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thatpinkbetch · 4 years

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Bkdk Fic Rec

I’ve been inspired to write a fic rec! This one goes out to you @lonely-rabbit

At like, the end of 2018 and the beginning of 2019 I stayed up until 4am every night reading fics, and because I’m such a loser, I made a word doc to keep track of all of them so I wouldn’t forget them.... I tried organizing it by length but it got messy cause I’m ridiculous and cluttered, so sorry! (I’ll save my own for the end alskdjflsdkfj gotta self promote you know). This is going to get...really long, so I’ll put it under a read more! Also, just a heads up, these are all on ao3, in case that’s important to anyone!

Disclaimer: Any fics with mature or explicit content I will add a bolded warning for, even if it’s only a little bit. Normally most fics will be tagged as such, but some fics that are rated as teen I’ve found to be more suggestive than some of those rated as mature, so I will try to point it out where it feels necessary, for anyone who wishes to avoid it.

Fics under 1k:

Illuminate by TheQueen (269 words)

Summary: Bakugou watches the first firework launch and fights to keep his face neutral

Very short, plot is about a case of amnesia, also very cute and well written for that length! Not angsty at all imo

sweaty hands holding secrets - shounentwink (563 words)

Summary: Someone said Midoriya holds secrets in his hair.

It’s not true: He holds it tightly in his hands. Bakugou’s seen it.

I really like this writer! You’ll see quite a bit of them in this post alkdsjfalskdjf

Fics 1k - 10k:

Many sunflowers later - Jeka (2395 words)

Summary: Scholar Midoriya Izuku comes back to the person he left behind after his journey through the kingdom, the mighty dragon clan leader Bakugou Katsuki.

Day 1 of Twin Stars Week 2020: Fantasy AU.

First of all, fantasy au!!! Second of all, jeka!!! (I need to read more of your stuff!!) Anyways, so cute, such lovely, pretty writing, wonderful story telling, and they’re so in love TT_TT

Boom Badoom Boom - warschach (3429 words)

Summary: Izuku's working the kissing booth at the school fair, it just so happens Katsuki has been crushing on him since the first grade.

“Did you—“ Izuku parted his mouth with no sound leaving it, “Did you pay?”

“Yea.”

“For a kiss?”

This one’s a little silly but I love it still. It’s got a “kids in the 80′s over summer vacation” vibe, I think. I love warschach! I should read more of their writing... They have SUCH good bakudeku content! *It’s rated teen but there’s some suggestive content, just a heads up!

Hopeless Ramen-tic - lalazee (7155 words)

Summary: Midoriya is a cute guy who works at a ramen stall and Bakugou is thirsty as hell, but has to hide it by being an asshat. Another love story.

Ah, so good TT_TT so much sass, such good plot development and story telling for a simple concept *It’s rated as teen but again, it can be suggestive at times!

I’ll share this with you, so leave it behind - yabakuboi (3508 words)

Suammry: For the sake of the story, All Might is never in need of a successor, and, when Izuku saves Katsuki from the sludge monster, encourages young Midoriya down a different path. Thus, Katsuki and Izuku part ways after junior high, as Katsuki enters U.A. and the Midoriyas move overseas. It’s later that Katsuki realizes that there’s something missing, that he drove that something away.

Years after, Katsuki finds him in the last place he looks, in the cereal aisle at the local grocery store of their childhood neighborhood.

So soft, so sweet, so good if you just want to curl up in a comfy blanket and drink hot cocoa and feel warm and cozy and a little in love

The Secret Deku Box - yabakuboi (2241 words)

Summary: “Y’know, Bakugou never, ever talks about girls,” Kaminari says, his voice thoughtful.

“And I wonder why that is.” Ashido rolls her eyes.

“I’m just curious!” Kaminari whines. Kirishima drags the box out, unlabeled and unassuming, the lid not even fully clasped over the edges. “The guy has to— Whoa, what’s that?”

Kirishima realizes a little belatedly that this is a serious breach of privacy, and Bakugou will actually murder all of them. “Nothing!” he cries, attempting to shove it back under the bed, but Ashido snatches it away.

“Please be his porn stash!” Kaminari whispers as she whips the lid off.

Cute, funny, in canon, in character, and a must read I would say!

daisy bunches and heather branches - halcyonwhispers (5862 words)

Summary: izuku falls in love with the foul-mouthed tattoo artist next door.

Not another flower/tattoo shop au.... aldskjflaskdjfd Okay but punk!Bakugou is ALWAYS a smart move imo

the best part of me (is the worst I can give) - halcyonwhispers (5668)

Summary: Whole sentences usually make up people’s Words, but Katsuki got stuck with a name instead.

Izuku’s name.

I am such a sucker for soulmate aus when it comes to these boys TT_TT *There is some mature content, just a heads up!

Hard to Say - halcyonwhispers (8390 words)

Summary: Izuku is a Halfling, born after his faerie father spirited away his mom and then left her behind. Never quite fitting in with the humans or any of the supernatural beings in his small town, Izuku hoped that going to a diverse college in the big city will help him finally make friends.

Katsuki’s family has been powerful witches for generations, and he’s no different. Talented and a proclaimed genius to boot, he knew he shouldn’t waste his time on this dumbass (disgustingly cute) half-blood.

Or,

two idiots fall in love and don’t get that the other’s awkward cues are just a result of romantic tension.

I am ALSO a sucker for fantasy/mythical creatures au and I LOVED this one - Bakugou absolutely unable to handle how cute Midoriya is? Perfection - but it’s unfinished, and I don’t think it ever will be continued, unfortunately TT_TT

lots to unpack (throw away the whole suitcase) - shounentwink (4315 words)

Summary: “How’d you know?” Midoriya asks.

There’s a hunch to his shoulders that wasn’t there three hours ago. Freckled shoulders are kissed sunburnt and red: he looks like someone ran him over and left him like roadkill in the sunlight. Bakugou’s working with insurance today, but he could see the sparks of green lightning even from his elevated position in their shared agency. Midoriya’s holding his thumb, cracking it over and over — it looks like he’s rubbed it raw.

“Dunno,” Bakugou says. “Maybe you’re just easy to read, nerd.”

I love this one so much, it was one of the first ones I read, it’s so good, and it’s another that really affected how I view their relationship! Idk this one just hit for me

hang the moon from us (it’s a no from me) - shounentwink (1200 words)

Summary: Midoriya’s gonna get sick of Bakugou one of these days, and then the whole ruse will be over, and the balance of power will tilt beyond salvation, but that day isn’t today and it looks like Bakugou knows it.

What an asshole.

Once again, I’m a sucker for the fantasy au... But even more, the diction, the details, the imagery...it’s absolutely all stunning here. I wish I could write this pretty

In Which Bakugou Finds His One Tru Luv - Erina (5862 words) This is the first one of a series called The Misadventures of Explodo-kill Agency!

Summary: Welcome to the Explodo-kill agency! We can destroy your buildings, crash your cars, and help you solve one of the seven mysteries in life: who is Bakugou Katsuki's mysterious boyfriend?!

I’ll admit I’ve only read the first three but by god they are the funniest fics I’ve ever read in my life. I see that Erina has added more since the last time I checked it out! Tbh I was only interested in reading the purely bakudeku ones... (My favorite was the second one!! SO funny and cute!)

i still do - raeryn (9646 words)

Summary: He’s losing him to pieces, but Izuku still tries to make them count. In which a battle leaves Bakugou Katsuki with amnesia, and Izuku finds himself picking up the pieces.

So, this one makes me cry. TT_TT

One Thing Straight - winningshot (9899 words)

Summary: They totally aren't.

Hints of their relationship is found in all of their friends’ social media accounts, but majority of their fans still think that Katsuki and Izuku are in relationships with anybody but each other.

It was amusing up until it became sad.

Lmao it’s a little salty but I guess I can be too. This is a social media fic! There’s multiple ships in this one, too

A Demolition Boy & his Cryptid BF - kewltie (8472 words)

Summary: Bakugou of the Demolition Squad is famous for running one of the most popular Youtube channels on the web that regularly blow shit up and jumped off a perfectly good building for shit and giggles. He's also famous for his Cryptid BF™, never appearing on camera except for a few bodyshots and all information on him is kept locked up tighter than Fort Knox, therefore drawing all sort of attention and curiosity toward his mysterious boyfriend.

Deku from Deku Explains is a hopeless chatterbox who is known for uploading 20-30 minutes video that talked about his favorite shows and comics and have one of the most devoted following on Youtube. He also can't seem to shut up about his boyfriend Kacchan, who regularly make his presence on the channel as a disembodied voice.

They should theoretically have nothing in common except a shared platform to host their content and an army of fans with an endless curiosity and devotion to their Youtubers. Vidcon is where we lay our scene and the internet is about to get a rude wake up call.

Okay kewltie is SO GOOD and very creative! The formatting is phenomenal, it’s like you’re actually experiencing a social media melt down in real time lol

be my good luck charm - writedeku (6785 words)

Summary: See, the thing is, Midoriya Izuku had been born with a curse. It’s not a curse that’s particularly visible. He doesn’t have horns, or a tortured face, and it’s not the kind of silly curse like a friend of his had way down south in Diagnor, wherein the girl had been born without the ability to say the word duck. Midoriya Izuku is just extremely unlucky.

(Or the AU in which Izuku's the world's unluckiest travelling merchant, and Katsuki is someone who may be able to help him. For a price, that is.)

Oh I adore this one! It’s so cute and such a good narrative! Nice and warm, and Bakugou trying his damnedest to be suave, and it somehow working because Midoriya is just as flustered. *Another one rated as teen but some suggestive content.

Smells Like Victory - majjale (2377 words)

Summary: Bakugou takes two steps into the room and stops, clapping a hand over his nose. “Ugh, what stinks like Deku in here?”

"Good afternoon, Bakugou. That would be the amortentia."

I must admit, not a fan of HP, but majjale...TT_TT majjale writes these two boys so well. This one is really, really good!

Cherish Me - Justaperson1718 (2376 words)

Summary: “What?”

Izuku looked back down at his menu and flipped the page, a small smile on his face. “Nothing.”

Katsuki glared at Izuku from across the table. “If it was nothing then you wouldn’t be staring at me.”

“It’s just a little funny watching you try to look your best for our date when you always look great anyway,” Izuku explained. He wouldn’t look up from his menu while he spoke, but his words remained ingrained with confidence nevertheless. He considered what he was saying to be fact, and nothing else. “Even when you’re not trying in front of the cameras, it’s still hard to take my eyes off of you.”

This is a sequel to a fic that’ll be in the next section, because it’s longer, called Manage Me. Please read that one first before this one! (Not part of a series, but they’re the same story line)

Fascinating - Justaperson1718 (1556 words)

Summary: “I’m not staring at you,” Izuku replied, his eyes focused intently on Katsuki. He’s still wearing his pajamas, sitting on his knees in their shared bed. He was awake moments before Katsuki, and waited eagerly for the other to awake.

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder after his shirt was on and glared. “You’re fucking staring at me right now.”

Izuku shook his head, humming his disapproval quietly. “I’m watching you.”

“That’s the same damn thing,” Katsuki said while searching for a pair of pants in the dresser. “Your eyes are fixated on me like I’m your life’s fucking goal or some shit.”

“I just like watching you get dressed.” Izuku tilted his head to the side and smiled softly at Katsuki’s confused stare. “I know, it’s weird. But I like it.”

*There is a little bit of implied mature content, but overall, it’s just so sweet and intimate, and I just simply adore this one.

in a place once filled with gold - dorenamryn (9226 words)

Summary: It felt strange to remember such details, for they were things a friend should know, and as far as Katsuki was concerned, he and Deku hadn’t been friends in a very, very long time. He could admit, with reluctance, that they were on the path there, now, even though they would never make it. Katsuki would die before they could get the chance.

or: There is a garden growing in Katsuki’s lungs, and he is helpless to stop it.

“Hanahaki disease” okay, I can explain myself. Okay, I can’t. In any case, you got angst with a happy ending if that’s what you’re into!

Kaleidoscope - DPRenFTW (5141 words)

Summary: Izuku is a witch. He just needs to find his familiar. Enter a boy that is a wolf, and a wolf that is a boy - with wild red eyes and sharp smiles.

And Izuku thinks:

"Oh, it's him."

Just as beautiful and fascinating as the name implies! I seriously recommend for the beautiful writing, the gorgeous world, the mythical creatures au, and the lovely bakudeku romance!

Learning Curve - sensiblysilly (4222 words)

Summary: Deku and Katsuki’s first kiss goes rather differently than planned.

And Katsuki’s quickly learning that relationships can be unpredictable - especially when taking into account the variable that is Midoriya Izuku.

This really is just a careful handling of a teenage romance where perhaps one of them may have shit they’re still working through. It’s really sweet, and a careful study at boundaries and the building of a relationship. I actually stumbled across this while looking for another with the same name and ended up pleasantly surprised. Kacchan can has a little validation, as a treat.

4/20 is a national holiday - Ereri_Garbage (

Summary: Izuku is a drug dealer that doesn't really accept the fact he's a drug dealer, Katsuki is hot as hell as shouldn't be allowed a facebook.

Happy (Late) birthday Katsuki and happy (late) 4/20. I actually half assed an edit on this one so it took longer to post than I thought it would.

Uummmm lmao yes I have a sense of humor. ;ALDSKJFLSKDJF Okay, I say that, but this is not a crack fic, it’s a good story that I enjoy with good writing, and *it has mature, content, obviously for multiple reasons here. It’s rated as mature but there are borderline explicit moments imo. It’s a fun fic and funny, too! And, ngl, it really does remind me of college... But forget about me, the bakudeku is wonderful too of course :)

Drinking Watermelon - warschach (8906 words)

Summary: For whatever reason, maybe divine fate, Izuku turned and looked over his shoulder and waved to them.

Katsuki’s heart full on stopped right then, and his fingers forgot their duty on the rails, and his body neglected its job to keep Katsuki balanced.

Izuku’s summer sweet smile fell into concern as Katsuki went airborne and cracked his skull on the porch.

or Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Love it when people have Bakugou as absolutely enamored with Midoriya; it’s so good and true. Anyways this one makes me like summer camp story lines. It’s funny and also cute and great writing! *It’s got explicit content, just a heads up. Warschach stories just have this youthful 80′s vibe, I don’t know how else to explain it.

there are listed buildings - semiautomatichearts (3309)

Summary: Katsuki first sees colors bloom when he is only three years old. It is timid Izuku, hiding behind the cover of his mother's leg who looks upon him with wide eyes, and Katsuki's world explodes in shades of greens and pinks and blues, and he is so startled, he begins to cry.

His life is then on defined in color, in shades his peers can't see, by the forlorn, timid stare in Izuku's eyes that always lets off more than he is willing to tell. There is a schism driven between himself and his fated other, and Katsuki strives to be better than fate, better than what is defined for him. He is more than the written pages of a book, to be cracked open and read by the gods.

He wonders if it is possible for colors to bloom for someone who will never love you back.

Ah...soulmates :) So interesting how bakudeku fits into soulmate aus like this one when they’ve known each other as kids! And when they’ve had this complex push and pull thing going on all their lives! The writing is beautiful, and so is the story!

Promise Ring - bkdkwritingsdump (3579)

Summary: The midwest in the 1950′s is no place for boys who like kissing boys: something Izuku and Katsuki know all too well growing up there. However, the undeniable bond between the nervous science geek and the aloof delinquent will still find a way to blossom in such a desert.

Cute, sweet, makes my gay heart ache. Longing not just for the one you love, but just to feel right loving them. Very pretty story line, lovely story telling!

Fics 10k - 30k:

Fishy - warschach (19417 words)

Summary: Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

Another warschach! I love this one, I love how they write bakudeku, particularly as college students, their stories (at least, the ones that I’ve read) always feel so warm, like a summer’s day, but not a lazy one, one that’s playful? If that makes sense? *This one is explicit, another heads up!

Manage Me - Justaperson1718 (10756 words)

Summary: Izuku caught himself moving forward, his head tilted somewhat to the side, and his eyes shot wide open. His gaze met Katsuki’s half-lidded eyes now that he was no longer in a dreamlike state, and seeing the way Katsuki was looking at him—waiting for him—made him realize Katsuki would’ve let him do it. He might have even wanted him to do it.

“You’re both doing fabulous!” the photographer called out to them, packing his camera into his bag and getting ready to leave. “I just got word that what we have now should be good, so we’ll stop there. Thank you for your time! Lock the door on your way out after you change.”

The pair stayed frozen in place, with Izuku’s arms around Katsuki’s neck and Katsuki’s hands resting on Izuku’s waist, while the photographer and his supervisor left.

“Kacchan,” Izuku cooed once they were gone. “Did you want to…?”

Love the story, love the bakudeku! Very, very good bakudeku TT_TT very sweet *There is some mature content in here as well

point to a map (we’ve been there) - cosmicfuss (10589 words)

Summary: Serendipity / sĕr″ən-dĭp′ĭ-tē Serendipity is the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery. Two men find themselves on a subway, hot coffee on one while the other is in the middle of a screaming match. After that they can't seem to stop finding each other, no matter how far they go.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; this fic owns my entire soul. I love the story, the ease of their relationship, just how lovely they are together. It’s another kind of nice, fluffy fic you’d read on a bad day where you come home and curl up in a blanket and listen to a ten hour video of thunderstorm white noise. *Again, some more mature content in here

Partners - tsukithewolf (13619 words) Another series! Two parts to this one this time

Summary: It is said that in Musutafu there is a charm that one can buy at a temple that will lead you to your destined partner. They say that if the charm works, you would be able to follow the red string of fate to the person you were meant to be with. And if the person returns your feelings, they would be able to see the string as well, proving that both were meant to be.

Three-year-old Katsuki and Izuku misunderstand what the word "partner" means and discover the charm and the rumor behind it is not only true, but more than expected.

Gets a little heavy, depression, bullying, suicidal thoughts, etc. But it must get worse before it gets better, that kind of thing. I also just adore the second part (called Bond) - maybe because it’s much fluffier, what about it?

Learning Curve - iknewaman (10304 words)

Summary: “Izuku.” Uraraka repeats as she motions at the person stood next to her. Green curls, average height, and, well. Up close, not such a bad smile. Uraraka points a thumb at Bakugou and enunciates slowly, “This is Bakugou. He can speak sign language too.”

Wait. Sign language?

The stranger— well, Izuku— looks at him with a raised brow. Their free hand lifts up as they make a slight motion of the hand.‘

Really?’

Bored out of his mind at a house party one night Bakugou is introduced to Izuku, a deaf student who offers to help teach Bakugou sign language in exchange for a favour-- or well, is prompted into asking for a favour.

Ah, I really want to explain this one a little bit? I’d never been into fanfiction ever, only really getting into it with these boys. This was the second one I read, I remember, and it caught me off guard, and it intrigued me. It really surprised me as to what fanfiction could be. Ngl I had biased perceptions of fanfics - I used to be one of those people who thought fanfiction could never be good writing - and this one slapped me in the face with it’s subtle beauty and creative story and heart melting capabilities, and very, very real relationship and growth. Anyways it’s so cute how happy Deku is to teach Kacchan sign language TT_TT Make sure to read the tags!

The Keeper and the Sun God’s Heir - SurelyHeavenWaits (12746 words)

Summary: The Titans' have stolen something important from Izuku, heir of the Sun God, and he wants it back.

This one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one this one- Oh my god this one. Okay so what, I was a Percy Jackson kid, what about it? I love the mythical aus, particularly the god ones. But beyond that, the writing is so beautiful, just like the world, and the imagery. The bakudeku...absolutely stunning. The story itself? Incredible. Cannot recommend more. *There is explicit content in this, though I will say, it’s all in the last chapter, and all of the story is in the first two chapters. There’s also a second part as it’s a series and it’s short but it’s cute and sweet TT_TT

seven days - aaAAAaaahhhhHHHHH (10094 words)

Summary: There’s something about the green haired boy, an aura that just drew Katsuki in before he even knew his name.

[Sometimes your mind forgets, but your heart remembers]

Heed my warning: DON’T read this in front of other people. I bawl every time I read this one TT_TT I know I said I don’t like angst but AJLSKDFJALSKDFJ it has a hopeful ending! I mean yeah you’re gonna cry but...hope? :’) (that username really says it all tbh)

Fics 30k+

Notice me, nerd - useless_donut (40000 words)

Summary: Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out.

Will the class of 3-A survive the sexual tension? Who will snap first? Someone put Bakugou out of his misery, please, before everyone else dies of second-hand embarrassment.

(a love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A)

Love the idea of Bakugou being brazen and brash, cause yeah, he is. So fucking funny though how that translates to him flirting. Gotta say, thought I was gonna cringe, but his “I’m gay af” outfit really ended up being A Look. Love the mutual pining, it really is strong in this one. *Okay, mature content in this one lads.

