#look at those details have you seen me pour this much effort into a piece

[tired-biscuit]

“I bet you’ve never even been tipsy before,” the smug remark leaving the brunette’s lips with ease, a teasing grin on his face.

You scowl at him, hands balling into fists under the library table where he wouldn’t be able to see them. “And how would you know? You have no idea what I do in my free time, not all of it goes towards tutoring you, you know?”

As per usual, campus’s resident bad boy Kiba Inuzuka had managed to get sidetracked during your study session, pulling you right off the rails with him. It almost never failed, and you were staring to think that maybe if he put as much effort into learning the material as he did poking fun at you, he would be passing his classes with flying colors.

He barked out a laugh at that. “I don’t need to know what you do when I’m not around to know you’re definitely not spending your time downing beers and pouring shots. I mean just look at you- always in bed before midnight, never skips a lecture, hell you can’t even cuss with a straight face. I’m supposed to believe you have a party girl side to you? Yeah right.”

You’re so busy preparing a comeback that you don’t take notice to how many details he seems to know about you. “Just because I do those things doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good party, too!”

“Oh yeah? Then what’re your plans for Halloween?”

You blinked. “Halloween?”

“Yeah, Halloween fun doesn’t end when you stop trick-r-treating. Which, by the way, did you ever even take more than one piece of candy from the bowl, angel?“

Your stomach flipped at that, despite the fact he had given you that nickname as another way to tease you for being too much of what he called “a goody two shoes”.

“Shut up, that’s besides the point! And as a matter of fact, I do have Halloween plans! I’m going out that night.”

“Ha! I’ll believe it when I fucking see it!”

———————

Kiba did in fact start believing it now that he’s fucking seeing it.

How you got to Shika and Choji’s party, he had no idea, but what he did know is that you had certainly dressed for the occasion. You were wearing a dress that was much tighter, much shorter, and much more low-cut than anything he’s ever seen you don before.

Kiba was so busy taking in your attire that he didn’t notice you sauntering up to him, a huge smirk on your face.

“Not so much of an angel now, huh?”

Since you were closer, he could now see the little devil horns you had pinned in to your hair on the top of your head. He chuckled. Always the clever one.

“I’ll be damned. You do all this just to prove me wrong, huh?”

You put your hands on your hips, smirk still going strong. “No, I just wanted to be festive. As I said earlier, I already had these plans made.”

You definitely weren’t throwing together a last minute costume as you texted all of your friends asking if they knew of anyone who was throwing for Halloween. And you definitely didn’t pick this specific party because you recognized the two guys throwing it as some of Kiba’s friends. And you definitely didn’t know they were all friends from stalking Kiba’s instagram occasionally. And you definitely didn’t expect Kiba to be here.

Nope. Definitely not.

“Mhm, sure, angel.”

“I’m a devil right now!”

“Whatever,” His face then stretched into a grin, “Wanna go do some shots?”

Time progressed through the party, and to Kiba’s surprise, you could actually hang pretty well. You were a little more bubbly than usual, perhaps because your sexy little get-up was giving you a confidence boost, chatting and laughing with a few people. He himself had been sticking with you for over an hour now, engaging in conversation here and there, relishing in the fact he could see so much more of your skin than usual.

And maybe he was also standing by your side because it was nice to see you let go and have some fun, but that sounds too soft so you won’t hear him admitting it. Even to himself.

Much to his expectation, however, you were a lightweight. Kiba was impressed that you were going shot for shot with him the first three times, but then cut you off as soon as he could hear your speech start to slur a bit. You were currently drinking a “rum and coke” he made you that was actually just coke. He didn’t want you yakking later, he was having too good of a time talking with you about topics that weren’t math or science.

You were currently in a crowd of people, you giggling to yourself and swaying a little bit, and him watching you closely to make sure you didn’t wander off and hurt yourself by falling onto the ground- or even worse, falling into the bed of some loser that can only pull girls when they’re trashed.

He normally had some possessive thoughts about you. You were a sweet, pretty girl that he spent a decent amount of time with, it’s no wonder he felt like he had dibs on you. However, seeing you in this state- as funny as it was to watch- had him feeling almost protective right now.

Your hand on his face snapped Kiba out of his thoughts. Your finger was tracing along one of the fang markings on his face. “It’sss so pretty.”

His face heated up instantly. Had anyone else been touching Kiba Inuzuka’s face and calling one of his features pretty, they’d be getting beaten to a pulp. But this was you- kind, innocent, warm-hearted you- so he simply took your hand and moved it away from his cheek. “Thanks, they’re birthmarks.”

He started to back away, about to retreat before anyone could catch him allowing you to be all touchy-feely with him, but the second he moved away from you he saw someone out of the corner of his eye move towards you.

Kiba turned towards the figure, and recognized a guy from your shared biology class. He had no idea what the dude’s name was, but Kiba always referred to him as country club because the kid reeked of daddy’s money. He had caught the guy staring at you multiple times before, and he definitely didn’t like that. Especially now, when you were out of your normal state of mind, because someone as entitled as country club seems like he would have a difficult time understanding the word no.

He wasn’t leaving you alone with this dude. Fuck his reputation, he wasn’t leaving you.

Placing his hand on the small of your back, Kiba looked down to see your wide eyes staring back up at him. He guesses you weren’t used to him being this bold with you.

“Ya know what, angel? Since you’re feeling a little more devilish tonight, how about I teach you how to roll a joint, yeah?”

holy shit, holy fuCKING SHIT SAIGE, i'm giggling and swivelling around in my chair like crazy ahhhhhh----- sdjhfdjkshf i need more of bad boy!kiba teching tutor reader stuff (if ya know what i meannnnn)

I'M ALREADY IMMERSED, REALLY FUCKEN INTO IT OK SO FUCKEN INTO IT

and the fact that he's already so protective and watching out for us, giving us just soda and pretending it's full of liquor is so fucking cute, i can'ttttt (also us stalking him on fucken insta is so on point ok, i know i would lmfao, i'd be the idiot that would like his pic from like 4 yrs ago like the dumb bitch i am...........)

i'm so obsessed with him, he's warming up my big, fat heart. whenever ppl write about kiba, it just makes me soft all over AND YOU WRITE HIM SO FUCKIN GOOD OK

#kiba #kiba x reader #obsessed hehe #biscuit buddies

[perfectlypinkduck]

Fictional novel

There's many discoveries to be made in this world. Everything around in sight not in sight is full of information. The scientific world will tell you that.

The world of make believe or once upon a time these things once was. Is it true or is it just a nother fairly tale that got taller over time.

The imagination can make or break one self. Pay attention to the tiniest details when can. This is how I creat the tidbits that I write about. From the good side of ones character to the whole other side of ones character.

Watch,think, read, listen, retain then treat the details as if they are a story plot.

Shift the pieces around and creat your own master pieces.

Even though there's things that I see and don't understand till later that's because I have not seen heard read or thought about it in a certain way yet.

Then when I do it's like painting a picture for the whole entire word to see.

When I was in college I created a PowerPoint project for a class. I was older than most of the rest of them and I still took the time to think about the subject matter and bam lights went on about how to do this. I went to my professor and had him to look at my PowerPoint what little I had so far and asked, is it okay to think like this and do that because I am a think out of the box kind of person and I don't give just 100% I give 110% of myself. I pour myself in my work and he said yes, I am on the right track. I was happy and I went home and created a masterpiece omg it was greaT.!

When I stop and think about those nights working hard to get this right not just good but effin great. Because most of the class was 19 &20 year olds did nothing seriously.

I had dug researched and collected data and went through my data and asked myself does this fit here or would this be better.

The pictures and time frame and designs of the right era had to match up with my PowerPoint project.

I still to this day remember the presentation day and after sitting through a few really stupid ones before mine I wasn't worried about anything.

I swear the room got quiet and you could hear a pin drop a feather probably. The reaction I got back was amazingly great and from every one.

I felt represented that day for a few seconds.

My work because I drew it up in my imagination and dug and researched it all by myself. Amazing how the mind works when people actually gives a shit to put in effort to build and create.

The other students did games shows and stupid shit.

There were no mentioning the subject matter in their project at all just a easy A for them and they were lazy about it.

That to me was one of my finest part of me.

It meant so much to me and just the personal satisfaction I got from that assignment and how I shocked myself.

You don't know what you can do till you do it.

Do your best at everything that you take on even when after a while you really hate it think about the character building and eye opening experiences you would never experienced if you hadn't tried to be the best version of your self always.

No matter what slime ball or stupid people you get stuck with during that trial of life.class mates helping on a assignment together that's a damn nightmares.

I would rather do it all by myself and do it right the first time.

When I started college and the first month was fun as hell and your eyes are opening up to see your mind stretch and develope.

That's incredible to be able to be educated and love it too.

Write about it share it and express your self with it too.

Yes to education!

[artist-in-space]

I have no originality, designs are inspired from @monochromemedic @crabiplier and DC comics. But all the same, I’m super proud of this!

Reverse Flash Ethan and Poison Ivy Mark from Unus Annus’ body paint vid :D

#unus annus #markiplier #crankgameplays #reverse flash ethan #poison ivy mark #look at those details have you seen me pour this much effort into a piece #well....i always do omg look at that i colored!!!! #expect more sketches lmao

[jinmukangwrites]

Just a short whump piece I wrote to warm up for something else. Enjoy!

Prompt: a fae creature is trapped in an iron cage.

Warnings: description of injury, burns, near death situations

Basically, now that I know Hyrule can canonically turn into a fairy, he will know no peace from me.

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule doesn't know how he's gotten here. Or, well, he does know how he's gotten here. He knows every detail by heart of how he's gotten here. He just… doesn't know how he's allowed himself to get here. 

He's exhausted. Every inch of his body aches down to his very bones. He's hungry too. Emotionally drained. But he can't do a thing about it. Not when he's as small as a butterfly and about as strong. 

Why did he think scouting ahead in his fairy form was a good idea? The day's been peaceful so far, and he shouldn't have tested fate. But… he's been itching to fly. And it's strange, because he knows he's lived most of his life up until fairly recently with his feet firmly on the ground and his head reaching the shoulder of a pony. 

Yet ever since he's first flown with wings attached to his back… sometimes when he's his normal self his shoulder blades ache and the world feels claustrophobic. 

So yeah, he offered to scout ahead as a fairy. He didn't exactly tell the others that he'd be going in that form… he'd never hear the end of it from Legend… but they probably could tell he was yearning for some space. Hyrule figured that Twilight always went off on his own. Why couldn't he?

And now he's here; fluttering weakly in a metal cage. 

He didn't expect to run into a camp of moblins. He tried the best he could to fly away, but one of the damned creatures thought too quickly and snatched an old lantern. It poured the oil, opened the door, and scooped him out of the air. Hyrule only realized the lantern was made of iron when he scrambled for the latch and his hands began to burn. 

There's a reason fairies are put in jars. Not that Hyrule would like to be put in one of those either. 

His skin burns. The moblin seemed to realize his weakness to the metal and shook him around a bit before hanging the lantern up in their rancid cave, snorting joyfully. They left soon after to celebrate by the bonfire outside, but the damage was done. He's pretty sure there's not a single bit of exposed skin that isn't irritated or blistering. His cheekbones feel tight and his palms are red... His arms and legs look like he's gotten into a fight with stinging nettle. 

The worst part is that even with his shoes he cannot rest. The burn of iron still seeps through as if he's as good as naked. The only way he can fully avoid hurting himself is flying in the center of his cage. However, he's small and he's already been flying for hours. His wings are tired, and the tips of each frail and transparent limb are singed a painful brown from them brushing against the cage unintentionally. There's not a lot of room. 

He's sure he won't last much longer. His body feels so bruised and battered and his eyesight is starting to blur. The strain of the muscles used to move his wings burn just like the iron. Soon enough, he will blink and not open his eyes, exhausted to the point he passes out and lands on the metal floor below him to sizzle. 

How, oh how did he land himself in this one?

He tries to distract himself from the pain. He looks out of the bars of the lantern, fluttering as closely to the small gaps as he dares, and memorizes the room below him. But he quickly grows bored with that, so he hums tunes to himself. But even that gets tiring when his throat starts to demand water. 

How much longer will he last? If he falls onto the iron, will it kill him? Or will it just be an endless torture that he can never escape from until he's starved to death? 

His eyes droop. His wings stutter. Fear clutches his heart in sharp claws, but there's nothing he can do. He's been trying for so long that his body is deciding to stop for him. He can only hope that once he hits the bottom of the cage, the agony will be enough to give him just enough adrenaline to restart his efforts and keep going for a little while longer. 

His wing jolts. His foot touches the bottom and he screams. It's all he can do to lift himself back into the air. 

Distantly, he's aware of the moblin's screeching getting louder and agitated. There's... there's fighting out there. The clanging of swords. Human shouting. Voices that are familiar to him. 

Hope and terror and fear and joy and a whole mixture of all kinds of emotions swirl in his stomach. His friends. They have come for him. 

His wings shutter and fall limply to his back, and as he falls he wonders if they've come too late. 

Immediately, his entire world is engulfed by fire. He can't find it in him to move. He's not sure his muscles work anymore. All he can do is gasp and writhe on the floor of the lantern as his skin sizzles. He tries to listen for his friends through his tortured sobs, he tries to watch the entrance of the cave through his tears, but his attention is weak and the pain is strong. He's almost tempted to give into it and let it consume him. Maybe he'll pass out and the pain will stop. 

A shadow. A shadow appears in the mouth of the cave. Drawing up the last of his strength, Hyrule crawls to the edge of the lantern and looks through the gaps to get a clearer view. 

In walks a familiar head of pink hair below a blue hat. Hyrule has never been more happy to see Legend. 

"V-vet-" he whimpers. Legend twitches and looks around the cave with wide eyes. 

"Traveler?"

Determination fills his bloodstream, right next to the agony. "Up," he sobs. "Up."

His arms give out and he lands fully on the ground, his head making a dull thunk as it hits the metal. He cannot see if Legend heard him, nor if he knows what Hyrule meant. All he can do is curl up and sob pathetically as the pain doesn't lessen. 

He doesn't know how long he stays like that, but somehow he's aware of the world shaking carefully next to the creaking of metallic hinges. His eyes, however, fly open when a soft hand touches his body. 

Tender fingers lift him from the bottom of the lantern, and the next thing he knows he's laying in the middle of Legend's cupped palms, the lantern discarded on the ground and the rings he usually wears nowhere to be seen. 

He still hurts. He's still hungry. He's still exhausted beyond belief. 

Yet, the second Legend brings his hands and Hyrule closer to his chest, making it so he can hear his worried heart, he finally loses consciousness.

"I got you, Rule," Legend whispers. "We found you."

He's safe now. He can sleep. His friends came, and everything will be okay.

#linked universe #hero of hyrule #hero of legend #whump #burn wounds tw #jin writes #ficlet #fanfiction #pls tell me if theres any triggers i missed #i doubt i did but you never know

[kneeeklaus]

Decadence - Klaus Mikaelson

General Info:

TW: Swearing

Type: Fluff, innocent confession

Summary: At the Mikaelson’s Ball, you accidentally make a comment about Klaus while Rebekah’s around, she figures out you have a crush, and plays the part of a double agent wing-woman. 

*I’m pretty sure I wrote this gender neutral

Another day, another fancy event to attend. Mystic Falls was kind of just like that. One might assume that after a while, these formal events may start to get boring, and while that’s generally true, tonight’s event was an exception. The Mikaelson’s Ball. 

You knew the Mikaelson family to be quite flamboyant in taste, and so, you assumed they’d spare no expense. So neither did you. You had picked the most decadent of outfits, one that suited your features and fiery personality. You had to admit, you really liked one upping other people, so you went all out. 

The outfit was not expensive per say, but carefully crafted, and with no detail spared. As soon as you’d heard of the occasion, you’d started sifting through ideas in your head about what you wanted to wear. The result of your blood, sweat, and tears certainly justified your effort. 

