Raymond Reeves WAS the villain. I was planning him as the thief who wanted to steal some diamonds or something, but it just wasn't gelling with my brain. I think I rewrote all the scenes with him and Marcia about 27 times before I was happy with it.

SPEAKING OF THAT DUDE!!! This is one of my favorite BTS tidbits :))) Raymond Reeves' backstory is that he has about 10 aliases that he uses and for ALL of them, the initials are S.K. -- Sanford Kain, Silas Kearney . . . Because S.K. stands for Serial Killer. He was so guilty about what he did to his brother-in-law, that he purposefully branded himself forever, subconsciously hoping someone would put the pieces together and he'd finally be arrested and punished for his crime.

Vesa Wescott was always going to be in on the crime from the beginning, I just didn't decide exactly how until Ronan Reeves came into the picture :)

This is very easily the first fic I've fully drafted out from beginning to end, and it STILL changed along the way!

I threw around the idea of Lucy going into preterm labor during the snowstorm, but figured that was kind of cliche and scary and unnecessary, and I'd rather have her working the case with Jake and Amy than anything else.

Oh, and Tim absolutely breaks his no-Disneyland rule for the Peraltiago fam :))) But given that I've never been to Disneyland and have no idea what it's like, I don't feel qualified to write that fic . . . Maybe someday!!

So yeah, there you have it!! I hope you enjoyed this episode of behind the fic with yours truly 😄

[ask me about a fic!]

#katie’s sleep deprived ramblings #writing #the rookie #brooklyn 99 #so this crazy thing happened at the terra bella mountain lodge

[mabsolgirl]

Headphone warning

Transcript below! :3

I made this a while ago, around when I first started making art of the Supernova AU AU. There have been some slight changes since then but I wanted to post this anyway since its been just sitting in my drafts and starting to get dusty. The changes aren't enough to alter anything in the audio in a major way anyway so neeeeh.

It's been a while since I did voice stuff so hopefully I don't sound terrible lol

Obligatory @linxprime ping cause au of their au

Watch me pull world lore outta my ass cause I still don't know what im doing

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In the ruins of a crashed and destroyed ship, you find a strange audio file labeled "Project Supernova". You made a copy of it and now you have the time to give it a listen...

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Transcript

Warning. The following video is the private property of [REDACTED]. Any outside or uncertified personnel caught viewing this video will be terminated by any means necessary. Viewer discretion is advised.

Log 1.

I am Dr. Jane Doe and I’ve recently been put in charge of “Project Supernova” after the old one quit. I decided to keep audio documentations of my findings and observations. I find it easier for me to document things by recording them by audio then writing it all out later.

Project Supernova is a study on the abilities of intelligent lifeforms, how they manifest, if different abilities can be manifested in specific situations, and researching the phenomena of Berserkers. Before I came in, an embryo was successfully fertilized and grown into a stable state. There were many failed attempts with this being the only one that has made it this far, living for roughly 12 years as of this recording. To be honest I question the decision to make a lifeform rather than study the cases of people who already have abilities, but the higher-ups wanted to do this rather than the simpler way.

Regardless it is planned to come out of the tube once it reaches 13 years, which is a couple months away. It should be stable enough by then. Until then we monitor it for any changes.

End log.

Log 2.

Right, so I forgot to mention info about the lifeform last log. My bad, heheh.

So, the lifeform is female and it was made with the DNA of multiple organisms with the two primary ones being Human Earthling and Cuixcus. I think I pronounced that right. Cuixcus was used for their adaptability and Human Earthlings to counteract the weaknesses of the former. It has bones, can withstand hotter temperatures, and while it doesn’t need to, it does breathe oxygen. The DNA from other organisms were used to help stabilize it so it doesn’t just die spontaneously. The genetics chosen specifically to see if heritage has an influence on what abilities would appear.

Now the real reason I am logging this. Earlier today it was monitored that specs of light were floating around the lifeform’s tube. They looked so… ethereal. It was like looking at a cluster of tiny stars. I should probably mention that the lifeform is in an unconscious state. It has been like this since its creation and this was the first time these lights were documented. They disappeared before we could study them. Maybe it dreamt them up? We’ll have to keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 5.

Today it came out of the tube, emphasis on “it”. We weren't supposed to take it out for another week but I guess it had other plans. One second it was in the tube, the next the lights appeared again and it was out and fell face-first into the equipment. It teleported itself out.

Since it wasn’t connected to the machines anymore it woke up quickly after that. Of course we were all freaking out but it didn’t seem too bothered by us. We ran some tests and it was stable. It bruised its head but other than that it wasn’t significantly injured.

It’s a very curious one. It would grab and inspect what we had. We let it for the most part and it would hand us back what it had when it was done. Right now it’s in its own room that we had to quickly scramble to finish putting together. It’s a quiet little one. The team and I decided on the name “Nova” after the project. As per usual we’ll keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 27.

A lot happened today. Today is the first day Nova went into her Berserker state. The first thing I noticed was that she was much calmer than I expected. I expected a rampaging beast like the other cases of Berzerkers but Nova would just… stare at us. We kept an eye on our monitors to watch to see what she does and then we watched her create light orbs; like the ones from one of my first logs but much bigger. This time we were able to scan them to see what exactly they were…

They’re stars. I am not joking, she was making literal stars, balls of collapsed burning gas, in her hands! From our observations they disappear when she loses focus but still incredible nonetheless! We later figured out the key piece to what her abilities are: a limited form of matter manipulation. She can teleport herself, and those she touches, by willing her own matter into another space and the stars are made by manipulating the matter of gas and dust to collapse in her hands. It is theorized she can manipulate any form of matter so long as physical contact is made.

After a while she went out of Berserker state and fell unconscious. We hooked her up to make sure she’s alright. Right now she’s comatose; we’re hoping she comes back alright.

End log.

Log 39.

Earlier today one of the higher-ups came in and told us that we were not needed on Project Supernova anymore and that in the coming days a new team would be coming in to take over the project. Of course we were outraged. We were consistently giving them good results! We did what we were told! We did nothing wrong, didn’t question a thing. Nothing we said could convince him otherwise. None of us wanted to leave the project. I’ll admit, Nova has grown on us. She’s like family and now for some reason she’s being taken from us. When he left we all decided to look into it ourselves.

The more we dug, the more things began to not add up. Then… we found something. We’re not here to do what we think we’re doing. We’re gonna get Nova out of here. This place is no longer safe. We’ll get her out and we’ll be the whistleblowers to this place.

End log.

Log 40

…I’m… I’m sorry…

Dr. Jane Doe, Dr. Bailey Shindo, Dr. Margoba Entano, Dr. Manbagea Nals, and Dr. Ripley Hedon have been terminated. Project Supernova assets will be transported to [REDACTED] for further completion by a new team effective immediately. End communication.

#my sister compared this to mewtwos backstory and tbh shes not wrong #btw the name Jane Doe was a placeholder name since its commonly used to refer to someone dead that cant be identified (John Doe for dudes). #the name kinda just stuck while i was making this. I might draw Jane sometime in the future since i have design ideas #art #fnaf au #fnaf oc #supernova au au #i know the supernova posts dont do well but i dont care! i like making them :3 #im really happy with the scene at the end. the weird humming does have a purpose. id like to see if people can identify it >:)

[marshmallowsqoosh]

[Ghost (Band) | Ritual of Ascension: First Draft]

So I’m having... A Time(tm). AO3 being in limbo is proving kind of helpful, in that, it’s not... looming over my shoulder, but words still aren’t working too great. So I figured, hey, I can do some rough draft sharing/behind the scenes shit/lore posts

And I can queue them! Anyways, I’ll post the rough draft first and then, after it, will be a spiel of me just... babbling. Cuz I can.

Ritual of Ascension (goes to AO3 because I? Never posted a tumblr version for some reason??? uh...if people want it I... guess I can transfer it?) was the first fic I posted for Ghost but I don’t... think it was the first one I wrote...? I feel like Pro Memoria was, but I honestly don’t remember anymore. Anyways, here’s the first draft, before it turned into 7.5k worth of trauma.

obligatory content warning for character death. not as graphic as the published work, but still there.

The paralytic only lasts for a few minutes. Long enough to restrain everyone and gather their remaining ghouls.

 Terzo can't see anything to his sides, but he can hear the ventilator keeping Primo alive. He thinks he can hear Secondo trying to curse, but can't get his lips to move or make much more than a detached groaning that he suspects is meant to be a growl. It feels like a cruel joke. His mouth tastes metallic and his body feels... like nothing. He doesn't feel restraints but he doesn't feel his hands either. He only even knows he's alive because he blinks so... slowly. His eyes wander the room—dim and filled with the familiar incense of the Rituals.

He hears... voices. Muffled, like his ears are stuffed with cotton. Not voices he recognises through the thick haze. He can't even really make out the words or what's happening. He sees... a line of robed figures that he can't make faces out for. And... Ghouls. Unmarked Ghouls and... their Ghouls.

 Cowbell gets pushed forward. Even through the thick cotton, Terzo can hear the distressed noises coming from his throat. He doesn't fight being pushed to his knees, doesn't try to get away when a much larger Ghoul plants a foot in his back. He's still not fighting back—Terzo knows he can, he's wriggled his way out of fights before and away from Alpha trying to bully him and Earth trying to pull him off stage. He can get away, he has to—

 The sledgehammer comes down and shatters the mask. The body doesn't dissipate fast enough and a puddle of void lands a at the feet of onlookers. His heart pounds in his chest and he strains to move his body. Anger. Fear. The others need to run. They can get away, why aren't they running away.

 Special is next. He isn't distressed. He's furious. His mask has already been removed and he's clearly regressing to his feral state. But he doesn't snap at his captors, he doesn't fight being pushed down any more than Cowbell did. He looks over at Terzo for a split second—distress overriding the anger—and doesn't even flinch when the hammer comes down on him, next.

 Him. He's the reason they aren't running. Was it an exchange? Did the robed figures promise his safety if the Ghouls cooperated? With their deaths—?

 Earth is next, but... the executioner isn't the one that pushes him down. Earth kneels on his own; the executioner is pushing another Ghoul forward. One that stubbornly digs his heels in and tries to plant himself against the urging. Literally dig his heels in. Bare heels.

 Mountain.

 He keeps trying to get away; but the executioner just grips his shoulders and keeps him in place. He thinks Earth must say something—he can't make it out, even as his hearing starts to clear up. He can hear Mountain trying to muffle a terrified sob when the hammer gets pushed into his hands. He doesn't lift it until the executioner starts to make towards a table behind the other Ghouls. There's a protest before he swallows it and finally raises the hammer just enough that gravity can help the weak grip he has and the hammer shatters Earth's mask. He backs away as fast as he can, clearly still shaken up and desperate to be out of the room, but simply shuffled off to a corner.

 Each Ghoul gets their turn. Rain opts to taking Water's mask away and force him to dissolve to a puddle that melts into the void that seeps back into Hell, instead of shattering the mask. He refuses to let go of it, even when it gets him backhanded and knocks his own mask off. Not enough to shatter it or damage it; but enough that he starts losing his form until Swiss gets close enough to help him put the mask back on and gently leads him to the corner with Mountain. He still has Water's mask.

 Cirrus and Cumulus both turn away, relying instead on their control of the air around them to raise the hammer and letting it fall to shatter Air's mask. Terzo's positive he heard him tell the Ghoulettes it'll be alright.

 He's never seen Sodo scared. He's never seen him struggle like he does with the hammer. He thinks Sodo begs Alpha to just melt the mask. His fire isn't strong enough, Alpha's should be—but the executioner is quick to remind him that they aren't allowed to use their abilities or the deal is off the table. So it is an exchange.

 Omega's last. He doesn't fight, same as the others. But he doesn't look up at Aether. His attention stays on Terzo for as long as possible. He thinks he hears a whisper of I'm sorry, but can't discern if it's Omega or Aether.

 "Now then... we pass the robe properly."

 Terzo still can't move. He hears the protests from the new Ghouls—he hears overlapping exclamations of you lied! and you promised!—but he's too numb--physically and emotionally to care. His Ghouls would have died with him. They didn't need to be executed and Copia's Ghouls didn't need to be subjected to the trauma of killing them...

 But the deal wasn't for Copia's Ghouls. It was to control Terzo's Ghouls. He still can't talk. When he gets pushed down on the execution block, he can finally see his brothers. Primo is being kept alive just to see this. Secondo looks furious, even in his immobility. His head feels thick with fog again and he's only vaguely aware of arguing. He's only vaguely aware of the apologising above him.

 It wasn't supposed to be like this—this wasn't supposed to happen, I'm so sorry—

 He wants to tell Copia it's okay. He wants to tell the Ghouls it's okay. His brothers. He should probably just be grateful Father isn't here.

 If he were, they would make Terzo face him; the sounds of his father's voice are a desperate hallucination in his final moments. Father isn't actually in the room—

 I'm sorry, Valentino is the last thing he thinks he hears. But he still refuses to believe Father was there.

♠                          ♥                            ♠

So this was initially barely 1k and one of the earliest things I wrote if not the earliest. I didn’t know much about the lore (i.e. the second wave of Era 3) and I hadn’t looked too much into Era 1 or 2, at that time. 

Primo and Secondo’s Ghouls--while I’ve always believed Ghouls were generational--didn’t quite exist, yet, beyond Earth was Primo’s and transferred to Terzo.