While You Were Sleeping - Belkacaramelka (71197 words)

Summary: The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Quirkless AU based on the film; endgame BakuDeku. -- Katsuki didn’t know when the change had happened: how he had gone from asking why Todoroki chose Deku of all people, to wondering why it was Todoroki that Deku chose. Troublesome Deku, who cooed like an idiot at cats, tripped at a random catcall and sang badly. Who, despite everything, proved that it wasn’t the quirk that defined a person. Deku, who was too much, not his, and undeniably off limits to begin with.

Update: Epilogue added

*This one has mature content. If you can, please, for the love of god, read this fic. It’s like, tied with my favorite bkdk fic perhaps ever. It’s based on the movie of the same title, a nineties romcom with Sandra Bullock, but Belkacaramelka has so effortlessly made it into it’s own story, fit it so perfectly inside of the bnha world. I definitely stayed up until 6:30am reading this one. It’s got such good badass Midoriya, who is also sweet, and really really good reconciliation between bakudeku.

All Gifted - fitzefitcher (39129 words)

Summary: The thing about gifts is that they're meant to be given, they're meant to be shared; so Izuku will take his gifts, so freely given to him, and share them with all he holds dear.

Izuku is born without any gifts, as his kind often are, to a witch mother and salamander father, on one sweltering night in July.

This one is unfinished...and I highly doubt it will ever be. But what has been written is incredible. Once again, I’m a sucker for the magic/mythical creatures aus. But the relationship is great! The characterization is great! The found family trope that was building up is great!

under a hollow sun - umbrage (40572 words)

Summary: Midoriya is cursed with emptiness.

Misfortune leads him to a man of ancient magic and endless rage.

To stop an unfathomable evil, their mismatched halves must become whole.

Uuuggghhhh this was so good! I don’t think it’s going to be finished either :( Once again, fantasy au, more amazing writing, on point characterization, incredible pacing, makes you hungry for more story.

all the savage soul requires - majjale (58032 words)

Summary: Bakugou seems to have exhausted his patience for words and no longer acknowledges that Midoriya exists, so Midoriya crosses his legs, stares down at his hands limned in firelight, and makes a list of things he knows.

One. His name is Midoriya Izuku.

Two. He is a Godmarked, future god of life, heir to the divine throne.

Three. The gods have been fighting Death for eons, and now he's coming for recompense with everything he’s got.

This is majjale, so of course, the writing is more than beautiful; it’s absolutely breathtaking. This may be my favorite fic ever - unfortunately I don’t think it will ever be finished either TT_TT There’s the gods/fantasy au, which you know by now I love. But the characterization of our two boys is absolutely perfect, and I mean that as literally as possible. And the story being crafted between the two, the memory loss, the obvious history muddled by it all, it was so dense, and the PINING, so incredibly written, flowing so naturally. It wasn’t even close to being done, but it was wonderful, still is wonderful.

My Writing: (You can skip this if you hate shameless self promotion)

You’re too damn flicking cute (1815 words)

Summary: Bakugou is certain his shitty boyfriend is instigating kisses. Maybe it doesn't help that he keeps giving them away like it's a damn going out of business sale, but the stupid nerd is too fucking cute. Either way, like everything else, this is a competition, and he's going to win it.

Please don’t read this unless you’re going to the dentist afterwards! I’ve been told it’s so sweet it’ll give you instant cavities >_>;;;;

Bakugou Katsuki, you smooth motherfucker (10118 words)

Summary: Everyone around him knows that Bakugou Katsuki has a very special way with words. To the untrained ear he is loud and crass; to those that speak Kacchan, he is caring and inspiring. Yet there are rare moments, moments so fleeting you blink and you miss them, where Bakugou’s words pierce straight through Midoriya’s chest, and surprise everyone around him.

Goddammit, if only he would say them to Midoriya’s face.

Or, the five times Bakugou said something nice about Midoriya, and the one time he said something kind to him (but that was too long of a title).

I think most would consider this my best published fic; it’s one of those snapshot fics, “the five times where x did this, and the one time where they didn’t.” The recurring comment I get on this one is both of them being super in character, so I think that’s it’s defining characteristic! Bakugou and Midoriya have never known a life without the other, and in a perfect world, they never will.

Here, let me fix that (11247 words)

Summary: Bakugou honestly never thought he’d see Deku ever again. And now that they were together in this tiny compartment, alone for the next two and a half minutes, he had no clue what to say. He’d just apologized, right? So perhaps he could leave it at that and carry on with the original plan to never see the green-haired man that reminded him of dense forests, late night adventures, and tear-stained faces, ever again.

Ha! Who is he kidding? These bitches are soulmates.

I’ve gotten some critiques on this one, so sorry in advance if it’s not to your liking! Basically, what if Midoriya never got his quirk? Obviously, life would find a way to put them together because, as previously stated, these bitches are soulmates.

Plenty of Time (16654 words)

Summary: Bakugou found what little sleep he got restless and filled with nightmares that he forgot the second he opened his eyes. Tonight was the first time in a long time where he just had a normal dream - and it happened to be about Deku.

How fucking typical.

In other words, two dorks realize they have feelings for each other but don't know what to do about said feelings.

Ah, my first fic. Very simple, boys being boys, kinda like a slow burn? Idk how to explain this one, just boys figuring out their feelings and trying to figure out what to do about them. Been told these two are a little stupid but I think that’s valid.

We’re all time bombs waiting to explode (39223 words)

Summary: We have now entered the slipstream of time, into an alternate dimension where it neither is, nor isn’t, the 80’s. Two teenagers, burdened with the weight of adolescence in the modern world, find themselves struggling side by side, in part because of each other.

Bakugou, the most popular boy in school, has everything he could possibly want; status, power, and an unbreakable will. Having been dragged along behind him all the way to the top, Midoriya can’t help but wonder how (and why) he ended up standing beside his childhood friend-turned bully-turned friend again, weighed down by their complicated past and present. As the tension between them grows every day, and the arrival of a new, pretty face causes it to peak, it won’t be long before something - or someone - snaps.

I am...very bad at titles, and summaries apparently. This was my Heathers au, but it very quickly diverges from the original (I don’t do sad endings....) *This one has mature content, including implied sexual activity, drug use, and underage drinking, along with other heavy topics; please read the tags! Though tbh Midoriya is 17 for a couple weeks before it hits his birthday halfway through, so keep that in mind I guess? I kind of went heavy with this one, but I think the pay off was immense. This is the one with the most amount of comments stating it’s their favorite bkdk fic ever (and I cry). It’s a rough start, with a rough journey, but so is bakudeku! There’s a lot of petty drama, and then all of a sudden it’s Not That Petty and very much Far Too Real. Many have cried reading the ending, I cried writing it. My sister says it’s her favorite of mine. Now, I did kind of push this out without polishing it so much because I was losing my willpower, so if it feels lacking, that’s one hundred percent my fault.

Okay that was a lot! It took me a couple days...I hope I wasn’t too annoying with all my opinions! Please have a nice day. and enjoy some good reads, even if they aren’t the ones in this post!

#bakudeku #katsudeku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bkdk #fics #my writing #god i really hope i didn't fuck up any of this #i spent a long time on it alksdjflaskjdflkasdjf #this is 39 fics without my own #and 44 including mine #i can tell i've forgotten some but #idk it's hard TT_TT #anyways it's 2:30am #if i go to bed at 4am one more time i'm gonna throw myself down a flight of stairs #i hope this is good enough as is!#most of this was written very late so I hope it doesn't sound...crazed

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Lovely (Ethan x F!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,100+ Warning: Adult language Premise: Adding her on social media was a dangerous mistake. Particularly when she posts a picture looking like that. Tags: @openheart12 | @ethandaddyramsey | @noboundariesplease | @silverlitskies |

___________________________

“Post, post, post!” her roommates chanted with alcohol fueled enthusiasm.

Lilac, the least drunk of the group, though not by a lot, peered at her friends quizzically. They were sprawled on different parts of their living room, gazing at her with glazed eyes and sloppy smiles. In her own drunken state, she wondered how the night turned from board games and drinks to Lilac spilling her guts about Ethan following her on social media. Of course, she had left out his name and so her roommates only surmised it was some new flame she was interested in.

God, she wanted him with such desperation that it physically hurt sometimes. If she hadn't had several drinks, she'd feel miserable and somewhat pathetic.

“You guys don't even know who this guy is,” Lilac returned and she realized immediately that was not entirely true. As the words left her mouth, Sienna and Elijah shared a massive, knowing grin. Lilac's face flushed at the memory of running into them while trying to sneak Ethan out all those months ago.

Luckily, Aurora and Jackie were too drunk to notice the exchange.

“It's that Lahela guy, isn't it?” Aurora offered.

“Not likely,” returned Jackie at once. “Lilac said this guy was good-looking and smart.” She instantly wrinkled her nose, looking far more dejected than was warranted. “It's a lot more fun when he's here to hear me insult him.”

“That one was weak,” Elijah commented with a laugh, elongating the last word. “If he was here, he would've destroyed you with a comeback.”

Before Jackie could reply, Sienna leaped up from her place on the rug and plopped down next to Lilac on the couch. “I know what picture you should post,” she exclaimed excitedly, brandishing her phone in front of Lilac's face. A blur of green was all she could see as Sienna waved the phone. “Remember that green dress you bought for your cousin's wedding before they called it off?”

“Let's talk about that for a second,” Aurora said with renewed interest.

Sienna didn't seem to hear this because she went on, “The one with the neckline and the slit?”

Lilac remembered. She also remembered the picture she had sent Sienna to show it off. Lilac standing in front of a body-length mirror clad in the forest green number, phone strategically positioned to cover her face so the emphasis would be on the plunging neckline and on the shapely leg escaping from the slit.

“That dress could kill a man,” Sienna said approvingly as they both inspected the picture on her screen. “It's equal parts classy and also—”

“Slutty?” Lilac offered. It was how she described her style on most days and she was far from ashamed of it.

“If he wasn't in such great shape, you'd give the poor man a heart attack. I'm sure Eth—” she started but abruptly stopped when she remembered the others. One nervous glance around told Lilac they were not listening anyway. They were busy filling Aurora in on the drama of the canceled wedding. Sienna lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I'm sure your mystery guy will love it. He was all over you when you wore that navy blue dress in Miami.”

Perhaps it was the memory of that night and his kisses on the balcony, or the alcohol coursing through her, or maybe the way her heart pined for him every time their eyes met, wishing desperately they could do more, that made Lilac say, “Fine, I'll post a—”

“Thirst trap,” Elijah chimed in with a cheer.

They all laughed out loud, even Lilac. Another indicative that they should really stop drinking for the night. The semi rational part of her brain reminded her that she should've stopped drinking when posting a provocative picture with the most basic pose imaginable in hopes of entrapping a man that might not even be watching seemed like a good idea.

With a burst of courage and recklessness, Lilac found the picture, wrote a ridiculous caption that would make her hungover self tomorrow morning cringe, and pressed "post" before they could spend another twenty minutes discussing her predicament and before the chanting resumed.

_________________________________________________

The account was supposed to be strictly for a one-time use. Ethan had planned to delete the damned thing as soon as Gwyneth's case had been solved and treated. Wasn't that part of the reason why he had allowed Lilac to use that ridiculous picture of him at the beach? It was meant to be a gag, something that would never see the light of day.

Yet, he had found himself gravitating towards the tab left open on his laptop every time he used it. His subconscious had equated the inane website with learning more about Lilac. And despite his many attempts to convince himself that he shouldn’t care, he did. She was the only person he had ever wanted to learn more about, with such a desperate conviction that would be alarming to her if he ever confessed.

He cared so deeply that the word “care” did not properly describe the unbridled longing in his chest. One did not flee to the Amazon for two months to escape “care.”

Ethan pushed that dangerous thought away.

“Thirty minutes, Ethan,” Reggie said from the doorway to the bar. It was his usual way to inform him how long it’d take him to clean-up and thus the amount of time Ethan had left to enjoy his drink in blissful solitude.

He was alone, typically how he enjoyed drinking, yet he found no peace. Memories of the last time he was at that very beer garden with her accosted his thoughts. The way her bright green eyes looked startling in the golden lights floating all around and the feel of her soft lips on his.

Before he could stop himself, he pulled out his phone and opened the app. His weakness was such that he had figured out how to download the damn app on his phone. It was almost comical that now he could look at her whenever and however long he wanted on a screen, as if she wasn't inhabiting his mind at every hour.

Ethan was determined to find his favorite post, a picture of her at that very bar, taken a few months ago by her friend, Dr. Trinh. Before he could, however, his eye caught a notification from the app itself.

“Pictagram: dr.allende just shared a new post.”

It was time stamped one hour ago. Ethan briefly commended himself on going a whole hour without staring at her face like the pitiful stalker he was becoming. Before he could feel ashamed and pathetic, he opened her new post and almost choked on his drink.

“Fuck,” he murmured into the quiet night, setting his glass down on a side table nearby. Without realizing it, he sat much straighter on the outdoor sofa.

His eyes desperately roamed every inch of the image, unsure where to settle. There was the expanse of her exposed leg, or the dangerously plunging neckline of her dress, the casual sway of her hip. His hands had clutched on to those hips, fingers digging slightly into her skin as they both lost themselves to unmitigated pleasure.

It was downright criminal how good she looked in the picture, exposing enough to drive a man insane but not enough to be crass. Apparently, he was not the only one to think so. In the mere hour the picture had been up, it had already accrued 220 of those "likes" Lilac had explained.

Ethan continued to stare at the picture like a starved man. It took everything in his power not to call her and somehow convince her to take him back, his morals and conviction be damned. That was the power Dr. Lilac Allende and her green dress wielded over him.

The distant clanging of bottles startled him out his thoughts so abruptly that Ethan almost dropped his phone. He caught it quite unceremoniously and as he turned the screen back to him, he noticed a red heart animation appearing and disappearing in the middle of her picture.

"Shit," he muttered when he realized he, too, like the 220 others had "liked" the picture. Upon further inspection, he realized he had even accidentally commented the single letter "I".

A bit frantic, he tapped at his phone to figure out a way to get rid of the damn thing. He could not bear Lilac learning he leered at her picture at 1 AM and was so affected he could barely type a coherent sentence. Even if that was a hundred percent true. Ethan was getting nowhere, except to an early grave, when a text message notification came in.

“Like what you see?”

It was Lilac.

Goddammit, she had seen.

Ethan considered not replying. Yet, even as he entertained the thought, he knew he couldn't resist.

“Along with 220 others,” he replied before he could stop himself. He realized belatedly that the real count was 220 others plus Bryce Lahela (scalpellahela).

“Those 220 others can look all they want but they can't touch,” was her immediate response.

His breath caught a little. The power she had over him was astounding.

“But you can,” she added when he did not respond.

God almighty. She was determined to kill him.

A few minutes ticked by and his phone buzzed with an incoming call. When he started the call, he was greeted by what sounded like distant wolf whistles, followed by the sound of a door closing.

“You okay over there?” she asked by form of greeting. Her voice was teasing in a way that was absolutely maddening.

“Fine,” Ethan replied in what he hoped was a convincing, leveled voice.

“Where are you anyway?” She spoke in a sultry sort of drawl that did nothing to placate his traitorous body's reaction to her photo.

“Donahue's. Finishing up my drink,” he replied, eyeing his forgotten scotch on the table where he had set it. “Anyway, sorry if I awoke you. I accidentally liked and commented.”

“Accidentally,” she repeated in a tone that suggested she did not believe him. “So you don't like my dress and you're not at a loss for words?”

“I never said that,” he returned at once. “You look…”

What was a professional way of saying “fucking irresistible” or “like I want to peel that dress off with my teeth”?

“Good,” he said lamely, though his strangled voice suggested far more. She picked up on that, of course.

“And what are you going to do about that?” she asked in a deliberately innocent whisper.

“Lilac,” he warned, as he always did when their conversation veered towards volatile territory.

“There's nothing wrong with just telling me, Ethan,” she offered and he could have sworn she sounded almost pleading.

He did not argue, as he usually did. Mostly because another intellectual argument with her, in addition to the photo and the way she all but purred in his ear, would allow his desire for her to win. He'd be on his way to her bed in moments.

“Tell me,” she prompted again.

With a sigh, he gave in.

“That dress is...”

“Yes?”

“Sinful.”

There was a small pause at the other end of the line.

“Should I wear it out?”

“Absolutely,” he returned, completely enraptured by the direction this was all heading. He could feel his inhibitions vanish.

“Where to?”

“My bed.”

She did not miss a beat.

“Ideally, I'd be out of the dress for that, then,” she returned in that sexy drawl of hers. Ethan was astounded he was not in the car, speeding to her apartment at that very moment.

“Fuck, Lilac,” he murmured.

“So you can do that, yes,” she responded in a whisper so low that he almost didn’t catch it.

He said nothing, fearing he would sound like an incomprehensible imbecile if he did.

A long silence, and then, “Ethan?”

“Yes?”

He heard her suck in a breath, almost as if mustering up courage. “I miss you.”

There was an unbearable tugging at his chest. He never had her courage, but now that she had laid it out for him, he couldn’t resist admitting the same. “You know I do too.”

Another small silence.

“Come over,” she said at last and he could hear the tones of humor in her voice. Almost as if she knew what he was going to say. Perhaps she did know. The brief illusion in which they saw each other as lovers and not colleagues, had inevitably come to an end. As it always did.

He laughed good-naturedly. “Go to sleep.”

“With you?”

Despite himself, he grinned. He knew at the other end, she would be too.

“Good night, Lilac.”

“Good night, Ethan.”

___________________________________

Click Here for Part 2

___________________________________

A/N: Ah, these two will have to sleep together sooner than later.

THANK YOU so much if you read this silly, pointless thing!

Masterlist

P.S. I made that Instagram post Ethan loves of MC at Donahue’s but didn’t put it in the story. LOL, I love the idea of him stalking her posts. That man is so in love.

Anyway, here it is, just for fun:

#Ethan Ramsey #Open Heart #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #choices you play #oph #OH #OH2 #OHSY #ethan ramsey fanfiction #Ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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hotdamnhunnam · 4 years

Text

Ironhead Imagine Ideas

So I FINALLY (extremely belatedly) watched Triple Frontier, and let me just say that Will Ironhead Miller can triple-fuck this bitch right here!!! 🙋🏻‍♀️ as in, I have three fuckable holes for a reason and he owns all three of them 🥵

Obviously this means that I got a whole new fucking stream of ideas for some smutty imagines!! (Adding onto the Imagine Ideas that I had posted earlier, pre-Triple Frontier)

Here I’m going to spill my guts, in case any of these ideas interest my fellow Charlie/Will sluts! I’d love to hear your thoughts??

Punny Titles

Iron Dickhead. You’re on your first date with Will and curious about the meaning of his military nickname. He’d rather not tell, though... he’d much rather show you his true claim to fame.

Iron Dickhead has now been posted!

Will You Just Fuck Me Already. Will is a fucking tease and really likes to make you beg—he can spend hours with his fingers and his face buried between your legs, before he finally treats you to the world’s most epic sex.

Will You Just Fuck Me Already has now been posted!

Will Miller: Sex in Publix. You’re helping Will recover from that cereal aisle incident, which means going back to the scene of the violence to process his feelings... and maybe indulge in some (shamelessly public) sexual healing.

Sex in Publix has now been posted!

***************

THAT SPEECH THO

These next three ideas are all based on quotes from Will’s speech in the first scene of the movie, which radiated all the big dick energy and was literal porn for me.

Best of the Best. Does this need a description? I think not? The damn cocky bastard described himself this way because he knows he is an actual god.

Best of the Best has now been posted!

Shut Down, Control. Just some shameless dom/sub smut based on the fact that Will Ironhead Miller owns all of your holes.

Shut Down, Control has now been posted!

One Goal: Completion. You’re with Will at a time in his life when—for complex psychological reasons—he feels the need to treat sex just like any other mission: cum and done. But you love him and want to convince him how much he deserves to enjoy it again.

One Goal: Completion has now been posted!

***************

Tagging my tag list, love you bitches ❤️ (let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!)

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353

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whump-me-all-night-long · 4 years

Text

The Scoop of a Lifetime - 9

Whumptober Day 9 - FOR THE GREATER GOOD

Tagging @mnmlover2002, let me know if you want to be added!

This one is a bit longer and the pacing is a bit weird but I hope y'all enjoy!

CW: threats, emotional whump/manipulation, referenced/implied past/future torture (very vague), let me know if I missed something!

Masterlist // Previous

---

Wildre let out a soft chuckle, before striding over to the bed and holding out a hand in silent invitation. Testing the waters, Devin realized. Testing the waters, yes, but also a threat. A threat of leaving them in here longer.

They just sighed after their moment of hesitation and put their hand in his, suppressing a shiver at how i was touching another person again i can feel them i didn’t imagine anything this is real this is good the skin contact felt.

As if he could see right through them, Wildre grinned slightly and tightened his grip, pulling them to their feet. They raised a brow before venturing to ask, “So? What now?” That was the big question, wasn’t it?