You looked amazing. You were well aware of that. When you entered the Mikaelson mansion, in all its’ newly renovated glory, you could tell that many people noticed you. It wasn’t one of those movie moments where time stopped for a moment and all eyes were on you - that would be cliche. But you were perceptive enough to notice the volume in the room lower as you entered. 

And soon you were aware that you knew barely half of these people, and not even a tenth of them well. You noticed a beautiful head of blonde hair skate by in between the gaps of heads, and you intrinsically knew it was Rebekah. You followed behind her as she made her way to a small seating area on the second floor. 

She whipped her head around at you, she could sense your presence. “Oh, you’re here. No wonder it got so quiet.”

“You noticed that too?” You asked. 

“I’m very perceptive. Moving on, you look bloody gorgeous. I’m jealous.” Rebekah whined, crossing her arms and throwing herself back into a leather chair. Her perfect posture slumped. 

“Yeah, but you’ve been gorgeous for over a thousand years. I age. I think we can call it even.” You explained. Rebekah snorted and shifted in her seat. 

“Very true. How have you been?” She asked thoughtfully. 

“Since last night? Probably about the same as the last time I answered that question.” You said, sarcasm lacing your lips. 

“Very witty, you are. But truthfully, a human’s condition can change very rapidly in the span of a few hours. You’re my favorite human, I try to check in on you often. And honestly, good things don’t really come to those associated with the Mikaelson name.” She drabbled, her expression growing bleak. 

“How sentimental.” You smiled. “Luckily for you, I’m not superstitious.”

You looked around the room as Rebekah got up from her chair and joined you at the balcony’s railing, you both silently observed the guests below. In reality though, Rebekah was droning on about how old these events get sometimes, but you didn’t hear a word she said because Klaus caught your eye. 

He looked so good in a suit, and it was a sight you didn’t see all that often. You took your time to appreciate it. His shoulders were wide, and he looked tall, especially when standing next to Elijah. His arms looked slender and long. The white on white on black suit ironically suited him. He looked so extravagant, with his hair parted and pulled away from his face, exposing his beautiful bone structure. The slight shadow of his facial hair made you weak. Everything about him made you weak. He looked so unbelievably good, but your gaze wondered to his lips. “He has such pretty, pink lips.” 

And suddenly, you realized that you had accidentally said that last bit out loud. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you finally pulled your eyes away from Klaus to glance at Rebekah’s reaction. Her mouth was slightly agape, and her eyebrows were dipped in confusion. You didn’t know what to say, you were completely speechless. 

“Y/N, do you have a crush on my brother, Nik?” She asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“What? No!” You said, panicked. And then you realized how stupid that sounded, and also that if you didn’t admit that you liked Klaus, she might think it was Elijah you fancied. “Okay, so maybe I’m slightly fond of Klaus. It’s really not that big of a deal, he’s just charming, okay?” 

“Y/N, you zoned out, didn’t hear a word I said, and mumbled something about how pretty you think his lips are.” She raised her eyebrows “You’ve been caught red handed.”

“Look, Rebekah, I always intended to keep it to myself. I’m just attracted to him, that’s all, I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you apologizing for? Finally, Klaus has a suitor that I actually like!” She said, quite excited. 

“Shh, don’t say that out loud, what if he’s listening in? Oh god, I’m doomed. I’m done and-” You paused “Did you just call me a suitor? What makes me a suitor, I don’t have a chance in hell with him.”

“You have a better chance than you think you do, sisterly intuition. Now, come on.” She said as she took your hand and dragged you down the stairs with her.

“What are you doing, Rebekah?” You asked, but there was no answer, only a content smile lingering on her lips. “Rebekah, I think this is a really bad idea.” 

But she paid you no mind, she was hellbent on making this happen. Soon, you approached the bar, where Elijah and Klaus were standing. 

“Elijah! I think I may have spotted one Katerina Petrova. Do-” He cut her off by immediately walking away, towards the entrance of the mansion. “You stay here, I’m going to go deal with that.” And with that, she was gone. 

But more importantly, you were left alone with Klaus Mikaelson. “Fancy a drink, love?” He asked. 

You weren’t twenty one yet, but you answered “Yes” without much hesitation. 

“What’ll it be then?” He quizzed you. 

You really didn’t know much about alcohol, in fact, you were more of a weed person. And so you ordered a manhattan, without really knowing what it was. A short while after, it was served to you, but you took one sip and decided that was enough. The look on your face said it all. 

“Would you fancy something a little sweeter?” He asked, taking a step closer to you. You nodded curtly. 

He delicately took your hand, and led you away from the party to a dimly lit room, decorated as decadently as the rest of the house. There was wine lining most of the walls, which Klaus appeared to be scouring. 

“Ah, there it is. A 1789 Botryis Nobel Rot.” He muttered under his breath as he pulled the wine bottle out of its’ sheath. 

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know anything about wine, but if you say it’s good, then I’ll trust you on that. Although, the 1789 part does make it sound lethal.” You explained, trying your very best to be charming. 

He laughed. He laughed, at a joke you made. You couldn’t even recall the last time you’d seen him smile. An asymmetrical grin took its place on your face as you relished in the moment. 

He poured two glasses and handed one to you “You do look absolutely gorgeous, might I add.” As he handed off the glass to you, his fingers lingered there, tangled with yours. You smiled and looked down, trying to hide your rosy cheeks which were betraying you.

“Oh, well, uh, thanks. And you as well. I mean-” You stuttered, tripping over your words “You don’t look gorgeous, I mean you do! But there’s a better word for that, I think. Handsome, maybe?” You really wished you could crawl into a hole, and never come out after that. How would you ever come back from that? 

And then he said “Sweetheart, am I making you nervous?” And if you weren’t so god damn stubborn, you probably would’ve fainted before he even finished that sentence.  

“You? Oh no, it’s- it’s the wine.” 

“But you haven’t even taken a sip yet?” He questioned.

“No, I- I mean I’m still afraid this could kill me. I mean it’s way older than I am.” You elaborated. 

“Love, I promise that won’t kill you.” He chuckled. And there it was, that cheeky grin that made you go weak in the knees. You nodded and took a seat on a nearby ottoman. He sat down right next to you. He watched you carefully as you took a sip, and adored seeing your expression light up. 

“Oh! It’s sweet, I wasn’t expecting that.” You said, delighted. But what you really weren’t expecting was how your knees would graze his from time to time as you sat together. 

“Well, it’s a dessert wine, I hoped you’d like it.” He grinned. 

“What have you done with Klaus Mikaelson?” 

“What ever do you mean?” He asked. 

“Klaus Mikaelson doesn’t smile this much, I know him better than that.” You claimed, sipping on your wine “And he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to serve guests dessert wine.”

He shrugged “Klaus Mikaelson also would’ve gone after Katherine, had she been here.” 

You had been found out. And part of you wanted never to show your face around Klaus ever again, but a part of you was intrigued. “Well it wasn’t me who said she was around, was it?”

“Don’t be daft, now, I would’ve known if Katherine was within a hundred mile radius of this town.” He said “Now why don’t you tell me why Rebekah was in such a hurry to lure Elijah away?”

“How would I know? I’m not Rebekah. Why don’t you just go and ask her?” You stalled. 

“Well, the thing is, love. I don’t really need to ask her, I did actually happen to overhear bits and pieces of your conversation, and by bits and pieces, I mean all of it.” He admitted. 

You audibly gasped, and set your glass down before standing up. “So you’ve just been chatting with me, knowing this incriminating information? Was this all just an elaborate plan for some shitty practical joke? Oh god, I’m such an idiot.” You sighed, hiding your eyes with your hand out of embarrassment. 

“No!” He exclaimed “No, that’s not what this is at all. I simply thought you looked beautiful tonight, and well, you deserve to have some fun.” 

“So you threw me a pity party?” You laughed uncomfortably. 

“Wrong again, are you always this paranoid?” He said as he stood up, towering over you. 

“Then what?”

“Oh come on, Y/N, you’re a beautiful girl, I just though-”

You cut him off “So you brought me here to flirt with me?”

“No, well, yes, actually. I thought that’s what you wanted? Don’t you like me?” He asked sheepishly. 

“Well, obviously, Sherlock Holmes.” 

“Then I don’t see the problem here? Have women always been this confusing?” He asked rhetorically. 

“Probably.” You shrugged. By this point you were half convinced you were being tricked, and half teasing him. 

“Well, I um, I like you too. I have ever since I met you.” He admitted. “Rebekah figured it out a while ago, but I never thought you’d feel the same. I don’t exactly have a good reputation.” 

“Klaus, there’s nothing wrong with you that can’t be fixed. You’re only the bad guy because you insist on playing the role.” You explained “Besides, everyone knows power corrupts good men, isn’t that like, Newton’s third law, or something?”

“Not quite...” He said. He wasn’t even looking at you anymore, he was looking through you. “I’m sorry, can I just-” Without warning, he pulled you in by your hand and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into his touch, your fingers instinctively making their way to the hair on the back of his neck. His hands pulled you in at the waist now. He pulled away, and his forehead rested on yours. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes, Klaus?” 

“I’ve never really done the whole relationship thing. Honestly, until I met you I was convinced I had no emotions at all. But for the first time, I want to, I want you. Please be patient with me.” He said, your foreheads still touching, his eyes still closed. 

You were stunned, your cheeks went bright pink, realizing how close you were to him. “Okay” you said quietly, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around your torso, and lifted you slightly off the ground. For once, things may have been looking up. 

**I may or may not do a part 2 to this because I have a good plot idea, stay tuned

#Klaus #niklaus imagine #klaus imagine #klaus x y/n #klaus x reader #Klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus x reader #niklaus oneshot #klaus oneshot #the originals #rebekah #rebekah mikaelson #elijah #elijah mikaelson #tvd #oneshots #fanfiction #imagines

[garbinge]

Contaminated (7/?)

Bishop Losa x OC Lara Barrera Losa (Father/Daughter Duo) annnndddd eventual Angel Reyes x OC Lara Losa (Romantic Pairing) A/N: A quick little update that’s going to ultimately push our girl Lara really deep into some S H I T.  There was a lot more I wanted to put in this chapter but we would have been pushing like 7k words so I figured I’d split em up. Happy reading :)  Chapter Index TW: 18+, mentions of blood, murder, death, violence and alcohol. 

Word Count: 3.3k words Taglist: (Just let me know if you want to be added :) @est1887 @minimel-fics @spnaquakindgdom @nessamc​ @alienstardust​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark

The weeks went on pretty much the same. Frankie and Lara were settling into living on their own just fine. They spent nights out and about at bars and clubs and days nursing the hangover and going to work to make the money they used to make those nights out possible. This morning was no different from the others, Lara rolled out of bed and crawled to the shower. After doing the minimal amount of work to get ready she made her way to the kitchen following the smell of a fresh pot of coffee.  As Lara passed the living room, she glanced over at Frankie who was sitting on the couch with her sunglasses on and a steaming mug in her hand. 

“Glad to see you’re alive,” Lara snorted and grabbed the pot. 

“You’re the one who blacked out,” Frankie retorted as she casually sipped on the black coffee. 

“I’m going to the club, got a call about a copper pick up and wanna let Chucky know,” Lara poured the rest of the boiling liquid from the pot into the travel cup. The smell alone was bringing her slowly back to life. Frankie was a woman of many talents but making the perfect cup of coffee was for sure at the top of that list. 

“Mm.” Frankie hummed to acknowledge what her best friend had said and just settled deeper into the couch. 

Lara grabbed her bag and keys as she left the house, making sure to lock the door behind her because there was a 100% chance that Frankie was going to fall back asleep. 

______

Luckily, the clubhouse was relatively empty when she arrived. It was still morning on a Saturday so it made sense. Her eyes scanned over the bikes to see who had been there. She knew each member's bike, not just by the body style and paint jobs but by the little details that were so on brand for each personality. 

The long braided biker whip that was connected to Hank’s handlebars proved he was not to be fucked with. It looked nice from a far but when provoked, had a mean sting. That along with the batwing fairing cowl that matched the man’s broad shoulders, his bike looked like him. 

Next to it was Creeper’s bike. To the untrained eye, the bike could have been mistaken for anyones, but not someone who was around enough to see how much dedication and effort he put into things. He was always working on stuff, whether that be taking scrap from the yard and making something practical or useful again, installing cameras and security around the perimeter of the lot, or working on the mechanics of his bike. Lara had always seen him installing new parts, that while they might not have stood out, they made the bike faster, stronger, and honestly cooler. The shininess of the metal along the blacked out bike glistened in the sun and allowed the sparkle of the bike next to it to gleam even more than it originally did. 

And that bike? That bike was ‘The Breakout’. Bishop’s bike. Lara could pick that bike out of any lineup, even on a highway going 100mph, she’d be able to recognize it anywhere. Not just by looks but by sound also, it rumbled at a pitch that none of the others did. It was blacked out and the body pieces were painted an emerald metallic green that had little black details on it you could only see if you were lucky enough to stand close to it. That green. Lara was the one who picked it out for Bishop’s first bike years ago and he never changed it, even when he changed bikes. 

“Green,” Lara said without looking at her father and then nodded as she repeated the word again, “green.” 

“Green like money?” Bishop frowned and shot his head back not expecting that color choice from his daughter. 

The girl met his eyes for a moment before smirking, “green like envy.” 

Bishop’s face turned to a grin as he looked from the girl to the bike. His head began to nod as his hand lightly traced around the body of the bike, “green like envy,” he mumbled. 

To Lara, that green not only symbolized the envy of everyone who looked at it and wanted either the bike itself or to be like the person driving it, but it also symbolized other things about her father. She had later googled what green could mean and found things such as the military, eternal life, and luck. Which Lara found ironic, because in her googling she found that the South American symbolization of green was defined as death, and if that were true Bishop was going to need a lot of luck. 

Lara luckily was able to snag Chucky just as he was leaving the lot, letting him know about the copper bid and all the details of who he should bring and where it was. He gave her some paperwork and a note for Bishop that someone left for him in the mailbox. Lara didn’t think twice of it, he was a well-known and high in demand person to talk to in this town. 

As she stepped to the clubhouse, the sound of silence hit her, it was beautiful. Especially on a Saturday morning when she was as hungover as she was. Her eyes scanned the room to see Creeper standing at the bar, and the templo doors closed. 

“What, you weren’t asked to brunch with the boys?” Lara teased the private templo meeting going on as she skipped over to the bar and jumped on the high stool. 

Creeper chuckled, “nah, invite only event.”

“What a shame,” Lara smiled as she rested her elbows on the bar. 

Creeper kept fidgeting with whatever he was fixing or installing before moving to grab a beverage for the girl. 

“What can I get ya, lil mamas?” he held a beer up to ask if she wanted it, while he didn’t drink himself, he wouldn’t stop those around him from their normalities, and in the clubhouse drinking was a normality. 

“Beer at 10 in the morning Creep? Who do you think I am?” Lara inhaled as if she was appalled that the man would offer her alcohol this early. 

His face dropped for a minute, not because he was nervous, but because he was simply confused. There had been plenty of mornings where he saw the girl not just drunk but what he would always call “keeping the night alive”. 

“You ain’t gonna offer me a mimosa or anything?” Lara quickly jumped back at the man so he knew she was joking. “I mean just because the big boys are having brunch doesn’t mean we can’t,” her back was now against the bar chair as her shoulders shrugged.

“Now, if you expect me to pull a fuckin’ champagne bottle out from behind this bar, I know you really done lost it.”

Lara let out a breathy laugh at his comment. She had always enjoyed her short conversations with Creeper, he knew how to give back the attitude without being rude and that was something Lara enjoyed. 

“Give me the beer,” she leaned forward again, waving her hand at him to bring the cold brew in her direction. 

“You look like shit,” her father’s voice now filled the quiet ambiance of the clubhouse. 

The chair swivelled in his direction as she rested her right elbow on the bar with the beer loosely dangling from her fingertips, her left arm rested comfortably on the chair back. 

“And to think people tell me I look like you,” Lara’s head turned to the side as she made a grinning expression to mock the man. 