I’m about ninty percent sure I wrote this after early drafts of Pro Memoria, because that was drafted up in response to my bestest enabler informing me of the theory that Terzo died during the embalming process, not when he was injected. And then this happened because he informed me of a tweet. Neither of us have the original tweet anymore, but the gists of it was 

"So we only saw terzo get poisoned, what if the others had to watch as they executed/decapitated him"

and this was the result lol.

Anyways some small fun facts:

(1) During the refining process to post as something coherent, I actually ended up falling down a hole of research into demonology and refreshing myself on the various entities in Hell, as I choose to believe each Ghoul is assigned to  specific Devil. (I’ve only really touched on it in the Ritual of Summoning chapters and it was mentioned, briefly, in the two Phantom pieces) and the executioners were initially going to have the seal of Eligos on them, as they were meant to tie into the transition between Prequelle and Impera. (As Eligos, according to the Ars Goetia, “knows the future of wars” and Impera’s theme is one of war.)

Unfortunately, I don’t think I actually got to that, past a brief mention of the sigil, but not one detailed enough to name them, because I was still figuring out how Ghouls operate, in my head, a the time.

(2) As with above, this was written before I’d given the Ghouls too much thought, as to how they operate, beyond “Hell-summoned void creatures given form”. As such, there are a few inconsistencies between this fic and the “main timeline” I write in, in that here Rain is able to remove Water’s mask and has his own knocked off; wherein the more refined timeline I work from now, the masks are more solidly attached to the Ghouls and cannot be removed without their summoner’s permission, up until Era 5, where their contracts have been altered to allow them free reign to remove their masks on their own, if they want (or specifically need) to.

It was also before I’d fully thought about how their powers work, implying a Fire Ghoul could melt theirs; this has since been refined that they can damage their masks by heating up (i.e., I am firmly of the belief that Sodo’s horns on his helmet are white because he’s overheated and burned the horns so many times and cooled them that they’ve simply lost the original black coating) but they cannot destroy them, even if they take them off and try that way.

(3) When refining the draft into the published version, I had learned about the second wave of Era 3 and did have a moment where I considered including Ifrit, Mist, Zephyr, and Pebble; but, I couldn’t quite justify juggling that many Ghouls at the time and I’ve no desire to rewrite something already published, even if I have found a way to viably do it. Maybe as a one off, one day;;

(4) In a second or third draft, I considered having Omega kill Terzo. While the idea was set aside, as it didn’t fit the theme of the story (passing on the robe, as it were), I do still have a variation of the scenario scribbled down somewhere. 

(5) I don’t actually have any other fun facts, I’m just still really proud of how this turned out, especially for it being such an early attempt at writing (as in like... a week after getting into the band... it’s fine)

So uh. yeah! I’ll probably queue up a few of these, there might even be some disembodied scribbles that got scrapped from the main projects or maybe some of the AU shenanigans. we’ll see. /)(\ thanks so much to anyone who took the time to read ♥

#sqooshy writes #ghost band #ghost fanfiction #ghouls era 3 #rating: mature #papa emeritus iii #terzo #sqooshy dissects their works

[artobotsrollout]

Skdjfkg oh that is A MOOD, I leave sentence bits all the time. What are Thundercracker and Skywarp like? What are some things they like and dislike? I'm so so SO happy you're bringing Star's trine in!!

[I am so so sorry this has taken me so long to answer. I was so pumped to answer then I over thought my answer then I was worried because I wasn't sure if some things I said about them were going to be canon or not and then other drafts overtook it and made it hard to navigate to. 😢 I seriously appreciate your asks.]

Woo for half forgotten sentence bits!

And I'm so glad that you and other peeps are excited about the inclusion of Thundercracker and Skywarp in The Harbingers AU!!

Things may change as more of the story is developed but have my current thoughts on them.

Answers to your questions and a WIP sneak peak at Skywarp's design below the Readmore.

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

Before I begin I'm gonna get the obligatory 'This is not canon compliant nor other continuity compliant' general warning out of the way. (It's not aimed at anyone specifically I'm just covering my bases here. Also cause I'm ignoring fanon and a lot of canon unless I think it fits and like it. )

ONTO THE QUESTIONS!

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

What are Thundercracker and Skywarp like?

What are some things they like/dislike?

Skywarp and Thundercracker play a pretty big role in the Harbingers storyline so I'm P excited about em.

-Starscream is resilient, adaptive, cunning, unpredictable, brilliant, regal, precise, and dangerous. Hard to kill. Stubborn. He's not Megatron's second in command for a large chunk of time for kicks.

-Thundercracker is diplomatic, creative, hard to read, reliable, heavy hitter, perceptive, and a touch eccentric.

-Skywarp is mischievous, fast, a glass canon, hard to hit, hard to pin down, chaotic, intuitive, clever, and ruthless.

Thundercracker

A mech of few words and lacking in many exuberant expressions, many wonder what mysteries said mech hides. Some people pity him for Starscream and Skywarp 'stealing the spotlight'. Some think he's the real 'brains behind it all' and is too busy 'reigning in' his trine mates to live up to his true potential. Truth is that Thundercracker actually dislikes the spotlight and loves the energy that Skywarp and Starscream have (even if he gripes about it sometimes). Starscream is the brains, but he does run some things by TC when he needs another opinion. He really wishes that people would stop coming to him and putting his trine mates down just because they are energetic and expressive! He loves their energy and personalities! No one needs 'reigning in' and saying otherwise isn't alright. Those who work closely with the lead trine usually learn real fast not to disrespect any of the trine. Except Ramjet. Ramjet is stubborn and refuses to stop being a little shit about everyone even though he's punished with terrible duties every time he does so. The only ones allowed to insult his trinemates are him and his trinemates.

Many assume Thundercracker must be the straight man to Skywarp's nonsense upon acquaintance but they would all be very wrong. TC just gives off less of an outward obvious energy compared to Skywarp and Starscream. Between the three of them he's basically the best with people and most diplomatic. Can be manipulative if a situation requires it. Kinda has Grimlock from Cyberverse energy. (my headcanon Grimlock in my AU is the Grimlock that's in RiD15 because that's peak him IMO) For a Decepticon he's considered rather polite. The fact that he's the one people usually approaches first annoys TC to no end.

He limits how much he talks, outside of the company of mechs he actually likes to talk to, to save energy. Helping Starscream keep the mechs who follow him happy and helping to find solutions for arguments requires a lot of diplomatic skills and patience which can sometimes leave him exhausted. On his off time he usually sticks close to his trine or hides in his quarters.

He frequently plays the moral centre when situations get outta hand. Closet theatre kid. Some people have made the mistake of calling him "soft". But the whole Trine holds such a high rank in the Decepticons for a reason. And Starscream would not have trined with just anyone.

I'm still kinda figuring TC out so the above may change as time goes on. His personality and deeper motivations are just not coming to me quite like Skywarp's, Ironhide's, and Jazz's did. I think I need to write some head trine shenanigans to really figure his whole deal out.

Likes

Stories in any form. (He comes to really enjoy cartoons, comics, and musicals.)

Watching awful movies and shows with Skywarp and Starscream and mocking it mercilessly.

Writing and art

Cute things

Earth animals

Discussing nerd art and literature stuff with Starscream

Helping Skywarp plan his pranks

Dislikes

Megatron

Having nothing to do/boredom

When Skywarp and Starscream argue about something small and unimportant.

Headcanon Voiceactor Potentials:

Markiplier or ProZD

Notes:

Has a small superstitious streak that Skywarp has been known to abuse with his pranking.

A closet theatre nerd

Has a great singing voice and secretly wishes someone would break into song with him.

Skywarp

Lil sneak peek of my Harbingers Skywarp design!!

I've been tweaking things about his design for awhile now and I'm still tweaking but I'm finally getting somewhere sncjek. Fun fact about his design!! For some of his proportions I'm referencing ferret anatomy.

Does a lot of cackling while he fights. Switches between rough front line scrapper to sneaky stealth attacks.

Skywarp is the sort of person who is more than meets the eye. I'm sorry I HAD to 😂.

Skywarp is very high energy with a mischievous streak a mile long. He is unapologetically himself and gives exactly zero frags about what most others think of him. Besides the whole cackling like a gremlin at everything and causing problems on purpose thing, Skywarp is pretty easygoing temperament wise. He isn't afraid of change or the new and unusual. He let's things go quickly so he's almost impossible to prank or insult back in any satisfying way since he really isn't bothered by much. He really doesn't care that he has a reputation of not being the smartest cause it means people underestimate him. He's more patient and skilled than he lets on. He and Thundercracker are two of Starscream's closest right hand mechs for a reason. But he's not self conscious about this perception and sometimes will actively play into it. An enemy who underestimates you is a more easily beatable one. Skywarp is still loveably head empty no thoughts though. He reserves his patience and smarts for pranks and the battlefield. He has zero brain to mouth filter and is impulsive 70% of the time. Oddly drops wisdom bombs on occasion.

Skywarp's hijinks also kind of puts him in a role similar to a court jester. He acts goofy because that's just who he is a person but the upside of that is some people don't take him as seriously as they should. So he overhears a LOT of conversations from mechs who assume he's not listening. This makes it handy to give Starscream inside information.

Another upside of people underestimating him is it makes it almost laughably easy to get the drop on people. Don't be fooled by his goofiness this mech can be dangerously patient. His impressive agility, surprising patience, and ridiculously good hand eye coordination make him unpredictably deadly for foe and prankable ally alike. He can play the long game.

Likes

Pranks

Dumb dad jokes and puns.

Watching awful movies and shows with Thundercracker and Starscream and mocking it mercilessly.

Copying stunts he saw in a movie once

Saying or doing things wrong on purpose purely to annoy his trine mates

Watching horror movies and laughing every time someone dies an easily preventable death. Is frequently overheard whispering "Get em!" at the monster/serial killer.

Dancing

Dislikes

Starscream and Thundercracker having loud philosophical arguments discussions when he's trying to sleep

Being nitpicked

Musicals

Headcanon Voiceactor Potentials:

Bradley Cooper (Similar voice he does for Rocket in Guardians of the Galaxy)

Again I'm so sorry this took so long!! I was actually planning on waiting till I finished their rough references but I'm STILL struggling with TC and I don't want to postpone this any longer so Ill just post the refs when I finish them. Thank you so much again for the questions you send in! I love and appreciate them and they are always a blast to answer.

#Harbingers au #The Harbingers au #My aus #Skywarp #Thundercracker #H!Skywarp #H!Thundercracker #harbingers #harbingers continuity #autothots continuities #autothots aus

[yukidragon]

SDJ Vamp AU - Spicy Teaser 2

Such a shame I broke 2 week streak for posting Sunshine in Hell. You know how it is with me and delays. Still, a 5 chapter streak at that pace is pretty impressive for me.

I wasn’t totally idle though, as I did get a little more written with my still unnamed Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack vampire AU fic. It’s not finished yet since this erotic story is going to be pretty long, but I have a few more pages done.

Since one of my lovely readers on twitter expressed interest in seeing another teaser of the rough draft, I figured I’d oblige. I even made this teaser a little longer than I usually do.  You can see the first teaser here.

Usual warnings still apply. The game this story is based on is for people over the age of 18 only, no minors. This one shot is spicy, so adults only.

Obligatory​ @channydraws tag. It’s time for more Jack and Alice fluffy smut!

...

Love, love, love. It thrummed through Alice like a song on repeat, a high far greater than any she felt before. The way Jack looked at her with those soft, doe-like eyes of his made her feel special, irreplaceable. To him, she strung the stars in the sky, she was the sun, and he was her most devoted worshiper who would bow to no other god. Such adoration, such all-encompassing love was overwhelming, intoxicating, irresistible.

And, in that moment, Alice needed Jack just as desperately.

As Alice drew in closer, Jack did the same, two magnets pulled by the same inescapable force of nature. His hand slid along her cheek, caressing and guiding her to his waiting lips, and she devoured them as greedily as when she drank his blood. He returned the kiss with just as much fervor, drinking in her sweetness beneath the tinge of copper.

Closer, Alice needed to be closer. She tightened her grip on Jack as she pressed her body against his, squirming and grinding against him in a futile attempt to get closer than was physically possible. She felt his tongue probe against her lips, seeking invitation, and she welcomed him eagerly, shivering in delight as she savored his sweetness on her tongue once again. She tasted him like a woman starved, craving not blood this time but every drop of love he offered her.

The friction of their bodies grinding together was sweet torture that made Jack all the more aware of the fabric that separated her skin from his. He never hated clothes more than he did in that moment for daring to get between him and his sunshine. He pulled at her shirt until he could feel the bare skin of her stomach against his and he reveled in the contact, the softness of her skin, the warmth that he could never get enough of.

The kiss ended too soon, but Alice needed to breathe. She drew back with reluctance, but kept her hold on Jack firm as she gulped down air.

Jack held her close and took the moment to compose himself. He needed to stay in control of himself and his urges, no matter how wild his sunshine drove him. “Alice…”

The way Jack said her name, low and throaty with love and lust in equal measure sent a surge of heat down Alice’s spine that settled in her core. He lit a fire inside her, one that would only be soothed by his own heat, and her hips instinctively pressed into where he burned hottest. She felt him twitch between her legs, and the low moan of her name was music. His face was so pretty and pink, his lips flushed and smeared in red.

Red. The color was a splash of ice water as Alice realized what she had done. “Sh-shit!” She jerked back, ramrod straight, but Jack’s grip on her wouldn’t allow her to go far. “I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry! Your blood, I-I… I didn’t mean… I got it in your mou… I didn’t… didn’t even ask if it was okay to kiss you first!”