He shrugged slightly before turning towards the still open door. “Would you like to come with me to talk? I have a.. proposition for you.” They froze and he continued. “If not, if you need a bit more time in here to think, I’m more than happy to accommodate that. We can take as long as you need.”

That shook them out of any please don’t keep me in here any longer please i can’t stay in here i’m losing my mind i won’t show any more hesitation they’d had and they quickly shook their head. “No, no, that isn’t necessary. I- I can go with you.” They stumbled over their words a bit, trying to get them out before he changed his mind and locked them back up.

He lit up. “Wonderful! I knew you’d make the right choice. Follow me, this way. Let’s get more comfortable.” With their hand still securely in his, they had no other option but to follow where he led, shuddering to think what would have happened if they’d chosen wrong and what was waiting for them next.

After walking down many more unfamiliar hallways - How did he not get lost on a daily basis? - he finally brought them into an open room. They glanced around, taking in as much of it as quickly as possible.

They were on a higher floor, Devin could see plainly through the large, arched windows that lined along the far wall, peering out into the expansive garden below them. The second thing they noticed was how much lighter this room felt, compared to the others; it was decorated elegantly, in shades of cream and gold, natural sunlight filtering easily through the windows.

Wildre led them to a pair of matching, overstuffed armchairs in one of the corners, a small coffee table between them. Almost as soon as the pair were sitting, an older woman entered the room, carrying atop a silver tray, drinks, and Devin was not overexaggerating when they said that their mouth began watering when they caught a whiff of the coffee.

Wildre, noticing their reactions, smirked, waving a hand. “Would you like some coffee, love?” The woman set the tray down in between them, on the table, and left, as quickly and quietly as she came.

Devin bit their lip, struggling on how to react i don’t know what you’ll do next i’m too scared to respond. On the one hand, yes, of course, they desperately wanted coffee, but they couldn’t trust themself to say something and not have Wildre twist it into something much worse. They distantly felt their breathing pick up as their mind spiraled into all the horrible ways he could use anything they did against them.

Wildre didn’t bother trying to hide his obvious pleasure at their internal struggle. After a beat or two of silence, he shrugged. “Guess not.” He reached forward to take one of the cups, when-

“Wait!” Devin flushed slightly at how loudly they exclaimed. In a calmer, quieter voice, they continued, “Wait, yes, yes please, I’d like a cup of coffee.” They inhaled slightly, pausing to see how he’d respond.

Wildre’s smile was not at all reassuring. “Perfect. How do you take it?” he asked, pushing one of the steaming cups towards them before offering them the containers of cream and sugar.

Devin glanced at him for a moment before dropping their gaze and wrapping their hands around the warm cup. “Uh, black. I usually just drink it black. Thanks.” They added belatedly.

He simply tilted his head forward slightly before heaping generous amounts of both cream and sugar into his own cup. After stirring it thoroughly, he took a long sip, seeming to savor the flavor.

Devin watched the whole thing silently, sipping on their own coffee in reluctant contentment. After a few more swigs, Wilder lowered his cup.

“So I supposed I should tell you why I’ve let you out of your cage now, love. And what my proposition is.” Devin nearly jumped as he broke the silence, any semblance of normalcy that i could just be drinking coffee like normal why does this make me feel so shattered.

Devin mirrored his motions, setting down their cup as well. “I guess you should.” They hoped the waver in their voice wasn’t as noticable as they thought it was; the growing smirk on Wildre’s face said otherwise.

He made a near-silent hum, his eyes traveling across their face as if he could read the thoughts and emotions written out just beneath the surface. Finally he continued. “So, by now, you have probably realized that I can’t simply let you wander free, no strings attached. Not after what you saw.” Devin felt their heart sinking but forced themself to remain calm and keep up what they really hoped was an impassive facade. “Therefore, I’m giving you two options. Well, three really, although one of them is dying, and nobody here wants that.” Their heart skipped a beat and they thought they were going to be sick. “The remaining two options, as I see it, are, one, you can leave here, but you’ll have to assume a new identity and have everyone believe you’re dead.”

“Yes.” Devin knew it would hurt their friends, their family, but they would get over it, heal. And this was their opportunity to get away.

Raising an eyebrow, Wildre said, “Let me finish. You can leave, but everyone who knew you came here and everyone I suspect that might’ve found out about you ever being here would be killed. And you should know I’m very thorough.”

“No,” Devin breathed out, fighting the urge to surge up and leap across the table at him; all their friends, coworkers- Devin didn’t even let themself think of not them not them please keep all of them safe nobody should die because of me their names.

A smirk. “That’s what I thought. Now your other option is quite simple: stay here with me, love. Stay here with me and nobody needs to get hurt or die. You’d simply be here at my disposal. A person needs a little stress reliever, every now and then.”

Devin felt the last of their hope slipping away, sliding between their white-knuckled fingers wrapped around the mostly empty cup of coffee. They glared at him halfheartedly. “You- you know what I'm going to pick.”

He shrugged. “Do I? Say it aloud for me, love.”

They gritted their teeth, wanting nothing more than to punch the smarmy look off his face. Stamping down their oh god i'm going to be here forever i'm never doing to leave i'm going to die here nausea, they stared him in the eye. “Take me instead. I'll- I'll stay here. With you.”

The coffee had gone cold.

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esterexpsito · 3 years

Note

rebelu & 11 + 14 👁👄👁 (also ilu)

11) things you said when you were drunk & 14) things you said after you kissed me // rebelu

Lu has no idea what the fuck she’s doing here. She just knows that she could have thrown a hell of a better party.

Don’t get her wrong, the other people here seem to be enjoying themselves enough. It’s just... off-brand potato chips, really? A keg? She isn’t sure if this is just a standard for college parties or American ones in general, but she has certainly put together something way more worthwhile than what’s going on in this cramped apartment at sixteen years old, and with less than a week’s notice, at that. Fuck, that Valentine’s Party she threw her last year at Las Encinas was classier than this shit, and that was truly a disaster. At least she’s in a penthouse and not one of the dorms on campus. She could shudder with just the thought.

Still. You’d figure someone who lives in a top-floor apartment in Manhattan could go for the brand-name chips—or actual food, honestly. She’s fucking starving.

This brings her back to the question of “what the fuck am I even doing here?” that she had asked herself two minutes ago. Because she could easily be sharing a veggie pizza with Nadia back in their own dorm, or maybe even splitting the leftovers from the meal Iman had made for them when she, Yusuf, and Omar came to visit last week. But no. She’s here. At this random party she’d heard about from a girl in her Economics class who heard about it from a frat boy she’s apparently screwing. And she doesn’t even have Nadia here with her, because Nadia has a quiz on Foreign Policy on Monday that she needs to study for, or else the world is going to end.

(It’s times like this where she misses Carla. Carla would’ve said fuck it, gone out with her tonight, and then probably would have gotten a passable grade, anyway. Not that she’s comparing them or anything. She loves Nadia, of course, she just—fuck. She misses Carla a lot, okay?)

Lu’s at least self-aware enough to not blame how she doesn’t know anybody here solely on Nadia, because even though Nadia was too busy, she decided to come anyway. She just needed a break from everything. From school, from the stupid fucking traumatic memories that still manage to creep in three years after the fact, from the occasional bout of missing her parents. So she decided to take an old page out of her brother’s book. What’s a better way to forget than to drink her problems away?

Of course, the old Valerio would also add in drugs and sex to that cocktail. The new Valerio would still throw in the latter, but substitute the weed and cocaine for self-help books and whatever other Eat-Pray-Love bullshit he’s been on lately. Possibly energy crystals. And incense.

Lu isn’t interested in any of that, though; not even the sex. That leaves her leaning against a wall with a Solo cup full of alcohol and sending intimidating glares to whatever men who have the audacity to approach her. The unimpressed, arched eyebrow and condescending curve to her lips is practiced, and it works.

For the most part.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

He’s bland. That’s what she immediately notes about him. Next, his after shave is way too overpowering, and the type that, in her experience, assholes prefer (Guzmán used to wear a similar scent before she passive aggressively bought him something far better, and the fact that this man instantly reminds her of those days is already a warning sign). After that, he is very, very drunk, which is why her glare hadn’t properly worked on him.

She tries for blatant disregard; gives him a little once over and scoffs. “I don’t think so.”

“That’s a long name,” he slurs with a grin. She rolls her eyes. He leans in closer, arm braced above her head on the wall. Even though she’s in heels, he’s still taller than her, and she hates the caged-in feeling crawling up her spine.

Lu scowls and pushes him away with two fingers against his chest, beginning to step past him. “Excuse me.”

“No, no, hey, wait,” he says, catching her by the wrist. His fingers are clammy. Tight. Hurting. “Where you going? Don’t leave.”

“Don’t fucking touch—”

As soon as she yanks her arm free from his grasp, a foreign one lands on her shoulders. Lu startles in indignation, but she’s also admittedly a little panicked—and then the new person speaks.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, baby.”

It takes Lu a second to register that that sentence is directed to her. And even though she knows exactly what’s going on, even though she’s more than a little thankful for the save, she still instinctively bristles, because she has never once liked the way this woman has called her baby.

Based on the way Rebe crookedly smirks back when Lu narrows her eyes at her, the taller girl remembers.

“Who’s this guy?” She goes on, and nods her head in indication at him. It’s definitely a rhetorical question, because she glances him over and scoffs a mocking laugh. “Get lost, dude. She’s not interested.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Her girlfriend.” Lu doesn’t twitch, but she does feel the skin around her eyes go tight. “So, like I said, beat it.”

“There’s no way a girl this hot is—”

Lu knows from experience what Rebe looks like when she wants to hit someone.

But Lu is not a damsel in distress, thank you very much. And neither is she that brutish.

“If it hasn’t been obvious since the moment you walked up to me, I want nothing to do with your little shrimp dick,” she replies, tone even and unaffected where her smile is deep-cutting and mean. For added measure, she leans into Rebe’s side and grasps the hand that’s hanging over her shoulder, pulling her arm tighter around her. “Now walk away unless you want to lose it.”

He’s drunk, and therefore, unpredictable. He could drop it and leave just as easily as he could get violent—which, considering he’s an intoxicated man who just had his penis insulted, is probably the more viable option. But before he can act, another guy claps his hand on the guy’s shoulder tight enough to unmistakably be a warning, and then shoulders his way between the three of them with a wide smile directed at both of the girls.

“Hey, don’t mind him, he’s trashed.” The guy behind him opens his mouth. The newcomer fixes him with a glare that clearly means shut up, then smiles at Rebe and Lu again. “Sorry. We’re all good here, yeah?”

Rebe looks to Lu for confirmation. When she nods, the taller girl nods too, and offers him a controlled smile of her own. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Without another word, the guy manhandles his friend away.

“I’m not gonna lie, I was kind of looking forward to beating his face in,” Rebe says as they watch them disappear into the crowd.

The words are said almost directly into Lu’s ear, and it’s then that she belatedly realizes how the other girl is still holding her. Lu makes a face before she can help it and sucks her teeth, shoving Rebe’s arm off of her and immediately putting space between them even though she was the one who had leaned further in. For show. Obviously.

She fights the urge to fix her dress—there’s nothing to fix.

Rebe just looks her over in that amused way she does. Or did, because it’s been three years since Lu last saw her.

“Well, fuck, you’re welcome,” Rebe continues unaffectedly.

“What are you even doing here?”

The girl shrugs. “It’s a Friday night, this is a party...”

“You know what I mean,” Lu counters, annoyed. Rebe is supposed to be in Spain. Or, at least, not in New York.

“I’m taking a gap year.”

Lu half-squints at her. “You graduated two years ago.”

“So, two gap years, whatever,” Rebe says. “I’ve been traveling on-and-off. I’d never been to America before. Los Angeles was first; kind of frilly. Vegas; fun for one night, then boring. New York’s my last stop before I head back home.”

Lu regards her for a moment. “Did Nadia send you here?”

If she did and didn’t even have the decency to tag along, Lu might have to reevaluate just how much she loves the other girl.

“Nadia doesn’t even know I’m in town yet.” It’s sort of driving Lu crazy how Rebe won’t stop eyeing her, even though she’s well-aware that looking at someone is typically what you do when you’re talking to them. But with Rebe, it’s always gotten a little under her skin. “Anyway. It was nice seeing you and all, Barbie.”

Rebe starts to turn away from her.

Before she even realizes it, Lu’s reaching out and touching her elbow.

“Wait.” She hates how unsure she sounds, so she raises her chin a little with her next words, even if they really don’t warrant the movement. “You’re the only person I know here.”

“And?” Rebe prompts, raising an eyebrow.

“And,” Lu continues, tone begrudging, “from what I remember, you’re not the worst person to party with.”

Rebe stares. Then a slow smirk spreads across her purple-painted lips, and she resignedly shakes her head at herself.

“Fucking hell, I’m definitely going to regret this. But,” and she steps closer again, close enough to peer down into the cup still clutched in Lu’s hand, and Lu hopes to God that she doesn’t see how her fingers tighten around the plastic, just a little bit, “What are you drinking?”

Almost four rum and cokes later, Lu is nearly as wasted as the shrimp-dick had been. Under any other circumstances, this would mean that her plan to forget is going off without a hitch—except she’s with Rebe. And Rebe is a fixture from her past, and all that entails.

Meaning, it’s impossible to avoid talking about at least some of it.

“You keep in contact with anyone? You know, besides the obvious.”

They’re in some random person’s bedroom; the first vacant one they could find after drunkenly stumbling their way down the hall, legs shaky from a combination of laughter and dancing for the past hour. The door they had opened before this one led to another bedroom occupied by two girls making out on the bed.

At Rebe’s question, Lu purses her lips at the ceiling.

“Carla, mostly. But through text or FaceTime, we haven’t really actually seen each other.”

“Ah. And how’s the little marchioness doing, these days?”

“Don’t you talk to Samu?”

“Do you ask Nadia about Guzmán?”

It’s not like she and Guzmán are on bad terms, or that she’s bitter about how him and her current best friend-slash-roommate are tentatively together. Definitely not. She just likes to forget the fact that she actually had dated him, hurt over him, and hurt others over him, too. However—

“Fair point,” she concedes. “Carla’s fine. Busy. Do you actually care?”

“I don’t hold grudges, you know?” Rebe shrugs against the mattress. “That’s your thing, babe.”

The pet names. They haven’t stopped at all, even though there’s no drunken asshole here to keep up pretenses for. She blames the fact that they aren’t irritating her as much as they normally (used to) do on the rum.

“If you think I haven’t changed at all over the years, you’re severely underestimating me.”

“I have never underestimated you,” Rebe scoffs. “Besides, you haven’t changed that much. You’re still fun—you know, in that bitchy sort of way.”

Lu resists the urge to playfully slap her on the shoulder. “You thought I was fun?”

“When you weren’t trying so hard to be stuck up, sure,” Rebe says. “You can’t be related to Valerio and be boring at the same time.”

“He could have gotten that from his mom’s side,” Lu says neutrally, eyeing her.

“Nah. There’s something in you that’s a little wild. And no matter how much time you spend taming it, you like when it gets out.”

The thing about rum is that it has always made Lu extremely reckless, which is why she has, in turn, always stayed away from it.

The thing about Rebe is that she’s right.

Lu has no idea what’s going on in her head as she curls her fingers against Rebe’s jawline and pulls at the same time as she leans forward and eliminates the gap between them. Maybe she’s still thinking about those two girls just one room over, maybe she’s remembering all the times in school when she would find herself both pissed off and weirdly turned on by her and Rebe’s little cat fights. Maybe she’s scratching an itch that part of her has known has always been there from the moment they met, buried beneath jealousy and so much fucking repression towards her own sexuality, it’s no wonder she never acted on it sooner.

The kiss is reminiscent of almost all of their previous interactions with one another. Aggressive, sly, vaguely mean. But there’s something different—there’s the softness of Rebe’s skin, the lingering taste of mint in her mouth even though she’s had just as much to drink as Lu has, the way she drags her hand down Lu’s side and flexes her fingers against the sequins of her dress.

All of that sort of freaks her out for a little bit, and Lu has half a mind to put them back on normal ground by biting her lip, but then Rebe pulls back. She’s looking at her in that infuriating way again, that way that Lu doesn’t really hate as much as she pretends she does.

Lu realizes it’s a look full of equal parts calculation and consideration. In spite of her background, the friends—Samu—she likes to keep, and everything Lu has ever said about her, Rebe isn’t actually stupid.

Stupid has never been Lu’s type. She likes...

Well, she likes brutish. The push-and-pull. And she and Rebe have always been great at that.

“Shit, maybe you have changed, after all,” Rebe comments, smirking at her, and Lu has no idea why the fuck she sounds so smug.

She kisses her again instead of trying to figure it out.

#I LOVE UUUUU HOPE YOU LIKE IT #answered

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rosegoldannie · 4 years

Text

Cacti (feysand bachelor AU) part 2

Masterlist

Butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach as I met his gorgeous violet eyes, which nearly sparkled in the warm light from the overhead lights, strung artfully back and forth.

Rhys simply smiled deeply, ducking his head slightly. “Well, tell me a little bit about yourself, Feyre.” He prodded kindly. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw his cheeks tint ever so slightly pink.

I couldn’t hide the flush of my cheeks, even as I internally panicked to think of something. “Uhh..” My eyes roved calmly around us, settling on a small, potted cactus. “I like cactuses?” I offered with an apologetic smile, my eyebrows drawing together. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What kind of answer is I like cactuses?

A new sort of smile spread across his lips, brightening his eyes. A small strand of inky hair fell out of place, and I felt as if I had been punched, the air whooshing silently from my lungs.

Cauldron, I’m pathetic. There is absolutely no way he’ll give me a rose. And hell, who could blame him? What kind of answer is ‘I like cactuses’? Glancing up, I saw the producer waving me forward with a disappointed look, even as my eyes burned. I couldn’t meet the gaze of the man before me as I slipped silently past him and click-click-clicked up the path and into the house, where twenty-four other women were already waiting for me. I could feel those eyes burning a hole between my shoulder blades, and it took nearly everything in me to resist turning back to him. But I didn’t, knowing it would be easier for me in the long run if I were to avoid getting attached. Because who the hell did I think I was, to stand a chance against these super modelesque women, all of whom could easily outshine me on their worst days.

Inside, a warm breeze greeted me, which was quite the opposite from the icy stares of the other women as I took a tentative seat on an overstuffed chair. I fought the urge to tell them that I would most definitely be sent home that night, and that I was of no competition. But I didn’t, some small that sounded all too similar to Elain’s, telling me to buck up and hold my head up high.

The next half hour passed in much the same fashion as those first few minutes, with frigid glares and thinly veiled insults being flug across the room at each other, until a thin woman in a black collared shirt and trousers slipped into the room, and directed us all to proceed to the foyer for the first rose ceremony.

Belatedly, I wondered if it would be worth it to attempt making some friends, or if I should simply stand back (should I miraculously avoid being sent home tonight), and watch the catfights begin. Women were caddy, this I knew. But despite the silent glares and insults I had watched being thrown across the room for over half an hour, I now saw something akin to kindness in how some girls were silently adjusting the hair and gowns of the others.

I made a mental note to seek them out and try to become their friends, then drew my thoughts back to the task at hand. Mentally, I prepared myself for rejection as we were arranged like china dolls for the camera. Ever the darlings of Prythian. Mentally, I rehearsed my reaction to being rejected. Nothing new there. I was always someone’s second choice, someone’s afterthought.

Mentally, I calmed myself. Planned out my days of moping about on my couch until my vacation days ran out. I’d call Isaac, cuss him out, then eat pizza. Eat so much cookie dough ice cream that I’d have a brain freeze until mid-summer. Yeah, totally not pathetic.

I blinked, then nearly swore when I realized that I was one of only three girls left, with one rose remaining. How long had I been zoned out for? I met Rhys’s eyes, trying, trying, trying to mask my panic and held his gaze, trying to find some flaw within him to convince myself I’d dodged a bullet. Anything to make this hurt just a little bit less.

“Feyre,” He murmured, clutching a rose. Shock flooded through me. Confused and numb, I half-stumbled, half-tumbled over to him, never breaking his gaze. I held his gaze, praying that this wasn’t some wicked prank.

Behind me, I heard the disappointed grumbles of the two women who hadn’t been chosen, but the only thing I could focus on was him, those violet eyes. “Will you accept this rose?” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and I couldn’t hide the eagerness behind my nod.

His smile turned near-giddy, never looking away from me. Something hidden sparked in his eyes.

I slowly turned to follow the other twenty-two women up to our rooms, fingers stroking the silky petals of my rose and coming dangerously close to slicing them on the razor-sharp thorns, but Rhys gently caught my wrist. He leaned in carefully, pressed a gentle kiss to my cheekbone, then murmured, “Meet me in the gardens at midnight.”

Stunned, I could only muster myself together enough to meet his gaze just long enough to acknowledge that I’d heard him, before turning and almost skipping after the others, beyond thankful that I was the last girl in line, and wouldn’t have to deal with any jealousy.