Bishop wasn’t laughing, in fact, he looked worn out which made the girl bite back anymore humorous comments. 

“What’s wrong?” her tone 180ed as it held sincerity in it. 

“Been a long night.” 

Typical. Short and sweet response. Lara nodded and went to press more but Bishop kept talking. 

“What brings you here so early on a Saturday?” Bishop stood against the corner of the bar, leaning against the wooden slab that had seen the best and worst of anyone who dared to drink off it. 

“I got a call from my copper connect on a bid going on in Campo, wanted to let Chucky know. Plus, haven’t seen you in a while so I figured I’d run my luck and catch you here.” 

“You didn’t think I’d be home?” Bishop asked less frustrated as the thought of his daughter coming to check on him. 

“I guess I know you better than you thought,” Lara shrugged. 

“I think the right wording is you know me better than I’d like you to,”  Bishop raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m heading downtown later today just to do some shopping, you need anything? I’ll bring it by the house,” Lara was jumping down from the bar, still with her hand on the half drunk beer. 

“I’m alright, I had the prospect wrap me up some of the barbecue shit from the party last night. It’ll last me a couple days,” Bishop waved the girl off. 

“Ah, so that’s where the young and impressionable were last night. We missed them at Tops.” 

“How can you possibly miss them when you’re out every other night with them?” Bishop chuckled. 

“Same as I miss this beer the minute the bottle leaves my lips,” Lara finished the drink and placed the empty on the table. 

“You sound like an alcoholic.”

“And you sound like a party pooper,” Lara kissed the man goodbye. 

“Just please keep your head on straight,” his tone was deliberate. 

Lara stopped in her walk and turned around to look her dad in the eyes, “Hey, my bills are paid. I work 6 days a week, I volunteer to help teach kids, and I stock your fridge up for you,” she pointed at him with the last words. 

“Touché,” he lifted his hands up. 

“Oh before I forget, Chucky gave me these to give you. It’s like bills and shit,” she was stepping back towards him with the pile of mail in her hand, extending it out to him. He looked down at her wrist to see Aiden’s name engraved on a bracelet she was wearing. “Soph made it for me,” her other hand raised up to move the piece of jewelry around so he could see it better. 

Bishop simply nodded and grabbed the letters from her hand. “Thanks for comin’ in and making sure shit with the yard stays straight.” 

Lara nodded back, disappointed they weren’t able to talk about Aiden, or really anything going on for that matter. 

_________

Lara strolled downtown picking up groceries and just enjoying the morning on the strip. Her mind was in a million places, and good ones at that. Aside from the distance Bishop was putting between them, life was good and as the sun beat down on her face she couldn’t help but smile. 

As she made her way towards Sophie’s shop her eyes looked over the couple of people that were walking by her, offering smiles and good morning pleasantries. 

“Buenos,” her lips curved at the other locals. 

“Buenos Dias, Lara.” The voice was piercing, and she recognized it immediately. At first she thought she was hearing things, but when their eyes connected hers darted away once she was able to confirm it wasn’t just in her head. She was scared and ready to run, which wasn’t like her. Lara went to walk away but the man grabbed her arm. 

“I thought we’d seen the last of you 5 years ago.” The man’s grip got tighter as his smile grew wider. 

Lara said nothing as she shot daggers at him. “Not sure if you heard but Jesse died,” he paused to read her face, but when she didn’t flinch one single muscle, he kept talking. “Not too long after you mysteriously disappeared from Lodi, actually,” his conniving, cocky voice hit her ears sending chills through her body. 

“I heard, sorry for your loss,” she looked down to see the Calaveras kutte sitting smug on his shoulders. In that moment, she tried to squirm her way out of his hold but had no luck. The action went unnoticed by the bystanders on the street, but luckily one person had been watching from their father’s shop across the street. 

“Let me go,” Lara’s tone mimicked her father’s almost perfectly. 

“Is that what Jesse said when you murdered him?”

His words were like venom, her stomach was in knots, and she wanted to throw up, the memories of that night five years ago flooded her brain, the blood, the smell of rust, that feeling of uncertainty was rushing her thoughts, but her face stayed neutral, another thing she learned from her father. 

“I said, let me the fuck go,” not bothering to answer his question, just keeping her grounded stance. 

“You know when we found my cousin in a pool of blood in his own home, we really thought it was the Sons. They were messy enough to leave that reaper pin behind. We believe that so much so that we started a fuckin’ 5 year war with them. Every Calaveras charter fell apart, due to loss of life, loss of funds,” he kissed his teeth, “shit, only ones left are about 10 of my guys in my charter.”

Lara’s eyes moved again to the kutte to see the office patch sitting brand new on his chest. It was so new she was surprised she hadn’t noticed the brightness of it before. Vice President. 

“Again, I’m sorry for your loss,” Lara squirmed again, this time her mind was going a mile a minute. Is that why her dad went to go up north to Charming? How much did they actually know? Did Bishop know any of this?

“You’re damn right, you’re sorry,” the spit from his statement hit her in the face causing her to flinch backwards and her nerves to back down and the anger to rise up. “You’re the one who fuckin’ killed him!” Although his voice was at a whisper she could hear the animosity in those words, the blame, and she could also sense his pain, and that was what she was going to focus on because that was the weakness that could help her out of this situation. 

As the words escaped his mouth, she let the saliva build up in her mouth and instantly shoot from her mouth and hit his face, spitting it directly in the middle of his face, “I said let me the fuck go.” 

Lara was now even more gripped up as the anger rose in the man as well. 

“Pretty sure the lady told you to let her go,” another voice joined them. 

Lara looked to the side to see Angel standing there nonchalantly with a toothpick in his mouth that rolled around as he played with it. 

“And who the fuck are you?” the guy frowned and did a double take when he saw the kutte Angel was wearing.

“Don’t matter who I am,” Angel said with a shrug now leaning against the garbage bin that was about three feet to the left of the two. “You should leave her alone,” he nodded and frowned his face sarcastically. 

“Or what you’re going to beat me up,” he squinted towards the patch, “El Secretario,” the man laughed as he caught a glimpse of the kutte resting on Angel’s body. 

Angel laughed and shook his head, not even giving a single thought to get up in the man's face because he knew he didn’t need to. 

“Nah, but she will,” the words left his mouth effortlessly. 

The comment made Lara look at Angel a little differently for a split second. He wasn’t being a complete jerk, or trying to do the ‘hero - get the girl’ type of thing. He was genuinely concerned for the girl and letting her keep control of the situation. 

Lara yanked her arm free and let another drop of drool exit her mouth next to the man’s shoe. “Let’s go,” Lara said looking at Angel and nodded her head for them to leave. 

“Don’t do that,” the man clutched her up again before she had the chance to walk away and with that movement she spun her arm out of his grip and pushed him away.

Angel was now standing up ready to jump in. 

“The last person who put their hands on me, you found dead laying in their blood, and let me tell you for some badass bikers,” her eyes moved up and down with disgust at the man, “you’re a bunch of pussies.” 

With that, she walked by Angel, standing behind him waiting for him to take lead. 

It took a lot for Angel not to beat the man up, who he was now realizing was just a kid, probably 19-20 years old. The kid was laughing on the ground from the push Lara gave him but Angel figured the best option was to just get Lara anywhere but here as the murmurs and whispers filled the street. 

“Come on, let's go.” Angel guided the girl across the street. She felt like melting into him which was not like her, she felt helpless, dependent, a burden, along with a lot of other stressful emotions. Everything she was feeling brought her back to who she was years ago and she hated every moment of it. 

They stepped into the butcher shop and Angel gave the girl her space. Luckily it had just been the two of them in there, Angel’s father had gone into the cooler in the back which was practically sound proof. 

“You aight?” The seat he grabbed screeched as he flipped it around closer and motioned for her to sit while he opened the refrigerator and handed her a cold soda. 

He retreated to lean on the window waiting for her response.

“Honestly?” she looked up at him with tears forming in her eyes, “no.” Her head shook from left to right as she brought the soda up to her forehead to cool her down. The adrenaline was now starting to fade and the fear and anxiety was becoming more noticeable. 

“That’s ok,” Angel just nodded, not knowing how to handle the situation. 

“You don’t need to deal with this,” she shook her head and stood up to walk out the door but Angel also stood to stop her. 

As he approached her, even in the most innocent of ways, the girl flinched back almost like she had burned herself on something hot. 

He lifted his hands up immediately and apologized. 

“Sorry,” he nervously stepped back, “just... you’re good, Lara,” he said with a soft tone, “you don’t gotta put up an act. I’m not gonna judge you.”

“Right.” She said sarcastically letting her normal self come back for a little. 

Angel laughed. “Look, I know I’m a dick but I’m not that much of a dick. This seems like serious shit. I can call Bishop, get him down here–”

“No!” her voice was earsplitting and caused Angel to step back and scrunch his face up. “You cannot tell Bishop, you gotta let me bring it up…” her voice cracked, “It’s family shit.” 

“The dude was wearing a VP kutte, Lara, seems like it’s club shit,” Angel said back to her. In that moment she realized this was the most she talked to the man in years. 

“Didn’t you see the rocker? It’s the Calaveras, they aren’t shit, just let me fuckin’ handle it,” Lara was now moving to leave the shop. 

“If I trust you on this, you can’t burn me.” Angel said as Lara’s hands were about to push open the door. His eyes looked down on her as they both stood next to each other by the entrance of the shop. 

“Just like I trusted you and you burned me?” The words left Lara’s mouth before she could even think them through. 

Angel’s face dropped, it could've been unnoticeable if she blinked, but the fall of his expression was enough to make Lara speak again. 

“You can trust me.”

#ContaminatedFanfic #contaminatedfic #Contaminated #Mayans MC #mayans fx #bishop losa #bishop losa x oc #bishop losa daughter #bishop losa mayans mc #angel reyes #angel reyes x oc #angel x oc #angel reyes fic #dad bishop #obispo losa #dad bishop losa #garbinge #OC Lara Losa #OC Frankie Loza

[naminethewriter]

America’s Favourite Gameshow!!

Day 2 and I’m still on track! It’s way too late though and I hope I get done with the other prompts sometime before 12am 😴 Anyway, have fun with this silly little fluff story 💙💚🥰 @intrulogicalweek2021

Here on Ao3

Masterpost | Intrulogical Week 2021 Masterpost

Characters: Remus, Logan

Relationship: romantic Intrulogical

Rating: G

Words: 1,480

Summary:  Logan just wanted to make sure his boyfriend ate something. Remus wants entertainment more.

Logan walked along the halls of Remus’ castle in search of his boyfriend who had run off after breakfast to continue some project of his. Now, hours later, Logan wanted to ensure that he had eaten since then because while they didn’t require to eat, considering they were just figments of Thomas’ overactive subconscious, it had proven to be beneficial to their wellbeing as well as Thomas’. It had taken Logan almost a year of research to come to that conclusion but it had been well worth the effort.

 But both sides of Creativity were prone to forgetting the passage of time while working on one of their passion projects, hence Logan’s decision to check on Remus this afternoon. He had already looked through most of the grounds and was now on his way up into a tower. It was pretty much separated from the rest of the castle and nobody but Logan and the Duke himself had access and Remus spend a lot of time up there doing whatever he wants without disturbance. The only reason that Logan had put off checking there first is because he disliked the long, long staircase leading up. About three fourth of the way up, Logan could hear cluttering sounds, so it seemed reasonable to assume his search would soon be over.

After another five minutes of climbing he finally reached the top, only one door separating him from whatever mess Remus has caused this time. Logan took a few deep breaths before pushing it open.

 Pure Chaos laid before him. He couldn’t even begin to describe it. Furniture overturned and broken. Paint or something colourful had gotten everywhere. Glass shards, papers, confetti, everything scattered randomly around the room and Remus in the middle of it.

 Logan didn’t even attempt going any further in. Instead he called out to his boyfriend who turned to face so fast, his head rotated more than it should with a sickening crack.

 “Lolo!” he grinned, pulling his head back into the right position before climbing over the rubble to the door. As soon as he got into touching distance he wrapped himself around Logan in a tight hug. His boyfriend just patted his arm until he let go. “What brings you here, starshine? You horny?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

 “No Remus, I am not horny. I simply came to check on you since I haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

 “Ah shit, is it already evening? Damn time flies when you’re busy, huh.”

 “What were you doing in the first place? This entire room is a mess.” Logan immediately regretted asking when he saw the smile spreading across his boyfriend’s face. “No, Remus, please-“

 Too late.

 Remus snapped and suddenly there was a spotlight on the two of them, two more swinging across the room that was now notably darker. Some kind of jingle started playing and an invisible audience started applauding. Remus, now in a suit, brought a microphone to his mouth.

 “Ladies and Gentlemen! You have waited patiently and now it is finally time to play America’s favourite gameshow! It’s” – the fake audience yelled along the next words –

 “Art or Science!”

 “The rules are simple,” Remus continued alone. “Our returning champion, Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders, has five minutes to survey the room and then he has to decide: did I cause this chaos in the name of Art or Science! He is allowed to ask me three things to specify, not one hint more. Our contestant has a success rate of 66% so far and I’m sure we are all curious to see the result of our fourth episode of-!” Remus held the mic away from him and again the imaginary audience shouted:

 “Art or Science!”

 “Now, Logan. Are you ready to start?” Remus held out the mic to Logan this time who groaned and levelled him with an unimpressed glare.

 “Is this really necessary, Cephy?” Remus laughed and threw his arms open.

 “Of course not, but it’s fun so we’re doing it!” Logan massaged his temple. Ever since Thomas had taken to binge watching SNL sketches on YouTube, Remus had been practically enthralled with their game show parodies. Especially if Bill Hader (Remus’ favourite cast member) played the host. His top spot shifted between ‘What’s that Name?’ and ‘Who’s on Top’ every five minutes and Logan couldn’t deny that the chaos of those concepts fit Remus very well, so it should be no surprise that he thought of his own little show. It just annoyed Logan that he was the only contestant ever having to deal with it.

 Well, at least it was short. He could play along for five minutes.

 “Fine, start the clock.” Remus cheered, as did the audience, and the light returned to how it was before, with the entire room evenly lit.

 “As always, please don’t hesitate to give us play-by-play commentary on your thought process, Sherlock,” Remus giggled and Logan nodded absentmindedly, already scanning the room for clues. He took the first minute to simply think and his boyfriend let him but Logan knew he would grow impatient eventually.

 “Clearly there is both art supplies as well as lab equipment present and I have witnessed you using both for the others intended purpose, so that does not provide any essential hints. The furniture is mostly broken and out of place. Especially that table that seems to be hanging out the window and only hangs on with one leg anchored inside. The glass was most likely smashed by said table. This could point to a possible explosion that resulted after a failed experiment, favouring science as its cause. Though again, I have seen you set off an explosion to create an art piece of yours so it is not concrete proof either.” Remus nodded along to his descriptions and a spotlight also shone on the areas he talked about.

 “Now for my first question, I would like you to confirm whether the dark red substance in that corner is blood or not.”

 “It’s not, though I tried my best to get it to smell the same.” Logan nodded, again falling silent for a moment to think. The quiet was broken by a croak and something moved though it was hidden enough that Logan couldn’t quite make it out.

 “You used live specimen. Not unheard off for your art but more common with experiments. Especially frogs.”

 “Toads, not frogs actually.”

 “I can tell apart a frog croaking and toad doing the same, Remus. That sound was a frog.”

 “Nah, you see, I like how toads look better but frogs sound more appealing, so I made a toad that croaked like a frog.”

 “Fascinating. Could you show it to me later?”

 “Sure! Also that counts as your second questions.” Logan glared at his boyfriend for a moment but relented.

 “Fine.” He continued to point out other details about the room and whether they pointed towards art or science and soon Remus announced that he had only 30 seconds left. Logan contemplated in his head and came to a decision at the same moment Remus called:

 “Time! Five minutes are up, Ladies and Gentlemen! Now Logan, give us your answer, please!” The room had darkened once again, with a spotlight on Logan and Remus and two others moving around the room.