“It’s okay, Alice, it’s okay,” Jack said, talking in gentle, calming tones over her babbling apologies. He repeated his assurances until his soothing voice reached through her panic, and she finally quieted. He ran his hands along her arms, gently coaxing her tense muscles to relax. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

For a moment, Alice just breathed as she tried to slow her racing pulse, allowing Jack’s reassurances flow over her like cool water on a burn. He… really wasn’t upset? He wasn’t disgusted by what she just did, by having to taste his own blood, by being kissed by a blood sucking parasite?

“Alice,” Jack said. His voice was still gentle, but there was an undercurrent of steel beneath the silk tones. “You did nothing wrong. You were perfect. You are perfect. Every inch of you is perfect.” He slid his hand up to her cheek and stroked it with his thumb as he gazed deeply into her eyes that were the same shade of pale blue as the sky at dawn. “I love you, all of you, including the part of you that enjoyed drinking my blood.”

A small gasp escaped Alice. Jack pinned her in place with the unwavering conviction in his dark brown eyes, the certainty of his words. He left no gap for doubt to squeeze into, making it impossible for her not to believe him. She drew in a shaky breath as he dragged his thumb along her lips, not caring that he stained the yellow fabric red.

Jack allowed his voice to soften, but he remained resolute as he peered deeply into his sunshine’s eyes. “Did it feel good?”

‘Good’ was an understatement, and Alice was sure Jack already knew that, but she answered him all the same. “Y-yeah…”

Jack smiled then, as pleased as a teacher whose favorite pupil outshone his expectations. He guided her to him for another kiss, this one shorter than the last, but all sweetness and love. “I’m glad.” He went in for another quick peck, his mouth quirking into a grin when they parted. “Alice, you have no idea how happy it makes me that I could make you feel good. There’s nothing I want more than to make you happy.”

Alice had to swallow to alleviate the dryness of her throat. “I… I want to make you happy too,” she said, her voice soft.

Jack chuckled a bit. “Well, then it’s a good thing you already do, just by being you, my sunshine.” He emphasized his words by placing another short but sweet kiss on her lips.

Alice kept her eyes closed, and the feeling of his lips pressed against hers still lingered even after the kiss ended. She focused on the warmth of Jack’s embrace, the gentle way he stroked her cheek. She nuzzled into his hand and took a moment to let the last few minutes settle in.

Alice didn’t deserve such devotion and love, she knew that. She let herself believe that lie once upon a time, only to be proven wrong when the man she loved betrayed her.

“Alice…,” Jack said softly as he pulled his sunshine closer. “You're so special, so wonderful. There’s no one else in the world more amazing than you. Anyone who can’t see that… they’re not worth even thinking about.” He pressed their foreheads together lightly. “There’s no one else in the world who makes me feel the way you do. No one else could make me feel this way. I love you… so much. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks about you… about us. No matter what the world might think about you, I’ll always love you. You’re my best friend, my sunshine, my love… forever.”

Alice opened her eyes and could see the love Jack had for her shining in his. He meant every word. She could feel it. His love was as real as he was.

Jack wasn’t Ian. What Alice felt for Ian couldn’t compare to this intense happiness and acceptance that Jack gave her. They had bonded so quickly, so deeply, it was as if he was always meant to be a part of her life, her other half. He was real. Jack was real, and she could finally believe that without fear. This man holding her so tenderly, who she had grown so close to in such a short time, truly loved her and thought the world of her. There was no one else in the world who made her feel so wonderful.

Alice didn’t deserve Jack, but she couldn’t bear to live without him.

“Would…,” she said, her voice small and tentative. She paused for a moment to wet her lips. “W-would it be okay if we were… together? Like… like a couple…?”

The answer was obvious, but the reason why Alice asked him that question made Jack absolutely elated. Though he tried to keep calm, he couldn’t keep the sappy smile from his face. “If you really want it, we can be.”

Alice felt her heartbeat quicken as she watched Jack cock his head slightly, his expression one of adoration so strong she had a hard time meeting his gaze. This was really happening, wasn’t it? Her stomach felt like it was doing flips from nervousness, excitement, joy, and fear all mashing together in a complicated mess of emotion that was only heightened by the overabundance of blood she drank. She clung to her now lover a little tighter, burying her face into his neck, almost overwhelmed by the feelings she was experiencing in that moment. In the shelter of his comforting embrace, she managed to find her voice again. “I… I do.”

“Good,” Jack said softly as he nuzzled into her hair. “Because I do too.” He pressed a kiss on the crown of her head. When she dared to come out of hiding and meet his loving gaze, it was his turn to become a little bashful. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Y-yeah!” Alice said almost a little too eagerly as she straightened up. “Yeah, sure… o-of course!”

“Can you say it?” Jack asked softly, his cheeks pinking as a nervous anticipation built in his heart, causing it to flutter. “I’d like to hear you say it. Just so I know for real.”

Alice blinked, and it took her a moment to catch the implication, sending heat flooding to her cheeks. It took a moment more for her to find her voice again, which cracked a little. “I love you?”

It was just three little words, but they made Jack’s heart race with excitement. Still, he needed just that little bit more, that complete confirmation of what he had been aching to hear ever since the moment he first laid eyes on Alice. “Yeah. But. For me. If it’s okay, you know?”

This was all happening so fast, but Alice couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. Jack was real. He was real, he accepted her, didn’t fear her, and he loved her. Although the words were difficult to say, his love soothed her, encouraged her. She was intoxicated by the feelings he gave her, by just the fact that he existed in her life at all. She wanted to feel this way forever, be with him forever. “I… I love you… Jack.”

Relief washed over Jack so exquisite he felt like he would melt. He knew it all along, he really did, but hearing Alice say those words at long last was everything to him. “Just like that…,” he sighed almost dreamily.

His quick, sweet kiss caught Alice off-guard, but she recovered quickly, chasing after Jack to taste his lips again. His mouth quirked into a pleased smile at his sunshine’s eagerness, and he returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, deepening it to get a better taste of that sweet mouth that finally told him the words he ached to hear for so long.

Neither of them could get enough of this new venue of their relationship. Kisses lingered, hot and wet, only ending when Alice needed to take a breath, before the two of them desperately sought out each other again with a hunger that wasn’t yet satisfied. The heat that burned so hot when she fed from Jack flared anew, fueled by their love and the security of knowing their feelings were mutual.

Alice eventually was forced to take a breather, tilting her head back to gulp down hot pants of air, her head dizzy but wonderfully fuzzy. A breathless moan escaped her as Jack ground himself into her, reminding her of the part of him that had been patiently waiting to feel her all this time. On instinct, she spread her legs open for him, and he eagerly rewarded her for welcoming him by grinding directly where she needed him the most.

The mewl Alice made shaped around his name was music to Jack’s ears. “Alice…,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed her again, a quick but sweet peck, before moving on to new territory. “I’m so happy that you trust me…” He kissed her chin next, tipping it back gently so that he could place the next kiss even lower.

Alice shivered with excitement as Jack marked a hot, wet trail with his lips along every inch of her neck, murmuring sweet words against her burning skin. She surrendered control to him, letting him mark her with countless kisses as he gently guided her movements to allow him better access to her body. His hands slipped underneath her shirt, sliding it upwards to expose more of her skin to his touch. It was obvious what would happen next, and she welcomed it, only lamenting that he was still wearing his gloves so she couldn’t feel his hands on her body directly.

Jack smiled against her skin as he caught his sunshine’s unspoken request. “I-”

A loud, obnoxious ringing shattered the mood.

The pair froze, almost uncomprehending, until the sound repeated itself, drawing their attention to the nightstand where Alice’s cell phone sat plugged into its charger.

Jack barely bit back the urge to groan in frustration as Alice picked up the obnoxious noisemaker before he could stop her. He barely opened his mouth to convince her to just ignore it, when a loud crack startled him.

Alice stared blankly at her cell phone that she snapped in half like a chocolate bar. She intended to check the caller ID in case it was something urgent, but the instant she saw her boss’ name on the screen, outrage overtook her sense of reason. It was obvious why he was calling - he wanted her to come in to work, to leave Jack now, of all times! How dare he, how dare the world get in the way just when she was finally feeling happy and whole and accepted and loved and the best she had her entire life!

“Shit,” Alice hissed before it fully sunk in what she had just done. “Fuck!” All it took was a moment’s rage, a single second’s lapse in control, and look at the damage she caused. It called to mind other incidents in the past where she lost her temper, and it was a sobering reminder of what she was, how much of a danger she was to those around her, including-

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jack said soothingly as he slipped his arms back around Alice and pulled her close. She froze in his grip, and he could feel her fear that she might accidentally exert the same devastating strength on him next. “Hey… there’s no need to overthink this.” He placed a soft kiss on her temple. “I know that you’re upset about breaking your cell phone, but you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. You just made a mistake, that’s all. Everybody makes mistakes, even at the best of times.”

Alice chewed on her lower lip, unable to find her voice as her thoughts raced like a train careening towards a cliff. Jack made it sound so insignificant, but a mistake from her could be so much more devastating. What if it was him that she was holding onto when she lost control? What if things got hot and heavy between them and she stopped focusing on keeping her strength in check? What if she grabbed him too hard or bit and tore into him in a fit of passion? What if-

“I know you’re scared that something bad could happen,” Jack said soothingly, cutting into her fretting. “But, really, you have nothing to worry about.” He let out a light chuckle, drawing his sunshine’s gaze back to him. “Remember what you told me before? A vampire only causes someone pain when they don’t care if that person gets hurt. The fact that you’re worrying about this proves that you do care. You love me, and I love you, so I know you won’t ever hurt me.”

Alice slowly shook her head, her movements slight in case even that much might cause damage. “That… that’s just with feeding. I use my powers not to let it… If I… I…”

“Exactly. You don’t want your power to hurt me.” Jack chuckled again and favored Alice with a lopsided grin. “Sunshine, do you know how many times you’ve caused damage in your sleep?”

Alice blinked repeatedly, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in topic. “Wha…? In… in my sleep?”

“Not even once,” Jack said, his smile widening. “Sometimes you hold onto me, or my jacket, or toss and turn when you’re sleeping, and you never hurt me or anything else in bed with you. Ever. Now… if you think you have to constantly focus on keeping control of yourself, why is it that nothing ever happens when you’re asleep? You can’t focus on your self-control when you’re sleeping after all.”

Alice stared at Jack, too stunned to speak.

“What happened just now is an unfortunate mistake, that is true, but mistakes are how we learn, how we grow. This mistake isn’t anything too serious, when you really think about it.” Gently, Jack took the broken phone from Alice’s grasp and set it back on the nightstand. “A phone is useful, and maybe it is a bit inconvenient that it’s broken now, but this is a mistake that can be fixed. A phone can be repaired or replaced. It’s important to learn from your mistakes, but it’s also important that you keep in mind just how big the mistake is. This mistake isn’t a big one, and you have me to help you not make it again, or make bigger ones.”

Alice was quiet as she let what Jack told her fully sink in. He had a point. He had a lot of good points. The fact that she wasn’t destructive in her sleep was a concept that had never occurred to her before, one that she had no argument for. She had plenty of nightmares, but had she ever once awoken to a torn bed sheet or pillow.

It was hard for Alice to fully shake off her fears of worst-case scenarios even with this new revelation, but somehow they didn’t feel quite so daunting, not with Jack here to help her. Somehow, the cheerful, naïve, and endearing Sunny Day Jack had a way of making things feel so much more simple and easier to deal with.

“You know, you’re really selling yourself short, sunspot,” Jack said with a chuckle. “You have better control of your powers than you think. Why… you could even do it in your sleep.”

The pun was so unexpected a snort of laughter escaped Alice in spite of herself. She covered her mouth to stifle any further outburst that might sound even slightly like she was amused by such a cheesy pun. “Seriously?”

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle at Alice’s reaction, especially when she rolled her eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I know. But you have to admit, it a-rest-ed your attention.”

Alice fought to keep a straight face, though the corners of her mouth twitched when he gave her a cheeky wink. “Ohhh… that was bad.”

Jack straightened up, his posture resolute even as the silly grin he wore made the clown look anything but serious. “Well, if you’re tired of my jokes, maybe you should try sleeping on them and see if you still think I’m such a snore in the morning.”

Alice’s cheeks twitched, her stony expression cracking despite her rigid resistance. “That’s terrible. You’re terrible.”

The way her cheeks puffed out made it hard for Jack to keep it together. “Aww… don’t be like that.”

When Jack couldn’t keep his laughter in any longer, that was the tipping point for Alice as well, and giggles bubbled free from her in spite of herself. She gave the clown a playful shove before burying her face into his chest that trembled with laughter in a futile attempt to hide her mirth, which only made him laugh harder. They held each other close as the tension between them dissolved into a fit of giggles, leaving behind a soft and gentle atmosphere.

Once the laughter eventually died down, Alice readjusted her position to rest her chin on his shoulder. “You’re wonderful,” she said beside his ear, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“So are you, Alice,” Jack said, his voice equally soft and sincere. “So wonderful… My wonderful, beautiful, amazing sunshine…”

Alice pressed even closer to this beautiful man who made her feel so loved. With him she didn’t feel like a parasite, or a demon. He truly did love her and accept her, flaws and all. It was so freeing, and she couldn’t contain her joy, planting another kiss on the mark she left on his skin. Jack sighed at the feeling, then let out a moan when she sucked on him there.

“O-oh, yes, Alice…,” Jack moaned as that otherworldly pleasure washed over him. “That’s it… drink as much as you want… I want you to…”

A quiet chuckle escaped Alice before she straightened up, her expression turning mischievous. “I wasn’t biting you.” She grinned at his confused look. “Vampire bites leave a mark, so you’ll be feeling it for a while. Sorry~?”