At ten minutes to midnight, I was in my room, my palms smoothing over my jeans, trying to get rid of any wrinkles, then moving to my hoodie. I had debated wearing something more daring, but decided against it, and opted for comfort over style. Pulling on my formerly white vans, I slipped silently from my room, and began to make my way down the marble halls and opulent staircases, out to the garden where I had seen him for the first time only a few hours prior.

A dark shadow was meandering back and forth by the fountain, head leaned back up to gaze at the stars. The overhead lights were still on, only set to a much dimmer setting.

As I approached, I allowed my footsteps to become louder, and alert him to my presence. The lights cast his tan skin in a gorgeous, golden glow that had my fingers itching for a pencil. Rhys turned, and when his eyes met mine, he positively grinned, and held out a hand to me.

I took it, both completely taken aback and not at all surprised by the callousness of his palms, and allowed him to lead me over to a padded settee.

“So,” He murmured, crossing an ankle over his knee.

“So…” I hummed, hating how hot my face felt.

Rhys cracked a small smile, and chuckled a slight bit. “I felt horrible that we didn’t really get a chance to talk earlier, and as much as I loved learning how much you care about cacti, I want to know more about you.”

A warm, yet slightly nervous feeling strung through me, turning my muscles to spaghetti and my joints to springs. My knee began bouncing wildly up and down, causing Rhys’s smile to widen a small bit, as his eyes sparked in positively wicked delight..

A moment of silence passed, before I was finally able to speak. “I love to read.” I murmured, not entirely meeting his eyes. “I… I didn’t learn until I was twelve, because of a lot of different reasons, but I love it.”

That wicked smile became genuine, his eyes softening. “Really? Who is your favorite author?” He murmured quietly, then added, “At the moment.”

Instantly I felt myself relax with the neutral turn our conversation was taking. “I love The Falconer series by-”

“Elizabeth May?!” He finished, stunned and jaw agape. “You’ve read that? I’ve only ever known one other person who has.”

I couldn’t hide my surprised shock. “Really?! I haven’t ever even met someone who knows it. It’s so good. Which book is your favorite? I’m rather fond of the first one myself, especially with that ending..”

“The first one? Really?” Rhys chidded teasingly, while giving my hand a sweet pat. “Come, now Feyre. The second one is clearly superior.”

I chuckled, swiping a strand of hair out of my face, shaking my head. Folding my legs under myself, I braced my elbows on my knees. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” I teased, shoving gently at his shoulder. “And if you don’t mind, can I ask who you know that’s read The Falconer?”

That smile saddened a bit. “It was my sister, Violet. She absolutely loved that series, and said her favorite character was Kieran, because he and I look alike.” He paused for a moment. “She died three years ago.”

Guilt overwhelmed me almost immediately. “Oh, gods I’m so sorry, I shouldn-”

“No, no. It’s okay, really.” He assured me, gently leaning forward to take my hand.

My heart jumped at the contact, turning my blood electric.

Shit, being eliminated was going to hurt like a bitch.

Comment, reblog, or send me an ask if you want to be added to my general tags list! There should be regular updates to all fics soon.

tag list: @sailorsassley @whiskeybusiness1776 @mad-scientist-pyromaniac @la7sorcellerie @dayanna-hatter@mis-lil-red@aelinfeyreisa @bamchickawowow @togswiftie @teresa-1121@hizqueen4life @aelinchocolatelover @smexyminion@rowaelin-cressworth @illyrianbeauty @angelofmusic81 @rosesandglass@blackjacks-donuts @highlordrhysie @ame223 @sleeping-and-books @seducemewithyourbookcolection @high-lady-rhys @clumsybookworm18 @westofmoon @giorgia-the-trashpanda @burritowithfeels @happily-emma-after @awkward-avocado-s@fanfic-masterpost-site @tonypetersteve @msalazar3 @bookish-beans @terrasen-assassin @tntwme @lovemollywho @b00kworm @girlofmanyfandoms148

#feyre x rhysand #feyrhys #Feysand #rhys x feyre #rhysand #acotar fic #acotar

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moonguilt · 4 years

Text

molten gold

(written for a zine application, but I decided I would post it here and on ao3. it’s short but i had fun with it :) happy holidays, enjoy!)

Pairing: Keith/Lance

Wordcount: 1852

Read on my AO3 here!

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

“God, I’m so boooored.” Lance’s aggravated face popped up on the Black Lion’s main cockpit window, casting a faint red glow over Keith’s dashboard. Keith couldn’t exactly blame him; this so-called “space road trip” to Earth was taking much longer than they’d hoped, and inhabitable planets where they could take pit stops were few and far between.

A yellow glow appeared soon thereafter. “It feels like we’ve been flying for quintants,” Hunk groaned in agreement, his body half-way sunken into his chair. “Have we been flying for quintants? I definitely think we have. I pee approximately every five vargas, and since we left Iyethos, I think I’ve peed like...” He lifted a hand and started counting on his fingers, then sprung up in his seat, eyes wide. “Ohh, my God, I’m measuring time in intervals of pee. My sanity has reached a critical low.”

“Good Groggery, do humans really urinate so frequently?” Blue light entered the mix as Coran’s excited face materialized far too close to the screen, his body gracelessly crammed into the space between the control panel and the chair. Allura was leaning as far away as she could, her expression torn between annoyance and exhaustion.

Keith heard footsteps behind him, and a moment later Shiro’s robotic hand settled on the chair’s backrest. “Well, it depends on the—”

“Alright, no, we’re not having this conversation,” Keith interrupted immediately, already feeling the first pricks of a headache. “I know we’re all bored out of our minds, but I’m not gonna sit through you guys having some kind of pseudo-scientific discussion about the human bladder.” He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “There has got to be something better for you guys to entertain yourselves with.”

Finally, a green-tinted video feed flickered to life on his screen. “Say no more,” Pidge declared, smirking and cockily kicking her legs up onto the dashboard, only to find that she was a bit too short to maintain the position comfortably. She struggled for a moment before admitting defeat and sitting upright again. “Guess who just finished installing the latest Monsters and Mana data into our Lions’ shared network? As well as…” She adjusted her glasses. “... a dice bot?”

Lance was the first to react. “For real?!” he exclaimed, perking up in a way that Keith, at this point, could admit to himself was cute. “I mean—if you guys wanna play it, you know, I’ll tag along I guess.” He schooled his expression back into one of neutrality, pretending to examine his fingernails before realizing that he was, in fact, wearing gloves.

Pidge raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh, you mean you’ll lower yourself to play a nerd game with us humble nerds, huh?”

“I am feeling charitable today, Pidgey.”

Coran was leaping in too close to the screen again before anyone else could get a word out. “Well what are we waiting for? I’ve been wanting to try out my newest campaign for longer than a Yarupian Velrod’s first—”

“Hey, hang on, Coran.” Lance held his hands together in a T shape. “Keith doesn’t have a character yet.” He paused, then jolted in his seat a bit. “Or, uh, Krolia, or Romelle, or Shiro technically since, uh, you know, the last one wasn’t really his…” The faintest color started to rise to his cheeks, barely visible in the red glow of his lion’s cockpit.

Pretty, Keith’s mind informed him helpfully.

“... Anyway, plus they probably don’t even know how to play—”

“Of course I know how to play!” Romelle interjected, looking affronted as she squeezed past Coran and into the frame. “I used to play this all the time!”

“It is a highly popular Altean pastime,” Allura admitted. Only the top of her head was visible over her fellow Alteans. It seemed she had managed to squeeze far enough away in her seat to give their unpredictable limb movements a wide berth.

“And I do have my… ah… the clone’s memories,” Shiro added, his words coming out somewhat choppy and uncomfortable, “so… I know how it works. I think.”

“I will admit I am familiar with the game as well.” Keith nearly jumped out of his skin as his mother’s voice spoke over his shoulder. When did she get there? Wasn’t she sleeping? God, she was silent as the grave. “It is an excellent way during free time for Blade members to train their strategic skills and team working abilities through intricate problem-solving simulations.”

“... Yeah that sounds fun,” Lance commented in a flat tone, then waved emphatically at Keith. “Well still, Keith’s got no idea—”

Keith could hear the obnoxious grin on Shiro’s face as he inhaled. “Well, actually—”

“Shiro, no.”

“Keith’s not really as inexperienced as you might think—”

“Do not.”

“See, the thing about him and Matt and Adam is—”

Keith didn’t even allow himself a moment of pity over the slight hesitation in Shiro’s voice when mentioning Adam. He was too busy jumping up and clambering over his seat to tackle his adoptive brother. Try as he might, though, he wasn’t strong enough to get a hand over Shiro’s laughing mouth before—

“—they were total Dungeons and Dragons dorks.”

Keith let out a garbled noise, somewhere between a growl and a wail, and slumped back into his seat, letting his messy hair fall into his face. He could have sworn he heard a hum of amusement from Krolia’s direction.

He was allowed a moment of silent wallowing, and then:

“WHAT? Are you serious?!”

“Incredible! Why, Keith, if you were already fighting dragons at that age—”

“Shiro, my dude, I love and trust you, but you are definitely lying right now—”

“He’s not.”

All attention turned to Pidge, who was now fixing Keith with a knowing look that he did not like one bit.

“Pidge…” he grumbled in warning. She merely winked in his direction.

“It’s all true. Matt would come home and ramble about all the wacky quests he would send you guys on. He always took it easy on you, though, because you were a wittle baby,” she crooned, sticking out her lower lip. “Keith was like… thirteen, max, when they started. And he always played an edgy self-insert barbarian named—”

Keith’s irritation turned to absolute dread; a veritable wave of ice rushed down his spine. He didn’t even have time to protest.

“—Thunderstorm Darkness.”

You could hear a pin drop in the split second silence that followed.

“... No way,” Lance whispered, and like that, the dam broke.

Howling laughter from all around met Keith’s ears. He hunched down in his chair and shot both Pidge and Shiro absolute death glares as his teammates laughed so hard they cried. Shiro had the decency to look at least a little apologetic, but Pidge only fell into even louder hysterics.

“What?” Keith demanded hotly, his burning shame urging him to defend himself. Kosmo wandered over and began snuffling at Keith’s legs, as if sensing his distress. “I was a kid! And it’s not even that bad, you guys are overreacting—”

“THUNDERSTORM DARK—PFFFFTTT—” Lance’s laughing face was beautiful, even when he was laughing at Keith’s expense. Stupid beautiful Lance.

Keith couldn’t even find it in himself to stay mad when Lance’s bright laughter echoed around the cockpit. He was really starting to regret this whole “falling in love” thing. It definitely gave Lance way too much power over him.

Ah, did he say love? He meant crush. Stupid little crush. Keith was just very gay, and Lance was just very handsome. And nice. And smart. And funny. And heroic. And—

“Alright, everybody, that’s enough,” Shiro’s voice cut through his spiralling thoughts. “Why don’t we give everyone a minute to figure out their characters’ attributes and statistics? I’d like to make a new one too, personally.”

Everyone calmed down a bit after that; it was valid for Shiro to want to create a new character, after all. It was his own way of moving forward, in a sense. Starting fresh.

The team rambled about their past Monsters and Mana adventures while Keith, Shiro, Krolia, and Romelle listened quietly and designed their characters. Krolia’s choice of a basic fighter class was no surprise; neither was Romelle’s choice of druid, given her love of cute little animals.

When Shiro was finished, he cleared his throat and announced with great gusto:

“My character will be named Kiro. I want him to be a paladin.”

Hunk let out a defeated sigh, but everyone smartly kept their mouths shut.

Lance leaned forward then, his pretty blue eyes on full display. It took a moment for Keith to realize that his lips were moving too. Huh, that’s nice. Keith liked it when Lance’s lips moved. Oh, but they were frowning now. Wait, why were they frowning?

“Uh—what?” Keith stammered belatedly, willing his face to remain neutral. “I… zoned out.” He could feel his ears burning and quickly adjusted his hair to cover them.

Lance rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Dude, you were looking right at me while I was speaking to you, I don’t know how you managed to ‘zone out.’ Unless...” Something else must have occurred to him then, because his brows furrowed, and concern washed over his expression.

Oh no. No no no—

“Are you alright, man? You been getting enough sleep?” Lance’s gaze swept over Keith’s body, which nearly shivered under the attention. Keith thanked whatever deity out there that he still had some semblance of self control. “We don’t have to do this right now if you’re not up for it. You gotta take care of yourself, Keith,” he concluded, his tone far gentler than it had been just moments earlier.

Oh.

Something twisted in Keith’s chest at the way his name sounded coming from Lance’s lips, soft with worry. It churned and coiled around his sternum for a moment before melting into his very core, creating a hot gooey feeling that climbed to his shoulders and pooled in his stomach simultaneously. Lance may as well have poured molten gold into his veins, for all the warmth and all the worth with which it filled him.

“... I’m okay,” Keith managed eventually, dragging himself out of his reverie, only to find the rest of the team dead silent and watching him with amused expressions. “So. Um. What were we talking about?” He was so ready for this conversation to move on to safer territory.

Lance did not seem to catch Keith’s little moment of weakness, if his cheerful demeanor was any indication. “I was asking what your character is,” he clarified, leaning forward with another one of those devilish grins that drove Keith crazy in the best way. “Come on, mullet, lay it on us.”

That was enough to draw a hefty sigh from Keith, but he cleared his throat and answered anyway:

“He’s a barbarian, and his name is Thunderstorm Darkness.”

And, sure, Keith knew his teammates’ teasing would be endless. But it was a necessary sacrifice. One that paid off, he thought to himself, reveling in the fresh bout of laughter that shook Lance’s form, and the knowledge that he was responsible for it.

#its getting close to dinner time over in the states i think ish #so merry christmas eve to those of u who celebrate #and to everybody else happy holidays #this is probably a bad night to post this tbh but im impatient so here it is #here you can read this if ur antisocial and u dont wanna interact with ur family tonight #bc. mood #klance #monsters and mana #fanfic #lavender letters #i need to learn how to format fanfics nicely so they look good on my tumblr. hm #... some day

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pigeontheoneandonly · 5 years

Note

Congrats on your follower milestone! If there are still slots for prompts, can I have more Sam Traynor and Femshep hurt/comfort? Thank you so much!

I loved this prompt. Thanks for sending it in!

Samantha Traynor came through the hatch, bag of groceries in her arms. Gone were the days of reliable delivery aboard the Citadel; instead, they went down to the ad hoc market that had formed in an old plaza, still awaiting full repair, its shops and restaurants long abandoned. But it came to life every Saturday morning with fresh food from Earth.

“Jane?” she called, struggling in the doorway to tag it shut with her arms full. “Can I get a hand?”

There was no response. The flat wasn’t that large. A trickle of cold percolated her gut, a bodily reaction left over from the war, from every time Jane was on the ground and the radio went silent. “Jane?”

She took a few hesitant steps down the hall. Saw the red stripe of her sweatshirt lying askew around the corner, her hand flaccid and pale. Thirty credits’ worth of oranges splatted on the floor. “Jane!”

Sam ran into the living room. Jane lay still beside the table, a halo of blood puddling through her hair and under her head. She fell to her knees, touched her shoulder, jerked her hand away, afraid to move her even a millimeter. “Oh, god. Oh, shit.”

She jostled her again, a little harder, as hard as she dared. Jane’s eyelids fluttered. “Jane? Jane?”

A faint groan. Sam glanced from her wife to the table corner, sticky and red. She fell. But she hasn’t been the least unsteady for months… No time to think about it now. She leaned down close to her face. “Can you hear me?”

Jane blinked up at her woozily. Slurred, “Sam.”

She could have cried with relief. “Lie still. I’m calling for an ambulance—”

Jane tried to shake her head. Winced, and shut her eyes again. “Not an emergency.”

“The hell it isn’t.” She opened her omni-tool. Prayed that there would be an ambulance available, because that too was hardly guaranteed, with the Citadel in its current state.

“Just get me to the car.” Jane attempted to push herself up. And failed. And that was scarier than the rest of it put together, Jane, her Jane, unable to rise.

Sam took her hand, blindly, on pure instinct, needing to feel their fingers lock together, tangible. Emergency services finally picked up. “Yes, I need transport— my wife fell and hit her head.”

* * *

Jane Shepard came round in a hospital room, to the sight of a tall, lean figure perched on the foot of her bed. She sat up a bit. “John? What—”

A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, muscles giving out like cut puppet strings, and she flopped back onto the pillow. Blinking in surprise.

“Hey, look who’s up.” John slotted the datapad— her digital chart— back into its holder on the bedframe.

She touched her head, and found it swathed in gauze. “What are you doing here?”

“That was a fully coherent question. Very good.” He flashed her a smile. It really wasn’t fair; they were siblings enough to have the same bone structure, but what was homely on her was handsome as hell on him. Probably, that prick of irritation indicated a positive prognosis, that she was well enough to be annoyed.

Jane made a second attempt to push herself up, gingerly, with more success. “My head’s killing me.”

“Very funny.” He folded his hands over his knee, looking down at her. “You experienced a linear skull fracture resulting from a mechanical fall and subsequent cranial collision with a table. The primary injury was further complicated by an epidural hematoma. You also presented with a severe laceration, left side of head, treated by suture and bandaging.”

She glared. He did this sort of thing on purpose. “Can I have that in non-doctor-speak?”

“You fell and got a good crack on the head. The hospital stitched you up.”

A pitcher of water sat on the nightstand. She groped for it, oddly challenging. “How long?”

John got up and poured for her. “Better part of a day. You’ve been in and out of things.”

“You shouldn’t have cancelled your vacation for this.” Jane reluctantly allowed him to help her take a sip, then a bigger gulp as the water hit her parched mouth.

“What can I say? Your wife is terrifying when she’s upset.” He set the cup aside. “Miranda convinced her to walk down for a cup of coffee just now.”

Right on cue, the hatch slid open. John glanced back. “She’s awake. For real this time.”

Sam rushed in and seized her in a tight hug, her head buried in her neck. Jane returned it as best she could. “Sam, honey, I can’t breathe—”

She loosened her grasp marginally. Voice muffled. “I came in and saw you lying in blood.”

“I’m sorry.” An overused phrase in their relationship if ever there was one.

Samantha sat up, rubbing at her face. The skin around her eyes had gone so dark it was nearly purple. “What happened? I checked your prosthetic after you were admitted, and it didn’t look as if anything had come loose.”

Jane bit her lip. Shifted her eyes to John, who had already read the trace of guilt. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Janey Rose, what are we going to do with you?”

Indignation crowded out embarrassment. “I don’t even like it when dad calls me that.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam looked from one of them to the other and back.

John crossed his arms. “How did you fall?”

She hunched down in the bed. “I was doing a kata.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me. Jane—”

“I modified it,” she protested. “I took one of the simpler patterns and eliminated the kicks and anything else that seemed improbable.”

Not impossible. That wasn’t a word she was willing to start using yet.

Sam’s expression had gone flat. “What is a kata?”

John sighed. “You know Jane and I grew up doing martial arts. A kata is a form that lets you practice maneuvers in a pre-defined pattern.” His attention shifted back to his sister. “You’d think I’d be used to your insanity. I’m sorry that your life has changed, but—”

Samantha took a huge breath. “You did this to yourself?!”

That actually cut off John’s lecture at the root, an unprecedented event. Jane tried to disappear into the bed. Sam wasn’t done. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I…” But her wife’s face looked like a thunderhead, and her excuses shriveled before it. A tense silence grew.

John cleared his throat. “We’re just going to step out a moment.”

Belatedly, Jane noticed Miranda standing in the door, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. It occurred to her that she’d never seen Miranda in casual dress. Her eyes narrowed— wearing, in fact, John’s sweatshirt. Things must be going better than she expected.

Miranda gave them a glance, clearly awkward. “We’ll be just outside. Give a shout if you need us.”

The hatch shut behind the pair. Sam sat ramrod straight, arms crossed. “Well?”

“I’m sorry—”

“I don’t want your apologies.” She got up and stalked away, staring out the window at the lake below Huerta Memorial, shoulders heaving. From her reflection in the glass, Jane guessed she wasn’t actually seeing much. “I want you to stop pushing yourself until you break for no damn reason.”

She bristled. “You don’t understand.”

“You broke your skull, Jane.” Her voice caught. Her face crumpled.

Jane’s chest tightened. For the first time, she felt a shred of remorse. So she sat up, slowly, and realized as she swung her foot over the bed that her prosthetic was propped in a corner, across the room. “Hey. Come here.”

Sam resisted for a moment, but then returned to the bed, perching on the edge beside her and staring down into her lap. Jane slid her arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She slid her thumb across her eye. Wiping away a tear. “You never do.”

Said with such futility that Jane actually felt a curl of shame. It made her reach for an explanation, a real one, even if she still thought Sam couldn’t possibly understand this. “It’s… hard. I haven’t been able to move since Liberation Day. I’ve got this constant restless soreness that never leaves me alone. My body is used to being used, being active, and no amount of hobbling through a park gives me any relief. I just wanted to move. Just for five minutes.”