 “I say it’s art.”

 “Is that your final answer?”

 “Yes, Remus, please do not drag this out any longer.”

 “Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand around before getting back into character. “His answer is locked in! Now let’s see if he’s right. Is it art?” A drumroll played and then a bang. Even more confetti poured out of the ceiling, along with balloons, the normal, oval ones and those long ones with two of the former tied to one of the latter (I’m sure you can guess what that symbolises, we’re talking about Remus here after all).

 “Coooooooorrrreeeeccccctttt!” Applause roared and Remus threw an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him close. “Another win for our returning champion! With this his success rate is now at 75%! How are you feeling, are you proud?” He held out the mic to Logan, who rolled his eyes.

 “I am alright, now please wrap this up.” Remus giggled but complied.

 “That was it for this episode of-“

 “Art or Science!”

 “See you next time, folks!” And with another snap, things returned to normal, the lights, the sounds and Remus’ outfit. “Wasn’t that fun, starlight?”

 “It was fine, Remus.”

 “You just don’t like admitting it~”

 “No matter, that is not what I came up here for anyway.”

 “Oh yeah, why did you come here?”

 “To ask if you have eaten since breakfast.”

 “Oh, rotten shit, I forgot.”

 “I thought as much. Come on, I secured you some leftovers from lunch and the rest of the hot sauce.”

 “You are the best, moonlight.”

#namiswriting #my writing #intrulogicalweek2021 #day 2: art/science #intrulogical #ts logan #logan sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #fluff #gameshow #remus is the king of chaos #logan is a bit done #just a bit though #he can't deny his boyfriend some fun #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #reblogs and kudos are appreciated!

[melwilson]

artwork

frank castle x reader

warnings: none. just fluff. definitely my favorite imagine i’ve writen in awhile.

•••

An art student. That’s who Frank had unintentionally fallen in love with. A woman who was the living, breathing definition of art. A woman who lived with such elegance and was the reason the phrase, beauty and grace, had been invented. Frank wasn’t sure how he managed to peak your interest or what he had done to deserve you. You were too good for him. Too pure. Too kind. And yet, someone as beautiful as you loved a man as broken as him.

He watched you intently as you worked. Your final art project was due at the end of the week and you had been working on it for the past month. It was supposed to be a realistic portrait using any medium of your choice. You had chosen charcoal. It was your favorite. Frank would often find used charcoal sticks scattered about in your small apartment. A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes scanning your frame. Frank loved seeing you in your element. You were sitting at your countertop surrounded by various art supplies. Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth, eyebrows knitted in concentration. You were clad in one of Frank’s tee shirts- that was much too big for your frame- and a pair of spandex. Your hair was pulled away from your face, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose. In that moment, you had never looked more beautiful...to Frank at least.

You could feel his intense stare as you finished some minor details and added a few finishing touches. You glanced at him, meeting his brown eyes. His eyes were one of the few ways you could read him. You could often decipher between the sadness, anger, brokenness that lingered in his chocolate orbs. Right now, however, there was contentment..maybe even a hint of happiness.

Frank had been staying with you for the past couple of months. He had gotten a new construction job and was attending his meetings with Curt regularly. He was doing...okay. And okay was good.

“You almost done?” Frank asked. His voice was gruff from not speaking for a few hours.

“Yeah,” you replied back softly. You had been working for almost four hours and hadn’t allowed Frank to come near you. You wanted your project to be a surprise and you didn’t want him to lay his eyes on it until you were done. “Give me a few more minutes.”

You pushed your glasses up with the back of your hand before beginning to work again. Frank always admired your effort, determination, and rigor. You were hardworker. You knew that to get what you wanted, you would have to work for it. When you had first met Frank, you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. And you wanted it. You wanted him. Every piece of him. And you got him. It took months though. Frank didn’t want you getting involved with him...with his life. You had such a bright future. You had dreams and goals and Frank didn’t want to ruin those for you. He didn’t want to be a burden. He was broken, so broken. A piece of shattered glass, with missing pieces, incapable of being put back together again. You, you were a daisy. Fragile, yet beautiful, with a heart that shined as bright as the sun.

God, she’s pefect.

Frank’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running water. You were finally done and needed to get the layers of charcoal dust off your hands. Once you could finally see the color of your skin, you shut off the water and wiped your hands off with a dry towel. Frank’s eyes took you in as you padded over to him. Your legs moved to either side of his waist, straddling him as you sat down on his lap.

“Hi,” your voice was airy and light.

“Hi.” You savored the feeling of Frank’s hands running the length of your thighs. They were calloused and rough, but they were warm. “You done?”

You nodded, taking note of the fading bruises that littered Frank’s face. They were the same ones from a few weeks ago meaning Frank hadn’t been out in a little while. It made you feel better. You often worried that when Frank walked out your door, he wouldn’t return. You let your hands fall to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing small circles against his skin. His skin was seemingly tan against white ribbed tank top that covered his torso. “I’m sorry I took so long. I just wanted it to be perfect.”

The large man pressed a soft kiss to your lips before nuzzling his head into your neck. “Can I see?”

“Yeah. Come on.” You got up, pulling Frank to his feet. “You have to close your eyes though.” You led the man to the kitchen, stopping him in front of the counter. You wrapped an arm around Frank’s waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Open.”

“Y/n...”

“I was supposed to capture someone who was really important to me. You are the most important person in my life, Frankie.”

Frank was speechless. He knew you were good, your artwork was displayed all over your apartment. But he didn’t know you were this good. He was literally staring back at himself. It was an older look of his. Full beard, long hair...the hippy look. You loved that look.

The portrait was perfectly imperfect, just like Frank. A few bruises and scratches littered his face, but there was a small smile playing on his lips, nonetheless. His eyes, though black and gray in the portrait, held a certain kind of look. It was heavy. The eyes of someone who had seen too much, but there was a certain sparkle...hint of happiness? It was perfect. And it was Frank. Your Frank. The man you were head over heels in love with.

“Do you like it?” There was a nervousness in your face as you awaited Frank’s answer. He pressed a soft kiss to your hairline, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Why me?”

You snuggled into Frank’s side, dwelling in his warmth. “Because you’re all I got. You truly are the most important person to me. And I love you.”

The large man tilted your head up to his, leaning down to connect your lips together. Even after a year, the feeling of his lips on yours still made you weak in the knees. He made your heart race and your head cloudy. He gently leaned you up against the counter, hands tugging at your waist. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

You leaned back, resting your hands on either side of Frank’s face. That was the first time Frank had said those three words to you. You expressed your love about six months into the relationship. You also knew of Frank’s past and you knew he needed time. And you would wait. For Frank you would wait forever. He didn’t understand why. You deserved someone who wasn’t broken and a mess, yet you wanted him.

“Say it again,” you muttered, pulling the man close.

He kissed you again, this time harder...faster, more desperate. He poured every ounce of him into this kiss. He wanted you show you just how much he loved and adored you. It honestly terrified him what he would do for you. Every feeling of fear, love, contentment...so many emotions poured out of Frank and into the kiss. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you more. You really are a work of art, baby. I promise to tell you that every day until I die.”

taglist: @hellishseaqueen @calif0rnia-lovers

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #pete castiglione #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel imagine #jon bernthal #marvel

[whump-a-la-mode]

Magician’s Assistant - Trance

I heard you liked cliffhangers so here’s a cliffhanger for your cliffhanger. Much thanks to @nightfrostshadow for requesting another piece of this, you’re really a cheerleader for this series!

The rest of Magician’s Assistant can be found linked to in my info post, pinned at the top of my blog. I hope you enjoy!

CW//Some dehumanizing language, food

Villain was scared.

Of course, Friend had expected that. Anticipated it, almost taken a moment to imagine just how it would appear, nerves twisted upon such a feeble countenance. Civilian had warned them as such over the phone, warned them to be gentle, to go slow, to avoid any sudden movements-- as though they were talking about something dangerous, something feral.

In a way, they were.

But, now, as their new charge stood before them, there was something almost unbelievable about the sheer depths of their terror, and the way they presented it.

Villain was small, short in stature and so awfully thin that a stiff gust of wind could more than likely shatter their twig-like bones to shards. They looked upwards like a scared puppy dog, bag held in front of them with both hands like a shield, as though, if they simply kept it there, they would be safe, forever and ever.

And, hopefully, they would be. It was perhaps only a minute or so ago that Civilian had coaxed them through the door, shoving a handful of messily written instructions into Friend’s hands with a hurried ‘thank you.’ That meant that they had a week. A week to keep this- this thing calm, comfortable, and, more importantly than any of that, under control.

They could balance the most complex of equations, withdraw patients from near-death, turn caustic chemicals to life-saving medicines. But taking care of someone so anxious? And without...

No. They didn’t back down from a challenge.

“Hey, bud.” They tried to smile, trying so desperately not to terrify their charge. Not yet. They gestured with a hand to the bag they held, knuckles clenched so tightly as to turn a pale hue. “What’s in there?”

It felt stupid, but at the very least, their ward seemed to respond.

“Um...” Villain glanced downwards, to their burden. Their voice was almost inaudible, whimpering in form. “It’s- Spouse gave it to me. To help.”

To help.

“Can I see?”

They held it close to their chest, shivering turning to all-out shaking. Based upon the look in their eyes, if they ever lost their grip on the thing, they would simply perish.

“No.”

“Okay.” Friend sighed, biting their lower lip. There went that avenue of conversation. They supposed that making conversation with a failed attempt was somewhat of a lost cause in the first place. They needed to stay calm, not necessarily entertained. “Well... How about I show you to your room?”

“M-My room?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Villain dipped their head. It was a display of respect, even as fear made them defy everything, up until the very concept of staying still. Gently, their caretaker reached forward, hand looping about their wrist with an ever so ghostly touch. They shivered, but abided.

“Let’s go then, okay?”

“Okay.”

They had set up the room quite some time ago, as soon as they had gotten Civilian’s call. As soon as they learned what they needed to do, to keep the world ticking over as it was supposed to be. The guidelines had been as simple as they were detailed, leaving nothing to chance, to whim.

Moving to the hall and creeping open the proper door, Friend found themself nodding to themself in satisfaction. They’d checked so many times, verified it all, but knowing that it was still arranged properly was an awfully grand relief.

Dim and cozy, Civilian had said. “They don’t like windows, be sure to cover them. They’re used to the kennel. Anything too big will scare them. Give them a bed, but know that they’re going to end up sleeping under it, assuming they don’t wind up in the corner. Other than the bed, the room should be empty. They can’t read, and they’re afraid of books. That includes any signage or decorations. Think of it like a kennel-- anything unnecessary is an unnecessary risk.”

And, it was so that friend had designed their ward’s living space. A small thing, perhaps ten feet by fifteen, with grey-painted walls and a bed with beige comforter. The singular window was covered in its entirety with an off-white curtain, allowing only enough light to seep through as to allow the room to not be entirely dark. And, that was it. Just like a kennel.

“Do you want to hang out in here for a little while?”

The question seemed to bring Villain quite an extreme relief, as they nodded frantically. They crossed the threshold into the space, nearly disappearing within the dim shroud.

Friend almost left, before remembering a piece of their instruction that Civilian had insisted on being terribly vital: The cuffs.

“Do you want your mitts on, buddy?”

A nod. And so it was done.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“They’re pretty good about eating, nowadays. They can eat the same food as the rest of us. My partner says they like chili, and things that look more like what they’re used to eating. But, more or less, it’s fine, so long as they eat.”

Civilian’s instructions regarding their ward’s mealtimes had been far less specific than those for their habitat. Anything that normal people ate, but specifically chili. It was certainly an odd favorite food to have, given what their diet had once been, but it was something.

Thus, with a quick mix, Friend’s kitchen had quite quickly been filled with an overwhelming aroma-- beans and spices, seasoned meat and the mixings to go along with it. Villain was still scared, even a slightly above average monkey would have been able to see that.

The whole quest, the whole effort, was a farce. They knew that. But, at the very least, perhaps they could make their charge somewhat less frightened for the time which they had them. It would be better to see them smiling, after all, instead of screaming. They’d spent too much time, listening to Villain screaming. It really did get grating, after a while.

When the hot dish upon their oven as last appeared to be finished, they picked it up by the pot’s handle, swirling it around for a moment before reaching a point of satisfaction. A few moments of pouring, and two bowls were equally filled with heaping helpings of meat and beans.

Eating the same thing as a failed attempted. That was a thought.

Friend placed the dishes upon their dining table, on opposite ends, and finished the assortment with a small variety of other offerings-- baby carrots for vegetables, and dinner rolls to nibble upon. The kitchen filled with scents and steam, they turned.

Villain was still in their room, they assumed. Civilian had mentioned that they were quite reclusive, which made sense. They would have plenty to entertain themself.

With jostling steps, they made their way up the stairs, feeling as the aroma of herbs practically followed them up. The room in which their ward was housed was just at the top of the staircase.

The room that-

The room that’s door was opened.

With a raised brow, Friend peered inside. Certainly, Villain was absent, nowhere to be seen. Not in the corner, not upon the bed, nor under it-- they checked. Yet, the bag had been left behind, stim toys and plushies placed neatly and piled to categories.

Perhaps they had only been looking for the bathroom? With a more cautious air about them, they moved forward, along the hall. The corridor existed in an L shape, its shorter side at the top of the stairs, and its longer side around a sharp bend.

The bathroom stood at the end of the hallway’s shorter piece. The empty bathroom.

A bated breath.

Friend turned the corner.

Civilian certainly hadn’t warned them about this.

The longer end of the L-shape was definitively emptier than the other, edges lined not with doors, but with sparse decorations, bookshelves and meaningless paintings. It was all a vessel, a vehicle, for the door at the end.

The door before which Villain stood. There was an odd stiffness to their legs, their whole body. Not a muscle of them moved, not even their eyes, so it seemed as they stared. Stared at nothing.

A closed door, from which creeped the barest scent of antiseptic.

Villain most certainly was not allowed in Friend’s lab.

#villain whumpee #whump #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #civilian caretaker

[dumpsiteforfics]

Missing Piece

Fandom : Criminal minds

Pairing : Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Genre : angst and fluff probably? At least happy ending lmao!

Warnings : 16 years age difference, but both are well above legal age. Just heads-up, it references all our important Hotch reid moments from seasons 1 to 3.

This is just a oneshot? Or drabble probably which I wanted to write after reading this prompt! The section which is in bold and italics is copied as it as from prompt!!

******†******

"I love you Aaron, and I want to be with you!!"

Those were the words Aaron never thought he would hear, not from this person that he was so in love with! Spencer Reid was epitome of everything Aaron ever wanted from his life, and everything he never thought he deserved to have! He can't pinpoint the exact moment it all started, but he can remember the exact moment he realised he had fallen for the younger man.

It was in that grave all those years ago, when he was helping Spencer get up after shooting Tobias Hankel, a name he would never forget! He had never been this scared for someone else's life before, and that's saying something because with the job he had, there were so many lives he saved on a routine basis. But he could still remember in detail how his chest felt like someone had put bricks on it, how his brain was in constant thoughts of what if they lose their agent, what if they lose Spencer? Their youngest agent, he was so young!! And he was in the hands of a psychopath and he had still fought the mad man, despite being beaten, being kidnapped and tortured at some remote location away from any help, he somehow fought back and used his brain to get help.

And when Aaron pulled Spencer up and into his arms, he felt like his missing piece was found. That hug lasted just for a few seconds but Aaron felt eternal gratitude in those moments. And then Spencer gasped out, I knew you would understand!!

And Aaron still wakes up from nightmares where he somehow fails to understand Spencer's clue and that results in the horrific death of the younger man. And Aaron lays awake, gasping and shuddering, struggling to calm himself and trying hard not to dial Spencer's number just to confirm that he is indeed alive.

And then Chester Hardwick came and he had the audacity to threaten Spencer in front of him, and Aaron would never let anyone get away with that. And he was so ready to kill Hardwick with his bare hands but Spencer, yet again saved them.