The playful note to his sunshine’s voice thrilled Jack; it was proof that his efforts to lift her spirits paid off. It was also an invitation for him to get playful as well, one that would be absolutely rude to refuse. His grin widened as he leaned in closer, their noses brushing together. “Well then, I think that it’s only fair if I return the favor, don’t you?”

Alice felt her pulse quicken with excitement at the way his voice dipped as he spoke, growing heavy with promises that made her body tingle, especially where the heat between them still burned so hot. It was a reminder of the pleasure they shared that got disrupted not once, but twice. She knew that there would be no stopping what was about to happen between them this time - neither of them would allow it.

Although Alice tried her best to exude a confident, seductive demeanor, her quaking voice betrayed her nervous excitement. “Y-yeah…”

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #sdj #swwsdj #Vampire AU #My Writing

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Monday's child: An annotated playlist for "Baker boxer teacher grief" 

I should give the obligatory warning that my SnowBaz fic “Baker boxer teacher grief” is VERY SAD and therefore, unsurprisingly, these songs are VERY SAD. I think they’re best listened to when you’re wrapped up in a cosy blanket and/or sweater, with a hot drink, cuddled next to someone that you love. 

Annotations below are probably at least a little spoilery, so if you haven’t already, why don’t you read the fic that inspired this? Here it is on AO3: Baker boxer teacher grief (Or: The thing that lasts)

“Black Star” - Gillian Welch

This is a cover of a Radiohead song, and in my head, it was playing in the first chapter, during the drive from Watford to Hampshire. The lyrics don’t really relate to this story specifically (I listen to a lot of Radiohead to set the mood, rather than for the lyrics) but I love the aching, wavering way that Gilian Welch sings: 

Blame it on the black star

Blame it on the falling sky 

Blame it on the satellite

That brings me home 

“Seventeen” - Sharon van Etten

“Seventeen” - Sharon van Etten feat. Norah Jones

In an earlier draft of this story, there was a lot more focus on Baz and Mordelia’s relationship, exploring the tension between them, and how they each relate to their father quite differently. That angle got chucked when I decided to tell more of the story from Simon’s POV, but I’m still very fond of the Baz/Mordelia relationship in this story. 

I always imagined the original “Seventeen” being the version for Mordelia, especially the building intensity in Sharon van Etten’s Tiny Desk performance. And the version with Sharon & Norah Jones seemed to me more of the Baz version, tinged with nostalgia and fondness, while he thinks of his sister who reminds him so much of himself. 

I used to be free

I used to be seventeen

Follow my shadow

Around your corner

I used to be seventeen

Now you're just like me

“Spring and Fall” - Natalie Merchant

Again, a song where I had a very specific version in mind - in this case, the performance in Natalie Merchant’s TED talk “Singing old poems to life,” with the intro on Gerard Manley Hopkins. Manley Hopkins wrote, “It is to explain death to a child, and it deserves a piece of plain-song music.” 

This is a song for Swithin up in his treehouse, playing jacks with acorns. 

Margaret, are you grieving

Over Goldengrove unleaving?

Leaves, lake the things of man, you

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

“Song to the Siren” - This Mortal Coil 

I had toyed with the idea of pulling the thread of The Odyssey through more of the story, but I abandoned it in order to reference a lot of other stories instead. 

“Song to the Siren” is lovely and haunting and full of longing, and I imagined it as part of the backdrop for the late-night conversation that Simon and Baz have in bed, after the wake. 

Did I dream, you dreamed about me?

Were you here when I was full sail?

Now my foolish boat is leaning

Broken lovelorn on your rocks

For you sing

Touch me not, touch me not

Come back tomorrow

“Undertaker” - Bry Webb 

This is the first of three songs which I think of as “the funeral songs.” A fascinating song about death, somewhere between merciless and merciful.  

Whether debutante

Or bone shaker

Husband, wife

Or heart breaker

I am known by everyone

I will be standing by

I will be standing by

“Videotape” - Radiohead

The second of the funeral songs. I don’t think I really have to say anything. It’s fucking “Videotape.” This is the version from “From the Basement.” 

This is my way of saying goodbye

'Cause I can't do it face to face

I'm talking to you before

No matter what happens now

You shouldn't be afraid

Because I know today has been

The most perfect day I've ever seen

“Company of Friends” - Danny Schmidt 

The third of the funeral songs, and a good one to end on (especially if you’re still feeling a bit raw from “Videotape”). 

I found out about this song from the podcast Our Plague Year, which I listened to a lot during the pandemic. I like to walk by the river close to my house, and more often than not, I’d wind up in tears while listening to this podcast. But it’s okay, because trees and squirrels and birds don’t judge. 

Again, I feel like I don’t actually need to add much commentary to the song itself or how it relates to “Baker boxer teacher grief.” It’s best if you just listen for yourself. 

When I die, let them judge me by my company of friends

Let them know me as the footprints that I left upon the sand

Let them laugh for all the laughter

Let them cry for laughter's end

But when I die, let them judge me by my company of friends

If you end up listening to any of these songs, do let me know. <3 Take care. 

#snowbaz #carry on #playlist #bonus content #ow ow time? #cover art by DALL-E #my fic tag

[asachuu]

I’m not sure how prominent it actually is, but here’s an obligatory warning for some little bloodstains and the like.

Decided to quickly finish this as it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a week now and I’ve just been afraid of trying to draw the flowers, given I’m…generally not the best at those despite this having meant to have been a practice work for that exact purpose, and I think it’s…not as tragic as it could have been? I’m aware it’s a complete mess, but hey, it could have always been messier…

Anyhow, if some kind of flower-savvy people want to look up what made me chose marigolds as the main ones, go for it since it was purposeful (but I can’t promise it’ll be of any use to anyone aside from me lol), although I intended to have had far more kinds in here at first, all with their separate meanings I’ve definitely spent far too much time searching for. It just so happened I was too tired and impatient to continue trying to learn how to draw them pretty much from scratch, and their respective color schemes didn’t end up fitting very well with the rest any longer after making it too orange-tinted anyway, so I might use them in other works instead.

Other than that…excuse the edginess, I suppose. I may have had some specific reasons this time, but generally, that’s just my standard practice at this point, and I actually quite like this, to my own surprise…

#rkgk #asachuu

[radley-writes]

Seven Sentences tag game!

I have been tagged by too many people! I’m sorry I’ve barely posted anything recently; the Winter Blues are real.

But (several weeks late) please enjoy this snippet from the first chapter of... 

Herbo & Twink Solidarity: On Ice

(introducing... The Twink)

They say the ice-city of Jarlheim is a tiara tipped with spires of starlight. They sing sonnets for each verglas vault, tercets for every turret; orate odes to the five-fathom walls and the hardpack from which they rise.

They presume it goes without saying that the ice-city of Jarlheim is really fucking cold.

Corvail hunched in his rough woollen cloak. He shuffled penguin-footed towards the royal gate, tucking his numb hands between his legs. Mistake: they sapped heat faster than they absorbed it. He relocated them to his armpits, where they posed far less frostbite risk to parts he would miss.

“Why,” he asked the gate, the rime that curled across it like silver embroidery, the mirror-glaze road that skidded and slipped beneath his hobnail boots, “the shit am I doing this?”

Gate, rime, and road offered sod-all reply.

(nine sentences, but still ;P)

Share seven lines and tag seven people (obviously, no pressure)!

Tagging: @rrrawrf-writes, @incandescent-creativity, @h-brook-writes, @longsightmyth, @humour-and-hyperfocus, @stardustspiral, @loopyhoopywrites @christinawritesfiction @byjillianmaria

#my writing #amwriting #currently writing #original fiction #fantasy #herbo and twink solidarity: on ice #Krow Dynasty stuff #meet Corvail: your local lovable little shit #obligatory first draft warning #I've been so nervous about sharing writing recently because frankly #it's all been awful

[dameronology]

last request (tasm! peter parker)

summary: based on the song last request by paolo nutini - mostly the lyrics "sure i can accept that we're go no where, so one last time let's go there"

warnings: language, very very minor alludes to smut at the end but honestly it's literally nothing, and angst!!

honestly this has been collecting dust in my drafts for about fifty years and i only just got around to editing it. enjoy <3

- jazz

It would have been a feat to admit that your relationship was over.

That took a lot of courage - and alcohol - but you and Peter Parker were nothing if not stubborn bastards. It was one thing for you to admit when something else was going wrong, but it when it was something as exponentially signifiant as clinging desperately onto the person you loved most in the world, the stakes were a little higher. Maybe if you could just hold a little tighter, for a little longer, then things would just...they would be okay. They'd be how they used to be. Not reduced to something as juvenile as the first years of your relationship from high school - flirting in physics lessons and passing notes in homeroom - but just before it was this. Before you saw the beginning of the end; before Peter felt like a stranger in your bed.

There had been a time in your life where Peter Parker wasn't just in you future, but he was your future. You could look at him see your entire world right there in front of you; tufts of soft, chocolate hair and curious brown eyes that creased with laughter at the smallest things; an iodine stained lab-coat with red-and-blue spandex ever-so-slightly poking out the top. You'd fallen in love with him when you were young and your lives had become so deeply intertwined that you were near enough one entity. Little pieces of you, and little pieces of him, flittering about in one messy, giddy existence.

College had been a breeze, somehow. If anything, that little bubble of what's next? that lead you through those four years had protected you both from questioning the future too much. It was a blessing in disguise and before you knew it, you were in your early twenties with degrees and an apartment. Peter had to learn how to do his own laundry and it had taken you the better part of three months to remember to pay rent in time. Still, it was a process you had learnt together and it only brought you closer.

Then adulthood...happened. It pulled you in a million directions; left, right, forward, back, but somehow never in the direction of Peter. Meetings and events and work calls that kept you occupied til the evening, making it home in time just to give him a quick kiss before he went out for the night. You'd leave for work just as he was stumbling back in.

Your lives had always been on the same path; it was winding and bumpy and occasionally dark and scary, but Peter was always there to hold your hand. Now, he was distant. Or maybe you were. Depends on where you stood.

Your priorities weren't the same anymore. You wanted to focus on your job and make it as far as possible; Peter had turned his attention solely to his responsibilities in the city. Your paths were diverging and you could only ignore it for so long.

So long wasn't that long at all, it turned out.

It was terrifying, actually; the way your kisses became so forced, so clinical. There were no more deep conversations about the meaning of life or where your future was headed. Now, you barely spoke a word to one another, aside from the obligatory how was your day? and stay safe!

You told yourself it was just a rough patch - all couples went through that, right? That idea made it seem temporary, at least.

If you hadn't been so certain in your soul that Peter would never stray away from being Spiderman, or that you would forfeit your dedication to your goals, then maybe you would have believed it. Maybe, just maybe, if the fate of your relationship didn't rely on the integral things that made you, you and Peter, Peter.

At some point, you'd torn away from one another. That existence you'd forged together had divulged into two and left gaping holes in the individuals it had left behind. Neither of you could heal them so as long as you tried to force yourselves back together, but it was like two puzzle pieces that no longer fit.

You could only handle so many missed plans and we'll do it next week's; missed calls and sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. The love was still there, wholly and undoubtedly, but it didn't do for much when it was a ship set to wreck. All you could do was get out and save yourself before it went down.

"I think we should break up."

Peter was innocently stood over the kitchen sink eating a pot noodle when you made the announcement. He turned to face you, noodles dangling from his mouth with wide eyes. Why had you said that? Why hadn't had you even thought of saying it.

"What?!"

"I..." you paused, trailing off. "I love you, Peter."

He tilted his head. "I'm getting mixed signals here - you're joking, right?"

"No," you shook your head. "Not about the first thing."

He threw his dinner into the sink, spindly arms reaching out for you in an attempt to grab you. You just about dodged him, stumbling back onto the sofa, foregoing any kind of dignity. That was the time in weeks he'd tried to touch you.

"You can't say something like that," Peter said. "Why would you say something like that-"

"- because it's true!" you cut him off. "Look at us, Pete. We're strangers."

"You're not funny," he replied. "This isn't funny. Don't make jokes about that stuff."

"It's not a joke," you looked him dead in the eye.

Peter dropped beside you on the sofa - his brow was creased in some sort of...smiley frown. He genuinely, wholly thought this was a joke. That you'd decided to just spice up his evening by calling an end to your relationship.

"Sure, okay," he nudged you with his elbow. "Let's break-up. I'll take the apartment, and you can take the cat."

He reached out to you, large hands splaying out on your cheek-bones as he gently leant in. You whacked them away, a sigh escaping your lips. You wanted to kiss him - you really, really did. To just fall into his arms and forget this was all happening; pretend that things were fine. It's what you'd been doing the last few months and if you continued any longer, it might finally have killed you.

"Oh my god," Peter murmured. "You're serious."

"Yeah," you softly said. "I am."

"W-why?" he stuttered. "We don't break up. Other people break up, but...it's us. That's not something we do."

"Pete," you sighed. "I know. I know. I've gone over it a thousand times in my head and if you can look around right now and tell me that we're still ourselves - still the us you mean -

"- why do we have to be that us? Can't we be a different us? Maybe this is...grown up us, the new us."

"If that's the case, then I don't want it."

"You don't want me?" Peter's voice broke and along with it, so did your heart.

"Pete...hey."

You reached out for Peter, wrapping your arms your waist. He didn't resist, even though you'd just put his heart through the shitter. Instead, he buried his head in your shoulder, clutching onto you for dear life. Maybe if he held tight enough, you wouldn't let him go.