Samantha finally looked at her. Tried to speak, with a heartbreak in her eyes.

Jane wrapped her other arm around her, feeling heartbroken herself, and rocked her softly. Said into her hair, “I am so, so sorry, Sam. Sure, it’s what I always say, but it’s never not sincere. I just don’t know how to…”

“I just want you to tell me, instead of trying to fix everything yourself.” But she returned the hug, burrowing into her shoulder. “I want to hear from you what’s going on in your head, instead of coming home and finding you covered in blood. You don’t know what that costs me.”

Ten months had passed since Liberation. Jane still woke up some nights to an empty bed, and found Sam in the kitchen with a mug of tea, wide awake and more shaken than she’d admit. And though she never said, Jane knew too well that occasionally, it was because of how Sam found her, buried in rubble and mostly dead, that memory coming back in the worst way.

“I love you,” she said aloud, the words feeling insufficient as they left her mouth. “But help isn’t something I’m used to having. It’s taking some time.”

Samantha sniffled once. Sat up a bit and wiped her nose. “Swimming.”

Jane was derailed. “What?”

“And yoga.” A pause. “Something cardio, maybe aerobics. Weightlifting. We can find somewhere to tuck it in the flat if you don’t want to go out, but I hardly expect security will stop you at the navy gym, retired or no.”

She blinked. A foolish feeling crept over her, because she’d been so focused on what she couldn’t do that none of the other possibilities had crossed her mind. “Someday I’m going to remember upfront that you’re so much smarter than me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Sam took her hand. “But by god Jane, you have your blind spots.”

Jane chuckled. She couldn’t help it. And after a moment, Samantha joined in.

#mass effect #jane shepard #samantha traynor #hurt/comfort #with a twist?#fanfiction #pigeon writes #shaynor

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

Text

you’re fuckin (coco)nuts

idek, @suddenly-im-respecsable told me i should become a coconut engineer and then we astral projected for this and somehow it turned into “WRITE A CRACK FIC FOR THIS” and then i did

warnings: dumbassery

ship: platonic sprace, ralbert

editing: nooooo its about FUCKING COCONUTS

word count: 1250 ish

“God this is just what I needed,” Race smiled serenely as he settled onto his towel, handing Spot one of the pina coladas he’d gotten from the small stand by their resort.

A long year spent working extra hours and saving up money had lead the two boys to Oahu, Hawaii for their Spring Break. Admittedly, it’d still put a significant dent in their wallets, which wasn’t entirely ideal considering they were graduating college in a few months and probably couldn’t afford to go bankrupt. But, things had been stressful recently and this was self care.

“Me fucking too, man,” Spot agreed, sitting up and pushing his sunglasses up his nose as he accepted the drink from Race, “and this weather is fucking sexy.”

Race choked on his pina colada, spluttering for a moment before looking at Spot, “Did you just call the fucking weather sexy?”

Spot shrugged, “You got another word for it? It’s sunny and warm with that perfect cool breeze. Sexy.”

Race stared at him for a moment before facing the ocean again, shaking his head, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Spot laughed, shifting around on his own towel to look at the ocean. It truly was beautiful. The ocean was almost impossibly turquoise and the clear water shimmered softly in the sunlight. Palm trees surrounded them on all sides, giving the area a pleasantly enclosed feeling. Like they’d found their own little universe, completely separate from everything else.

Race hummed as he became acutely aware of the sun beating down onto his shoulders and he reached around to fish a bottle of sunscreen out of his bag. He squirted a fair amount onto his hands and began lathering it onto his skin.

“Lil’ bitch,” Spot coughed, clearing his throat.

Race froze in his actions and shot an incredulous glare at Spot, “You think you’re tougher than the sun? The fucking sun?”

Spot pursed his lips, looking like he wanted to make a comeback, but falling short of an intelligent sounding one.

Race sat up straighter and continued to rub the sunscreen into his shoulders, “That’s what I thought.”

The lapsed into silence, drinking in the view and allowing their stresses to slowly drain from their minds. At one point, Spot pulled out a book and Race found himself dozing. They stayed like that for what could have been hours until Spot shut his book pointedly, using it to prod Race awake.

Race opened his eyes slowly, raising his eyebrows, “Can I help you?”

Spot stood up, shaking out his towel and successfully spraying Race with sand, “I’m bored, let’s explore.”

Race huffed indignantly, wiping the sand out of his eyes before standing as well. He rolled up his own towel and shoved it into his beach bag. He hastily slipped on his sandals before shouldering his bag and jogging to catch up with Spot, who’d already set out towards the main street of the resort.

They made it all the way to the path that led them away from the beach when a war cry sounded above them. Alarmed, they froze, heads jerking upwards in search of the source of the cry. Before Race had a chance to see anything, a large object fell out of the palm tree directly above them, nailing Spot in the head.

Spot let out a grunt, careening forwards onto his knees as his hands flew to his head.

“Spottie!” Race exclaimed, rushing forward to kneel next to him, hands hovering over his shoulders.

“Son of a bitch,” Spot bit out, voice gravelly. He lifted his head slowly, unfocused eyes fixating on the ground in front of him.

“What the fuck,” Race muttered, picking up the object that had hit Spot. It was a fucking coconut.

He looked up again, startling as he made eye contact with a guy. He had red hair and was wearing a grass skirt over a pair of floral swim shorts. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but a large lei was secured around his neck, swaying slightly in the breeze. If Race squinted, he could see a small twig crown resting on his head. As weird as he appeared, there was an unconventional attractiveness to him.

“What the fuck,” Race repeated. He raised his voice slightly, “Hey! Who the fuck are you and why did you throw a coconut at my friend?”

The guy smiled and flipped down from the tree, landing gracefully in front of Race, “The name’s Albert, I’m the coconut engineer here.”

Race blinked, completely bewildered, gaze landing on the pair of weed vans that Albert was wearing, “You’re...you...what!?”

Albert hopped down into a sit, crossing his legs under him and propping his chin on his hand, “Coconut engineer.”

“Yeah but what the fuck is that and why did it include concussing me,” Spot snapped, still sounding pained.

“I make sure coconuts don’t fall out of trees and injure tourists,” Albert said matter-of-factly, “But you had a bad aura, so I threw a coconut at you.”

“I had a- wait what?” Spot looked vaguely like he wanted to strangle Albert and Race wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t if he were feeling up to it.

“Bad aura,” Albert said, picking up the coconut that he’d thrown at Spot and breaking it open with his bare hands. He took a long sip of the water inside before continuing, “Looked kinda bruting and I saw you shake sand on Hottie McHottiekins from the spot in my tree. You deserved it.”

Race choked, “What’d you just call me?”

Albert looked at him innocently, “Hottie McHottiekins.”

Race blushed and Spot groaned, “Oh, no no no, please tell me you’re not considering going out with Mr. Coconuts over here.”

Race ignored him and held out a hand, “The name’s Antonio, but Race is what I go by.”

Albert shook his hand, his grip firm and confident, “Nice to meetcha, Race. Wanna go get sushi or something later?”

“Sure thing,” Race said, taking out his phone and handing it to Albert, who put his phone number in the contacts, “text me.”

XXX

Spot blinked open his eyes, the bright morning sunlight bleeding in through the blinds. His head still ached from the coconut fiasco of the previous day, but after icing it for a bit and taking some ibuprofen, it was feeling significantly better.

He rolled over and dragged himself out of bed, stumbling down the hallway a few paces to Race’s room. He knocked once before opening the door.

“Morning, I was thinking we could-” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing when he realized that Race wasn’t in his room. In fact, Race’s bed didn’t look slept in at all.

He pulled out his phone, hurriedly pulling up Race’s contact. Had Race even made it home from his date with Albert last night?

He was about to phone Race when the door to their small beach house opened. Spot whirled around to find Race staring at him, wide eyed with a hand still on the doorknob. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and a few small hickeys littered his chest. His hair was sticking up on top and we was wearing a pair of pajama pants that Spot was certain he didn’t own.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the air thick with anticipation. Then Spot lowered his phone from his ear, which he belatedly realized he was still holding up.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “You fucked the crazy coconut guy.”

Race’s face turned bright red.

lmao welp i told myself i’d finish some greaser au shit and chap 10 of fugitives but this happened instead LOL at least im finally on break and can grind some shit out,,, maybe titanium too o.O

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @sunshine-e-cigarettes @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend

@auspicioustarantula

@faithmil

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty

@eveningpaper

@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@bitching-newsboys

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins

@joshuaburrageenthusiast

@random-superhero-stuff

@awkwardstranger98

@falling-out-trees-101

@modern-race-owns-airpods

@asphodelnerd

@i-dont-do-sadness

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@thats-our-que-boys

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@nerdsies

@toss-me-a-pape

#newsies #ralbert #newsies fic #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #sprace #chaotic boys #lmao wtf even #al is wild

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dresupi · 5 years

Text

Set Your Tasers to Tickle

Darcyland Crack Challenge 2019 Day 1: Taser Mishaps

Ship: Darcy Lewis/Stephen Strange | Rated: T | Word Count: 2815 | Prompt: Day 1: Taser Mishaps | Other tags: Tickling, Crack, Darcy Lewis April Fool's Crack Challenge 2019, One Shot, Kissing, Teasing, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I hope |

Summary:

Stephen's made fun of Darcy's taser for the last time. Well, probably not the last time. But she made some changes so it'll be more difficult to make fun of it.

"Dr. Foster?" FRIDAY's voice was cool and crisp against the relatively warm, numbing silence in the lab. It brought Darcy out of the Spotify and daydream cycle she'd been gently rolling through.

"Hmm?" Jane asked, not fully paying attention.

"Dr. Foster?" The A.I's voice was more insistent this time.

"What?" This time, the astrophysicist was less absent, but still not fully there.

"Dr. Foster?"

"Geez, what, what?" Darcy asked. "Why are you doing that? I know your intelligence is artificial, but you should totally just ask for me."

"Mr. Stark wanted to remind the two of you that the scheduled group dinner starts in ten minutes, Ms. Lewis, but you told me that if I ever interrupted you when you were staring unblinkingly at your computer screen again, you'd have me rewired. While I know this isn't possible, I thought it best to adhere to your rules. If for nothing other than positive future interactions between the two of us."

That's right. It's Wednesday. Wednesday nights were group dinner nights. "Oh right. The dinner. And thank you, FRIDAY, you're officially on my good list."

"I'm thrilled, Ms. Lewis. Do you have any other queries at this time?"

"Who all are attending? Stevie and Wanda?"

"Captain Rogers and Ms. Maximoff are indeed in attendance. As is Colonel Rhodes, as is Mr. Wilson. Dr. Stephen Strange is also in attendance. And you and Dr. Foster, if you disengage from your computers and start walking in the direction of the dining hall in no less than ten minutes. Dr. Banner has recused himself to his private quarters, so he will regretfully not be joining you this evening.."

Darcy grimaced. "Strange is gonna be there?"

"Indeed. His invitation was accepted belatedly, but he is already in the dining hall as we speak."

"Did you hear that, Janey?" Darcy extended her leg and pushed on Jane's chair, jarring her from her thoughts. Not an easy thing to do, but Darcy knew all her boss's buttons and cheat codes after almost ten years.

"Hear what?"

"Dr. Strangelove is coming to dinner tonight."

Jane wrinkled her nose and reached over to save her work. "Oh, I'm sorry Darce. I know how much you don't like him."

"And neither do you! You don't like him either. Because he's my wildcard, Jane. You have to hate him because I do. No questions asked. We each get one, and I totally hate that one dude who came in here."

Jane began the process of shutting down her computers. "First of all, I feel like that shouldn't count as my wildcard because Reed Richards is a dick and everyone knows it. And secondly, I do; I hate Stephen Strange blindly. Only because I love you, Darce. But…"

"No buts. We have to be mean girls tonight, Janey."

"I don't think he's all that bad."

"That's because in regards to you, he's some kind of magical-science man whose brain you'd like to pick, and he's actually of a mental acuity that can keep up with your science babbles. But Bruce is all of those things too, and he's not a jerk to me, so…"

"I don't think Stephen's being a jerk, Darce. I think he's teasing you because he likes the reaction he gets from you. If you didn't get so angry, I bet he'd leave you alone. Not that any of this is your fault, but… you see what I'm saying?"

"Look. I am thirty years old."

"You're thirty-two…" Jane muttered under her breath.

"I am THIRTY for the third year running, and I'm doing just fine with it, thank you…" Darcy replied in a scandalized tone. "And regardless. I'm too old to have my pigtails yanked on the playground. If he enjoys my company, I require a more… finessed approach."

"Darcy. He could magic a bunch of lab equipment to float in the air, spelling out your initials and his in a heart and you still wouldn't get it through your thick skull that he liked you."

"That may be true, but I certainly cannot gauge someone's like or dislike of me if he flat out refuses common decency."

"He teases you. He's not being uncommonly indecent."

"He likes seeing me squirm," Darcy countered.

"And that's not a good trait in someone you're boning?" Jane retorted, eyebrows raised.

Darcy's mouth fell open and she made several undignified noises. If she had to call them anything, she'd call them squawks. "I… I… I… never said anything about boning him!"

"That's the underlying current here, isn't it?" Jane asked. "You say you hate him. But there's a thin line between disdain and--"

"Do not for the love of all that is Thor-ly, say 'love'."

"Attraction," Jane finished. "If you were indifferent to him, you wouldn't care how he treated you. Look at Bruce. He has his bad days and grumbles at you and you don't bat an eye. Stephen Strange uses a tone that's borderline snarky and you throw yourself dramatically off the deep end."

"No. I. Don't."

Jane pursed her lips but didn't reply any further, which was fine. Because Darcy totally won that argument, okay? "So, are you ready for dinner and hating Stephen? Because I'm ready."

Darcy sniffed and nodded. "Might as well get this over with."

"What are we eating, anyway? Last week's options were pretty good…"

"I think Tony's doing takeout for everything…" Darcy said trailing off. "We could literally ask FRIDAY."

"Tonight's menu consists of twelve different gourmet soups," the A.I cheerfully provided.

Darcy made a face. "One of those better be cheese based or I'm skipping out…"

"Me too," Jane muttered.

The dinner itself was amazing. Surprisingly. Or not surprisingly, since Tony usually hired chefs that made amazing food and Darcy wasn't sure why she ever questioned things anymore.

There were three cheese-based soups, so she and Jane had plenty to choose from.

The wine was nothing to sneeze at either.

It was too bad that Darcy couldn't really enjoy either because Stephen Strange was such a mind-numbingly terrible human and his very existence put a bad taste in her mouth.

A bad taste that even a bowl of creamy asparagus parmesan soup couldn't take away.

"So how's scientist-wrangling, Darcy?" His Terrible-ness asked, only about five minutes into the meal.

Seriously dude, let me live?

She took a long sip from her wine glass, realizing that any hope of his surviving the dinner was going to rest on how quickly it got refilled. "Good. Thanks." Just like Jane had advised. Short. Semisweet. Didn't expose any emotion whatsoever, Darcy was golden-- "How's being an emotionally constipated magical prick with too many layers and a personality that idles on extra?" she added at the end.

Gods-dammit, Darcy.

Stephen burst into laughter. Pretentious laughter. "I was just trying to make conversation," he said.

"No, you weren't. If you were making conversation, you wouldn't have picked on one of the things you know bothers me."

He peered over at her. "How would I know that bothers you?"

"Because, Genius. You've brought it up before. And you know damn well that's not all I do, but you oversimplify things to get a rise out of me. Next, you'll be making fun of my taser, even though I could level your ass with it."

"Hey, hey…" Tony interjected. "Keep the foreplay out of dining room, okay?"

Darcy rolled her eyes and snatched her glass, physically turning herself so Stephen was out of her line of vision.

"You've never done it before, why start now?" Stephen muttered under his breath. Just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"That taser's gotten her out of some binds before," Steve interrupted. "She'd be dead by now with all the intelligence she's carrying if it wasn't for that thing."

Wanda agreed. "No one ever expects it."

"And she tased Thor!" Jane added.

Darcy felt her heart physically warm. Her friends were awesome, okay?

"Yes, I did," Darcy said, effectively ending the convo once and for all.

Or it would have.

If she didn't get her feelings hurt a little.

Okay, so she got her feelings hurt a lot.

And when Darcy got her feelings hurt, she usually cleaned something. But her apartment and workstation were all as tidy as they could be and Jane had murder eyes for anyone who so much as deigned to ogle the mess in her area, so Darcy was left with but one option.

Tinkering with her taser.

Probably not the best of plans, considering her lack of engineering expertise. But she'd hooked up her Roku, and she was the only one who could fix the wifi in the lab, so those skills had to account for something.

After approximately three shocks to various fingers, it was obvious that while those skills were nothing to sniff at, they didn't transfer to taser tampering.

Which was how she found herself hanging out at Tony's station and casually nudging the weapon towards him.

"Fine," he said finally, scooping it up. "What do you want me to do?"

"Add more settings," Darcy said quickly.

"What settings?"

"Doesn't matter. Just. More."

"You got it, short stack."

When her beloved taser was returned to her, it looked largely the same. Except for a dial on the side that she could spin to change settings.

There were the ominous 1, 2, and 3 settings. In addition to those, there were some others that grabbed her attention a little more.

"Double Rainbow" seemed to do just that, shooting two identical rainbow beams out the end that carried no voltage that she could discern. Probably why the setting was printed in blue font, whereas the 1, the 2, and the 3 were in red.

There was also a 'Pinkie Pie' setting in blue, as well as something Tony called "Sonic Screwdriver, which she found out was actually a type of a lock-picking setting. She just had to stick the diodes on any lock and she could blast a door open. Nifty. Both were blue, so she assumed neither would hurt an actual person.

Last on the dial, though. Was something called 'Tickle'. The font was purple. And it looked hella interesting.

"'Tickle'?" Darcy asked.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, that one's a hybrid. Won't hurt the target. But it'll make 'em giggle a little." He shrugged. "I wanted something in the middle. Before, that thing either maimed or sparkled. Now, it also tickles. You're welcome."

Darcy took her new weapon and grinned. "Thanks!"

She would swear up, down, and under oath that it was an accident.

She was practicing on one of the dummies Bruce and Tony hadn't blown up yet. She'd tried out each of the red settings, finding the 3 was likely for Bruce's Other Guy, if he ever Hulked out in the lab and was unwilling to listen to reason. Settings 2 and 1 were pretty much the factory settings.

She tried out Pinkie Pie and Double Rainbow, happy with the results. The first one emitting showers of purple and pink sparkles in the shape of a unicorn. The latter, doing its double rainbow-thing.

Unfortunately, she couldn't even shoot the 'Sonic Screwdriver' at something that wasn't a lock, so she'd have to talk to Tony about how to test that one out.

It left one final setting to try out.

And she wasn't sure what it would do to the dummy, but she wanted to give it a shot. Pun intended.

She set it firmly on 'Tickle' and rounded on her target, shooting the diodes out and giving a yelp of surprise when they implanted firmly on Stephen Strange's shirt.

He glanced down at them for a long moment before his shoulders started shaking.

Let it be known to the world and everyone in it that Stephen Strange had the dorkiest laugh in the entire universe. Somewhere between a cackle and a goose honk.

Darcy released the trigger, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Oh my Thor, I'm sorry…"

"You're shooting me now?" he gestured to the diodes. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but if this thing took down Thor, I must be even mightier than the Asgardian." He puffed his chest proudly.

Darcy audibly groaned and pulled the trigger again, resulting in Stephen laughing both uncontrollably and loudly.

She smirked. "It's the tickle setting. Tony's been working on it. I also have a setting that can take down the Hulk, care to try that one?" She mimed reaching for the dial and Stephen's hands came out as he jolted forward.

"No, don't. Don't. I give."

"Relax. I wasn't going to shoot you with that one."

He smirked. "I know that. But I still give."

"You… give?"

"Yes. I give. Uncle. Whatever I need to say. Just please don't tickle me again."

"Why?"

"I don't like my laugh," he readily admitted.

She smirked and held her finger over the trigger again. "There's something else I'd like you to say… five seconds to guess…"

For the record, she was hoping for an apology.

"Dinner?" Stephen asked, hands still extended.

"What?" Darcy frowned. "Dinner?"

"Dinner? Just you and me. No one else. I don't feel like we ever get a chance to talk when everyone's here."

Her stomach flip-flopped and she let the taser come down to her side. She walked over to him, yanking the diodes from his shirt and wound them back up. "You can go."

"Wait…" He practically stumbled forward. "That's why I'm here. To ask you to dinner."

"Pull the other one, Magic Man."

"No, I mean it. And I take it from your utter lack of a reaction that this is a complete surprise to you?"

"Not completely. Just utterly the last thing in the entire world I expected to hear from you. I would have settled for an apology just so you know. I'm not into torturing a dude for a date."

"An apology for what?"

"For our entire acquaintanceship," she countered. "You're rude and mean and you make fun of me, and you are so good at picking out every little thing that I'm sensitive about…" Darcy shook her head. "So hate to break it to ya, but I'm gonna need a rain check on the date."

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I'm sorry for hurting your… pride? Your feelings? I can't tell by your tone which it was, but I am infinitely sorry."

She shrugged. "You had to do something, right? I was kind of equally horrible to you."

"I didn't mind," Stephen replied. "I enjoy a good verbal spar from time to time." He took a step closer. "You said you'd need a rain check for the date?"

"Did I? I thought I refused you outright and bade you to never darken my doorway again…" she teased.

He shook his head, and she shifted her weight expectantly. "How long's the rain check good for?" He asked, freezing in place.

She shrugged. "No expiration, I guess."

"That's… that's good to hear. So you wouldn't be opposed?"

"I know," she said, laughing a little. "Color me surprised."

He took another step closer. "I really am sorry. I thought we were engaging in verbal combat, but with a slightly flirtatious flair."

"I don't flirt with the guys who pull my hair to show they like me," she replied.

He smiled a little. Crookedly, and in a way that made her want to blush and look away.

"You weren't not flirting," he countered.

"No. But I wasn't flirting either. You'd know if I was."

"What does that look like? For those of us who are helplessly dense in this subject?"

She rolled her eyes. "You, Stephen. Are hopelessly dense about a lot of things. But not about this. If I like you. I'll tell you."

"Do you like me?"

"You're growing on me," she replied, smiling a little as he moved closer still. She wasn't moving closer, but she wasn't moving away either. He could come all the way across the floor if he was serious.

"Like a skin tag?"

She smirked. "No, genius."

He chuckled, closing the gap between them and standing so close that she could smell his aftershave. "See, I'm really bad at this."

She reached up to grab at what passed for lapels on that ridiculous ensemble he was wearing. She tugged him forward and turned at the last second, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You really aren't. Call me later about the date, okay?"

She took a step back and took her taser with her.

"How late is later? Can I call you in five minutes?"

"Use your best judgment!" she called, retreating to her area of the lab with a smug smile on her face. She slid into her chair with a tiny bounce.

"Seemed pretty 'finessed' if you ask me," Jane said, keeping her voice low as she clicked around on her computer.

"Shut it, Foster."

#Strangeshock #Darcy Lewis #Stephen Strange #Darcy/Strange #dlaf2019 #Crack Challenge

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crystallized-iron · 5 years

Text

Bite Me - Chapter Five

Please read the tags on the Masterlist! Masterlist

***** ***** *****

What am I doing? This is crazy, so fucking crazy, why am I doing this?

Tony sat on his hands as Bucky drove, trying to keep himself from reaching over and touching him. He couldn’t understand it. Last night had been a disaster, so why did he still want this man so badly? Was he really that lonely?

He silently watched Bucky’s fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, longing to feel their chilly touch again. Then his eyes went to Bucky’s face, his mouth, wanting to taste his lips in another desperate kiss.

How cool would his breath feel?

His heart pounded and he closed his eyes, turning his head toward the windshield.

“You alright over there?” came that soft voice, adding fuel to Tony’s desire.

“Yes,” Tony answered, a bit too quick. He heard Bucky chuckle and his heart fluttered. “So where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Bucky told him again.

Tony sighed. The ride was feeling too long already.

“So impatient.”

“Yeah, well… w-w-well,” Tony stuttered as Bucky reached over and rubbed his thigh. He took a sharp inhale at the sudden contact. “Okay, is this a date, or a… a…”

“Hookup?” Bucky finished for him. “Honestly, I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Tony felt his face heat in embarrassment. “Oh my god, then please stop touching me.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, but -”

“But what?”

Tony received another laugh when he shoved the hand off. “You keep teasing me.”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky sent him a smile. “You’re cuter than I expected. When we met, I thought you were just a sweet guy, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I still don’t. And now… I think I could really like you.”

“Could? You don’t like me already? Then why are you stalking me?”

“I wasn’t sure what to do about you yet.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed in confusion while he tried to figure out what that meant. “I don’t understand.”

The car stopped at a red light and Bucky looked at him. “Let’s just say I don’t need people telling the world about me.”

“What? Are you like a murderer or -” He stopped and stared at Bucky. “You didn’t.”

“Don’t pry now, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured as the light turned and they were moving again.

“It… it was you, wasn’t it?” An unsettling combination of anxiety and lust filled him. It was terrifying to imagine he might be in a car with an actual killer, oh but the desire to touch, to be touched, to feel those cold fingers on him before his possible demise; it was almost maddening. He really should not long for the touch of a murderer, but he couldn’t stop himself, powerless against the unnatural lust he felt. What was wrong with him? “Are… a-are you going to kill me too?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Bucky assured, but it did very little to relieve Tony of that lingering fear.

He needed to know. “But you are the killer?”

“Tony -”

“If you are, I wouldn’t tell anyone,” he whispered, about to reach out but he stopped. His heart was racing. How could life be so cruel? “I won’t turn you in. I didn’t even know it was you.” When he finally had a chance to try for some form of happiness, his eyes needed to fall on a murderer, of all people! Why do I bother? “Listen, you don’t have to do this. I can keep quiet about everything, I promise you!”

“Tony!”

He quieted but pressed himself against the door to put more distance between them.

Bucky sighed harshly as he pulled off the side of the road, parking in the shoulder. “I’m not going to kill you,” he promised. There was a moment’s hesitation before he gazed into Tony’s eyes. “I wanted to. Once. But it passed the moment you showed such genuine concern for me.” He leaned closer. “Look. For me, killing is inevitable.”

Heavy, ragged breaths came as Tony felt the panic building, beginning to overpower the longing he felt. “How is killing inevitable?”

“I… I can’t say.”

“Seriously? You can’t tell me how, how murder of all things, is fucking unavoidable for you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

Tony felt for the door handle behind him and gripped it tight.

Bucky eyed his movements but made no attempt to stop him. “I wasn’t planning on coming out to you so quickly, Tony.”

Knuckles turned white but Tony didn’t open the door.

“This really isn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Bucky whispered with minor frustration.

“How… h-how was it supposed to go?” Tony dared to ask, his interest piquing. He should have tried to escape, maybe request to return home, but his curiosity was going to be the end of him.

“Better than this… Come on. I’m taking you somewhere else.” Bucky drove back onto the road.

“I don’t even know the first place we were going,” he pointed out, which he belatedly realized was not his brightest contribution to his unknown fate.

Bucky gave no reply as he drove them out of the city, arriving in what looked like the middle of nowhere as the sun was beginning to set and temperatures were dropping.

Tony looked outside the window with a nervous swallow. Perfect place to commit a murder. Probably strangle me and drop my body in a neglected field. His face reddened as he imagined what that might look like, Bucky’s strong muscles easily able to lift him like he was nothing. Maybe he’d get a kiss, or even more, before the dark deed was done.

And then he would be abandoned here. Would anyone even be able to find me? Would they just give up? He almost chuckled at the idea of his father wanting to kill him if he wasn’t already dead.

The engine went off and Bucky got out of the car. Tony didn’t move until his door was opened and he fell out and onto the cold hard ground as his hand finally let go of the handle. The air was knocked out of him when he landed on his back with a thud.

“Were you planning to escape, sweetheart?” Bucky’s charming smile was back, his face looking so beautiful as he gazed at Tony who was struggling to breathe on the ground.

It took Tony a minute or two to respond. “Thought about it.”

Bucky offered him an arm, easily helping him to his feet.

Tony licked his lips as Bucky kept a hold on him, finding no reason to let go. In fact, Tony wanted to take it further than that. He tried to swallow back the want before looking into Bucky’s eyes.

Neither moved for what felt like an eternity, but then their lips met in a soft, unhurried kiss.

Did I just… They parted and Tony longed for more, nearly desperate to follow those cool lips but he stopped, his heart aching. Stop. Don’t enjoy this. Don’t like him. He’s a killer! But when Bucky led him away from the car, he followed without hesitation. It wasn’t until they stopped in an empty field that he began to feel the panic bubbling inside him once more, but that fear seemed to melt away when Bucky nodded to the winter sunset. The muted colors still held so much beauty and Tony couldn’t help gasping at the sight. “This is…”

“Beautiful.”

Tony nodded and they both watched in silence as the last rays began to disappear.

“Thank you for showing me this,” Tony quietly said.

Bucky’s lips turned slightly up. “No matter how many times I see them, I still find them beautiful.”

Tony slowly turned to him.

“Listen,” Bucky sighed, returning his stare, “I want to stay near you. But in order to do that, I think… I need to tell you the truth.”

Tony said nothing as he waited, holding his breath while his heart pounded in his chest.

“I’m not human.”

Blinking at him, Tony took a step back, his eyes quickly going over Bucky. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not human,” Bucky repeated.

This is it. Tony yanked his hand away, an icy chill going through him. This is it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had several opportunities to leave, but now, so close, so vulnerable, he had no way to escape. “Are you going to say that you’re a monster and gleefully kill me?”

“Already said I won’t kill you,” Bucky reminded him. “But the monster part… Well, that part’s rather true.”

“Are you serious?” His eyes had begun to sting with tears, the constant ups and downs of this fucked up emotional roller coaster taking their toll.

Bucky stepped up to him, taking a gentle hold of Tony’s chin so he could gaze into his eyes. “Do you want the truth, Tony?”

“Are you actually going to say the truth?” he needed to ask.

“I’m a vampire.”

No. Oh fuck no. “Had to fall for a fucking murderous weirdo.” Why me?

“It’s the truth,” Bucky stated.

“No it’s not! Because vampires aren’t real!” A couple tears began to slide down his cheeks. “God, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I out here with pretty boy Dracula?” A shaky breath escaped him. “Am I really just that fucking lonely?”

“Tony, you know I’m different.”

“You’re not a vampire, Bucky. Or is it James? Which is it?”

“Both. James is my first name. Bucky is a nickname.”

“I bet you’re not even the killer, I’m just out with a fucking weirdo.”

Bucky grabbed Tony’s hand, pulling him closer. “I did do it.”

Tony stared at their hands. “Vampires aren’t real,” he whispered.

“Do you want me to prove it?” Bucky asked, bringing Tony against him.

Eyes fluttering shut, Tony couldn’t stop his moan. Body against body like this made it harder to resist urges to touch, to taste. “Sure.” His voice was breathy. “Prove you’re a vampire.”

Bucky held him securely, nuzzling Tony’s cheek and then kissing his throat. He had to be careful, gentle.

Tony’s eyes opened at the first sharp poke of something pricking his skin, but then sinking deeper. It didn’t fill him with intense terror like he expected would happen from a vampire bite. No, it felt more… intimate, like a lover’s bite. Unlike a lover’s bite, however, his blood was flowing from his veins past Bucky’s lips and down his throat.

So. It wasn’t a lie at all. Tony was out with a vampire.

===== ===== =====

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#winteriron #Bucky Barnes #Tony Stark #vampire au #vampire Bucky

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iwritesometimes · 5 years

Text

filigods replied to your post

“thank you to the gorgeous @wordssometimesfail for tagging me in a get...”

s o n g r e c s

so THANKS (much belatedly for tolerating my fucking out of control need to word vomit about music at literally all hours of the day and night; forcing others to listen to songs i like is literally one of the few joys that makes life worth living. also, idk if this was intended in a “hey cool, song recs” way or a “hey, yeah, link me those songs” way, but @filigods, BABY YOU’RE GETTIN THOSE LINKS and also more because i am insufferable.

below the cut: links to just Some Music What I Think Is Cool, organized...pretty dubiously, but an attempt will be made. also, now and at all times, anyone who feels so inclined should always link me to music they’re liking right now or that they loved in the past or that they think is just the bee’s knees...anytime. ANYTIME.

okay so the songs i mentioned the other day are all in here, but i wanted to organize it a bit more than just a random grab bag to give you some direction so that you know what you might be into, if you’ve never heard of some of these (my music taste isn’t all that niche but i’ve gone through a lot of phases in my life XD). particular “omg please listen to this before you die” faves will be in italics.

best of pop/pop rock

stuff by Keane, My Fave Band:

“Crystal Ball”

“Won’t Be Broken”

“Sovereign Light Cafe”

“Bedshaped”

“My Shadow”

stuff by Tokio Hotel, my first RPF subjects

“Übers Ende der Welt”

“Spring nicht”

“Wo sind eure Hände”

stuff by Elliot Minor, classically trained and sadly disbanded

“Parallel Worlds”

“The White One Is Evil”

“The Broken Minor”

“Solaris”

“Shiver”

“Electric High”

stuff by Dino Merlin, Bosnia’s Elton John

“Zid”

“Sarajevo”

“Majka Ruži Kćer”

“Heroes of Earth” by Wang Leehom (listen to more of his stuff - he’s insanely talented and has albums in several different genres)

“Sun Goes Down” by David Jordan

stuff by Gorillaz, you’ve definitely heard them but may not have heard these

“Stylo”

“November Has Come”

“Feel Good Inc.”

“Broken”

“Busted and Blue”

“Du erinnerst mich an Liebe” by Ich + Ich

stuff by Josh Groban, HE’S GOOD ADMIT IT TO YOURSELVES

“Never Let Go”

“Remember When it Rained”

“You Are Loved”

“Weeping”

“Tigerlily” by La Roux (whole album’s great, but this one’s gayyyy)

“Grace Kelly” and “Origin of Love” by Mika

“Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk” by Rufus Wainwright

“Make This Go On Forever” and “Set the Fire to the Third Bar” by Snow Patrol

stuff by Owl City, the fluffiest synthpop to ever make me happy

“Fireflies”

“Swimming in Miami”

“Meteor Shower”

“Strawberry Avalanche”

“Running Up That Hill” by Placebo covering Kate Bush

“Velvet Sky” by Los Lonely Boys

“Chasing the Sun” and “Satellite Call” and “Eden” by Sara Bareilles (WHOLE ALBUM!!!)

“Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer

“Sad Clown” by Jars of Clay

stuff by Michael W. Smith, i can’t help i was raised on CCM please forgive me

“Cross of Gold”

“Lamu”

“Secret Ambition”

“Breathe in Me”

“Love Me Good”

“Faith My Eyes” and “High Countries” by Caedmon’s Call

stuff by Daft Punk, FUCKING SUPERB YOU FUNKY LITTLE ROBOTS (listen to all of Discovery and Random Access Memories!!)

“One More Time”

“Aerodynamic”

“Give Life Back to Music”

“Technologic”

“These Dreams” by Heart

“Even Rats” by The Slip

“To Build a Home” by The Cinematic Orchestra

“Mandolin Rain” and “The Way It Is” by Bruce Hornsby and the Range

“I’m Still Here” by John Rzeznik

“Ue o muite arukou” by Kyu Sakamoto

“Love Me Dead” by Ludo

“Just Communication” by Two-Mix (Soundcloud link because it’s not on YT?? however, this bitchin cover is!!)

“The Book of Love” by Peter Gabriel covering the Magnetic Fields

best of rock/rap rock

stuff by linkin park, baby’s first rock band (meteora and thousand suns, BEST albums)

“Forgotten”

“Somewhere I Belong”

“Breaking the Habit”

“Iridescent” (accidentally called this “The Radiance” in the op)

“The Messenger”

“Welcome Home” by Coheed and Cambria

“Televators” by The Mars Volta

“Isolation” and “Life Must Go On” by Alter Bridge

“Nemesis” by Arch Enemy

“Like a Stone” by Audioslave

“Lonely Boy” by The Black Keys

“In One Ear” and “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant (whole album!!)

“Jordan” by Buckethead

“Paralyzer” by Finger Eleven

stuff by Gackt, j-rock boy of my dreams since 2003

“Mirror”

“Vanilla”

“Returner”

“Orenji no Taiyou” (with Hyde)

“Through the Night” by Masahiko Arimachi

“Magick” and “It’s Not Over Yet” by Klaxons

“Deliverance” and “In Mist She Was Standing” by Opeth

stuff by Panik, my good good german boys who just couldn’t make it work

“Revolution”

“Geht ab”

“Grau”

“Perfekt”

“Morgencafe”

“Bevor du gehst”

“Careless Whisper” by Seether covering Wham!

“Seasons” by The Veer Union

“Cold” by Static X

“Change (In the House of Flies)” by Deftones

“System” by Chester Bennington

“Whipping Boy” by Train

“Chevette” and “Some Kind of Zombie” by Audio Adrenaline

“Colossal” and “Witchcraft” by Wolfmother (whole album is great)

“Whiskey in the Jar” by Metallica and “Turn the Page” by Metallica covering Bob Seger

“Gravedigger” by Dave Matthews Band

“Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls

“Icky Thump” and “Blue Orchid” by The White Stripes

“Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry

“You Shook Me All Night Long” and “Big Balls” by AC/DC (there is NO CORRECT VERSION of Big Balls on YT...sorry for the spotify link)

best of choral (most of which i’ve sung so i’m biased)/instrumental/soundtrack

Lux Aeterna and “O Magnum Mysterium” by Morten Lauridsen

The True Story of Cinderella (i was the queen in this :3)

Knock Knock and indeed anything by P.D.Q. Bach

“i thank You God for most this amazing day” and “Lux Aurumque” by Eric Whitacre

“Magnificat” by Arvo Pärt

“Set Me as a Seal” by René Clausen

“Cloudsong” and “The Heart’s Cry” by Anúna

“You Are the New Day” by The King’s Singers covering Airwaves, aka, the greatest love song of all time

“Castle in the Mist” and “You Were There” by Michiru Oshima (voc. Steven Geraghty)

“Prologue” and “The Farthest Land” by Ko Otani (the whole soundtrack is sublime, please listen to it!!!)

“The Mighty Rio Grande” and “They Move on Tracks of Never-Ending Light” by This Will Destroy You

“On the Nature of Daylight” by Max Richter (also, there’s a great mashup of this with “This Bitter Earth” by Dinah Washington)

“To Zanarkand” by Nobuo Uematsu (obviously, listen to everything the man ever wrote, but ofc my fave is the FFX OST)

“More Streets” by Zpiderflower

“I Was Born for This” by Austin Wintory (from the stellar Journey OST)

“The Ballad of Fiedler and Mundt” by Disparition

“Sex (Daedalus Remix)” by Slugabed

Castlevania malarkey

Best of “Bloody Tears”: official 1, official 2, official 3, fanmix 4

Best of “Vampire Killer”: official 1, official 2, fanmix 3

Best of “Simon’s Theme”: official 1, official 2, fanmix 3, fanmix 4

Super Castlevania IV (PLEASE listen to the whole thing but my faves): “Forest of Monsters”, “The Submerged City”, “Clockwork Mansion 2″, “The Library”, “Dracula Battle”, “Ending”

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (ditto above): “Dance of Illusions”, “Dracula’s Castle”, “Marble Gallery”, “Lost Painting”, “Dance of Pales”, “Wandering Ghosts”, “Final Toccata”

“Clotho”, “Atropos”, and “Lathesis” from the Columns OST

Zelda shenanigans

“Title Theme (Wind Waker)”

“Dragon Roost Island”

“The Great Sea”

“Main Theme (Breath of the Wild)”

“Riding (Day)”

“Riding (Night)”

“Stables”

“Kakariko Village”

“Rito Village (Day)”

“Tarrey Town”

“Maze Forest”

“Hyrule Castle” and “Hyrule Castle Interior”

okay i gotta quit - i’ve had this tab open for like a week and a half now and i just keep adding stuff. this is enough to get anybody started. i hope y’all find something you like. :)

#filigods #music

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spoopybruh · 6 years

Text

Tinsel City || Chapter 1

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)

Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej

Characters: Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej

Summary: Taunting the ghouls and demons are all fun and games until they aren’t. In which Shane Madej is forcibly possessed by a demonic entity and must now seek out a solution or risk losing everything in the process. But reversing a possession requires hefty sacrifices, and Shane’s always sucked at making a good bargain.

Additional Tags: Demon!Shane

Read on Ao3: Here

The people of Tinsel City are a bunch of peculiar folk. For starters, one can easily locate Tinsel City within their maps or search engines but any searches for videos and pictures of the place turns up blank. Except for the few standard ones that are commonly used to draw in tourists and potential residents. In fact, any form of photography and video recording is strictly prohibited unless pre-approved by the governing sectors of Tinsel City itself.

There had been accounts of people who were caught and made to delete everything before they were allowed to leave. No matter how ingenious their plans were to hide their recording material. To date, no one is successful of bringing back anything that hasn’t been approved. It’s as if the people of Tinsel City just knew.

That alone was enough to keep someone as suspicious as Ryan on edge. And if Shane were to be honest, this entire deal seemed a little too cultish to be nothing. Still, everyone that had visited Tinsel City returned safely, each with beautiful stories to tell. Judging from the information they do have, it’s worth a trip as long as one approaches with added caution.

This season’s demon episode leads them to an unoccupied manor, half shrouded with vegetation and trees from the surrounding forests. A forgotten existence. They were specifically told not to film the roads leading to said manor, but permission had been granted for them to record the interior and exterior of the place.