Just like all those years ago when he killed Philip Dowd and saved Aaron, like how he killed Tobias and saved Aaron, he yet again saved Aaron again this time by making use of his sharp tongue and unstoppable brain.

And the words that Aaron never wanted to let out, poured out of his mouth as he admitted his relationship problems to Spencer.

What I want, I'm never going to get!!

But now, Spencer is standing in front of him, they have just wrapped up the bombing case and he had said goodbye to Kate with a heavy heart, just one more person he lost to this job.

He came back home to find Spencer waiting for him. Aaron was worried to see Spencer with this Haunted look in his eyes. They went inside and before he could ask him anything Spencer was spilling out his every feeling.

He had never seen Spencer like this, so desperate, so needy, so fiercely wanting… And all Aaron wants is to pull the younger man in his arms and just escape from the reality that's keeping them apart! But he can't. No matter what they want, they have to think carefully. Spencer, even with his gifted IQ and old soul, is still just so much younger than him. 16 years. That's too many years in between, probably a generation gap you can call even.

And Aaron is thinking about those predators they hunt, those who prey on younglings. Was he one of those? Was he attracted to Spencer's pretty face and young age? No! He was attracted to Spencer's heart, the heart that never stopped giving despite never receiving much love, he was attracted to Spencer's courage that made the man so much more admirable than he already was, he was attracted to Spencer's mind, too beautiful despite the fractures it might bore in future, he was attracted to Spencer's soul, kindest despite the horrors he sees everyday.

But he should try to lay all the cards down, he is old , he is just a boring agent who has trouble expressing his emotions! He is an agent who is more dedicated to his job and all the unknown faces who need saving than his own family. He is a man who will never think twice before jumping into fire if it meant he could save someone's life. And he tries to portray it through words!

Spencer is just listening, his heart so easily readable through those hazel eyes and Aaron has to keep looking somewhere else to continue talking.

"Spencer, I appreciate your feelings, and I do return them! God! I have been returning them probably even before I realised I had feelings for you. But, we can't be together. We are too different, you are too young and I'm just too old. You have this life waiting for you whereas I have already been through my half. I don't want to tie you down to me when you have so much more to live for. So much time which I might even not have. The thing about time is, the older you get, the faster it goes,” he said. “Tomorrow, you will be my age, and I will be dead.”

And Spencer looks up in Aaron's eyes, understanding everything words could never explain.

"But Aaron, I don't even have you to lose. You are just so out of my reach despite the efforts I take to be closer! I don't care about your age Aaron, I don't care how short or long life we might have unless it's together! I yearn for you Aaron! Do you even know how much?"

"And you are talking about dying when we both know we have probably equal chances of dying tomorrow with the job we have. We understand each other Aaron, there is this deep understanding which stems from never-ending trust that we have on each other. I gave you a clue even when I was delirious from drugs and wasn't even sure you'll be listening, and you understood it Aaron. And you think we should just let go of this beautiful bond because of something as trivial as age gap? I would've understood it if I was underage or just barely 20, but Aaron I'm in my thirties and I'm yet to find a person who came as close to understanding me as you do!"

Spencer is all but sniffing now, and Aaron's heart breaks all over again.

"I don't give a shit about the reasons why we should not be together Aaron, I only care about one reason why we should be! And that's, I love you as much as you love me back! And that should be enough! For once, let that be enough reason Aaron, let us be enough for each other!! "

And Aaron couldn't stop his heart from skipping a beat. Let us be enough for each other! Wasn't that what Aaron wanted his entire life? To be enough for someone? And he is maybe getting it now, and what does he have to lose anyways?

He took a shuddering breath before saying, "Well I have given you enough chances to back out of it, now you don't get more chances. You are going to have to be in my life, as my whole heart till the day I die."

And then the wide smile he got in response made his heart almost stop but he decided if he could die now, at least he'll die happy.

Before he could spend more time muling over those unnecessary thoughts Spencer pulled him in a hug, his arms going around Aaron's shoulder as Aaron's own looped around his waist. And there was that feeling again, like he found his missing piece!!!

#heid #hotchreid #hotch x reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #criminal minds #my fic #angst #sorry for all grammatical mistakes #i literally wrote it on my mobile in an hour #and english isn't ny first language

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 3. You Can Miss Something, But Not Want It Back

Summary: Steve opens up to Peggy about his feelings towards Katie and, after an emotionally charged afternoon, things heat up between the pair.  But it all goes horribly wrong.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Angst and a pair of total dumbasses in love…

A/N: A huge thank you to @angrybirdcr​ for her lovely little edit below. She’s so talented!!!!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 April 2013

“You know, you need to find someone you can experience all this with.” Peggy looked at her picture frames on her nightstand. “So you can have as many memories as I do.” Her gaze returned to Steve and he wondered if she could possibly know about his feelings towards Katie, those feelings that had been growing stronger and stronger over the past few weeks.

And then when she asked the next question, he knew she did.

“How’s Miss Stark?” Peggy asked, her eyes twinkling and Steve looked at her as a wicked smile crossed her face. He rolled his eyes.

“Peg…”

“I’m just asking a question!” She teased.

“We’re just friends.” he sighed.

“Hmmm” the old lady said thoughtfully “Still a bloody idiot when it comes to women, I see.”

He shook his head, a small laugh escaping him.

“I can tell you like her, the way you talk about her.” she pressed

“I do, I like her a lot, but she’s my best friend. Nothing more.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” She lay back on the pillow. “Thousands wouldn’t.”

“Just a good I don’t need to convince thousands.” He leaned back in the chair, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, just yourself.” She shot back and he sighed. “Talk to me Steve.” She pressed again and he took a deep breath.

“I don’t know, maybe…ok not maybe…I do like her you’re right, but it’s just so damn complicated.”

“Why?”

“We’re from different places, times.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Do you always have to be so dramatic?” She laughed

“You know, I’m getting tired of you calling me that.” He teased and Peggy laughed again.

“Because you are!” She shook her head. “Steve, I get it, you’re old…but, you’re not.” “Well that’s not confusing.” He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is I have lived through these times, seen the world change, a lot of it for the better. Don’t let your life pass you by because you’ve still got one foot jamming open the door to the past”

“I know.” He popped a shoulder in resignation. “You know, sometimes I think it would be easier if I had my old life back, when times seemed a lot simpler.” “But then she wouldn’t be there.” Peggy raised her eyebrows. “You can miss something and not want it back, Steve. Just tell her how you feel, for goodness sake.”

“I don’t want to make an idiot of myself.” He shook his head. “If she doesn’t feel the same then-“

“Then at least you’ll know, and won’t live the rest of forever adding to that huge, great list of ‘what ifs’” the old woman shook her head “You’ve been given a second chance here Steve, don’t waste it. Barnes would be so mad at you right now.”

Steve had to fight a smile as he knew exactly what Buck would be saying if he were there.

“If you don’t ask her out, punk then I’m gonna…”

Suddenly a memory flashed in front of his eyes. The evening Peggy had walked into a pokey London boozer in that red dress, the one that had Bucky practically drooling and Steve’s crotch twitching slightly.

“I’m invisible…” Bucky moaned, turning back to the bar as she left, having just basically asked Steve to go dancing when the fighting was over.“I’m turning into you…”

“Never mind pal, maybe she has a friend…”

“You know, I’d like to see her again one day?” Peggy spoke, jerking him out of his thoughts “Katie, I mean.”

“Really?” he asked. Peggy had mentioned she had met Katie several times years ago, when she was a very small girl. Peggy and Howard had remained close until his death.

She nodded. “Especially if she’s as like Howard as you say.” “Alright, I’ll bring her in one day.” He said, before his phone beeped.

“When?” the old woman pressed.

“Were you always this impatient?” Steve quipped an eyebrow at her as he opened the message. It was a call in. He sighed “Soon, I promise.” He stood up. “Sorry Peg, I gotta go. Duty calls…”

*****

The mission was the retrieval of a stolen piece of Chitauri technology that had, according to Romanoff’s intelligence, been auctioned to some Arms traders operating out of Jordan. They were to intercept the piece of technology before turning over the dealers to the authorities. They were up against it time wise, and for that reason, everyone had boarded the jet with no real plan of what they were actually going to do, Steve had been thinking about it and studying the files since the jet took off and now he and Natasha had the bones of a strategy planned out, they just needed to flesh it out with the team.

“We’re at altitude.” Evans called from the cockpit. “Auto pilot engaged. ETA I hour 34.”

Everyone moved from their seats and crowded round the display as Natasha gave them a rundown of what they were up against.

“The main exits are here and here.” she span the blue prints round on the holodisplay. Katie frowned, her mind working fast “Evans and I can position ourselves here…” She pointed to the right of the screen. “That should give us a clear view of most of the grounds but there’s a blackspot here…” She moved her hand to the left, circling the bottom corner.

“Well we’ll just have to keep them away from there.” Steve said, and Katie glanced at him, his eyes flashing with humour. Their eyes remained locked, before Steve swallowed and he looked back round, clearing his throat. “There should be a clear run from where we touch down to the lawns.”

“Sure.” Katie nodded, making a show of looking at the detail, even though she wasn’t. Her mind was spinning. She’d been picking up signals from Steve for a few weeks now, signals that he might feel the same way as she did. The glances he gave her, the smile he would flash her that made her feel like there was no one else in the room. The gentle touches, the way he would lift her legs on movie nights so they were laying across his lap, how he would throw his arm round her when she’d lean into him, moments like the one that had just passed… but then, he made no effort to take things further and she wasn’t about to push him into anything. If there was something there, he had to decide, he had to make the decision he was ready to move forward. 

And Katie wasn’t sure he ever would be.

“Rumlow, I want a STRIKE perimeter set up around the site. Cover that blackspot.” Steve looked at Rumlow who nodded. "The weapon is our main priority, but I want a clean sweep so they don’t have chance to do this again. Then I want you and Rollins with me and Romanoff inside to flush them out. Stark, Evans you to take down anyone who looks like they might break the perimeter, non-lethal if you can.”

Katie turned to Evans who nodded at her, the pair of them sharing a fist bump as he winked at her. Evans was a brilliant partner, and a good friend at that too. They worked well together.

The rest of the journey was spent pouring over blue prints, and once they reached the point where they could land safely, everyone was confident they were prepared as much as they could be. Whether that would be enough, was a different question.  

Natasha and Steve slinked off into the shadows, heading to the building. There were two armed guards on the door but they had the element of surprise and took them out easily.

“Ok, we’re in…” Steve spoke. “Get ready, as soon as they see us they’ll make a run for it.”

Katie listened from her vantage point, a tall oak tree that overhung the South East side of the property, rifle trained, ready.

“I count six.” Natasha spoke

“At least three are armed.” Rumlow added

“Any sign of the weapon?” Katie asked.

“Negative…”

Katie kept her attention on the spot she was covering, and had to fight the giggle that threatened to erupt in her throat when she heard Steve utter, quite possibly, the cheesiest line he could have come out with when their team burst into the room.

“Auction is over Gentlemen. Where’s the Weapon?”

There was a split second and then all hell broke loose. Gun fire erupted in the ears of everyone listening on the coms along with the familiar sound of vibranium clanging off surfaces and people alike.

“One is making a break for it.” Rumlow yelled and Katie stiffened, raising her rifle slightly “Along with a case, it must be the weapon.”

“In pursuit.” Nat responded.“

He’s armed.” Steve shot back. “Someone cover her.” More gunfire and clanging rang out as Katie watched the door she was covering, not once breaking her line of sight. Suddenly it burst open and the man with the case flew out, shortly followed by a shock of red hair. But as Katie watched, her sharp eyes picked up movement in the shadow and someone barrelled at Natasha taking her down.

“Shit! Romanoff’s got company!”

“I’m handling it.” The red head grunted, jumping up.

Katie paused, before remembering the main operative.

“I’ve got no shot.” Evans spoke in her ear and Katie wheeled round locating the man in her sight. She cocked her gun, exhaled sharply, and pulled the trigger. Seconds later he hit the floor, clutching at his knee.

“Hostile down.” she informed, allowing herself a little smug smile before her attention turned to Natasha, who now had her target in a choke hold. He went limp and then she released him, dropping him.

“Well handled Widow.” Katie quipped.

“You do know that I can kill a man in twenty different ways, using just my hands, right?” Natasha replied, making her way over to the man with a bullet in his knee cap.

“Twenty?” Katie muttered, “I can think of, what, like eight, max?”

“Clearly you lack imagination, Nova.”

Once Steve was happy that the inside was clear and everyone was rounded up and secured, he made his way outside and headed over to where Natasha was kneeling over the briefcase. She opened it and grinned up at Steve, the black, silver and purple metal shining back up at them.

“The package is secure.” Steve smiled at Natasha, “Alright, Good job team. Rumlow, tell the Authorities they can move in, clear this lot up.”

“Sure Cap.”

“She’s good.” Natasha watched Katie join Evans where he was crossing the lawn, the two exchanging a hi-five before they made their way back to the jet.

“Yeah she is.” Steve nodded, allowing his eyes to follow Katie for a moment a she walked across the grounds.

“When you gonna ask her on a date?” Nat asked, turning to him as he picked up the case and they made their way back to join their team, the local police now swarming the place meant they were no longer needed.

“Seriously?” Steve looked at the red head rolling his eyes. “We’re in the middle of an op and you ask me that?”

“Well first off the op is over and second off I’m just trying to help. I see the way you look at her, like there’s no one else in the room.”

Steve floundered for a response. Was he really that obvious, or was Natasha simply that observant? He settled for a shake of the head, and an exasperated sigh. “You were trying to fix me up with someone from accounts not long ago.”

“Yeah that was before I decided Stark is a better match “ She shrugged, walking up the ramp to the jet.

Thankfully, Steve was spared responding as the jet was loud with cheering, the team all crowding Katie, taking turns to slap her back and congratulate her on a shot well taken.

Katie couldn’t help but grin as she removed her utility vest, before holding her hands up “Thanks but it was a team effort.” She felt a hand drop on her shoulder and she turned to Steve.

“If you hadn’t taken that shot he would have got away.” He looked at her. “All in a day work Cap.” she smiled.

“I mean it. You’re the best shooter I’ve seen since Buck.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze before instructing Evans to get them back to base.

As they flew back, Rumlow was engaging Katie in a conversation about a date he had had the previous weekend. Steve wasn’t really listening, but as Katie threw her head back in a genuine laugh at something Rumlow had said, gently nudging the man in the arm, it felt like someone was digging knives into his chest as the waves of jealousy crashed over him.

He glanced over at Romanoff who raised an eyebrow at him having seen the exchange and mouthed the word “just fucking ask her” and he looked away, irritated.

Steve wasn’t a chauvinist by any means, but he’d had enough that day of women telling him what to do.

*****

May 2013

The start of May brought with it a week of nothing but rain. And it was during this week that Fury dropped a bombshell on Steve. The Smithsonian wanted to curate an exhibit about him, and SHIELD along with the Government thought it would be a good idea. Steve wasn’t entirely sure how he felt to be honest. He knew the world was fascinated with Captain America, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about them knowing about him, about Steve Rogers.

So this was how he’d ended up taking a trip down memory lane in an office at the Triskellion, surrounded by boxes of his belongings that had all been in storage, things he had long forgotten he had. He’d found his mother’s old ring, the one his father had bought her when they left Ireland, a St Christopher’s pendant that had belonged to his father, a few books which Katie told him were first editions and probably worth a fortune, a couple of old records, a stash of Photos which Katie was currently digging through and something that made his breath catch when his hand closed around it. His compass, the one containing Peggy’s photo.

“Steve.” Katie spoke and he looked at her. She gestured him over and he obliged as she held out the photo for him. He glanced down, a small smile crossing his face as he looked down at the photo of him and Bucky, both in their uniforms, laughing.  “Can you remember what you were laughing at?” she asked him.

“They had us doing this info documentary type thing, for the people back home.” He cleared his throat, taking the photo. “We were laughing at how utterly ridiculous and staged the whole thing was, like we would ever let press near our actual ops.”