"Just listen to me for a sec - please?" you softly asked, tangling a hand in his hair. "I will never not want you, Peter Parker. You're my entire fucking heart but we're...we're stagnant."

"Stagnant?" the world rolled off his tongue with complete disbelief. "We used to talk about the future. We have an apartment, and-"

"- used to, Pete!" you cut him off. "We used to. We're not any further along than we were five years ago. All of our friends are getting married and having kids and we're just...we just exist."

"But it's us," he shot back. "We just need each other, don't we?"

You gave him a sad smile. "We don't have each other. We haven't for a long time."

"You have me," he dropped to his knees in front of you, hands falling into your lap. "You have all of me-"

"- no, I don't!" you snapped. "The last few months, we've just been going through the motions and niceties with each other because it's all we know."

"I'll do anything," Peter continued. "You wanna have kids? I'll have ten. You wanna buy a house? I'll get the newspaper right now and look at listings. Hell, I'll move to the suburbs-"

"- stop!"

You shoved Peter off of you, brushing past him and letting him fall onto the sofa with an oof. He had only begged for one thing in his life, and that had been to the non-existent Santa Clause when he was eight years old for his mum and dad to come back. He'd felt like he was drowning then, but this pain was incomparable. It was like someone had taken his heart right out his chest and thrown it out out the window of the tenth floor.

The silence that overtook the room after your demand was thick. It weighed on your shoulders and his, threatening to force you both into the ground. The crushing realisation that you couldn't be with the man you loved had hit you like a truck. More so for Peter, who realised now what an idiot he'd been to shut you out.

Your eyes met across the room, and Peter finally nodded. Maybe it was acceptance. Maybe it was defeat. It was just...confirmation. That he knew you meant it. That he knew you were right.

And is the crushing weight of impending doom had suddenly evaporated, something in both of you snapped.

There was another moment of nothing - then he stood up and crossed the room. You met him halfway across the room, arms tangling together and lips crashing onto his. It wasn't like the last few times you'd kissed - not deadbeat, not tinged with grey misery and lacklustre love strangled by domestic bore. It was fresh and new and...it was goodbye.

Peter pulled back for a second, large hands resting on your face. "One last time, yeah?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker reader insert #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman imagines #spiderman imagine #spiderman reader insert #spiderman angst #tasm! peter parker #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker imagines #tasm! peter parker imagine

[lestatslestits]

I wanted to share my analysis of “The Curse of the Blackened Eye,” both the song and the video.

[Image Description: Country singer Orville Peck is walking down the middle of a road. He is wearing a two-toned tan jacket and a tan cowboy hat, and his mask has a darker tan fringe. He has his hands in his pockets and he is looking over his left shoulder to see a monstrous looking person in a long black coat and black hat following him at a distance. End ID]

Content Warning for discussions of abusive relationships, domestic violence, flashbacks, dissociation, and trauma.

I’m going to put the bulk of this under a cut. I have added screenshots when possible, and image descriptions are below each one.

Obligatory note that this is my personal interpretation, based off of articles, Orville Peck’s other music, and even some of my own experiences. If you interpret something differently, that is totally okay! Music, and how we interpret it, is very personal. These are just my observations, for anyone who might be interested. I’ve been compiling all of my thoughts since I first heard the song and saw the music video, so this post has been through an embarrassing number of drafts over an embarrassing number of hours.

All opinions and text are my own, unless otherwise stated. All screenshots were taken by me, from Youtube.

For the sake of clarity, I will be referring to the two main characters of this video as “Orville” and “the Curse.”

The theme of “The Curse of the Blackened Eye” is briefly discussed in a Junkee interview called "COVID Saved My Life.” Orville Peck On The Deep Depression That Inspired ‘Bronco’

But Chapter 2 alone covers dark topics like abusive relationships ('The Curse of the Blackened Eye'), deep longing ('Hexie Mountains') and depression ('Trample Out the Days'). This is nothing new for country, and Peck is surprised that his queer perspective on these themes is still considered an anomaly.

I definitely interpreted the song itself, as well as the music video, to be about abusive relationships, even before I read that article.

The phrase “The Curse of the Blackened Eye” already has a connotation of violence to it. “I can feel it coming every time,” and “I can feel it getting closer with every kiss” both reflect that to me, as well. There’s a sense of threat. You can even see the “Curse” seeming to make a fist or rub his knuckles right after the line “I can feel it coming every time” in the video.

[Image Description: The “Curse,” as portrayed by the actor Norman Reedus. He resembles a monster or zombie of some kind, and is wearing a black coat and black cowboy hat. He has dirty looking reddish hair and gray skin. His elbows are propped on a table out of frame, and he is making a fist with one hand and rubbing his knuckles with the other. He appears threatening. End ID]

The first scene takes place in a diner, and you can see the Curse appear to get frustrated and leave when Orville sings “left it all and now I can see the night,” as though he is frustrated that Orville is getting farther away and harder to control.

The next thing I want to highlight is the shot where Orville is sharing a bed with the Curse. The Curse has removed his hat and seems generally to have made himself comfortable, and is taking up the majority of the space in the bed. In the meantime, Orville looks like he’s trying to make himself smaller and has his arms crossed in a protective/closed off posture. Orville has also shed most of his public cowboy persona, including his typical long sleeve shirts and jackets and his cowboy hat, and looks more vulnerable as a result.

[Image Description: Orville and the Curse lying side by side on a bed. On the right, the Curse is still in his black outfit, but he has removed his hat and is now holding it on his chest. He is taking up a lot of space on the bed. On the left, Orville is wearing a white tank top. He wears a mask with orange fringe, and a trucker hat. Orville has bare arms and many grayscale tattoos. His body language is very uncomfortable and closed off. His arms are wrapped across his chest and he appears to be trying to make himself take up as little space as possible. End ID]

Next we see Orville alone, wearing the same outfit as he is wrapped in tentacles, presumably from the Curse. There seems to be something playing on a television off-screen, because we can see light flashing in the darkened room and on Orville’s face. I think there are two possible interpretations of this sequence. One is more literal: he is trying to relax and escape from thinking about the Curse, but it still has a grip on him.

An alternate interpretation is that he is experiencing a flashback, which we see represented by his frozen posture and dissociated expression (what we can see of it), the images literally flashing in front of him, and the tentacles constricting his chest, similar to the feeling of a panic response. This is my personal interpretation of this shot, because I feel like it is more in line with the symbolism in the rest of the video. I’ve tried to capture this moment in a screenshot, but I feel like it doesn’t do this moment justice. It doesn’t quite capture the sense of tension or dread that I feel watching this bit.

[Image Description: Orville, wearing the same mask and hat from the previous image, is being wrapped in large, dark tentacles. He has a distant or dissociated look in his eyes, as though he is focused on something far away. End ID]

The line “you gotta beat ‘em or join ‘em, try to act surprised. Just flip a coin, ‘cause I’m too bored to lie,” sounds to me like Orville addressing someone who suspects he’s in an abusive relationship. I interpret this bit as meaning that he isn’t ready to leave yet, so he feels safer taking the abuse at the moment. But in the meantime, he also doesn’t have the energy to lie about the situation, so he’s saying “flip a coin” to avoid giving a straight answer to someone who cares about him.

During this section of the video, we see Orville at a children’s birthday party, seemingly performing. Even during this happy event the Curse is watching him from a distance, but goes unnoticed by the rest of the partygoers. The majority of people in Orville’s life probably do not see the Curse at this point, and he is not ready or does not feel it is safe to be honest with the ones who notice signs of it.

[Image Description: A children’s birthday party. Orville Peck is in the background, wearing a bright blue Cowboy outfit with bright yellow fringe. He is wearing a black mask with yellow fringe and light colored cowboy hat, and he is singing into a microphone. Children dressed in Orville Peck inspired costumes are playing around him. In the foreground we see the Curse from behind, seated at a long table with party decorations on it. He is wearing the same outfit as before, but has a colorful party hat on top of his regular hat. End ID]

The next scene takes place at some sort of club, where Orville is the singer onstage as well as an audience member. I believe the abuse metaphor is supported by Norman Reedus’ character appearing as a monstrous version of himself during the majority of the song, but as a person who IS apparently making Orville happy for a few moments during the lines “Always said I should work on my escape, have a heart too long it’s bound to break.” Not only does this suggest that Orville knows he needs to get out an unhealthy relationship, but the imagery reminds me of the dual nature of abusive relationships—both in the sense that there is often a public and private image of the relationship, as well as the complicated feelings of knowing that there WERE good times, and the anxiety that those somehow “negate” the abuse or make it less harmful. I see this reflected as well when he tells himself, a little sarcastically, “boy, just sing the song, for Heaven’s sake.” In between, “acting out the opus of your last eternal ache,” could be about reliving something traumatic, and the frustration of feeling stuck there rather than healing. The Orville onstage appears to sadly observe the Orville in the audience, as though he is reliving a memory.

[Image Description: Orville is sitting at a table in some sort of club, apparently having an animated conversation with Norman Reedus’ character, who is now dressed like a normal man wearing a nice suit. Orville is also dressed up and wearing a black cowboy hat and mask with black fringe. End ID]

[Image Description: A closeup shot of Orville onstage in front of a microphone, wearing a green velvet tuxedo jacket and a black cowboy hat with rose details on the brim. His mask has black fringe. His expression is incredibly sad. End ID]

When the camera returns to the Curse he is alone, but we now see skulls on the table beside him. This seems to foreshadow him becoming something more monstrous.

[Image Description: The man Orville sat with earlier in this scene now sits alone at the table, watching Orville onstage. He has a thoughtful, possibly unhappy look on his face. Beside him on the table, along with normal decorations, are two skulls. One is more stylized and the other more realistic. End ID]

Before I wrap up this post, I want to point out the lyrical parallels between “The Curse of the Blackened Eye,” and “Big Sky” from Pony. “Big Sky” references an abusive relationship, and I don’t think it’s an accident that lyrics like, “I’ve been hiding out, running from the Curse of the Blackened Eye,” “I sat around last year, wished so many times that I would die,” and “Have a heart too long, it’s bound to break,” seem to mirror, “Fell in love with a boxer, stayed awake all year. Heartbreak is a warm sensation when the only feeling that you know is fear.”

As the chorus repeats for the last time, the lyrics change from “wouldn’t miss it, anyhow” to “lost it all, anyhow.” Although he has “nothing to lose” and escaping from the Curse is a ultimately a good thing, he still experiences a sense of loss.

Things start to change once there is a physical boundary between Orville and the Curse. We can see the Curse trapped behind the door, but he isn’t able to reach Orville. This setting is also the first time he hear Orville sing the “Northeast sun” outtro.

[Image Description: Orville stands in an industrial looking gray hallway he is wearing a black shirt with white barbed wire trim, a white cowboy hat, and a mask with white fringe. He is leaning against a wall, and behind him we can see the Curse’s silhouette behind a frosted glass door as he struggles to get through. End ID]

In the last part of the song, as Orville sings “Northeast sun,” repeatedly, we see him start to escape from the Curse. The tentacles he was wrapped in earlier begin to unwind. Orville sits next to the Curse at a bar, but he looks away to speak to the man beside to him, and when he looks back the Curse has disappeared. Lyrically, “Northeast sun,” seems to suggest that Orville is looking forwards and upwards, towards a new day.

In the end, when Orville finally seems able to move forward and he notices that the Curse isn’t beside him at all anymore, he looks completely lost, like he has no idea what to do or how to act when he isn’t haunted by the past. I have referred to his expression here as a “thousand yard stare.” The feeling that you have lost so much of your life that you have almost, effectively, lost your sense of identity and who you are outside of the abusive relationship is what I interpret from that final shot. He has distanced himself from the Curse, and while he now has the opportunity to reclaim his life, the future feels uncertain. The video leaves us, the audience, in this same state of uncertainty as it ends.

[Image Description: A cropped image of Orville at a bar, wearing an off-white jacket with black trim. His cowboy hat is black, and the fringe on his mask is white. He stares blankly and directly into the camera. His expression is haunted. End ID]

#orville peck #bronco chapter 2 #the curse of the blackened eye #meta #yallternative #abuse cw #domestic violence cw #dissociation cw #flashbacks cw #trauma cw #is this an over-analysis? #maybe! #do i care? #no #anyways uh yeah #i put way too much work into this #so if you enjoy it or have any thoughts on it or basically anything please consider a reblog?