Admittedly, it took a while for them to regain their usual pace in things, given how unusual of an arrangement they had to honour. But soon enough, things were in full swing and Shane was having the time of his life watching Ryan progressively lose more of his shit with each imagined spook.

“Come at me, horny boys! Rip my heart out! Give me a purple nurple or something!” He’d taunted with a massive grin, accompanied with a litany of laughing wheezes and Oh my gods from his companion. “What are you? Scared? I took the Goatman’s bridge and I’ll take your pretty little house too!”

For the most part, things go smoothly and soon enough, they’ve filmed enough to get a decent episode going. All that’s left to do was for the ‘ghouligans’ to stay and ‘survive the night’. Content to sleep on the bed in one of the spare rooms of the manor and well fed on pizza, Shane has no trouble dozing off on his end of the bed.

He wakes up choking, unable to move despite being fully alert. Ryan’s instantly at his side, concerned and voice distant despite their proximity. His touch burns when he sets a palm against Shane’s back, trying to rub soothing circles and Shane would say something about it except for the fact that he’s doubled over the second he recovers mobility, trying to force his lungs to intake oxygen.

Shane’s dimly aware that he’s shaking. Had it not been for Ryan and his support, arm draped against his back burning burning burning as he forces Shane to sit up and lean against the headrest, he’d probably have fallen over. Sitting up helps with the breathing though, and he does exactly that, watching Ryan rummage through their various equipment bag before he produces a water bottle with a triumphant ‘Aha!’

“Jesus dude, you alright?” Shane doesn’t miss the concern in Ryan’s voice when he hands the bottle to him. “What happened? Are you sick?”

Is he? His skin itches in a way that makes Shane restless, as if it’s two sizes too small for him. He presses a hand to his forehead, realising belatedly that even his hair is damp from sweat and heat. Why is it so warm? Didn’t the townsfolk mention that the nights here are typically colder?

“I’m fine. Probably a fever.” His voice is still a little winded when he speaks but apart from a few minor details, Shane feels alright for the most part. “Might be something in the pizza that didn’t sit right with me. Or. You know, sleep paralysis.” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Think one of your ghosties tried to cuddle me in my sleep.”

His attempt at a joke seemed good enough to quell some of the mounting anxiety on Ryan, because he’s graced with a snort and a “Shut up Shane” which only served to make him grin. His companion does force him to take some of the medication they had stashed within their emergency supplies before letting up though.

By the time Shane settles down again, he’s feeling more or less right again. If one doesn’t count the way his skin still feels way too small for someone his height and he feels like a sunbaked potato despite it not having reached daybreak just yet.

“You know I’ve never seen you do that from all the times we’ve done this. You sure you’re alright? I mean we can get Teej to come get us if it gets worse.”

“It’s fine, Ryan. I’ll let you know if there’s really a need for that.” He reaches out in the dark to idly pat at his companion, stifling another snort of laughter when it so happens that his hand thwacked him in the face. “It’s fine. I just need to get more sleep and it’ll be out of my system in a bit.”

As it turns out after a few more hours of rest, whatever overnight fever bug Shane caught did not subside.

Because he wakes up with red blotches for vision. The scleras of his eyes were so prominently covered with blood vessels that were congested with blood, his eyes almost looked entirely red, a sickly sheen covering it’s surface. Yikes. Now ain’t that a doozy?

#shyan #shyan fic #skeptic believer #shyanlibrary #myfics

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perfectlyrose · 6 years

Text

a cup of sugar, a pinch of magic (1/?)

Summary: It's just another night spent baking instead of sleeping for John Smith, owner of The Blue Box Bakery, when a mysterious blonde woman knocks on the bakery door hours before opening time. He never expected that letting her in would draw him into a world of magic and shadow organizations or be the start of a life-changing love.

Pairing: Nine x Rose || Word Count: 3850 || Rating: All Ages (for now)

Note: So I swore I wouldn't start a new WIP until I finished one but... well... here I am. Buckle in because I think this is going to be a long one. -- tagging @doctorroseprompts for Fantasy month and also the bread prompt

AO3

John pushed the heels of his hands into the dough, putting all his strength behind it as he worked to get it to the right consistency. Kneading bread dough was therapeutic in the way he could focus on doing just this one single thing, putting mind and body both towards a single goal and shutting out the rest of the world for a bit.

He was starting to get a reputation for his breads in the neighborhood, was starting to get people coming into the shop specifically looking for certain ones. No one had to know that the days he had the most variety were products of nights spent avoiding the nightmares that lived in his head.

Today there would be a lot of bread. Probably would be quite a few of the fussy little miniature cakes that sold well when he could find the time to make them. Detail work would be a good follow up to making bread.

He’d been working for a couple hours and his kitchen was covered in various breads and cakes and sweets in varying stages of baking, cooling, and being decorated when a sharp knocking cut through the quiet. John’s head whipped up, brows drawing together as he glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning on a Wednesday, not there weren’t usually many people wandering about looking for a bakery at this time.

John grabbed a towel to wipe his hands with and headed out into the bakery proper to see what the fuss was about. He had the lights in the shop low but it was just enough to make the glass cases shine and still leave the corners shadowed.

He turned his gaze to the front windows. A blonde woman was at the door, arms wrapped round her middle as she glanced up and down the dark, empty street. John frowned as he took in the fact that she was only wearing a vest top and jeans even though it was the middle of winter and the middle of the night on top of that.

His decision to let her in was made the second he laid eyes on her. At the very least, he could offer her a spot to sit in the warmth of the bakery for a bit. Maybe some food as well.

He strode over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and letting in a blast of cold air.

The woman hesitated as she looked up at John, fear apparent in her eyes.

John didn’t think he looked all that intimidating with an apron on and flour all over him but he was bigger than her. Years of working doughs and hauling sacks of flour and sugar and trays of food had maintained and built muscle that he belatedly realized was on display with the sleeves of his jumper pushed up. He offered her a disarming smile, trying to convey that he was not a threat.

He stepped back, pulling the door open wider and gesturing into the shop with one hand. “Come on, it’s a lot warmer in here and I’ve got a few croissants that should be about warm that I can share.”

She took a small step forward then stopped. “I don’t have any money.” Her voice was hoarse like she hadn’t spoken in a while or had spoken too much and too loud recently.

He shrugged. “Don’t need money to help someone out. Please come in.”

She pressed her lips together and then nodded stepping inside Blue Box Bakery.

John shut the door behind her and locked it back. She jumped at the sound of the lock.

“You can unlock and leave at anytime you want,” he reassured her. “It’s a deadbolt operated from the inside, no need for a key if you’re going out.”

“Thank you,” she said, quiet voice perfectly audible in the almost silence of the bakery. “You didn’t have to let me in.”

He snorted. “Wasn’t going to leave you out in the cold. Come on back to the kitchen, I think I promised you croissants.”

He led the way back behind the counter and then into the kitchen, pretending not to notice the way she stole a few glances back out the windows or the way some of her tension dissipated the moment the kitchen door swung shut.

“Oh my god, it smells amazing in here,” she said, inhaling deeply. “Is that cinnamon I smell?”

“Good nose. There’s cinnamon swirl bread in the oven.”

He opened one of the ovens and used the towel he’d slung over his shoulder to pull out a tray with three croissants on it. They were leftover from yesterday and he’d been warming them back up to eat but he thought she needed them more.

He slid the tray onto a clear spot on the counter before turning to grab a plate from a cabinet. John plucked the croissants off the baking tray and dropped them onto the plate, muttering as he burned his fingertips on the hot pastry. He shook his hand out as he set the plate down near the blonde, giving her a sheepish grin.

“You’d think after a year or so of baking professionally I’d have built up more heat tolerance,” he quipped.

The smile that broke over her face was wonderful to behold. “Might should invest in some tongs so you keep the feeling in your fingers.”

“Got some, just never remember to use the damn things,” he said easily, turning back to check on the breads and pull a sponge out of the oven that was probably already overbaked.

“I’m John Smith by the way.” He didn’t look behind him to see if her silence was due to a return of her hesitance or because she was in the middle of a bite. “I own this place.”

“Are most bakers already up and baking at three in the morning?” the blonde asked, ignoring the opportunity to share her own name.

John turned to face her, eyes flicking down to the crumbs on her plate, all that was left of the croissants. “Nah, I’m just an insomniac who lives above his shop so when I can’t sleep, I come get started on the day’s baking. No one’s complained about the extra pastries yet.”

“I certainly wouldn’t,” she said, another smile blooming. “Those were delicious.”

“You should try a fresh one when I get them going.”

“Might just do that.”

“I could get you a cuppa, if you’d like,” he offered.

“If you show me where the kettle and tea are, I can make us both one. Least I can do when you let me in from the cold and fed me the best croissants I’ve ever had.”

John showed her where the kettle had a tiny corner of counter space with tea and mugs in the cabinet above it and then left her to it. He pulled the cinnamon swirl bread and set it on a cooling rack before going to check on the doughs that were still rising. None of them looked ready yet so he turned his attention back to the blonde who was pouring boiling water into the mugs.

“You any good at baking?” he asked.

She snorted. “Pretty much anything I touch in a kitchen ends up burnt so…”

He raised his eyebrows. “Gonna have to ask you to stay away from the bread dough then.”

The blonde laughed and his heart tripped over itself. “Not a problem.”

John grabbed milk out of the fridge as she brought mugs over to a clear spot on the counter. He poured a splash in his before offering it to her. She added a dash of milk and then took the spoon he was using for sugar to add a spoonful and a half to her cup.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she took her first sip. “Mmm, s’been awhile since I had a proper cuppa.”

John mulled over his words for a moment before opening his mouth. “Look, I’m not going to ask why you were out on the street in the middle of the winter in a vest top and no jacket. Not any of my business. But like I told you earlier, I live above the shop. So if you need a place to sleep and take a shower, make a few more cuppas, you’re welcome to use my flat.”

She froze, mug halfway to her lips. “I don’t want to put you out.”

He shrugged. “I’m going to be down here baking and then running the shop. I can give you the key and then you can lock the door behind you and have full run of the place for the day and I won’t bother you. Might even have some frozen dinners you can microwave without burning the place down.”

She set her mug down with a quiet thunk, keeping her hands wrapped around it. “Why are you being so nice? You don’t even know me.”

“Because it seems like you need help. Know what it’s like to be looking for a hand to help you get on your feet, me. Nice to be able to try and do the helping this time.”

“The world doesn’t work this way,” she argued. “It’s not this kind.”

“Not saying that it is. I’m just saying you knocked on the right bakery door on the right night and sometimes, luck works that way.”

She was opening her mouth to say something else when a banging sound cut through the quiet. The blonde jumped, almost spilling her tea as her face drained of color. Her eyes - more gold than brown now - were wild with fear when they met his. “They found me. Oh god, I didn’t think they’d find me this fast.”

“Calm down. I’m not letting anyone else into this shop, you got that?” John dug in his pocket and pulled out a key, pressed it into her hand. “Go through the door in the back of the kitchen and straight up the stairs. My flat is the door on the left. I’ll let you know when we’re clear down here.”

She nodded and took off, mug of tea still in one hand, the key in the other.

John took a deep breath, counted to ten and then walked back out into the shop for his second late night visitor.

There were two men at the door. They were dressed in black and had military-straight posture. John felt his own spine straighten instinctively, old habits reasserting themselves.

The men stood with a tilt to their stance that, to John’s trained eye, said they were carrying weapons of some sort under their jackets on their left hip. One of the men was sweeping the street with his eyes, searching for any signs of movement while the other locked his gaze on John.

He took his time getting to the door. He flipped the lock and opened the door just enough to accommodate his shoulders, making it very clear that they were not welcome to enter. “We’re not open,” John said shortly.

“Have you seen a woman around here tonight? About five foot five, blonde?” The man in front and the shorter of the two asked.

“No. I’ve been in the kitchen for the last couple hours and you’re the only people I’ve seen.”

“What are you doing up at this hour, anyways?” The other man asked, turning narrowed eyes on John.

“Insomniac, me. Good quality for a baker.”

“Mind if we have a look around?”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “I do actually. Pretty sure you can see the whole shop from where you’re standing and I don’t let people back into my kitchen, especially not when I have things baking.”

“You’re certain no one else has been around here tonight?”

“Nobody in the shop but me. If someone was lingering about outside I wouldn’t know about it. Barely heard your knocking over the ruckus I was making back there.”

The men were still suspicious, he could see it in their eyes, but he knew they didn’t have any proof that he was lying. “If you see a blonde woman wandering around tonight, don’t let her in. She’s dangerous.”

John raised his eyebrows. The blonde had seemed more scared than anything but he knew well enough that scared could make you feral, make you dangerous. “Got a number I can call if I catch sight of this dangerous fugitive?”

The man in the back reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. John took it and put it into his apron pocket without reading it. He kept his gaze locked on the two men memorizing their faces in case they decided to come back. The taller one had a permanent pinched expression and a narrow face with slicked back dark hair. The shorter one had a muscled build that John didn’t particularly want to test himself against and a blonde buzzcut.

“Bread’s going to burn if I don’t get back to it. Night gentlemen,” he said, moving back so he could shut the door.

The blonde man stopped him, slamming his palm against the glass. “I think you need to rethink letting us see the kitchen.”

“I think you need to get your hand off my glass or I’m going to make you clean it yourself,” John shot back. “I have no reason to let you on my property.”

“I think avoiding trouble should be incentive enough,” he said with a sneer, not moving his hand.

“Seems to me that letting you in would be inviting the trouble in.”

“If you’ve got nothing to hide, let us look around,” the taller man said.

John’s mouth quirked up into a smile that had no warmth to it, only warning. “No, thanks. Goodnight.”

He reached out and knocked the blonde’s hand down with a quick motion and closed the door, locking it up once more. John waved at the men still standing outside of his bakery and then headed back into the kitchen.

John pulled his bread out of the oven and set it to cool and then finished his already cold tea sitting on the counter. When about ten minutes had passed, he poked his head back out to see if the men were still out front. Deciding it was all clear, he ducked back into the kitchen, made sure everything was out of the ovens, then walked out the back door.

John checked the back alley to make sure they weren’t lurking back there and then mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He knocked on the door to his flat softly. “It’s me,” he called out. “They’re gone, no sign of them still hanging about.”

He heard her moving on the other side of the door and stepped back so that she could see through the peephole that he was alone.

The deadbolt moved with a soft snick and the door swung open, revealing the blonde mystery woman. Her face was still pale, eyes still wide.

John stepped inside and closed and locked the door behind him, flipping on the lights as well.

“You got rid of them?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

“Yup. Told them I hadn’t seen anyone of your description, refused to let them into my shop, generally didn’t make any new friends in the process.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle like she needed the extra support to stay upright. “Were they only looking for me?”

He nodded. “Did you have someone with you earlier?”

She looked away. “Yeah, couple people. We split up so it wouldn’t be as easy to track us but I guess they didn’t find a bakery to hide in.”

“Maybe they found somewhere else to lay low.”

“If Torchwood didn’t ask about them, they’ve already found ‘em.”

“Torchwood?”

She looked back up, brow furrowed in confusion. “That’s who came around looking for me, yeah?”

John dug in the pocket of his apron and pulled out the card he’d asked for. One side had a honeycomb T, the other side read “Torchwood: Scientific research for the betterment of Britain” along with a phone number.

“That’s cryptic,” he muttered. He looked back at the blonde. “You were right. Torchwood.”

“They gave you a card?” she asked.

John shrugged. “I asked for a way to contact them so that I knew who they were.”

“Clever.”

“Not just a pretty face,” he joked, mouth quirking into a half-smile. “Why don’t we move in to the couch? Could do with getting off my feet for a bit.”

He eased past her and walked towards his sofa. It was battered and a rather offensive shade of yellow but it was the comfiest thing he’d ever sat on and he was attached to it. John plopped down with a sigh and propped his feet up on the coffee table after tossing his apron on it.

“They don’t tell you when you decide to open a bakery that it’s hell on your feet,” he said.

The blonde carefully lowered herself down on the other end of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning back against the arm. “I would think it would be obvious. Gotta stand in the kitchen and then in the shop. Can’t sit when you’re in customer service.”

“Sounds like you know the drill.”

“Might’ve worked in a shop once upon a time,” she admitted. “Splurged on those gel inserts for my shoes and never regretted a single penny.”

“I’ll have to look into that.”

“You should.”

John let the silence stretch until some of the tension drained from the blonde’s shoulders.

“You know they tried to tell me that you’re dangerous,” he said.

“They would say that,” she scoffed. She propped her chin up on a fist, met his eyes. “I’m not dangerous to you.”

“I know.” He paused, trying to decide if he should say the rest of what was in his head. He’d promised not to press for her story but that was before a couple of military grunts from a research facility he’d never heard of had come knocking on his door. “But you might be dangerous for them.”

“Yes.”

“Why are they looking for you?”

“Because I escaped their lab and they hate losing a test subject.” Her gaze was unflinching and her voice was steady. “Usually when they lose one, it’s because they went to far and killed them or sent them into a nervous breakdown or a coma. We were the first ones that escaped, I think.”

“These people are experimenting on humans? Government approved?” John asked, a crease forming in his brow.

She laughed, harsh and bitter. “The government knows, they just don’t care. Not officially sanctioned, I don’t think, but they and Torchwood don’t exactly consider us human so it doesn’t matter.”

John outright frowned. “Not human?”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “So, um, but there’s a certain percentage of people that seems to be growing that can do what most consider… magic. I’m one of those people.”

John blinked. “Alright.”

“You’re… okay with that? Just like that?” she asked, incredulous.

“Would you like me to freak out a bit more?”

“Not particularly, but I was expecting you to.”

“I heard some rumblings, rumors, about magic right before I left the army. It was something more than just the usual soldier superstition so, not surprised that there’s something to it. The world’s a strange enough place for it to be true,” John said.

“You were in the military?”

“Once upon a time,” he said, echoing her words from earlier. “I was a doctor.”

“Not anymore?”

He shook his head, mouth thinning into a hard, straight line. There were things he didn’t want to talk about either. “I’m a baker now.”

“Quite the shift in profession.”

“Needed a change.”

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. Before she could put voice to more words, she interrupted herself with a yawn.

John smiled. “Think you could use some sleep.”

“I think so too.” She uncurled herself, putting her feet on the floor. “Could I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course. Already said you could.”

“That was before you knew about the magic,” she wiggled her fingers at the word, “and before Torchwood came knocking.”

“Neither of those things changed my mind.”

She reached over and put a hand on his knee. “Thank you. I mean it. Not many people would be this kind.”

John put his hand over hers and squeezed gently before letting go. “Let’s get you set up for the night.”

“I promise I’ll tell you the rest of my story tomorrow, once my head’s not so fuzzy,” she said. She got to her feet and stretched, the crack of her spine audible to John.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I owe you that much for saving me.”

John didn’t argue. He didn’t think she owed him anything but he was keen to know what had happened to her before she showed up at his door.

He led her to his bedroom and got out an old tee shirt and a pair of flannel bottoms. “These will probably drown you but should do for the night. Sheets were washed a few days ago and I haven’t slept much lately so, should be serviceable enough.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“The bedroom door has a lock, loo is just here in the hall. You’re free to poke around and help yourself to any food you find. I’ll be down in the shop if you need me. If you decide to slip out, I’d appreciate you leaving a note so I know you left on your own,” he rattled off, uncharacteristically verbose. Her own reluctance to talk seemed to make him want to fill some of the silence.

“I’m not going to do a runner. At least not today,” she said with a smile.

John nodded. “Alright. I should get back to work then. Cakes are waiting and they aren’t patient things.”

He turned and walked towards the doorway, trying to figure out how he was going to focus on his baking when he knew she was up here sleeping in his bed, when he was busy wondering about her history with Torchwood. Already he could feel the urge to turn back around and continue their conversation, to give into whatever magnetic pull emanated from her.

He kept walking until her voice broke the quiet, just as he reached the door of his flat.

“Rose,” she said, and he turned around to look at her. She was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, the stack of clothes he’d given her clutched to her chest. “My name’s Rose Tyler.”

She flashed him a small smile before closing the bedroom door and engaging the lock.

Rose Tyler. John mouthed the name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue.

There was no one to see his smile as he walked back to his kitchen so he didn’t bother trying to dim it one single iota.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #nine x rose #special thanks to #sequencefairy #for listening to me talk about this and telling me it wasn't terrible #love you!#i wrote this #a cup of sugar a pinch of magic

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cassiopeiassky · 7 years

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When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 43

Oh boy.

Fair warning - this chapter sucks ass. I didn’t do much in the way of editing, both because I’ve been short on time and wanted to get this out today, and also because it sucks ass. If you’re in a bummer kind of mood, do not read this now. Save it for later. When you do read it, have some fluff ready. This chapter and the next are the ‘rock bottom’ of this story, but you know what they say about rock bottom, right? Yes, that is me trying to give you hope. No, it will probably not help much. But seriously. This chapter sucks ass. Read AND HEED the warnings. *throws the story on Tumblr and goes to hide*

Plot: When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.

Word count: 3985 (does this make up for my absence???)

Warnings:

For the entire work: Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst. This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut. If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: CHARACTER DEATH, violence, physical assault, injury, mentions of blood, death scene If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie. I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests. Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

The sounds of your crying make you oblivious to the door unlocking and opening, and you jump when you hear him speak.

“You’re gonna have a black eye.” It’s Bucky’s voice, but there’s no hint of Bucky in it. It’s disconcerting.

Scrambling to sit up as you wipe away your tears, you see that he’s holding something out to you. It takes you a second to focus before you realize that it’s a zip top bag filled with crushed ice.

“Thank you.” It comes out as a cross between a hiccup and a mumble; he doesn’t react as you take the bag and press it to your throbbing cheek.

You certainly hadn’t anticipated that he was leaving to get you an icepack. You also didn’t anticipate his next moves; the Soldier turns to lock the door before grabbing the chair from the vanity and pulling it next to the door. He sits down, crosses his arms and extends his legs. Seemingly comfortable, he closes his empty eyes. Apparently he’s staying awhile.

You reluctantly wake to the sound of men barking orders in the hallway; it felt really fucking good to sleep, and you know it’s because Bucky watched over you last night. Except it was the Soldier that was guarding the door - in your not quite awake state, you’d almost forgotten. Almost.

The voices in the hall get louder; they aren’t quite close enough for you to make out what they’re saying, but you can hear the urgency. You slowly push the covers back and sit up, pressing gentle fingers against the bruising on your face when it begins to throb.

“Owie.” The soft whine causes the man in the chair to stir – a man, you realize belatedly as you take a doubletake, that is not the Soldier. “Mikhail?”

He yawns and stretches as he straightens, opening his sleepy brown eyes as he grins your way. “Good morning, solnishko.”

There’s more shouting in the hallway, and you throw a questioning look Mikhail’s way.

“Six more of Kapitan’s men were killed last night in their rooms. They were found the same as the men yesterday morning. Horrible. Tragic.” He doesn’t look at all like he thinks it’s horrible or tragic; in fact, his face clearly reads ‘sorry, not sorry.’ You school your features carefully to hide your smirk. “It is as if a vengeful ghost is among us.” He stops just short of a grin, and you know he’s thinking that it must be one of your friends that is doing the work.

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, you simply reply, “Must be.”

Mikhail gets up and walks to the window, standing in the corner of the room where the draws to the blinds are, which happens to be right beneath the camera. As he gestures to the window, you see his mouth move, but no sound comes out. At your questioning look, he licks his lips and tries again. You aren’t the greatest lipreader in the world, but now that you’re paying attention you know what he’s asking. Take me with you?

“Of course!” You wait a beat before continuing, to make sure he gets your answer. “Please, yes, open the drapes! The Krakkens and their men scare me much more than any ‘vengeful ghost’ could, and God knows I could use the sunlight to cheer myself up.” You don’t know what Tony and the team have planned, but you know damn well that they will find a way to get Mikhail out if you ask them to.

The atmosphere in the room is considerably lighter than usual, and you know why.

Hope.

Mikhail’s eyes light up and he smiles, careful to keep his back to the camera and his expression hidden as he pulls the ugly drapes open. “So, you are probably wondering why I am here, and not your Soldier, yes?” He continues at your nod, “Well, I would have been here regardless as I received word from Mr. Krakken that from now on you were to be either accompanied or locked in your room at all times, but then I awoke to pounding on my door at 4:45 this morning. A ginormous, terrifying man was waiting on the other side. He told me, in flawless Russian, might I add, that he was a skilled assassin with 104 ways to kill me with a paperclip.” Mikhail doesn’t sound at all scared, only amused, and your mouth drops open as he continues, “He told me that he needed to report for his mission, and that I was to stay with you - only leaving if you were safely locked in your room - or he would invent a 105th way to die by stationary.”

“Wow,” you murmur, honestly surprised and almost feeling the urge to laugh. That…sort of sounds like something you could imagine Bucky saying. Does this mean he’s starting to break through?

“Yes, wow.” His eyes glance to your swollen check. “The Soldier told me that Grigory tried to take what did not belong to him.” After acknowledging your nod, he continues, “I’m afraid you may have passed hands from one possessor to another. He spoke of you as if you were a belonging. A precious belonging, but a belonging nonetheless.”

“Oh.” Well, that’s disappointing. And definitely not Bucky.

Mikhail reads your expression before softly adding, “Your Bucky will find his way back to you, solnishko.” And for what it is worth, word has spread of what the Soldier did to Grigory. I doubt very much that anyone else will try to harm you without the direct order from Mr. Krakken or Kapitan. Grigory has found himself on the end of a very short leash; if he held a lower rank, he probably would have been executed for defying orders.”

You smile and nod at his attempt to comfort, but you both know what is left unsaid: if the team hasn’t yet found a way to free you by the time Bucky breaks through his programming, you’re going to have a few really, really bad days, courtesy of the Krakken brothers.

Mikhail breaks the silence before it becomes too heavy to handle, “Your love is rather, uh, intimidating. I gather he is not like this when he is not triggered?”

A laugh bubbles out before you can stop it. “Oh, goodness no. He might not show it to everybody, but Bucky’s a ginormous teddy bear with an equally ginormous heart – and, if possible, an even bigger sweet tooth.”

“Really?” Mikhail sounds incredulous, as if something this simple is completely irreconcilable with the Soldier that had visited him this morning. “I – I really cannot imagine him eating anything not nutritionally necessary. He is so…um…” Mikhail struggles to find the word he’s looking for, so he mimics a weightlifter’s pose.

Thinking about the first couple of nights you’d known Bucky, you laugh again. “I’ve known him to eat two dozen cupcakes in less than 24 hours.” You pull a face before your next comment, “His metabolism is disgustingly efficient.”

Mikhail blinks in astonishment. “Two dozen…that…that is nauseating.”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” you agree with a smirk. “He really is amazing, though. He’s funny, smart, incredibly sweet and thoughtful, and he’s wonderful with my boys.”

“He would have to be, to win a heart like yours. I had always hoped for a love like this for my sister.” Mikhail smiles softly at you as he walks to the door. “Perhaps she found it, now that she is at peace and can no longer be hurt.”

“I hope so, Mikhail.”

The two of you share a look that is loaded with camaraderie and hope before he nods sharply, schooling his features into his usual sober gravity. “Would you like some coffee, solniskho?”

“God, yes, please.” Like you’d ever say no to coffee.

“Kapitan’s men are searching for evidence regarding this morning’s murders, so they will be passing by quite frequently. I will lock the door from the other side using the Soldier’s key, but secure the inside lock as well.” His pointed look screams we’re so close! it’s almost over! don’t get careless! and you agree. Completely. If anything, now is the time to be more careful.

***

The day passes much like the other days you’ve spent here, only the atmosphere isn’t quite as suffocating. Knowing that your friends are near comforts you considerably, even if you don’t know when they will make their move. Mikhail seems more relaxed, too; when he does your hair for dinner, he speaks at length about his sister. The way his eyes light up when he speaks about her makes it clear that she was really special to him, and you feel honored that he would trust you enough to share his best memories of her with you.

As you leave for the Whackadoo Dinner, party of four, you can’t help but pull Mikhail into an impromptu hug. You’d been reluctant to believe that anyone here could be on your side, but he is. Sometime between yesterday and today you decided that he’s your friend, and that you trust him. One hundred percent.

The unexpected affection takes him by surprise, but he only hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace. “It is going to be okay, solnishko. I really think it is going to be okay.”

Nodding, your reply is quiet but resolute. “I think so, too.”

Neither of you bothers to rush – what would be the point, these dinners suck – but when you enter the dining room, it’s clear you’ve walked in on something.

“Well, what did you expect, Grigory? He has probably never been given anything, and so became extremely overprotective of what is his. He does have a history of aggression while activated – something of which you were very thoroughly warned.” Nicolai sounds both condescending and annoyed, and you (unfortunately) know Nicolai well enough to know that annoyed can transition to dangerous. Quickly.

“But –“

“No, Grigory. You were warned. The Asset will not be reprimanded for his actions.” Nicolai cocks his head to the side as he regards the other man. “You were also told not to touch lisichka, as she is not yet yours.”

“But I-“

Nicolai slams his fist onto the table, toppling over two glasses of wine and causing everyone except the Soldier to jump. “DO NOT INTERRUPT ME AGAIN!”

A flicker of fear sparks in Grigory’s eyes, but he keeps quiet.

“You have a fractured eye socket, a concussion, a badly mangled lip, and you lost, what, four teeth? I will consider that fair punishment for attempting to take lisichka without my permission.” Nicolai’s cold green gaze locks on Grigory. “Do not violate my trust again. There is no doubt in my mind that the Asset can drag out an execution for days, if so ordered.”

Grigory opens his red and swollen mouth, but then shuts it again without saying anything as Nicolai turns his attention to the Soldier. “Your mission for today is complete?”

“Yes, Komandir,” answers the blank intonation that cruelly mimics Bucky’s voice. “The last two families on your list were executed today. It was necessary to eliminate three of the second target’s staff in order to complete the assignment within the required timeframe, but other than that all went as expected.”

You sigh inwardly. Families. More blood. More guilt for something he had no control over. Will Bucky be able to recover from this?

“Soldat, I would like you to take a few of Anatoliy’s men and show them what to look for from the point of view of a would-be assassin, and make sure the property is clear. I do not want to find more dead men in the morning.”

“Yes, Komandir.” The Soldier turns on his heel and leaves, clearly expecting Anatoliy’s men to follow without further instruction.

They do.

***

It didn’t work.

Four more men are dead in the morning; you can’t say you’re too terribly sorry, although you wonder if they will punish the Soldier for not preventing the deaths.

He came to your room again last night; you’d been tossing and turning when you heard the familiar-but-not-quite-right booted footsteps of the Soldier. There wasn’t even enough time to wonder whether he was going to your room or his when you heard the key slide into the lock. He ghosted silently in, turned to lock the door, and took his place in the chair.

Sleep came easily then – even though you know that the Soldier will hurt you if ordered to do so, you feel safe with him. Your intuition tells you that he won’t harm you by choice, but you can’t really tell if that’s how you honestly feel or if it’s wishful thinking.

Deep in thought about the various forms of the man you love, you jump a bit when Mikhail reenters your room. He’d said he was going to get your breakfast, but he’s empty handed.

“I am sorry, solnishko, but Mr. Krakken wishes for you to go to the dining hall.” He looks concerned, and you can’t help the feeling of trepidation that washes over you.

“Really? Why? Are the creepy dinner parties moving to breakfast now?” The words don’t sound nearly as strong as you’d like; there’s something dangerous in the air that’s quickly suffocating yesterday’s hope.

“I…I am not sure, solnishko. They are agitated from this morning’s events, so there is no telling what they will do.”

You can only nod at the simmering fear in his voice, unsure of what to say. He’s not wrong; these men are unpredictable on a good day. Moving quickly, you rise and follow Mikhail.

Grigory’s voice carries down the hall; you can hear his argument well before you enter the room. “The Asset has now eliminated all of the nearby Pakhan, as well as their families, so there is no one left to retaliate. It must be the Asset that has murdered our men! Who else could it be?”

Walking through the door you find sudden silence, and several of the Hounds standing along the walls. The Soldier stands at attention, and the red blotch on his face tells you that he’s been hit. Everyone else is still standing, though, so he clearly didn’t hit anyone back.

“Grigory must be right, there’s –“

Nicolai cuts off his brother with a dismissive wave. “All evidence points to the Asset remaining fully triggered; he cannot help but be compliant to our orders. Besides, brother, the video feed offers nothing to support this ridiculous idea.”

“Nicolai, he is an accomplished and seasoned assassin! Some of those kills could have been completed by none other than him. I cannot explain the lack of video proof, but it had to have been the Asset – who else could it have been? Our closest living enemies are at least 500 kilometers away, and they have no reason to retaliate for the families that were executed.” Anatoliy almost sounds desperate. Is he scared? He should be.

“That is why we must test it; to be sure it is still under the control of the trigger words.” As Metzger speaks, you can feel his eyes on you. “These trigger words have not been used before, so there may be different signs, or symptoms, if you will, when it begins to break through.”

Anatoliy’s eyes are on you now as well. “What do you recommend, Doctor?”

“Your pet is here for a reason, is she not?”

Oh fuck.

Mikhail stiffens beside you, but when you steal a glance at the Soldier you find no reaction at all.

“Yes,” Nicolai murmurs, “yes, our pet is here for a reason.”

“If you will allow it, Mr. Krakken, I will suggest that you utilize her for her purpose.” Metzger sounds very satisfied with himself right now. Prick.

“The Doctor brings up a good point,” Anatoliy interjects. “The Asset knows that lisichka was given to him but that she ultimately belongs to you. If he is still triggered, there should be little to no reaction to seeing her hurt so long as the command comes from you or me.”

Your blood begins to boil at the way they keep speaking of you as if you were nothing but a belonging. But then again, to them that’s all you are. And the way they’re trying to manipulate Bucky – well, the Soldier – is really pissing you off.

Nicolai turns to address his men, but that isn’t the conversation that captures your attention.

Anatoliy speaks quietly; not so loud that his brother will overhear while speaking his own orders, but loud enough for Mikhail and you to hear clearly. “You know, Mikhail, my brother thinks it is enough just to have her beaten today. I think, however, that a little more may be in store for lisichka. You have spent more time with her than anyone else here; do you think she will enjoy the experience I gave to your sister? Will she scream as Izolda screamed? Will she fight as Izolda fought, begging for you to intervene as you stand by and watch, helpless with that collar around your neck?”

Sick fuck.

What little color Mikhail has drains from his face as he avoids meeting Anatoliy’s eyes and seems to struggle to breathe.

“Oh yes, I remember your sister’s name,” Anatoliy croons, “and her hair, and her eyes – so much like your own. Did you know I had asked for her hand?”

By Mikhail’s sharp intake of breath, you guess that the answer is no. He remains silent, though, and does not answer.

“I did. Such a sweet, pretty girl; I would have married her. Your father declined, however, stating that I was not fit for his precious daughter. That was his biggest mistake.” He flashes Mikhail a predatory smile. “I got her in the end anyway, and your father lost you both.”

So that was why Mikhail was taken? That was his family’s crime against the Krakken brothers??

Anatoliy pauses just long enough for you to think he’s done taunting Mikhail. “Not that your father considers you to be much of a loss; you are too weak for the Bratva life. He did not want you anyway.”

“Anatoliy,” Nicolai turns from the men he was speaking with to face his brother, sounding like an awkward combination of annoyed and amused, “quit teasing the boy; I would like to get this done so we can get on with our day.”

Seriously? Like this is just an inconvenience for him?

“Right,” Anatoliy nods sharply as he roughly grabs your arm to pull toward the wall where Krakken’s men are waiting, almost making you trip and fall to your knees in the process. “Grigory, would you like the honor? Just make sure she is alive when you are finished.”

Grigory’s contrasting eyes light up in malicious glee as he steps toward you.

Oh shit.

This is going to suck. Immensely. You’re sure he’s going to want retaliation for what the Soldier did to him, and they’ve just unleashed him on you with no restrictions other than to not kill you. Now would be a really, really good time for Nat, Steve, or Tony to make an appearance.

“No!! Stop! It was not the Soldier!” Mikhail’s voice rings out clearly even as you struggle to find words.

Everyone’s eyes go to Mikhail. Realization of what he’s about to say puts you into an immediate full blown panic. “No, Mikhail, don’t!”

He ignores you completely. “There is no need to harm her! It will not serve your purpose, as the Soldier did not kill your men. And if he is still triggered, hurting her will not make him comply any more than he already does.” He breathes heavily for a moment as Nicolai stalks toward him.

“Mikhail, DON’T!” Oh God, no…

Sad but resolute brown eyes meet your own. “I am sorry, solnishko,” he whispers; you can barely make out the words. “but I cannot stand by and allow them to hurt you when I –“

The sharp sound of Nicolai’s fist hitting Mikhail’s face cuts him off. Anatoliy walks behind Mikhail, pulling his arms back to hold him still as Nicolai hits him again.

“Have you been withholding information? You had better tell me why you think the Soldat is innocent of the murder of our men, immediately, or I will have your head.” Nicolai’s sinister growl echoes through the otherwise completely silent room.

“The Avengers –“

“Mikhail, SHUT UP!” You desperately try to run to him, you don’t know why, maybe to drag him out of the room before he gets himself killed. Unfortunately, Grigory’s hand reaches out and snatches your arm before you take more than two steps. You know what Krakken’s men will do to you, and the truth of it is that you’ll survive it. Well, your body will, anyway, because they don’t want you dead. You can eventually recover and you can heal, given enough time and support, but nothing can bring someone back from the dead. “I know what you’re trying to do, Mikhail, but it’s not worth it!” Pleading with him with your eyes, you try to tell him without speaking - because you don’t want to make anything worse - that it’s not worth his life.

“Yes it is,” he murmurs with his eyes on you.

“The Avengers…what?” Nicolai asks coldly, grasping Mikhail by the throat just above his collar.

“Please don’t,” you ask one more time, knowing it’s useless but not knowing whether it’s Mikhail or Nicolai that you’re pleading with at this point.

“The Avengers are here. I heard rumors in town when I ran errands for Dr. Metzger yesterday. They are going to save their friends, as well as avenge the families you’ve had murdered by the Soldier.” Mikhail’s eyes never leave yours. “I saw him.” He nods as best he can with Nicolai’s hand still at his throat.

“Saw who?” Nicolai shakes Mikhail roughly as he asks the question.

“Captain America. His hat and hood blew back in the wind for a moment, but I recognized him. I followed them into the store to make sure. He and a woman were purchasing bullets.”

Nicolai’s fist hit Mikhail’s face with such force, you thought for a moment that his neck must be broken. Slowly, Mikhail pulls himself back up from the blow.

“Why am I just hearing of this now?” Nicolai roars, and you can feel even Grigory jump at the sound. You take the opportunity to break free of his grasp and start striding toward Mikhail.

Mikhail’s eyes finally meet Nicolai’s. “Because I am hoping those bullets are for you.”

Anatoliy punches Mikhail in the spine, causing him to crumble to his knees; the only reason he stays upright is because Anatoliy is holding him by the back of his shirt.

Nicolai walks away, and you pay him no heed as you kneel in front of Mikhail as Anatoliy barks orders behind him. “What the hell are you doing, Mikhail?” you hiss as you frantically try to think of a way to get him out of this situation. “They’re going to –“

“This is my choice, solnishko,” he whispers through bubbling blood, “They will be too distracted now to focus on hurting you.” He coughs, and a tooth lands on the floor in front of you. “Survive, solishko. For me. For your Bucky. For your little ones. For Izolda. Survive.”

“Mikhail,” you choke out before you’re roughly pulled aside by a harsh grasp – Grigory again. Your heart plummets when you see why, and you start hyperventilating as your blood turns to ice. “No! Nicolai! NO!”

“You are a traitor.” Nicolai has reverted to his eerie calm, and Grigory pulls you back another step, dragging you along the floor as he goes.

“No! No, please, Nicolai, don’t do this! PLEASE!” Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears, the terror and panic rendering it unrecognizeable.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Mikhail grins as he looks up at Nicolai before twisting to look at Anatoliy. “Vy skoro umrete. Naslazhdaysya sosat' chlen svoyego brata, poka mozhesh', ublyudok.”

| You will soon die. Enjoy sucking on your brother's cock while you can, you bastard

Anatoliy stares for a moment, seemingly dumbfounded, before his eyes narrow. You don’t know what he said, but judging by Anatoliy’s reaction it must have been bad. Still holding Mikhail by the back of his shirt, Anatoly pulls back his arm and delivers a powerful blow to Mikhail’s temple. By the way his body slumps he’s probably already dead, but that doesn’t stop you from screaming, “NO! NICOLAI! DON’T!” as Nicolai brings the shashka down on Mikhail’s neck. His once blonde head drops with a sickening and bloody plop as Anatoliy releases his hold on the blood-soaked shirt.

You stare at the scene in front of you, unable to comprehend or accept what you’ve just seen but simultaneously unable to deny it.

Mikhail…

Mikhail.

Round 1 Tags: @rogersxbarnesx @hellomissmabel @beccaanne814-blog @musichowler @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @shifutheshihtzu @iamtal @passiononfire @jade-cheshire @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @lostinspace33 @gingerrootknits @callmebucky-doll @learisa @sammedrano @hardcorehippos @vaisabu @widowvinter @amrita31199 @bellenuit45 @agentraven007 @sarahjeaniejean @canumoveyourseatup-no @unpredictable-firecracker @ omalleysgirl22 @crazyliraz @shamvictoria11 @kaaatniss @lillian-paige @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @sexyseabass1231 @knittingknerdy @4theluvofall @howdoesoneadult

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #my work #when everythings made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)#part 43 #omg you guys i am so sorry #wemtbb

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