Katie reached for the next photo and this one made her heart stop completely. Steve was on the left, looking at something that the man to his right was showing him on a screen. And that man needed no introduction.

“Dad…” she breathed out as Steve peered over her shoulder.

“He was a good man your father” Steve smiled as he thought of Howard “If a little… wild.”

“Wild? Dad?” She raised her eyebrow

“Yeah, he errr, liked to fondue…” Steve said, as he thought back to that conversation when he had thought fondue was some kind of innuendo for what Stark and Peggy got up to on their private time

“It’s just bread and cheese my friend…” Howard had said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Really? But I thought…“

"Well that’s your first mistake pal. The minute you think you know what’s going on a woman’s mind is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked…”

“Wow, melted cheese…what a rebel” Katie snorted sarcastically.

 “Well I thought it was…never mind,” he shrugged, absentmindedly turning over the compass in his hand and he opened it, glancing down at the photo inside for the first time in almost seventy years.

“Peggy?” Katie asked, looking down at the compass

“Yeah” he snapped it shut and then looked at her, deciding that the time was right. He wanted to take her to see Peggy. Not just because Peggy had asked him to, but because he wanted to. “Would you like to meet her?”

“Me?” Katie asked, surprise in her voice.

“Well yeah, you’re a big part of my life now and I know she’d love to see you again”

“I’d be honoured.” Katie replied, and she meant it. Peggy had been important to her father, and she was curious to meet the woman that had held her best friend’s heart. Steve beamed back at her, thrilled by her answer and as their eyes locked, he felt that warm feeling as the butterflies in his stomach woke up.

******

They sorted his belongings into three separate categories- things for the museum, some more stuff to take back to his apartment, and the remainder to go back to storage, before they headed over town to see Peggy. Giving Katie assurances he wouldn’t be long, Steve entered the room first, leaving Katie, who was feeling quite nervous, waiting outside.

She didn’t know where the nerves were coming from, after all she had met Peggy when she was a young child, but that was before she knew who she was. Back then she’d simply been a lady that worked with her daddy, and now she knew the truth.

Inside the room Steve quickly told Peggy where he had been and she smiled when he told her about the museum and the photos, quipping that she would quite like to see that when it was all open.

“That is if they ever let me out of this place. I swear breaking out of Alcatraz would be easier.”

He chuckled at her joke. “Well, today I brought someone to you so you don’t have to plan an escape just yet.”

The old woman instantly brightened up and beamed up at him. "Katie?”

Steve smiled at her excitement and nodded “Yeah.”

“Well don’t leave me waiting, again!” Peggy shooed him to the door and he stood up, opening it. Katie spun to face him, her hands wringing each other and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Come on.” He held the door open. Katie took a deep breath, quelling her nerves and stepped into the room, Steve’s hand gently falling to her back as he guided her over to a seat by the bed.

It was easy for Katie to see that Peggy Carter had been a good looking, powerful woman in her day. Her eyes were bright, hair set in bouncy curls and she had a sort of regal quality emanating from her. She shrewdly eyed the brunette, before she chuckled and looked at Steve.

“Good grief!” Peggy smiled, looking back at Katie “Forgive me my dear, but you really do have that Stark look about you, but an awful lot of your mother too.”

Katie relaxed instantly and smiled back. “So I’ve been told. It’s an honour to meet you ma’am, again. I’ve heard so much about you.” “Please, call me Peggy” she smiled reaching for her hand “And I’m so pleased to see you again, it’s been a long time.”

Katie smiled, taking Peggy’s hand as the old woman continued.

“Steve talks about you a lot.” Peggy smiled and Katie glanced up at Steve, raising an eyebrow as he inwardly groaned, taking a deep breath.

 “Peggy…” he warned, somewhat exasperatedly.

“What?” she asked innocently “I’m just saying…” she turned to look at Katie “Steve says you’ve been a good friend to him since he came out of the ice. I’m glad he’s had someone.” “He’s a good friend to me.” Katie replied, smiling “Keeps me on the straight and narrow.”

“You mean I try to.” Steve teased, and he saw Peggy smile as he was sure Katie was rolling her eyes “She’s a law unto herself this one Peg, not unlike you were!”

“He’s very sensible.” Peggy loudly whispered to Katie, before the old woman levelled Steve with a look, her eyes flashing mischievously. “But I want to know, Steven, why on earth haven’t you taken this gorgeous young lady dancing yet?”

Steve groaned and looked at Katie, feeling the heat rush up his neck and into his cheeks as he could do nothing but mouth the word sorry. Katie’s cheeks also flushed a shade of pink and he looked away as he replied, dodging the question.

 “I can’t dance…you know that.”

“Everyone can dance, they just need the right partner.” Peggy looked at him, eyes locking onto his meaningfully. He swallowed again and Katie instantly picked up on his discomfort, she wasn’t stupid, the dancing thing clearly meant something and unless she was mistaken Peggy was implying something to do with her. Katie took pity on him and decided to save him his embarrassment so she spoke, breaking the moment.

“Well I won’t be much of a teacher, I’ve got two left feet.” she said, casually causing Steve to smile slightly shooting her a side glance.

*****

Steve would be lying if he said he hadn’t been slightly worried about introducing the woman who had been his first love to the girl he was harbouring feelings for now, but he needn’t have worried. Katie had laughed and joked with the old woman, often at his expense but he hadn’t minded. In fact, he had enjoyed it.

But that’s what Katie did. She made people feel better, at ease, knew what to say and when to say it.

And he’d decided there and then, buoyed by how well the meeting had actually gone, he was going to ask her out on a date. Today had brought everything into focus for him. Peggy was right, he couldn’t move forward and take the second chance life had given him if he had one foot in the past, one eye over his shoulder, and one part of his brain constantly wondering about what could have been.

Katie, meanwhile was locked in her own thoughts. The meeting with Peggy had put her slightly on edge. Not because of the old woman, in fact it had been amazing to meet her, but something about Steve changed as they left the Nursing Home. It was almost as if he was putting up a guard. She told herself it was normal, he was bound to feel confused after visiting his old flame and the whole thing with the museum, but part of her couldn’t shake off the feeling he was hiding something, and she didn’t like it.

She wasn’t an idiot. Steve and her had grown closer over the last few months and she knew to many it would be considered more than what you would dub a normal platonic relationship. She also knew, however, that he had ghosts in his past unlike any she’d ever dealt with before, which was what was making this entire situation ridiculously complicated.

She was pleased to see, however, that as they neared his apartment he relaxed and suggested that watch a film. They were still discussing which one as they climbed the three flights to his apartment.

“No.” He immediately deadpanned when she suggested watching the remaining Saw ones before he rolled his eyes when he clocked her grin. He hated those films, and she knew it. “Why don’t we start Star Wars? We never did get round to it…”

“Providing you don’t start the debate about which episode we begin with because if so I’m not sure I can be bothered trying to explain it again…” “I just don’t understand why you don’t start with one.” he took the opportunity to tease her as he slid the key into his lock.

“Because you don’t.” She said exasperatedly and he smirked at how easy it was to rile her when it came to films. ”It ruins the surprise and plot lines. You go Episode Four, Five and Six, then we hit One, Two and Three….”

They both turned as his neighbour, Kate walked onto the landing, bag over her shoulder, clutching a pile of mail.

“Hi Steve.” She smiled, unlocking her door.

“Hi Kate.” He greeted her back before he turned to Katie, who he realised had never met the woman before “This is my neighbour. Kate this is,”

“Katie.” she extended her hand, smiling politely.

“Katie Stark, I recognised you…sorry.”

“It’s fine” she said, still smiling. There was a pause and the faint sound of a phone could be heard.

“Sorry… I gotta’ get that.” Kate said quickly making her way into her apartment. “Goodnight Steve.”

“Night Kate.” He said in response. When he turned back around Katie was waiting, smirking at him.

“You’re as bad as Natasha.” He rolled his eyes, closing the door behind them as she stood front of him, kicking off her shoes.

“What you mean?” She asked walking through the small cloak area and into the hall way, heading straight for the kitchen.

“She keeps trying to set me up on dates” he sighed watching as Katie pulled two beers from his fridge.

“Who with?” Katie asked, frowning slightly, and she felt her neck and ears growing warm as the green eyed monster stirred.

“Pretty much anyone she can.” He snorted as they walked back into the living area.

“And none of them are…” She pressed, and he sighed.

“No.”

“Can I ask you something?” Katie sat next to him.

“If I say no are you gonna ask me anyway?” He looked at her. “Yeah.” She said after a pause. He snorted and gestured for her to go ahead.

“Peggy and you…how far did you actually get…I mean…”

Oh Jesus…

He contemplated brushing this one off, but then he realised he couldn’t lie to her, and he didn’t want to.

“We were supposed to go dancing.” He said gently, turning to face her, his right hand curling over the back of the sofa and she immediately understood then what that moment in the Nursing Home had been about. “Like on a date. I’d never been before, never found me the right person. And then I ended up in the ice before we got the chance.” He paused shook his head, “I know it’s dumb but…”

“It’s not Steve.”  Katie replied, and at that she felt the tears prick her eyes. The emotion of the day completely overwhelming her. This man, this wonderful man had been denied the opportunity to live his life how he should. Robbed of his best friend, his love and all because he’d done what he could to keep people safe, serve his country.

“Hey.” He frowed as he noticed she was getting upset. “What is it? What’s wrong, Doll?”

“I hate that all that happened to you.” she shook her head softly. “That you never got chance to do all those things, that you never got your dance or your happily ever after. You deserve more.”

“Katie.” he sighed, gently wiping away a tear that fell down her face with his thumb. “Taking that plane down was my choice. Don’t cry over it, please. I hate seeing you upset.”

And he did. Her face was made for smiles, her eyes should be happy and shining, not full of tears. “Sorry.” She dipped her head, and then, before he could stop himself, Steve reached out gently and his finger tilted her face back up to look at him.

Ocean blue met emerald green, and Steve felt his insides coil tightly like a spring as Katie’s eyes bounced across both of his, the distance between them growing shorter, and shorter…

And then there was a knock on the door. Steve closed his eyes, let out a sigh and unfolded himself off the couch. Cursing internally all the way to the door, Steve wrenched it open a little harshly and took a deep breath at the blonde at the other side.

“Sorry to interrupt…” Kate said, handing him a letter “But this was in the pile of mail I got before.”

“Oh, thanks…”

“Enjoy your film.” Kate smiled and Steve nodded. “Have a good evening.”

The door clicked shut and Steve turned and headed past the doorway to the lounge and into kitchen, dropping the bill on the side. He rest his hands, palms flat on the cool surface of the kitchen counter, hanging his head slightly and taking a deep breath. He was in deep.

“I’m gonna head home.” Katie spoke and he turned to look at her, his face falling. He didn’t want her to go. But instead of telling her that he merely nodded.

“Okay.”

Without another word she turned and left, leaving Steve stood alone in his flat, rooted to the spot, disappointment an anger lancing through his body like red hot pokers.

Outside the rain had started again, so Katie didn’t waste any time in getting to her car. She’d wanted nothing more than for Steve to ask her to stay, to prove to her that he wasn’t merely swept up in the emotion of the day, but he hadn’t. Which was all the answer to her unasked question she needed. They both had baggage, she knew that, but Steve Rogers came with an entire fucking suitcase.

She managed to start the engine before she felt the tears spring forth. Slamming her head against the head rest in frustration she wiped at her face.

She was in deep, and she had no idea what she was doing to do about it.

***** Chapter 4

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark #chris evans #chris evans characters

[darkpoisonouslove]

Ah, good that you reblogged the ask game again - I was supposed to send some of these, but I forgot! Anyway, 💖😐👀🌝✨👩‍🏭 (and of course (as long as you want to) 🖊 !)

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

I love the way that I weave words and concepts together. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere and sometimes it takes a little effort but I love the way that it all comes together like a puzzle that has the most unexpected pieces but they still fit with each other. It makes for unique images. I haven't quite seen anyone do that the way that I do and I am proud of it.

😐 What embarrasses you most about your own writing?

Descriptions are way up there, especially in English because there are so many words about movements and I just have zero idea which one I am supposed to use. I do not know all of them (or that many either) and it's just 😅. I have no idea what is going on aND IT BOTHERS ME SO MUCH!!!!!!!

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

That I would never let see the light of day? I have so many ideas that a lot of them probably won't see the light of day because I simply won't have the time for them. But something that I won't let see the light of day? Probably all of those Erendor x Samara ones that are so OOC that they would need MAJOR reworking (to the point of changing the entire idea) in order to be presentable to anyone else's eyes. And I have several fics including the Winx girls that are just too dark to be let out in the internet space. I don't feel like having hateful anons coming after me.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

I answered this here. But hm, okay, if I were to pick another one, I guess I'm really looking forward to writing Luna. The show was scarce with characterization for her and I have given her a more prominent role and, hopefully, made her more interesting.

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

Clever, emotional and insightful (I would like to believe so)

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

Probably one of the dub/non-con variety because the purity police never sleeps. (I don't want to pick a particular one and call attention to it just in case.)

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Here's an excerpt from the SoL bachelorette party:

"You were the first one to know her. You have to tell us what kind of wedding little Griffin dreamed of!" Zarathustra would fall over in Faragonda's lap as far forward as she was leaning.

Ediltrude's wine glass was just short of touching her lips as if it couldn't satisfy her thirst despite how tempting it was and Griselda fixed her glasses on her nose, waiting to read into every little detail. Even Marion was staring at Faragonda, the quietness clinging to her shifting into anticipation.

"It's not my place to say." Faragonda locked eyes with Griffin, their squabble over the photo Griffin had threatened to send to Hagen put to rest. She could count on Faragonda to be the bigger person in their friendship. At least when it really counted.

"Come on!" Ediltrude whined. "It's not fair. We don't get to go to a wedding, we don't get to hire her strippers because you're boring," she pointed at Faragonda and Marion who'd organized the party, her wine swishing around in the glass with her vehemence, "and we barely got her to throw one lousy bouquet." That was unfair to the housekeeper who'd done her best with the flowers blooming in the garden and put together a little bouquet for Griffin to toss at the others.

"How long are you gonna sulk over catching it?" Zara made herself the victim of a kick in the shin from Ediltrude's heel but quickly retaliated with an elbow in her sister's ribs.

Ediltrude threw her crumpled napkin at her. "At least we'll get to hear the details from Auntie Em who hasn't been banished from your wedding."

Griffin blinked at her, the words echoing in her ears like a siren. An alarm for danger.

Zara stepped on Ediltrude's toes but it was Faragonda's glare that made Ediltrude crouch. "I'm sorry, Griffin. I didn't mean to…"

It was Griselda's hand on hers that saved Griffin from the current that had drowned Ediltrude's voice. The warmth startled her against the tears already blurring her vision. Her father had never seen Valtor, would never see her in her improvised wedding dress, could not lead her down the isle. And Valtor had no loving parents to see him through their wedding, had no family except the one she'd said yes to and she hadn't wanted to make him more aware of that. More aware that the feeling was shared despite all the people offering her a hand currently, despite her mother's presence at their wedding. Her family had been broken, too, and without a blueprint she could mess up the one they were creating together beyond repair.

"It's okay," she squeezed Griselda's hand lightly but didn't let go when Griselda didn't try to either. "I know you didn't mean it like that. And I'm sorry I can't invite you to a wedding." Their happiness for her was infectious and she was already full of sparks that would flicker out without Valtor's hand in hers. "I promise you we'll have a celebration when we get back from our honeymoon." It wouldn't be just about her and Valtor but a celebration of all the relationships in her life, of her family. All of her friends understood her pain in one way or another. And all of them understood her love.

"At least that way you might have gotten fucked enough that you won't look like you'll jump Valtor's bones at any moment." Ediltrude scrunched up her nose before pouring her disgust down with some wine.

Griffin flashed her a smile. "Never." She glanced at Marion to make sure she wasn't spacing out from discomfort.

Ask me fanfic questions

#my wips #my writing #my writing process #winx club #the truth can be a dare too #sparks of life #winx griffin #winx ediltrude #winx zarathustra #winx luna #ask #her-majesty-wears-jeans

[melodyalanaroster]

To answer some Fanfic Questions...

So, this is my response to @broxklynn‘s post... I decided to make this its own post... So that It can be properly answered.

1. How and why did you start to write? Is there some kind of story behind it?

I started writing in general when I was in elementary school... Back when I just had a Platform 9 3/4 journal, not many friends, recess, and a desire to immerse myself in the world of Harry Potter. I enjoyed writing, and even joined the Writer’s Club in High School (but I eventually left to join Anime Club and Divergent Thinking Society). As for writing MCL fanfiction, I began writing Sam’s and Alana’s stories as early as when I first got into the fandom, back in 2013. Alana’s story started out as “A Fresh Start”, had a one shot called “When I Wake”, then turned into “Let The Dawn Be Broken”, and is now “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. The final product barely has any hints of the first 3... In fact, Sam’s story, “Fighting Darkness”, has been completely debunked due to what I’ve decided to canonize in “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. Writing MCL fanfiction has been a major help in distracting me from the depression that was caused by family issues, severe abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, my mom’s disease and her death, as well as working at several shitty jobs. Writing has helped me escape reality and keep myself sane enough to not be a black hole of hate, anger, and sadness to my friends and boyfriend.

2. What do you struggle the most with your writing?

There are 2 major things I struggle with... 1 is Timing. I often set deadlines for myself that I never meet and it makes me so frustrated that I miss them... There are currently things in my drafts that were meant to be “Holiday Specials” for Valentine’s Day and Halloween 2020 that are still unfinished... It makes me feel like I’m letting my readers down, when its more of me letting myself down... The other thing is Inspiration. Because I hate my job, I often think about Alana’s story in an effort to not be completely consumed by the fact that I do hate my work... Due to that, I often come up with ideas for my story that I think are FANTASTIC for my story... But, by the time I get home, I’m either in too much pain or too tired to write, or I’ve forgotten the ideas...

3. What is your favorite genre to write?

I love writing Romance with a bit of Slice of Life and a hint of Action/Adventure... 

4. Slowburn or “Flame”/PWP?

Slow burn any day.

5. How do you overcome writer’s block?

If I absolutely can’t write... I work on other stuff I need to do... Typically, something around the house, or something online I need to do... I also look for cool stuff to add to wish lists... I’ll occasionally play videogames or read comic books... In an effort to subvert writer’s block, I like having multiple chapters in my drafts at once. If I’m not in the mood to work on one chapter, I can work on a different one.

6. What kind of thing you dislike the most, when reading a fanfiction? (for example: particular plot, grammar mistakes)

One thing that makes me upset (and it makes me madder when I do this) is misspelling... Especially when it looks like its almost blatant... You have autocorrect, USE IT! Or when a fanfic is so awful, yet the author acts like their work is a gift from god... I don’t mind a “bad” fanfiction... Hell, the concept of “My Immortal” is so bad that its hilarious... But Fifty Shades did a lot of damage and E.L. James acts like she’s bigger than Jesus... Seriously, she wrote Twilight fanfiction, changed some minor details and names, people who have no knowledge of BDSM ate it up, and she acts like she’s a “Sex and Relationship Guru”...

7. What’s the biggest issue for you, when writing a Beemoov fanfiction?

The biggest issue for me is finding out when to allow for Beemoov’s writing and placement to take place in my story. I don’t like a lot of the events of UL and LL, so I’m often finding myself in a position where I have to watch video playthroughs and go “Okay, how can I omit this character, but keep this scene?”. I’ve had to do that A LOT with Alexy and Rosalaya.... Although, to a certain extent, I’ll often cut their scenes out altogether. I really hate what Beemoov did to them. They were great characters in HSL, but became utter shit in UL and stayed shit in LL. To make up for Beemoov’s writing style, I’ve created my own characters, added in old characters (like Kentin and Armin), added in bits from the manga (like Viktor, Severina and their fathers), and gone off on my own storyline. The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster is close to MCL at times, but often veers off onto its own road.

8. Have you ever created a character based on person in real life? (celebrity, someone that you know, etc)

YES!!! A LOT of characters in my story are based on real people! Alana’s step-father, Nate Films, is closely based on Nathan Fillion. A lot of her family members are based on members of my own family, just changed a bit to fit the story. Lynne Roster, Alana’s mom, is what I had always dreamed my own mom would be... Hell, Alana’s cat, Sylvester, is based on my own childhood cat, Luna.

9. How do you feel about your own characters? Do you think of them as your babies or have rather love-hate relationship with them? (And, do you have favorite one?)

I love most of my characters. I do hate 3 in particular... But, you’re supposed to hate, or at least not respect, them... That’s why I poured my hatred into them... Those 3 are Carol, Kai and Azrael. Carol has aspects of my abuser in her. You’ll see more of her when I finally post the HSL related chapters... And understand what I mean... Kai is based on one of my real life cousins that I’ve not been happy with for years (the one who my bf has deemed “the family failure”). You mainly see him in the Cousin Mels chapters, and in the Christmas Special... Azrael is the one who is seen the most in the UL chapters, and she is a main adversary for Alana. She is the one who broke her the most, the one who ended Alana’s relationship with Nathaniel, the one who truly traumatized her. As for ones I love... The one I love the most is Alana... I know, she’s a reflection of me, so that’s kind of vain... But, she’s a part of me. When I do finish her story and am at the point where I need to say “Goodbye”, it will hurt....

10. Enemies-to-lovers or friends/bestfriends-to lovers?

Definitely friends/best friends to lovers. I also like toying with what happens when best friends turn to lovers, but circumstance parts them and one moves on...

11. Is it easy for you to get inside your character’s head? Can you empathize with them? Is there’s some similarities between you and your main character?

It is VERY easy for me to get into Alana’s head... Like I said in #9, she is a reflection of me. She looks and acts like how I’d like to in a lot of situations... Her life is more interesting, traumatized, and more well off than mine... But, she is still me in major ways...

12. Who has been the biggest supporter of your writing?

Definitely my boyfriend. He doesn’t really understand the game itself... But, he likes how happy it makes me and he respects how much of my heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears that I’ve poured into writing my story. He loves listening to me read passages from it to him while I’m working. He gives me advice and his opinion is highly valued... My family knows I’m writing a large story, and have seen some of the images that I’ve gotten commissioned, but they don’t really know or care about the game. They do respect the fact that I am writing. They love the fact that I’m slightly following in my mom’s footsteps in that regard (she wrote 3 books and several poems). My online friends have been very supportive as well! I’m constantly updating them on what I’ve worked on each day in my Discord Server and the words of encouragement always help.

13. How do you handle criticism?

Not well. Due to the abuse and family issues mentioned in #1, for a good amount of my life, I’ve gotten nothing but harsh criticism... So, now that I’m away from all that, at 26 years old, I’m just now getting to a point where I’m starting to take it better... But, I’ve got a long way to go.

14. Do you like giving your characters trauma? Why/why not?

I hate sounding like a sadist... But, I’m going to anyway, so fuck it... Yes. I have done awful things to Alana over the years. In A Fresh Start, she got sexually assaulted and ostracized. In When I Wake, she gets into a car crash, put into a coma, and in her dream state murdered by Francis in front of Nathaniel. In Let The Dawn Be Broken, the plan was for her to end a war. In “The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster”, her childhood cat dies, her mom gets sick, she gets abused by Carol, her best friends get ripped away from her for a bit, she gets sent to a country halfway around the world alone, she gets assaulted and ultimately turned into a weapon of mass destruction.... I’ve even thought of killing her mom off at one point... But decided against it...

Now, granted, A Fresh Start and Let The Dawn Be Broken never saw completion, but happy endings were planned for them...

I do this, all while giving Alana happy endings in each story because “If Alana can go through utter hell and make it through, then so can I.”... I know, I’m “god” in that regard and I can control how Alana’s life is.... But, the fact that in my writing, she ends up standing tall, happy, with everything she wants, after everything she goes through does make me feel better.... 

15. Are you proud of yourself? When you look at first piece you wrote and compare it to the latest one?

Yes. If you look at A Fresh Start, you can tell it was written by someone fresh out of High School. There’s no real depth to it. Let The Dawn Be Broken isn’t much better... But, The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster has become my magnum opus. It is the largest piece I have EVER written, and will probably remain the largest piece I write. I am very proud of what I have created... And when its last word is written, and I am ready to get it made for it’s place on my shelf, I will feel very bittersweet about it... That being said, my original plan for a sequel involving Nathaniel’s and Alana’s daughter, Aurora, has been discarded. I don’t believe Aurora could ever have as much of my heart that her parents do...

And there you have it! Some insight into my world, writing, and history!

#my candy love #my candy love fanfiction #mcl fanfic #mcl fanfiction #fanfic #mcl #mcl alana #mcl alana roster #alana roster #melody alana roster #melodyalanaroster #the melancholy of melody alana roster #mclhsl #mclul #mclll #amor doce #amour sucre #sweet amoris #Sweet kiss #sweet love #Sweet flirt #sweet crush #cdm #cdmu #Corazon de Melon #corazon de bombon #slodki flirt #dolce flirt #writing #fan fiction

[hopeassassin]

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive. 

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out!  Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D 

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there! 

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D 

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious  individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D 

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you... 

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

#my scribbles #here you have it #a rather complete list of incomplete AoMomo stuff I'd say #Rally's works in the making #tagged as: #AoMomo #because it's all AoMomo #sorry for spamming the main tag with nonsense #Kuroko no Basuke #will I ever finish any and all of these? #here's to hoping! #a little bit insider info from the kitchen #fanfiction #writing

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire.  And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all,  but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now.  He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself  in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

#outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Just a Friend #chapter 1 #Here goes

[songsformonkeys]

A Tiny Piece of the World Called Home - (Ezra x reader) chapter 2

pairing: Ezra x reader

summary: "Just like the first of the Terras, Icarus had precisely one moon. It was a desolate and barren place, gray rocks and dust as far as the eye could see. It was cold and unwelcoming and you felt a certain kinship to it. It wasn't a hostile place but it gave you nothing for free. For as long as you could remember, you had wanted to go there."

Reader and Ezra end up as partners on a mining job and are forced to live together in close proximity on a small moon base.

rating: explicit

warnings: smut

notes: trying to post all my ao3 stories to tumblr as well so this isn’t a new story and some of you might have already read it. Chapter 1 is here

Chapter 2

While Ezra had been watching you from the very start, it was only now that you had started to actually watch him back. And the more you watched, the more details you discovered about your roommate and work partner. For example, he walked around barefoot in the base a disconcerting amount of time, he was ambidextrous, liked to take long showers, that sometimes left you without any hot water but with a strong urge to strangle him, and he snored when he slept on his stomach. That last bit you knew partly because Ezra liked to take a nap after lunch and partly because the small base offered very little in the way of privacy. You shared every living space and the only way to get away from each other was to hide in the bathroom. In the beginning, Ezra must have thought you suffered from terrible gastrointestinal problems considering how much time you'd spent in there.

Ezra had definitely noticed you watching, you had been able to tell by the way his mouth always curved into a smug smile when he caught your eyes lingering, but he hadn't said anything about it and so neither had you. Instead, the two of you danced around each other while Ezra kept up his usual out loud stream of consciousness.

“Do you enjoy art? I went to a museum once. Sculptures, paintings, VRs, soundscapes, and what have you. They had everything! Of course, I'd never been before so I had no idea. Anyway, I had just landed after a job and was looking for a way to spend my well-earned freedom. So I went. And let me tell you, Birdie, I came out of that establishment a changed man. Now, you know I'm a man of emotion, I ain't ashamed to admit that, but I wept like a small child in there. Did you ever get so moved by something that it consumes your whole being? It's part of the reason why I travel. I have the privilege of seeing the most wondrous of places. The majority of them try their very damned hardest to kill me but you have got to admit that there's a certain poetic beauty in that too. Something so beautiful doing their very best to keep people from seeing it...”

You had been tinkering with the temperature-settings on the water-boiler and had only half paid attention to what Ezra was saying. Something about arts and planets and wanting to kill him. You looked up when he went quiet. That was usually your cue to say something or hum or nod before he would continue but this time Ezra was watching you intently with the faintest of smiles on his lips. The scrutiny made you a little nervous and you wished you had listened more closely.

“...yes?” you guessed, hoping that it would be an appropriate response to what he'd just said. Ezra's smile widened and clearly seizing the opportunity of having your attention, he went on.

“Where's your favorite place in the world, Birdie?”

“Here,” you stated simply and returned your focus to the water boiler. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Ezra turn and look out through the window of your small base. He wouldn't get it. No one else had.

“It is quite a marvelous place to behold, isn't it? The planes and the ridges over on that horizon. Never the same, no matter where you turn your eye to. And I know you prefer the sunsets and they are grand indeed but for me, it's the sunrises that does it. Those first rays of sunlight make the whole planet look like it's covered in silver. Takes my breath away every morning.”

You had stopped again to just look at Ezra as he described the planet he was watching outside the window. There was a fondness to his face when he spoke and it tugged on your heartstrings like it was part of you that he was complimenting. As the light from outside hit his face you found yourself thinking that Ezra was quite a wondrous sight to behold too. Rough and rugged, sure, but there was a certain beauty to him. In profile, the curve of his nose and the uneven spikes of his hair reminded you of those very same ridges he'd mentioned just a moment ago. Sharp and jagged. And yet other parts of him seemed way too soft, in comparison. His eyes which, once he'd gotten over the initial apprehension of you, held a sort of kindness that you had not often seen. The scars on his back and torso, that almost glowed like white lines when he undressed in the evening, and told a story of a vulnerability that his usual larger-than-life persona did its best to cover up.

Ezra caught you looking at him and you quickly looked away.

If you happened to wake up an hour earlier the next morning, it was pure coincidence. And when Ezra handed you a cup of coffee and opened his mouth to, no doubt, claim otherwise you glared at him so hard that he raised his hands in surrender before closing his mouth again and pouring himself some coffee.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Mining Ander was hard work. Much harder than what most people assumed. They only saw the finished product and figured that the delicate ore must be mined in an equally delicate manner. What they always failed to take into consideration was the several feet of stone and rock that you had to drill through to even get close to the Ander.

The big mechanic drill helped but it was still a grueling work, and you loved it. You loved feeling the strain in your muscles and the way they ached after a long day of work. The smell of sweat in an air-tight suit was something you definitely could have done without, although it did make the fresh air back at the base seem all the sweeter.

Ezra was a hard worker too, which was something you appreciated about him. He never shied away from the strenuous work, despite his occasional verbal complaints about the working conditions, and a couple of hours into the workday his grunts over the comms became a familiar background noise.

You took turns manning the drill while the other person carried the discarded bits of rock away from the hole in the ground and over to the pile which had been growing steadily larger over the duration of your shift.

Most days you paused for lunch but there were days when neither of you wanted to pause what you were doing and you ended up working way too late. Those were the very few days when Ezra stayed mostly silent before it was time for bed. In the beginning, you had cherished those moments like nobody's business but as time went on you found yourself almost missing his steady stream of words and comments.

This particular day was shaping up to be one of those days. Lunch was supposed to have happened some time ago but just as you had been about to call for a break, Ezra had cheered and declared that he'd discovered something purple and gleaming. So instead of stopping, you doubled your efforts the get the ore out.

The eagerness to get to the Ander as quickly as possible might have been what did it. Ezra pushed the drill a little too hard into the ground and suddenly there was a loud snap and you started.

It felt like someone had cracked a whip against your lower leg and you yelped. The pain was followed almost immediately by a whooshing sound and you met Ezra's widening eyes before both of you looked down at the tear in your suit, where oxygen was rapidly leaking out.

“Fuck!” you cursed loudly and quickly crouched to press your hands against the hole on the fabric. Ezra hurriedly jumped down from the driver's seat of the drill and ran over to you.

“We need to get you inside,” he stated, unnecessarily, and you had half a mind to make a rude remark about him stating the obvious. But you held your tongue. Maybe the quick decrease in oxygen was making you soft.

Keeping both of your hands wrapped around your calf, to keep the pressure on the wound and the integrity of your suit, made it impossible to walk. Ezra realized this too and wasted no time picking you up and carrying you. You felt grateful for the decreased gravity since it allowed him to sprint back to the airlock in no time, despite carrying a fully grown person in his arms. Your helmets bumped together in an uneven rhythm as he ran. You listened to his sharp breaths as he ran. They were faster than usual and you didn't think it was from the effort of carrying you. He was worried, you realized and you felt a bit touched that he cared this much. It was a bit excessive, of course. This wasn't the first injury you'd suffered during your shifts on the moon. There was plenty enough oxygen in the suit to get you back to the base and plenty enough blood in your body so that even if he'd sliced your whole leg of you were pretty sure you would have been fine. And since you very much felt your leg still being attached, there wasn't really any cause for alarm. You told Ezra as much but he didn't slow down and you could tell that he didn't quite trust your abilities to medically assess yourself.

“Let me remind you that it took you almost a full day to confess that you'd cut yourself on the kitchen knife when we first got here,” Ezra reminded you, and fine, that was a somewhat fair point but you hadn't known him back then and in your defense, you probably would have been fine even if he hadn't discovered the cut and forced you to let him redress it. You said nothing more. If he wanted to run himself tired for no reason then he was, by all means, welcome to do so.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Once inside, he set you down and instructed you to strip. For once in your life, you did what you were told without arguing and as Ezra rummaged around in one of the cupboards for a medkit, you shrugged out of your spacesuit. Your lower leg and foot felt wet and as you pulled it out of the leg of the suit you winced with pain. There was more blood than you had anticipated and you suddenly felt a little light-headed. You weren't afraid of blood but you weren't exposed to bloody injuries all that often either and you preferred your own body parts without them.

You wiggled out of your pants as well and flopped down on a chair. Ezra had struck gold with his search and returned to your side a second later. You gripped his shoulder as he knelt in front of you. A warning for him not to set his knee down in the small puddle of blood that had formed on the floor in front of you. Ezra not only missed the warning but also interpreted your gesture in a completely different manner.

“Don't you worry, Little Bird,” he assured you, as if you were the one who needed comforting, “We'll have you patched up and in tip-top condition again in no time.” He began wiping the skin around the wound clean. You winced a little in anticipation of the pain that never really came. Ezra's hands were surprisingly gentle as he cleaned away the blood. Ezra always surprised you with that. For some reason you always expected him to be rough, but he never was. Whether he was preparing food, reading one your books that he'd stolen or helping you into your suit every morning, he always did everything with a gentleness like he was handling something precious.

His brow was furrowed as he worked, though more from concentration than from worry, you noted and was pleased that he seemed to have reached the same conclusion that you had on the way to the base; that there was no immediate danger to your life. Once he'd cleaned the blood away it turned out that the cut wasn't very deep at all. It was about three inches long but shallow enough that Ezra could simply tape it shut before sealing it with a big anti-bacterial bandaid. He wiped your blood from his hands as best he could and let out a slow breath.

“You gave me quite a fright there, Little Bird,” he confessed and looked up from where he was still sitting at your feet. One of his arms was resting against your bare leg.

“I told you I would be fine,” you reminded him.

“Well, you down-play things and therefore are not to be trusted on matters like this.”

“I do not!” you protested. Ezra cleared his throat and held up his index finger to begin counting.

“It's just a short walk from here, Ezra. Took us three hours. I just nicked my finger. I cleaned that wound too and I'm fairly certain I saw bone. The coffee is a little bit hot. I couldn't taste anything for two days afterwards. I'm not that cold. Your lips matched the Ander... do you wish for me to continue? Because I've got more examples if you need 'em, Birdie”

You were watching Ezra with indignation and coughed out a laugh. You could hardly be held responsible for him taking every comment you made quite so literally.

“Says the man who exaggerates just about everything,” you countered

Ezra raised his eyebrows in confusion, as if this was the most preposterous accusation he'd ever heard. You were pretty sure he was faking it but you still took the bite.

“You beg me to shoot you every afternoon when I wake you up from your nap. You almost cry every time we strike Ander and how many times have you had the finest meal of your life since you got here?”

Ezra shook his head but you could see the small smile he was trying to hide.

“I am an appreciative man, Birdie. What can I say...” he said with a shrug and yes, he was definitely trying to rile you up.

“Well, appreciate this,” you said and jokingly flipped him off.

“I would appreciate every last part of you if you weren't so damn stubborn.”

You opened your mouth to toss another semi-insult back at him before the words fully registered, making you blink and stutter out a “W-what?” instead.

“I believe you heard me perfectly well,” Ezra answered, holding his ground. You felt your cheeks flush from the boldness of his comment. Even if he didn't realize how unprofessional that joke was, you certainly did and you were at a loss for words. Your usually so sharp tongue had, for once and with the worst timing, failed you. Every witty retort you began to come up with were instantly interrupted by mental images of Ezra making good on the comment he'd made. So what if you had entertained the thought previously? You and he were two people stuck in a small space which allowed little or no room for any sort of release in that department. The mind was bound to go a little crazy after a while. It had happened with previous work partners too. And it was understood by everyone that it wasn't anything to act or even comment upon. Understood by everyone except Ezra that was.

“You have been watching me. There are many things about you which are subtle, but that has not been one of them,” he said. There was something curious in his eyes as he watched you. He was searching your face for any indication whether he was reading the situation right or not. You weren't sure at all what expression you face did show but you were quite certain it wasn't disgust or revulsion, partly because those weren't the emotions you were actually feeling right now but more importantly because you were 100% certain that Ezra would have backed off if he'd detected any aversion on your part. And Ezra remained firmly where he was, on his knees in front of you, looking up at your face with a look on his face that you vaguely recognized.

You had gotten quite good at reading Ezra during your time on the base. This look was something you'd only seen in fleeting glances when he thought you weren't looking and when you both undressed for bed in the evenings. It was a look you hadn't quite been able to read. But now he was looking you dead in the eye and it was clear as day; Ezra wanted you. The realization made heat pool low in your stomach and if truth were to be told, you wanted Ezra too. Had for a while, now that you allowed yourself to admit it.

“I have,” you admitted and Ezra let out a breath you hadn't noticed he was holding.

“And did all that watching reward you with any new insights, Little Bird?” he asked, sitting up a little straighter and placing his other hand on your thigh. Your skin felt like it was buzzing where his hand was resting. His thumb began rubbing small circles against the skin of the inside of your thigh, just above the knee. It felt wonderful but was nowhere near enough and if Ezra was gonna give another monologue right now, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to handle it.

“For Kevva's sake, Ezra, can we save this conversation for later and just... do something!” You weren't necessarily proud of the shrill note of desperation to your voice but a dangerous smile spread across Ezra's face and his grip on you tightened. In a torturously slow movement, he pushed your legs further apart and you had to grip the edge of your seat hard to keep yourself from yanking him forward. He moved closer, hands running up the outside of your thighs, and he leaned down to place a kiss halfway up your thigh. Then another one, slightly higher. Then, because he was Ezra and of course he just couldn't help himself, he stopped and looked up at you.

“I must confess that thoughts of this have crossed my mind more than once,” he said, voice rough like sandpaper and utterly delicious. But there were so many better things for that mouth to be doing right now, other than talking.

“Ezra, please,” you groaned, more out of frustration than arousal, but from the smile Ezra gave you he definitely interpreted it as the latter. You didn't care because it had the intended effect regardless and a moment later Ezra's mouth was back on your skin, kissing its way higher and higher up on your thigh.

When his lips finally brushed, feather-light, over the fabric of your underwear it almost had you shooting off your chair. Luckily Ezra had anticipated this and his hands were now firmly placed on your hips, holding you in place. Your first instinct had been to close your legs, the jolt of sensation almost being too much, but Ezra's broad shoulders made that impossible and as he pressed his lips against the fabric a second time at was all you could do to hold back the needy whimpers that threatened to spill out with every breath. Ezra glanced up at you and you could feel the bastard smiling against you.

He pulled back and you were ready to make loud complaints about this lousy decision before you realized that he'd only pulled back in order to get you out of your underwear. You let him slide the piece of clothing down your legs then yelped a little in surprise as he promptly lifted both your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. Any comments on the manhandling died in your throat a moment later when his mouth found its way back to the prize and he licked a broad stripe across your folds. It had been quite some time since anyone had touched you in this way. Maybe that was it, or maybe it was just that Ezra really knew what he was doing, but as his mouth continued to explore, alternating between licking and kissing and sucking, your entire body felt like it was shaking. Your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the chair and your breaths escaped you in ragged huffs of air, mingled with the occasional whimpers that you had given up on holding back. The vocal feedback only seemed to encourage Ezra and he doubled his efforts.

It was too much and not enough at the same time. You felt like you would slap him if he stopped but, at the same time, you weren't sure you could handle this much longer. All your higher brain functioning had gone out the window and flown off into space. Your whole world had narrowed down to the sensations of your body and, even more specifically, the place between your legs where Ezra's clever tongue had all your nerve-endings going off like fireworks. And Ezra showed no signs of stopping until he'd made you come apart completely. Something which was rapidly approaching.

You tried warning him, managed to grip his forearm and push a little while stuttering out his name, but he only held you tighter and flicked his tongue over your clit in a way that turned the last vowel of his name into a cry of pleasure as you came. Ezra continued his ministrations and his tongue carried you through the pulsating waves of your orgasm.

When he finally pulled back and met your gaze, you were speechless. Ezra, true to form, was the first to comment.

“You truly are a vision like this, Birdie,” he said with awe in his voice and you gave him a weak laugh. Vision, you suspected, was hardly the most fitting description for you right now. Mess, more likely. You could feel how flushed your cheeks were and your lips must be bitten raw by this point. But Ezra was watching you with a mix of lust and wonder and as his gaze wandered lower he looked like he was ready for another round. You suspected that you might actually die this time if he did.

So, on legs that felt like jelly, you slid off the chair and onto his lap. The taped wound on your calf smarted but Ezra caught you before your knees slammed against the floor. His breath hitched in his throat as your weight pressed against the hardness in his pants and his hips bucked slightly, seemingly out of their own accord.

You wrapped your arms around Ezra's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips and you greedily licked into his mouth, wanting to taste more, taste him. Rolling your hips against him earned you another stuttered breath and a moan from Ezra. He mumbled something against your lips and you had every intention of ignoring it in favor of continued kissing but Ezra pulled back and broke the kiss. You made a noise of complaint, which made him laugh.

“Sincerest apologies, Little Bird, but if I am to make good on my promise to appreciate every part of you we are going to have to pace ourselves, just a fraction...”

You were about to protest. To hell with pacing yourselves when you had Ezra's mouth only inches from yours! Perhaps sensing your usual stubbornness and unwillingness to cooperate returning, Ezra played dirty and reached down to press the tip of his finger gently against your opening.

“Fuck...” you shuddered, unsure if the next word was gonna be you, me or just fuck in general.

“That is what I am arguing for here, beautiful. But you and I are both still way too dressed for what I'm hoping comes next and, for the sake of your knees and my back, perhaps we could relocate ourselves to the relative comfort of my bed?”

As much as it pained you to admit, Ezra did have a point and, in a move that required more energy and coordination that it usually did, you climbed off him and stood up. Ezra got to his feet as well. He took your hand and kissed each of your fingers softly in a way that somehow felt more intimate than the place he'd been kissing a minute or two ago.

“Allow me to take you to bed?” he asked, even though you were under the impression that this had already been established as the next destination. You nodded impatiently and pushed him slowly backwards towards the bedroom.

“Take me to the bed or the kitchen table or back to the floor, Ezra. I don't care, I just... I just need you.”

Ezra's eyes darkened with lust and a moment later he was the one dragging you towards the beds. The two of you stopped just before you crashed onto Ezra's bunk, realizing that undressing might be a slightly easier endeavor before you were both tangled up on the small bed.

Ezra was quicker getting to your clothes than you were at getting to his and he pulled your shirt and then your sports bra over your head and tossed it to the side. You were fully naked now, while he was still fully dressed, if a little disheveled-looking. The contrast made you feel all the more undressed. Ezra watched you, with that same appreciation as before.

“I have imagined this. What you would look like... so gorgeous. Even in that spacesuit, you managed to drive me up the walls crazy. Can barely keep my hands off you,” he mumbled.

“So how about you don't,” you suggested. You were more than ready for this, it was just Ezra that needed to get with the program. He didn't need to compliment and woo you. He just needed to touch you.

You reached for his shirt, made quick work of getting rid of it before you made equally quick work of his pants and underwear. Now you were both naked and you took a moment to appreciate the newly revealed areas of skin. Ezra twitched as if it had been your hands and not your eyes which were caressing his body. You took a step closer.

“I want you to fuck me, Ezra,” you stated, perhaps a tad too matter-of-factly but Ezra made a noise that could only be described as a growl and crashed your mouths together again. Without the layers of clothes between you, your hands were free to roam and you tried touching every bit of skin that you could reach, slowly circling lower and lower, towards where you knew he wanted your touch the most. Ezra was giving as good as he was getting and when it was his impatience's turn to take hold, he grabbed your ass and pulled you fully against himself with a moan. You pushed him back and finally onto the bed. He laid down and watched, with almost pitch-black eyes, as you crawled on top of him and straddled his thighs.

He began talking again, nothing coherent this time, and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him. Ezra seized the opportunity to grab your hips and pull you a little higher. You both moaned into each other's mouths as your folds dragged along his length.

“In me,” you whispered and Ezra reached down to position himself against your opening. In the slowest pace you could bring yourself to, you began lowering yourself onto him. Ezra's eyes looked like they were about to roll back in their sockets and he said your name, followed by a whole string of curses, some of which you had never heard before.

You stilled for a moment once he was fully inside you, letting yourself adjust slightly to the sensation, then you rose up to let him slide almost all the way out before lowering yourself again. The pace was much slower than what either of you wanted but if he was feeling anywhere near as needy for more as you did, then it would be worth it.

It seemed that he was because the very next thing out of Ezra's mouth was a begging plea.

“Please, Birdie,” he said and he sounded wrecked. You took pity on him, both for his sake and for your own. You couldn't handle this slow pace for a second longer either. Speeding up, you heard the relief in Ezra's breathing and he placed his hands on your hips again to help guide you into a quicker pace.

The sensation wasn't quite as overwhelming when you were the one in control but you could still feel your pleasure building every time Ezra slid back into you. His moans were becoming more and more ragged and you weren't sure how much longer he was gonna last. Just as you were about to ask, he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you down for a kiss. The move gave him a little more leverage to move his hips and you gasped as he snapped his hips up, making him hit a whole new spot inside you. He did it again. And again. And you had to take back the thought you'd just had about the sensation not being overwhelming. You met his thrusts as best you could, your rhythm becoming more and more sloppy the closer the two of you got to climax.

In the end, you cracked first. Pushed over the edge by the surprise of Ezra latching onto the skin of your neck and sucking, hard enough to leave a mark. As your second orgasm rushed through you, you felt Ezra follow and he moaned loudly as he came, still inside you. He continued thrusting a few more times before he slowed down to a stop.

The stillness that followed, as you had untangled slightly before pulling each other close again, was interrupted only by your panting breaths...and of course...

“If I were to die now, I'd die a happy and content man,” Ezra mumbled, his hand drawing patterns against your back.

“Dying now would be a breach of contract,” you informed him, with a small smile, “We still have a fifth of our rotation left before we're heading back for Icarus.”

“Only a fifth?” Ezra asked and you watched his brow furrow as he did the math.

“'fraid so.”

Ezra turned and gave you a devilish grin

“Then I propose we attempt to make the very most of that fifth, or what do say, Birdie?”

As his hand trailed lower, you couldn't help but nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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