[paintalyx]

Kemono Jihen HCs

[[ OBLIGATORY WARNING FOR LIGHT MANGA SPOILERS!! ]]

my crappy little fanfic draft is becoming a headcanon galore, so allow me to share a few:

akira and yui may look like normal humans, but their body heat is significantly lower

sometimes when shiki is being annoying, akira will touch his neck with freezing cold fingers and he'll let out an embarrassing high-pitched squeak

shiki and akira spontaneously started having prank wars sometime after they started working together. inugami caught them one week in and made them apologise, but instead of stopping, they just keep finding increasingly convoluted and subtle ways to get at each other

i like to think that inugami internally calls the office trio "his kids" (it could slip out if he were to get stressed/worried enough)

shiki has insomnia. unless he's tired to the point where he's out as soon as his head hits the pillow, he'll overthink and fret over stupid things well into the night. he's usually a light sleeper

akira, on the other hand, could sleep through an earthquake

unless he's pulling an all nighter, inugami is usually the first to wake up after kabane, who is an early bird

since kabane is often bored in the morning before everyone else gets up, he learnt how to make coffee for inugami (there's probably at least one fancy coffee machine in that café area)

at first he would just quietly sit and watch his boss drink, but inugami felt bad about it so now they drink together while chatting. sometimes neither has anything interesting to say, so they either sit in silence, or inugami reads his newspaper out loud (we know he's an old fashioned man like that). mornings are their special bonding time

kemono office learns it the hard way that kon and caffeine don't mix well

shiki's hands get clammy easily and he's secretly embarrassed about it

aya and akira eventually become shopping buddies. sometimes they drag their brothers along to carry their bags

shiki is low-key afraid of yui. there's just something about the older boy activates his fight or flight response. he's convinced that, given the chance, yui would snap him like a twig. yui is completely oblivious to this. he just thinks that akira's purple friend is a funky little fellow, if a little jumpy at times

kon accidentally ends up sleeping over at the office once. kabane offers her his hammock while he settles on his usual spot on the floor. when he wakes up, it's only to discover that kon has migrated down overnight and that she is now sleeping soundly, snuggled up to him. he doesn't know if he should move at first, afraid that he'll wake her up, but then he notices that it's easy to hear her heartbeat when they are in such close proximity. he slowly falls asleep to the sound of if

just a few hours later, akira's phone is full of pictures of the two of them looking adorable together

kabane likes to play with kon's hands when they are sitting together. kon notices that he often lets his fingers linger on her pulse, but she doesn't comment on it

shiki and akira read each other's manga. both claim that the other has trash taste and that they are only doing it because they run through their respective stashes way too quickly. this doesn't explain why shiki can quote strawberry first love from memory, nor why akira has such strong opinions about shounen jump's lineup

inugami knows how to braid hair because he's just built different like that. akira will occasionally ask him for help with more complicated updos

kemono office has a family group chat. mihai interacts with it exclusively by liking messages

every once in a while, mihai will remind shiki of his failed gaming channel from middle school

despite claiming to be an "expert in matters of the heart", akira, the local hopeless romantic, is just as oblivious to people flirting with him as his brother is

that's it for now, maybe i'll do more in the future. blame @/plastic_fox_ on twitter for enabling me

#kemono jihen #kusaka kabane #tademaru shiki #tademaru aya #inugami kohachi #kemoji akira #kemoji kon #kemoji yui #i still don't know how to tag them #help me please #mihai florescu #kon x kabane #this is surprisingly gen considering how more than half of these stem from my akishiki fanfic #i'm too tired to be writing this i'll just spellcheck it whenever i wake up #headcanons

[transmasc-wizard]

You mentioned your Nano project this year is your first time writing mystery. I've always wanted to write a mystery! What is your process (for now)?

thanks for the question! I'll try my best to answer, but as you pointed out... its my first time lol and im kind of just stumbling in the dark.

so, because i'm me, i plotted as much of it as i could. I actually ran out of time, but even though i don't have the whole book outlined, i have the whole mystery plot outlined. Because if you try to write a whodunnit without knowing whodunnit, you will cry. Even if you make it through draft one, it'll be exhausting adding every bit of foreshadowing because you had none because you didn't know what was happening. (i have a post on plotting here, be warned tho, it is... Long.)

before that, though, i READ MYSTERIES. Whenever im about to write something, i read in that genre. So i read mysteries and thrillers--Karen M McManus (i think thats her name?) has some good ones, Kayla Ancrum's Darling is great, and They'll Never Catch Us (cant remember the author name) is a good one too. I also read some Nancy Drew i had lying around. I do this because it's hard to write a genre without being familar with it--that's why im doing a thriller instead of my sci-fi idea, actually, because i... havent read enough scifi yet.

and right now im kinda just accepting that i have a brand. Not... literally, because nobody is allowed to read my drafts, but. Like. I have a style and a way of doing stories. I accepted that because i'm me, i inevitably made it a supernatural thriller, that there would be a lot of fluff, because i tend to write like "fluff-violence-fear-fluff-action-violence-fear-violence-fear-fluff", and that because i haven't done this before, my mystery-thriller is going to be very tied to fantasy--the thing i have done before, numerous times.

After i did Those Three Professional Steps(TM), i just... started drafting. I'm averaging 1400 a day, which is making me prickly, because normally i average like 1800. It probably has to do with the fact this is a mystery and i'm out of my zone. I like to fast draft all my projects, which is why nano is my favourite lol.

OH AND VIBES, vibes are important. most mysteries also have a sense of thriller, and vice versa. Know if you want it to be "cozy but mysterious with just a slice of fear, mainly around the climax", "every second is terrifying, they're on the move, the clock is ticking", or some place in between. That'll help when drafting. I think.

I hope this was what you're looking for?? idk im tired and scrambled but yea. Obligatory disclaimer that im Just Some Guy and you should definitely also look at sources other than me and ignore whatever advice doesn't work for you. this is what works for me.

have a good day, drink water

#asks #writblr asks #mystery #thriller #writblr #writeblr #nt21 #nano #nanowrimo 2021 #wip nt21

[dirtyhelen]

with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part two

PART TWO: i’m in your head now, from every second now Series Masterlist Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Mature Featuring: Angst; Fluff; No Additional Warnings Words: 7894 Summary: So, you had sex with a co-worker under the influence of a super-powered aphrodisiac. What do you do now? A/N: First of all, BIG thank you to everyone who liked/replied/reblogged Part 1!! Honestly overwhelmed by how lovely you all are 🤗 Second of all, there is no smut in this part so if you wanna skip this one and catch up on Part 3 (which does have smut) I totally get it and you will receive no judgment from me!! Sorry for the wait on this one, Part 3 won’t take this long I promise! ________________________________________________________________

You sleep for a long time, deep and dreamless, and wake to the hot midday sun streaming in through your open curtains. You’d been so out of it the night before you hadn’t even bothered to shut them. For a moment or two it feels like a normal day, albeit a lazy one. Like sleeping in on Sunday and waking up easy and refreshed. You reach for your phone to check the time when recollection kicks in, reminding you exactly why you’re in bed at noon on a Friday, stripping away any feelings of peace or rest. You want to stay in bed, bury yourself under the covers until you die. Or at least until someone from the compound reaches out to you, but there’s too much nervous energy thrumming under your skin, making you restless and jittery and you finally give in and leave the warm cocoon of your blankets. You spend the day at home, stress-cleaning your entire apartment and stress-eating your entire fridge, vacillating between panic and calm. One minute you’re stuffing your face with week-old stir-fry and checking your phone with every mouthful; the next you’re elbow-deep in dishwater, resigned to your fate – whatever it may be. In worried moments, you can’t imagine how you can possibly go back to the compound after everything that’s happened. How can you discuss schedules and mission reports when everyone you work with knows you got railed by an Avenger on one of the jets they use to fly around saving the world? How can you face Bucky again? Even if he doesn’t blame you for what happened, he’s bound to have some negative feelings about the whole thing. About sleeping with you. It’s not like you’d been friends before. Not like he’s been harbouring secret romantic feelings like you have. If Bucky’s harbouring any secret feelings about you, they’re probably feelings of annoyance and dislike. What if every time he looks at you now he’s reminded of how you begged, needy and naked and pathetic, for him to fuck you? What if he’s disgusted by you? Somehow that’s the worst thought of all. That the first person – the only person – to have seen your body laid bare, to have touched you in the most intimate ways possible might be repulsed, not by what happened, but because it happened with you. It’s a thought you try not to dwell on for long, but you come back to it over and over throughout the day. Each time, shame and self-loathing and heartache flood your body until you force yourself to think about something else. To eat something else, clean something else. You remind yourself there’s no point worrying about things that might never happen. You’ll only have to endure the reactions from Bucky and the team if you actually go back to work, which might not be an option anymore. No one’s reached out to you all day – no calls, no emails, no texts – and the radio silence has you fearing the worst. That no one has reached out because they’re busy working on your termination paperwork. As the hours slip by, those moments of calm get fewer and further between. By the time you’ve eaten all there is to eat, cleaned all there is to clean, and paced what feels like a hundred miles across the length of your apartment it’s nearly midnight and the only messages you’ve gotten all day are promotional emails and a meme from one of your friends back home. You wish you could talk to her, tell her about everything and get another perspective, but the ironclad NDA you signed on your first day of work rules out telling pretty much anyone other than the Avengers and their support staff – none of whom you want to talk about this with. If nothing else, at least your nervous energy has burned off, leaving you drained and eager to sleep for another twelve – or twelve thousand – hours. But despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn’t come any easier than the night before. You toss and turn for hours it seems, and when you do sleep, it’s light and fitful. You wake early on Saturday morning, feeling no more relaxed than when you first shut your eyes. +++ After another morning alone in your apartment with no news, you think you’re going to go insane soon. You’ve drafted a dozen emails to Maria Hill, to the head of R&D, even one to Steve, but can’t bring yourself to hit send on any of them. Trying to find the line between professional concern and desperate pleading proves to be very difficult. You’ve just started yet another message to Maria – since she coordinates all Avengers operations (including the one that landed you in this situation) – when your phone rings. It’s such a surprise after the silence of the last two days that you’re frozen for a moment before you scramble for your phone, almost dropping it in a mug of lukewarm tea in your haste. A glance at the screen reveals it’s Maria herself on the line, as if summoned by all your unfinished emails. Knowing her background and capabilities, you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow has seen them… Brushing away that uncomfortable thought, you take a breath and answer the call, trying your best for a confident and casual, “Hello?” Characteristically brusque, Maria wastes no time getting straight to the point. “Can you come to the compound this afternoon? The research half of R&D has an update for you and I figured we should talk, too.” “Uh—” you start, wondering how to give a firm fuck no while still being agreeable and cooperative. Luckily, Maria picks up on the reason for your hesitance. “Right, that would probably be uncomfortable for you. We’ll come to you. Three o’clock?” she offers. “Three is good?” It’s not like you have anything else going on. “Great. I’m supposed to call Secretary Ross at three and I do not want to. See you then.” And with that, the line goes dead. Maria has very little patience for pleasantries, you’ve learned. +++ At three o’clock sharp there’s a knock at your door. You open it up to find Maria waiting outside with a middle-aged woman carrying a black medical bag. You vaguely remember seeing her face among the half dozen or so you saw during the debrief after the jet. Maria says hello and makes the necessary introductions. “This is Dr. Sakina Singh,” she says, face expressionless. “She’s from R&D. You might remember her from –” “The extremely intrusive round of questions I asked you two days ago,” Dr. Singh interjects with a grimace, looking about as uncomfortable as you feel. This probably isn’t what she imagined she’d be doing when she accepted the offer to work with the Avengers. You laugh politely if a little awkwardly. “I remember. Nice to meet you, officially?” She smiles and you shake hands. “Can we come in?” Maria asks, reminding you they’re still standing in your open doorway while cold February air blows into your apartment. “Right! Sorry!” You bring them through to your kitchen, gesturing for them to sit at the table and making the obligatory offers of tea and coffee. Maria and Dr. Singh take one side of the table and it makes you feel a bit like you’re about to have the worst job interview of your life. The fact that Maria was actually at your last job interview doesn’t help. You start to fidget with your hands, relieved the table hides the worst of your nerves. Dr. Singh starts off the proceedings. “I mostly just wanted to check in and see if you’ve experienced any other symptoms, anything out of the ordinary, and to give you a bit of an update on what we’ve found out about the chemical you and Sergeant Barnes ingested,” she says, looking more at-ease now the small-talk portion of the conversation is over and she can focus on the science of it all. “I feel normal,” you reply quietly. “No symptoms since Thursday night.” She nods. “That’s good, and consistent with what Sergeant Barnes reported.” Even the mention of Bucky’s name is enough to have your face flooding with heat. Your hands clench, fingernails pressing crescents into your palms. She carries on, explaining what she and her team were able to determine about the chemical. It’s nothing ground-breaking or unexpected, not after having experienced its effects first-hand. A super-powered aphrodisiac with no discernable purpose beyond making people horny. Just the sort of thing you’d expect to uncover in some mad scientist’s underground lab. Why try curing cancer when you can make people fuck instead? “It provokes extreme sexual arousal while simultaneously decreasing inhibitions,” Dr. Singh explains. “It appears to be neutralized by the chemicals released during orgasm. More than that we don’t know. And since the only uncontaminated sample of the chemical was destroyed, it may be all we will know. But the good news is we don’t see there being any lingering physical impacts, though I would like to take another blood sample from you to be sure it’s completely out of your system.” You consent to the blood sample and she heads back to the compound after it’s done, leaving you and Maria alone at your kitchen table. She’s been nearly motionless this entire time, watching you and Dr. Singh converse, but offering nothing in the way of commentary or even acknowledgment. If you didn’t know better you’d think she wasn’t paying attention at all.  But you do know better, and you have no doubt she could repeat word-for-word everything that was said since you opened the door half an hour ago. Regardless, the stony-faced reticence is unsettling and gives you no clue as to how your conversation with her is going to go. And it’s this conversation you’re really worried about. After a moment of silence that feels endless, Maria lets out a big, heaving sigh, her shoulders dropping as she relaxes into her seat. “Well, that was awkward.” Oh. That’s how your conversation is going to go. It’s so not what you expected her to say and yet so completely like her that a shocked giggle forces its way out of your mouth. She grins at you across the table, but you feel your own smile fade. “God, Maria, I’m so sor—” “If you’re about to apologize, so help me God,” she says, with a look on her face that dares you to argue with her. “I apologize, sincerely, on behalf of myself and the entire Avengers organization. This shouldn’t have happened. We have a dangerous chemicals procedure for a reason, for fuck’s sake,” she adds, with a stormy expression that has you pitying the poor techs who loaded the jet. “I mean, it’s no one’s fault, really. I’m sure that case wasn’t purposely unlatched.” You don’t want anyone to get in trouble for this. You feel guilty enough already about Bucky. “Probably not,” Maria concedes. “But regardless, we’re not treating this as business as usual. This isn’t SHIELD. It won’t be swept under the rug and dismissed without investigation.” You’ve read a handful of the documents Natasha leaked during the fall of SHIELD. You can only imagine how many lab accidents were concealed; how many weren’t accidents at all. It’s a dark line of thinking with no end in sight so you change the subject, asking a question that’s been on your mind for a while. “I wanted to ask – who knows about what happened? I know you can’t hide it, obviously, but –” you shrug, wondering exactly how many people you’re going to have to avoid eye contact with in the halls, or around town even. Maria nods. “The Security Council has access to all our files and we have to report this as a safety incident, but no names or identifying details are recorded. And we didn’t say two staff members had intercourse on a quinjet,” she adds wryly. “Just that there was a chemical spill and two individuals were affected. The only people who know the details of what happened and to who are me, the Avengers, and Dr. Singh and her staff. And they’ve all been made very clear on what will happen if they breach confidentiality. Believe me, they won’t tell anyone.” You believe her. “Speaking of the Avengers… What’s the mood there? Am I totally fired?” Maria snorts. “Fired? Because of a costly mistake for which the organization takes full responsibility, resulting in you ingesting an unknown chemical compound? No. You’re not fired.” Okay, when she lays it out like that it makes your fears seem ridiculous. Still… “Seriously, Maria. Should I just quit? Or be reassigned? Somewhere I will never have to look at any of the Avengers ever again, maybe?” you ask, with a cringe. “Are you concerned it will be awkward for you, or them?” “Well, both. But obviously, their feelings would come first in this situation. They’re the Avengers. I'm a secretary.” Maria rolls her eyes at that comment but chooses not to address it. “Well I can’t do anything about your feelings, but I can assure you that you won’t be treated any differently because of this.” You gape at her. “Seriously?” How could they not treat you differently? Maria levels you with a look. “Do you really think this is the strangest thing that has ever happened on that team?” she says, with the distinct air of a woman who has seen and heard too much. You’re not convinced. “Stranger than two of them banging on a quinjet under the influence of a crazy sex drug?” You’re pretty sure if this were the Strange and Unusual Olympics, that would earn you at least a silver medal. Maria doesn’t seem to agree. She straightens her back and takes a breath. “Giant octopus monster in the Thames. That time a wizard transformed Steve into his pre-serum body for a week. Wanda, daily.” She looks at you, eyebrows raised. You have to admit she has a point. “But –” “Last month I walked in on Steve and Sam having sex in a conference room. A couple years ago Barton got wasted during a game of truth or dare and told everyone how much he enjoys getting slapped around by women in leather. There are multiple sex tapes of Tony on the internet.” She pauses, making sure she has your full attention. “Dealing with weird shit and knowing way too much about the people you work with? Pretty much the two things that bind the Avengers together. Welcome to the team.” Once again, she manages to make things seem so simple. You want to believe her. You almost do believe her. There’s just one thing… “What about Bucky? Maybe everyone else can brush it off, but this happened with him. He can’t possibly want to work with me anymore.” “Fair enough,” Maria says. “But I actually spoke to Barnes this morning. He made it very clear he did not want this to impact your employment in any way.” She shrugs. “Like I said. If it’s not a problem for you, it’s not a problem for them. They’re professionals. Well, mostly.” You nod. This conversation has been enlightening – in a few ways – and Maria’s given you a lot to think about. Also a lot to very purposely not think about (Clint! And presumably Laura!). Maria leans back in her seat, considering you for a long moment as you try to process what she’s told you and come up with some sort of response. The silence stretches on until finally, she speaks. “I’ve had a lot of weird, bad sex in my life.” You stare at her, wide-eyed and mouth agape. Luckily, she doesn’t wait for a response. “I know what happened to you wasn’t just a shitty hookup and you have every right to feel however feel about it.” She says, for the first time looking less than perfectly at ease. She takes her time with her next words. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is it doesn’t have to count. Sex doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.” You nod dumbly, not sure what to say. You feel the sudden intense need to be alone for a while so you can sit with all the new thoughts running through your mind. Maria nods back, face settled again into cool composure. “Okay, no more feelings talk. The point is: you’re welcome to come back to work anytime. FRIDAY’s taking on as much as she can, but an AI is only capable of so much. Even that one. Think about it.” +++ You do think about it. You spend the rest of the day thinking about it. You go for a long walk in the crisp winter air, thinking about it. You journal, thinking about it. You Google “I slept with a co-worker, what now?” in various combinations and read several unhelpful articles, thinking about it. After hours of introspection, what you come up with is this: you love your job. You love your life. You’ve always been cautious, careful to a fault. Never a risk-taker. Until a few months ago, you lived in the same town you were born in. Happy enough, but not exactly satisfied. Until you applied for this job. Until you packed up your life, left behind everything you’d ever known to start over someplace new. And you’ve never regretted it. You finally felt like you had a place where you belonged. Over the time you’ve worked with the team, they’ve become friends, not just-workers and you love getting to know the real people behind the glossy media personas the rest of the world is familiar with. You love the sense of pride you feel, knowing the work you do matters, contributes – even in its own small way – to something as unfathomably huge and worthwhile as world peace. You don’t want to give that up. You can’t. The sex thing? Yeah, that sucks. You may not have dreamt of rose petals and scented candles, but you were pretty determined there’d be love and commitment involved. A partner, not just a person. But Maria is right. Sex doesn’t change who you are. Virginity is a goddamn social construct and this doesn’t have to matter unless you want it to. You had sex for the first time with someone you have feelings for, someone you respect. And maybe the circumstances (weird sex drug, floor of airplane) were less than perfect, but you can’t deny the sex itself felt good (amazing). Better than a random guy that couldn’t locate the clitoris with a GPS and flashing neon lights. You feel like you’ve been given permission to let this go. To let it be something that happened, but not something that defines you. Just one moment out of millions. You know it’s not that simple. That one illuminating conversation isn’t enough to silence the part of you that still feels ashamed, embarrassed, and heartbroken, but it's a start. A new perspective and one that has you feeling a hell of a lot better than you did just a few hours ago. There’s just one roadblock in this journey of self-enlightenment to being a mature, grown-ass woman who is handling this like a fucking champ – Bucky. But if what Maria said is true, and you have no reason to think she’d lie to you, then maybe that’s not such a roadblock after all? If everyone, even Bucky, can go on as usual (whatever that is with the Avengers), then you’re basically in the same place you were before all this: hiding your unrequited feelings for a man that doesn’t think about you at all. Just with the added aspect of remembering what his body felt like on top of you, inside you. How his tongue felt in your mouth, and on your… Anyway! You’ve decided. You’re going back to work and it’s going to be totally fine. You’re all going to be adults about this. Having drug-fueled sex on a plane is basically the Avengers equivalent of getting too drunk at the office Christmas party anyway, and many an administrative assistant before you has done that and come out the other side. You call Maria and inform her you’ll be back at the compound on Monday, and you can’t help but think there’s a little note of pride in her crisp acknowledgment.  +++ Sunday passes in a blur of nervous anticipation. By the end of the day, you’re nearly crawling out of your skin, desperate to get the embarrassing part over so you can move on with your life and dreading it at the same time. When you wake up Monday morning there’s a significant part of you that wants to call the whole thing off and stay in your apartment for the rest of your life. You remind yourself you did nothing wrong, that you have every right to your job and your life, but apprehension only grows as you get ready for work and begin the drive to the compound. As the heavy metal gates slide shut behind your car you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling you’ve made a terrible mistake. But after a brief almost-breakdown in the parking garage, you manage to pull yourself together and get out of the car. You make your way to your office in the Avengers’ private wing without running into anyone other than security and custodial staff. It is eight in the morning after all, and it’s not like the Avengers usually congregate outside your office like a welcoming committee, so you’re not sure why you felt like you’d be seeing them all at once. They might not even all be in the building – you’ll have to get Maria to update you on any new missions that have been assigned while you were off. You pass an hour or two catching up on emails and reaching out to a few different contacts around the compound, but no one on the team. The first person you see who knows why you really were off is Sam, making a smoothie in the kitchen when you come in for your morning tea. You steel yourself for the ensuing awkwardness, but it doesn’t come. Sam doesn’t behave any differently than he normally would, acknowledging you with a friendly smile tossed over his shoulder as he prepares ingredients. “Morning,” he greets, handing you a mug from the cupboard over his head as you fill up the electric kettle. “Thanks.” Sam nods, immediately launching into a story about his weekend that has you almost in tears from laughing so hard. “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” he scolds playfully. “I was stuck in that tree for like ten minutes while Tony took pictures, even though it's his fault I ended up there since he designed the damn wings. Anyway, how was your weekend?” he asks with an expression of exaggerated innocence. If it was anyone else it might feel rude or intrusive or even mean. But Sam, all easy charm and genuine warmth, has a way of making people take themselves less seriously, and you find you’re smiling despite yourself as his smirk splits into a cheeky grin. You manage to hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before you’re both laughing uncontrollably, the utter absurdity of the situation suddenly hitting you as actually kind of funny instead of completely tragic. “Yeah, it was alright. Just hung around the house, really,” you tease, catching your breath, and the conversation seamlessly turns to what you’ve both been watching on Netflix. You’re still smiling when you sit back down at your desk. You know there are bound to be awkward moments ahead, but the relief of knowing things can be normal, that the awkwardness will pass, has a tension leaving your body you’d been holding onto for days. Over the next couple days as you go about your normal tasks and routines you run into members of the team in ones and twos. Some are more uncomfortable than others – you and Bruce share a particularly stilted exchange until Tony barges into the room – but after the initial acknowledgment, almost everyone carries on like it never happened. Almost everyone, because by the middle of the week there’s still one person you haven’t seen or heard from. Bucky. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. Sure, you’re not exactly eager for that first – almost certainly uneasy – interaction. But at the same time, all you want is to move on and put this behind you and you don’t think you can do that until you’ve seen him. Until you’ve assured yourself he really is okay, and okay working together. The longer you go without seeing him, the more you begin to wonder if he’s really as fine with you being back as Maria said he was. If he truly wasn’t bothered, wouldn���t you have run into him before now? It’s not like Bucky was a social butterfly before, especially not with you, but you work with him in the building where he lives – it’s rare to go this long without at least seeing him in passing, outside of times he’s on a mission. And he isn’t on a mission – you checked. The sense of acceptance you’ve built around what happened on the jet is fragile, and relies almost entirely on knowing Bucky is alright, that he doesn’t blame you, or hate you, or feel disgusted by you. If none of that is true, you can’t move on. At least, not while continuing to work with the team. It wouldn’t be right. Each day, that acceptance weakens as it becomes clear Bucky is intentionally avoiding you. He must be. The agonizing waiting game finally ends on Thursday in a conference room. You’re tidying up after a meeting, gathering pens and water glasses, when Bucky turns the corner into the room, eyes glued to the tablet he holds in front of his face. At least, until he notices the room isn’t empty and his eyes snap to you. You’ve been imagining this moment for days now – seeing Bucky again for the first time. You’ve crafted and perfected so many scenarios of how it might play out – maybe you’ll be cool and aloof, brush it off like it’s no big deal, like you haven’t thought about it at all. Or maybe you’ll crack a joke like Sam would, and Bucky will laugh and tease you back and the tension will be broken and everything will be fine. In the moment, when it actually happens, all you can do is stare. Bucky looks – not well, really, and it squeezes something in your chest to see him this way. You’ve been around him before when he’s having a downswing and it’s not as bad as that, but there are dark circles under his eyes that speak to sleepless nights, and a stiffness in the way he holds himself, as though every muscle is tensed. It makes you want to hold him. To wrap him in your arms until that tension bleeds out of his body. But that’s the last thing Bucky would want, considering you’re likely the source of the tension. Your eyes find his and he holds your gaze for a moment – just a moment. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression, but he clearly doesn’t like it because his brows furrow as he turns on his heel and leaves the room. And just like that, you’re back on the quinjet, naked and trembling on the cold floor as Bucky bolts from the room without looking back. The rejection is clear, unmistakable. You’re fully clothed but you may as well be stark naked for how vulnerable you feel in that moment. You can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes and spill over as you stand there staring at the open door like an idiot. You roughly swipe a hand over your face to brush them away and make a hasty retreat to your office. The day passes in a fog as you try not to break down at your desk. The dam breaks the minute you step through your apartment door as the tears you’ve been holding back for hours come flooding out. You fall to your knees and you know you’re overreacting. You tell yourself it’s probably a misunderstanding. Bucky realized he’d forgotten something. Or maybe he was just surprised to see you, wasn’t ready to talk to you yet and had to leave, but not because he hates you. Your mind clings to the idea, latches onto it like a lifeline, even as your body continues to drown – sadness like physical pain in your chest, throat sore from deep, heaving sobs. You calm down eventually, mind winning out over body at last, but the crying has you feeling a little hollowed out. You fill the space with food and mindless media consumption, telling yourself you’ll feel better after a night of sleep. +++ You do feel better in the morning, thank God. You’ve successfully convinced yourself what happened yesterday had to be a misunderstanding. Maria wouldn’t lie to you about what Bucky said, and honestly, it’s self-centred to think just the sight of you is enough to scare the Winter Soldier out of a room! You head into the office feeling a little uneasy still, but mostly okay. That feeling lasts until lunchtime. You’re taking your lunch break in the common room, eating a sandwich and watching an episode of House Hunters with Natasha. She’s in the middle of a sentence, noting the lack of defensible positions and the overabundance of wood panelling in the mid-century bungalow on-screen when Steve and Bucky enter the room. They’ve clearly just come from the gym, likely looking for a post-workout snack. They amble into the room, playfully shoving at each other as they head for the kitchen. You can hear Alpine trotting in behind them, meowing for the treats she knows she’ll get if Bucky’s in the kitchen. Bucky’s hair is tied up in a messy, damp bun and his t-shirt clings to his torso with sweat, toned muscles on display. Steve’s there too. You see the moment Bucky realizes you’re there partly because you can’t look away from him – the shadows under his eyes are still dark, but his face is flushed and lively from the workout – and also because his step very noticeably falters and the teasing expression is wiped from his face, the colour quickly draining from his cheeks. If yesterday could be brushed off as a misunderstanding, this confirms you were right to fear the worst. Bucky was avoiding you, doesn’t want to be around you. He mumbles something back to Steve you aren’t able to discern and turns back the way he came. Instantly you feel your face heat with shame. Now Bucky can’t stand to even be in a room with you and other people? Exactly how uncomfortable do you make him? Does he think you’ll leap up from the couch and throw yourself at him? You catch Steve and Nat sharing a look out of the corner of your eye, but you have no idea what it means. You feel thoroughly wrong-footed, as though everyone in the room knows something you don’t. Something you probably don’t want to know. They make an effort to gloss over Bucky’s hasty exit, Natasha more successfully than Steve, but you just want to get back to the privacy of your office as quickly as possible so you can ruminate in peace. Or, if not in peace, at least in solitude. Choking down the rest of your lunch in record time, you make your escape – by a different route than Bucky, lest you accidentally cross paths again and he’s forced to jump out a window to escape you. TGIF, you think. +++ That weekend is rough. You journal, you pace, and you think and cry and eat and Google. Finally, you end up spilling your guts to an EAP counsellor (under the guise of a drunken hook-up between co-workers) and you come to the conclusion: fuck James Buchanan Barnes. Yeah, he’s smart and kind and strong and beautiful and maybe you’re a little in love with him, but he is just a man and you have cried over him enough. You didn’t ask for this! You didn’t mean for it to happen! And it’s not like you forced him to have sex with you. It’s not like he was cowering in the corner while you were throwing yourself at him. If anything, you were equally taken advantage of by each other – by that stupid fucking chemical and whatever mad scientist created it! He was the one who said he didn’t want your employment affected by what happened! As though running screaming from the room whenever he sees you doesn’t affect your employment. The least he could do is try to be a little more subtle in his distaste. Whether he finds you unattractive or not he should be able to treat you like a human being – not some sort of leper. And if he can’t do that, he can say it to your face! You don’t deserve this, no matter how Bucky feels about what happened. Which is exactly what you’re going to tell him when you see him on Monday. And you will see him. Bucky Barnes might be an internationally feared former assassin who evaded detection for over seventy years, but you manage his calendar. He’s got a meeting in the morning with PR and you’ll be waiting outside to catch him as soon as they’re done. On God, by noon on Monday, this will be resolved once and for all. +++ Ten a.m. sharp you’re standing outside the PR office suite, reminding yourself why your anger is justified and trying to hold onto the feeling itself. You’re more than a little afraid that the minute you see Bucky you’re going to forget all about confronting him and just start crying. But you didn’t spend hours curating a fuck you, girl power playlist and practicing speeches in the mirror to admit defeat so quickly. You’re standing directly opposite the glass doors, no opportunity for hiding – or for Bucky to hide from you – so you see each other the minute he approaches the door. There’s a flash of surprise on his face, quickly turned to grim resignation as he opens the door. He obviously knows you’re there to see him and he stops outside in front of you. “Hi,” he says, avoiding your eyes and staring at his feet instead. “Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?” He nods, gesturing down the hall and you follow him a few feet to a small seating area, out of view of any offices. He stands back and finally makes eye contact, looking a little like he’s staring down a firing squad instead of an unarmed civilian in a fuzzy pink cardigan. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts and remembering the plan. You ask him the big question. “Do you want me to quit?” Bucky shakes his head almost frantically. “No, I – no,” he says. You stare at him, wait for him to continue speaking but he just stands there, hands in his pockets looking miserable. ‘No.’ That’s all he can say? No? No! Something inside you snaps, your carefully prepared speech dissolving in your mouth like sugar as words start to pour out of you. “Really? Because Maria told me you didn’t want me to be reassigned so I thought we were good. But then you avoided me for days and the two times we did see each other you looked like you were going to be sick and practically ran out of the room, which makes me think you’re definitely not okay with me being here.” “I—” “And like, okay, that’s fine, but I wish you would have just said that? Because I get it, I do. This is super weird and obviously, you didn't want to sleep with me and I know I'm not like, a supermodel or even a JC Penny catalogue model, so yeah, you wish it could have been literally anyone else but you don't have to run away from me like I have some sort of flesh-eating disease, okay?” “That’s—” “Because that really sucks, Bucky. And not just because I’ve had a crush on you forever or because it was my first time but because I actually really just like and respect you as a person and I know you didn’t like me even before all this so maybe you don’t believe me, but I didn’t mean for this to happen. I promise. I would never try to take advantage of you – of anyone – like that and –” “What?” he interjects sharply. It cracks through the air like a whip, finally snapping you out of whatever insanity possessed you to say all that. To say all that. Oh, fuck. “What do you mean crush? Wait, first time?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and he’s staring intently at your face. Your own face burns and your hands shake as you try to come up with something – anything – to say. Thirty seconds ago you couldn’t shut up! The silence stretches unbearably long as Bucky stands there looking at you, waiting for you to answer him. It looks like he’s about to speak again when an alert sounds from both of your phones. “Oh, thank God,” you breathe. It’s the unmistakable tone that signals a drop-what-you’re-doing-and-Avengers-fucking-assemble emergency. You’ve never heard a sweeter sound in your life. Bucky holds your gaze for another moment before he swears and jogs off down the hallway, tossing you a conflicted look over his shoulder as he goes. +++ The emergency turns out to be a false alarm; some new system Tony was working on triggered it accidentally, so you got away from Bucky and nobody died. All in all, a pretty successful day. Except for the part where you confessed your feelings to the man you’ve been crushing on for months and told him he was the first person you’ve ever had sex with. During what was supposed to be a mature, adult conversation where you asserted yourself calmly and professionally instead of projectile word-vomiting like the girl from The Exorcist swallowed a dictionary and spat it back up. If there was ever a chance you and Bucky could move past what happened on the quinjet and co-exist in mutual agreement to never mention it again, it’s gone now. There’s no dramatic breakdown this time, no floods of tears or self-loathing or panic. The last week and a half has been an exhausting roller coaster of emotions and honestly, you just can’t anymore. It is what it is. It happened and there’s no going back. You can’t summon up the energy to freak out. Tomorrow you’ll go to Maria’s office and request a transfer. Maybe the UN has an opening for a secretary in Antarctica. But tonight you will wear flannel pyjamas, eat greasy pizza, and watch the Great British Bake Off, where everything is lovely and nothing hurts. Just as you’ve finished turning your couch into a cozy oasis, laying out your softest blankets and fluffiest pillows, there’s a knock at your door. Right on time. You grab your wallet and open the door, a polite smile on your face for your usual delivery man. But that’s not who’s standing on your porch. It’s Bucky. Pizza box balanced in one hand, the other fussing with his hair. “Hey,” he says, voice soft and almost hesitant. You step back, silently letting him inside and shutting the door behind him. “I didn’t realize you delivered for Ronzoni’s now,” you say, cringing immediately after. Bucky looks at the box in his hand like he forgot he was holding it. “Oh, uh, yeah, I got here the same time as the delivery guy.” “I see that.” He hands you the box and you lay it on the floor behind you. “Thanks,” you tell him awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor in front of you. “Look, Bucky, I’m really sor—” “I do like you,” he blurts and your eyes flash to his, wide in shock. “What?” Bucky shifts on his feet, stands a little straighter and nods, more to himself than to you it seems. Like he’s steeling himself to face something difficult. “I do like you. I’ve always liked you. Just took me a while to figure it out. It’s been a minute. Haven’t had a crush in about seventy years; I’m rusty,” he says with a sheepish smile, ducking his head and looking at you through his lashes. His smile fades. “And you’re always so nervous around me. I thought maybe you were scared of me. Or hated me, maybe, for everything I did when –” “Oh, Bucky, no,” you can’t help but interrupt, can’t let him finish that sentence. You haven’t really processed anything else he’s said, but you can’t bear the idea of him thinking you blamed him for being abused and controlled for decades. “Yeah, I was a fucking idiot,” he says with a humourless laugh. “I know you’d never – but I didn’t then.” His face softens as he looks at you. “And even though it was ‘cause you were scared of me, I still thought you were so cute when you’d start running at the mouth. Stumbling over your words and getting all embarrassed,” he says, with a fond little smile. You groan, hiding your face behind your hands, thinking of all the times you’ve looking like an idiot in front of him. Bucky chuckles warmly and tugs your hands down but doesn’t let them go, holding them in a loose grip. You can’t believe this is happening. He likes you. He likes you and has liked you for months. He likes you and he’s holding your hands and staring at you with an affection you couldn’t have captured in your wildest fantasies. Bucky’s smile turns a little wistful. “I was so jealous of everyone else. How easy you were with them. I wanted you to be like that with me, all happy and cheeky and –�� he cuts himself off. “Then that fucking drug. If there was any doubt about how I felt about you that definitely made it clear. That was something else, doll.” His grip on your hands tightens before he lets them go. “You’re so – that shit you said about not being a model or whatever? I couldn’t care less. You’re perfect,” he says, voice intense. He shakes his head a little, like he’d gotten off track. “And then it hit me. This goddamn revelation for me was probably the worst moment of your life, and I fucking liked it. I felt like a creep, like a fucking monster. And that’s why I avoided you. I thought I was doing you a favour, staying away. It wasn’t ‘cause I hate you or I blame you or anything. Pretty much the opposite.” You laugh softly in disbelief, shaking your head at how wrong you were. How wrong you both were, all this time. “I thought maybe it reminded you of Hydra,” you tell him. “You know, losing control, being forced to do something you didn’t want to – not that I think what we did is the same as being forced to kill people, obviously. I just mean, the principle of it –” Bucky kindly cuts you off. “I know what you mean. But trust me,” he says. “That’s not how I feel. At all. I mean, yeah, that’s not really how I wanted things to go. I hate that that was your first time. I hate that it was my first time I can clearly remember. But I’m glad it was you. What Hydra did to me and what happened to us, what we did together – doesn’t even compare. I don’t regret it.” And finally, with those words, spoken with such undeniable sincerity, you feel the last piece of the puzzle fit into place. Even with everything he’s already said it still felt too good to be true. Like it could be a confession and a rejection at the same time. An acknowledgement that if you’d figured it out sooner you could have been together, but you got the pieces so mixed up that there’s no sorting them out. Better to throw them away and pick a new puzzle. “I don’t regret it either,” you tell him. “I wish it had happened differently, but I’m really, really happy it was you, Bucky.” He looks at you, soft and sweet and a little sad and you can’t help but throw yourself at him, finally giving in to an urge you’ve felt a hundred times, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hugs you back, holding you just as tightly as you hold him. You feel warm and bright and happy, bubbling over with joy that spills out of you with a giggle as you pull back just enough to look him in the face with a dopey grin. “So… you like me?” He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, doll, you been listening?” “I can’t believe you’ve had a crush on me for months. You never speak to me!” Bucky snorts. “Hey, we don’t all let our anxiety spill out our mouths like you.” You glare at him but he does have a point. “That’s fair,” you acknowledge, stepping out of the warm circle of his arms to give him a long look, crossing your arms. “So for months I thought you didn’t like me, and you thought I didn’t like you. And the whole time we were super into each other?” Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets, rocks on his heels, nodding. “Yep.” “Sounds like we’re pretty dumb, huh?” “Sounds like we’re perfect for each other,” he says, leaning in close with a grin. You get a sudden glimpse of the charmer Bucky must have been back in the day and it takes everything you have not to kiss him. “You wanna stay for a while?” you ask. You don’t want him to go yet, but you don’t want to keep standing up in front of your door either. “I’m watching Great British Bake Off. And you did pay for the pizza so it’s technically yours.” “You askin’ me on a date?” You think he means it to come out as flirty and confident, but he says it with a shy, boyish expression that’s somehow so much more attractive. You nod, smiling. “Yeah, I guess so. I wish I wasn’t wearing pyjamas, but…” “Hey, pizza and GBBO? I wish I was wearing pyjamas,” he counters, picking up the pizza and letting you lead the way to the living room where he sets the box down on the coffee table. You sit with Bucky on your couch, sharing a blanket and stuffing your faces as you talk about your favourite Bake Off contestants and it feels right. Feels like the start of something really, really good. And to think, you have an evil, horny scientist to thank for all your current happiness. Welcome to the Avengers. A/N: If you have made it to the end - thank you for reading! This is definitely the piece I struggled with most and I am very open to feedback! This part is so long and so sexless lol so I’m very interested to see how it reads re: pacing, interest, cohesiveness, etc. Feel free to like/comment/reblog and let me know! My ask box is also open to anons if you have feedback but you’re feeling shy! I definitely wanna hone the skill of series-writing as I have a loooooot of longer ideas. Part 3, which will be shorter (I think!) and definitely sexier, will be out in a few days 😚 

#bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #series