#yet now I'm thinking about making it more detailed.. or maybe turn into whole fics?!

[matenrou-fan]

Some demon brothers in heat because I'm silly today

Mammon, Asmo, Belphegor

GNreader, humping, mention of crempie, oral (giving);; rough sex;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

-A needy boy. That's it.

-It's just so terribly embarrassing to actually approach you and say how bad he wants to fuck you, so instead he would just cling to you as always, begging to spend some time in his room.

-And he really was trying to control himself, wishing for nothing more but for some peace that your presence always brings in his soul, yet poor demon didn't realize today your smell and the look of your body would be actually more triggering that soothing.

-So of course everything ended up with you being pinned to the floor as he just hump your leg like some kind of puppy, sobbing and whining about how sorry he is.

-Well, maybe this kind of humiliation was even more arousing for him, as Mammon cum surprisingly quick, groaning as his dick was still rock hard, throbbing even more now. So now it's time for something more than your knee.

-Really, really tries to be gentle, especially in the beginning, but when you start moaning like that, wrapping your legs around his waist, he loses the last pieces of sanity, almost pounding you into the carpet with such aggressive thrust.

-And if usually he tries to be more quiet in bed, today he's loud af, moaning and whimpering right in your ear about how sorry he is and how good you feel, that he just can't stop. + even more possessive, holding hands and hugging with you, and you already lost count how many times he kissed you.

-Cause even in such a state Mammon still can't stop thinking about your feelings too, as only your pleased moans can bring him to the edge.

-Ok but he just can use his connection to spend such a hard day with a few succubus and incubus..

-Yet he's here, kissing you deeply as his tongue plays with you, whining in your mouth every time your arms touch his dick. You're such a lovely doll, obey so easily when he asks you for some help..! ♡

-Of course he's waiting to be pampered, even when he's the one who's in need here. But isn't it logical? Such a beauty, and only for you today, of course you need to do anything as a thanks for this devilish blessing!

-But even when everything start like a small ask to jerk him off, then to suck his dick, quickly it's turn into some heated sex as Asmo can't stop thrusting in you just in just perfect pace, making you lose your mind absolutely, maybe even more than he's in his heat.

-Cause as avatar of Lust he knows perfectly how to delight anyone, and especially his most precious human too..! And mutual pleasure feels even more good, actually, as now he's pushing you for another round, and another, and another..

-Demon who's thinking about something sinful most of the time.. Of course he has one of the best stamina, hiding pretty wild energy in this fragile body that he would open just for you today.

-And even when you start sobbing, telling it's your limit, Asmo's whisper brings you back. Just a little bit more.. It's just a siren's call, yet you fall into this trap again, letting him use your body for the whole night.

-The lazy one.

-Just which one of you two are actually in heat - you or him?! Cause it's more like you're the one who wants everything, bouncing on his dick like that, while he's just laying here, watching lazily and making teasing comments about how tight you're already.

-But don't think that means you can be in charge here, as a few right words and looks from Belphie are enough to make you feel absolutely under his control, even if he's still just yawning in bed and not even trying to manhandle you or something.

-Cause he's surprisingly good at holding back his wild urge, wanting to bring you almost in the same state before something more interesting. Small tickles of his fingers on your body, some slow play with your nipples and dirty talking - the contact between his pretty cold touches and this heat between your thighs as you almost jump on his hips at a rapid pace is mind shattering..

-And only when you would start sobbing, asking him for something more as your legs get too sore to move in needed place, only after you beg him good, Belphegor would change position, surprisingly quickly get up and push you in the mattress for someone who was almost asleep all this time.

-Well, but you didn't think he would actually be so lazy the whole time? Now it's time to show you where he can put all this stored energy, so be prepared to be absolutely unable to walk for a few days.

#I made it while eating breakfast so it's pretty short #yet now I'm thinking about making it more detailed.. or maybe turn into whole fics?! #ok now I'm returning to writing my requests byeeeeeee #obey me mammon smut #obey me mammon x reader #mammon obey me #mammon x reader #obey me mammon #mammon smut #mammon obey me smut #obey me asmo smut #asmo obey me #asmo x reader #asmo smut #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus smut #asmodeus obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo x reader #asmodeus obey me smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader smut #obey me x gender neutral reader #mammon obey me x reader #belphegor smut #obey me belphegor #belphegor obey me #obey me belphagor x reader #belphie smut #obey me belphie

[shavynel]

Writing comments for fanfic

tl;dr -- Write one thing you liked about the fic (a phrase or moment) and how you reacted or made you feel! Also, keep it fun! Make no demands of fic authors who write out of love and Owe Us Nothing.

It took me a while to figure out how to write comments. I went through an evolution. There's lots of stuff on how to write stories, probably even giving crit and feedback, but commenting? Not nearly as much. So here's my not so short ramble on writing comments for fic. Includes my Ways of commenting and Tenets of commenting.

Examples here will be T-rated (by AO3 standards) and most are taken from or newly written with specific fics in mind. They are, ahem, almost all Genshin Impact.

Commenting is, I believe, a personal thing. I've been told I have a bit of an enthusiastic presence, so what feels true to you may vary. I also like to write words (can you tell?). And smash keyboards.

Leaving comments is, in fact, effort! But it's also a skill that can be learned and honed. And honestly, I think my fic experience is improved by it. I don't always leave a comment. But, I don't know... that random internet person authored a Whole Thing. For Free (likely). And I just get to read it?? Yeah, I'm going to leave a little appreciation. Just a little snack in return for this fulfilling meal you have fed me.

I also find writing a comment is also a way for me to just bask in a fic a little bit longer, linger in that feeling of oh, wow, this was so good, and I don't want to leave yet. (And then sometimes there's a response, and then I get a bonus dose of nostalgia!)

Ways of commenting

These are roughly ordered by amount of effort required. I would say the comments I leave are a mash up of these, really. There aren't actual hard lines between them.

1. An extra kudos.

Kudos are nice. Knowing the kudos button isn't enough is one layer deeper! Comments like

"Thanks for writing!" "<3" "i mash kudos button but no more kudos come out what's wronnnnggg????" "yay an update!" "this is so good"

Level of effort: slightly more than a kudos.

Honestly, copy-pasteable. Personally, I would always write these out. Somehow, to me, as a commenter, feels more real if I tippy tappy the letters myself even if Author can't tell. It's a nice way to let an author know you're coming back chapter after chapter when we can only kudos once on a fic. I like to leave a little something more, but I still often start or end with this.

2. Fic reaction.

Sometimes a fic just leaves me a certain way. Invoked a particular mood or visceral reaction. So, I let the author know!

"Awww, my heart is warm!" "Jaw on ground. WTF!" "Literal chills." "My eyes are wet. How did that happen?" "This fic is pure comfort." "AHHHHHHHHHHH!" "Heart on floor, smashed." "WHOLESOME!" "This has left me completely feral and ready to punch something."

Level of effort: you need some emotional intelligence or other awareness of you reactions.

As a starting point, was the fic -- wholesome, sweet, chaotic (in a good way), funny, heartwrenching, sad, delightful, shocking, calm, peaceful, I just want a hug now, terrifying, creepy, comedic?

How do you then turn this into a comment? "This was so ___!!"

Honestly, my crutch here is to just keyboard smash. What does it mean? Your guess as good as mine. I'm speechless, and I cannot words properly, but please participate in these Feels I'm having.

3. One detail I like. (My default comment style)

This one covers a lot of scope. If I read to the end of the fic, there's probably something I liked. Maybe

a turn of phrase. "Diluc drinking grape juice like a man chained to an interrogation table. sfjfskkdz" "Bedsheets twisted up like cooked spinach is SO accurate." "Itto-to is such a cute mashup name!" "We have years ahead of us. That was just one day in the past. The feeeeeelllssss" ":) as punctuation" "Barbatos and Nobles as a bookstore. Sdjjsfjdw I love it"

a particular character moment, action, interaction, or dialogue. quote or paraphrase it! "Diluc kicking Childe into the water was hilarious." "Childe is such an adrenaline junkie. I can't believe he would lean out the window while he was driving." "I'm so proud of Zhongli for actually admitting his feelings!"

some specific moment you emotionally reacted to. I've only recently trained myself out of stoic facing through fic. I mean, it's a useful skill, don't get me wrong (especially in public), but it's less useful when it's just me by myself. I now laugh at 3am reading fic, and my life is brighter for it. Comedy fic writers, you are my fave. "Can't get over when Diluc walks in on Kaeya and Childe. AHHHHH!" "Qiqi drying Childe's hair was so sweet!"

Level of effort: you have to actually remember something you liked or reacted to.

The number of movies I watch and number of times someone asks how's my week, and I just stare blankly because I know it was good but don't know anything else? High. So yeah, this isn't trivial.

I've gotten to the point where usually while reading I notice a moment of "wow I love this!" I don't go looking for them (because I want to stay in fic headspace not comment material hunting headspace), and I don't spend much effort trying to remember. If I forget, that's fine. Not like I'm not writing a book review for a grade or anything.

Just, what's a moment you just got to call out? (And bonus, what's your reaction?) Authors out there seem to like to make us feel things. Show them we're just dangling from their puppet strings!

I usually leave comments like this. Just popcorn style, as many things as I remember, whatever comes up as I recall it. I'm aware that sometimes I end up basically quoting a fic back to its author completely out of order interspersed with commentary or keyboard smashes. I'm occasionally embarrassed by how much I'm smashing into their comments, but the reception seems overall positive.

4. Between the lines and spin off thoughts.

Sometimes fic make me think. I mean, canon makes me think, and then people go and make fanworks off of that, so of course I'm bound to run into fic that makes me think. Sometimes the things I notice or think about aren't directly in the text, but implied or spin out thoughts. An interpretation, a mini analysis, or a reflection. Like,

a new thought or take on a character. "Aro-ace Venti! I like this take!" "Please don't break Klee. She's just trying her best to hold all the adults together. Oh no. You've already broken Klee. T_T" "I bet Jean is the only person who could have kicked Diluc's ass, and he really needed it." "Kaeya what are you doooinggg?? Why is he like this???" (An extra note, it's cool to disagree with a character, but not the author. Character did that makes you want to scream? Go for it. Author wrote the character in a way you disagree with? Don't comment. Leave the fic if it bothers you that much.)

noticing foreshadowing or a detail that isn't fully explained / only alluded to. "Is that Scara working at Scarabucks???" "Wait, something about what Venti said makes me think this isn't just a modern day AU ..." "Did that count as a geo construct for the purposes of the contract?"

some sentence or moment somewhere that just hits you in the brain. This one I don't actually know if author's like. On the one hand, I can imagine it being flattering. On the other, maybe it's too personal? I'll usually center these on the characters, kind of like character analysis. "Diluc sharing his anxiety with Kaeya, and that being what made Kaeya look at his own anxiety... really hits. Like, I don't even think Diluc could have said something sooner without Kaeya running, which says so much about how Diluc loves Kaeya. And the fact Kaeya can see this as a mirror of what he's doing and learns something from it. Just. Oof. Wow." "The conversation between Zhongli and Childe is just so real. Like Zhongli is trying so hard but his ass just can't understand Childe just wants him to tell them things and his not telling things is Not Helping even though he just wants to protect the boy!"

Level of effort: some amount of analytical thinking, reflection, or willingness to share when you get sucker punched by words.

This one I absolutely never go looking for, so I don't leave many such comments. When it does come up, it usually smacks me in the face, and I let it (roll with the hit and into the comments). On occasion I am wailing in the comment box when the revelation (like having broken Klee) just dawns on me. Am I Feelings Processing in comment boxes? Uuuhhhhhh, no comment. (Don't mind the lack of delivery on the pun.)

I'd like to think authors appreciate when we reflect back to them we get their interpretation, but I can also imagine it might be a little too much for authors if we get too personal. In which case, sorry. Your work is great! Please take it as my intention to flatter you since you've touched my heart or brain or soul with your words.

5. Craft appreciation.

This one, *head scratches* yeah, I don't often end up here. But sometimes it's not one moment, but something about all the moments, something underlying, or something in the way it was all put together. If I do end up here and write a general statement, I like to point to specific bits that made me think that (which is where I lean back on One Detail I Like). Actually, yeah, usually I use this as flavor to One Detail I Like, but I think it's sufficiently different to pull out separately. It's a writerly meta layer. What falls here?

dialogue. "Your dialogue is so good. I can hear it in in the VA's voice." "I love the contrast between how Zhongli talks and Childe talks."

imagery. "Can't get over the imagery of Childe releasing dandelion scenes. Such a kid!" "Childe sleeping with Tranquil Statlight is just so peaceful."

characterization. "The little nuggets you give characters like Rosaria doing community service at the church for Crimes just gives me life." "I love the way you write Childe. He's so aggressive!"

setting, world building (more for AUs but wow there are some authors good at expanding on canon lore). "Your world building is so cool. Like the abyssal graffiti on the walls?? HNNG!"

writing style. "Your style is very dreamy. <3" "This is genuinely so heartwarming, and yet at the same time what is this underlying feeling of something is wrong????" "I feel like people appreciate the art of comedic one liners but you've got angst one liners. AND THEY SLAY."

pacing, timing. "This fic reads like a high speed express train. It just never stops or slows down!!" "What is this cRaFT! Like. Para 1, comedic. Para 2, thoughtful. Para 3, WHY DO MY HEARTSTRINGS HURT."

use of language. "Using he for POV character and they for the other is LINGUISTICALLY MIND BLOWING." (Please, I want this to catch on more. I do absolutely respect people's pronouns. These fictional characters (and people who have pronoun flexibility)? She and they instead of she and she?? THE CLARITY WE COULD HAVE??!? I'm incredibly greedy for it.)

premise. "Pierro Dad gives me so much life." "The Bachelor but it's Diluc?? Let's go!!"

plot twist, or cliff hanger. "The reveal!!! *screaming*" "I can't believe you would do me like this." (No, I can't in good conscience leave a specific example and give a fic away. Yes, I am thinking of specific fics still.)

Level of effort: be able to map details you like to writer's craft.

Let's not pretend we're here to do crit. Even if we're using writerly words, we are not here to do crit. Well, I am not because I don't believe the comments box is the right time or place for it, but I am happy to lay on the praise and point out the things that worked for me.

Usually, I think it's harder to look across a fic and be like, yeah, the dialogue hit, or this writing style or pacing really does it for me. It's more nebulous. And sometimes it kicks you out of fic reading headspace and into a writerly meta land to notice, so I don't, and I just let the fic wash over me. And if something here strikes me, I will offer my praises. Again, I think it helps to think of this more as an additional kind of One Detail I Like.

Tenets of commenting (and a little of reading)

Okay, so those were some do's, but I also have don't's. These are my boundaries that I keep. Maybe yours are different. I suspect most of these stem from the place, Author did this for free and Owes Me Nothing, so that's the one real tenet. I keep these in mind so that I can keep fic a nice, fun, safe place for me (and hopefully the authors too).

1. I will never ask for updates. I never expect a next chapter.

I've seen enough content creators stressed out and burnt out about putting something out over and over again. I feel for them. That sucks. They probably just started doing it for fun, and now ... The demand and expectation they continue to perform for free? Yeah, it's not going to come from me.

Once upon a time, because of this and a desire to have complete stories, I wouldn't read incomplete fics. I now am The Biggest Fan of incomplete fics. Yes, hang me off the side of a cliff. I will scream at you. And if you don't haul me back up? Well, fine. I'll live. Some other author's got my back. Probably. There's still so much to love between world building, characterization, good moments, jokes -- and you sometimes get the experience of seeing familiar faces screaming at the fic with you update after update. It's precious. It's fleeting. I could go on, but maybe a different day. Back to commenting!

Flip side, as an author, I will say the desire for more is, in one case, why I plan to continue a fic from years ago. I was very firm at the time I would not be extending the one shot, but I guess time changes things, and the fact people were like, I would read more story contributes to that.

So this one is very much a personal tenet. There's some line between I love this so much I want it to continue, and expecting there to be more. Where is it? I don't know. So I just stay away. Surely Author will get I want more if I just say how much I love everything and have commented on their latest chapter. Rather than leave snacks that taste like burn out to some authors, I will focus on other flavors of comments!

2. I will not say what I dislike.

Not my ship? I probably won't read. Not my preferred ship dynamic? Tropes I don't like? Characterization not hitting it for me? Paragraph formatting not doing it for me? I just x out of there, find something I do like. People be writing things for free! Let them have their fun!

If I did read it, snd I stayed, something else must have grabbed my attention. I'll focus on that. Writing style not quite doing it for me but I love the details added to the world? "Wow, the world you flesh out is so complex." No mention about how much of a drag it is to read, because hey, I still read it, and I had reason to not put it down!

3. I will not give corrections.

Authors (and maybe a beta) have put in tremendous effort and time, and to be like, "you missed a typo" or "actually, the canon lore says X" often detracts from the beauty of the shared fic experience. I interpret random grammar and misspeaks and typos in daily conversation and texts all the time. Surely I know enough to employ this skill. And if I figured it out, other readers probably will figure it out too. If I can't, I usually assume the author was too big brain for me and skip merrily along to the next sentence. (And if it's too much for me to handle, I click out.)

Yeah I get it! I get the urge to want to be helpful and contribute to other people's experience! I know that feel! Because, well, I learned this one from experience. I tried once. Watched an author wilt a little when what I wanted was to be helpful. Yeeeaaah, not doing that again.

So, I suspect this often comes off as a little entitled that just by that bit of you say something and kinda underlyingly expect the author to do something about it, and again, Author Owes Me Nothing! Even if the author is asking for a beta, I'd reach out first and make sure they are now in a headspace to be expecting beta thoughts from me.

Wrapping it up

I love fic, the world is rich with it, and I am full of love for authors and their craft. It fills my heart with joy to know I can return a little smile to someone who has let me hop on their ride for free.

It does take effort. Writing comments, turns out, is writing. Writing is a skill, therefore writing comments is a skill. And writing takes practice to improve, so, guess what, writing comments takes practice to improve. Who would've thunk. (Not me, I assure you.)

I've wanted to write this for me for a while, capture what I've learned because I noticed my ability to write comments change over time. Then recently, I was rec'd a fic and told to definitely leave a comment because the author deserves it and I write good comments. Dispatched because I write good comments! Now my commenter feathers are fluffed up, and so I have actually written this. But I definitely didn't start out the comment writer I am today, so I wanted to share that, surprisingly there is a progression path! (Maybe this is only surprising to me.)

I do find commenting adds to my fic reading experience. And I love reading other people's comments. Sometimes other people notice things I didn't or have very cool interpretations, and that is an extra wow right there. (And look at all these other people who like the thing I like!)

And if I leave a comment, sometimes I get a reply! Author noticed my little comment! Extra dose of happy for everyone!

And sometimes, sometimes, (and again I would never expect it, but it is a gift much like fic itself is) an author will write back full of their notes and what they were thinking about writing those moments, and I treasure that so, so much. It's both a delight because of the usual Author saw my effort commenting and I get an extra behind the scenes! The craft behind the craft! (Now how do authors leave good replies? That is still a mystery to me.)

Sometimes I write a lot and then it goes into a black hole, and that's sad. Hmm. I'm pretty sure this is what authors feel when we don't leave comments. Hmm. Guess it's time to write more comments! (Sometimes, like fic updates, replies show up months later, and that's honestly <3)

So, let's go leave some comments and show those authors love and tell them how much they delighted us! Or ... how they smashed our hearts into the ground with angst/no comfort because sometimes that's just what one wants to read.

#fanfiction #ao3 #fic commenting #fandom #fandom meta #a few too many genshin references #shavynel scribbles

[cybertroniannugget]

Pangea and mt Vesuvius

Not what I originally intended to post here, as I'm writing some spice at the moment but THIS is what my mind was occupied with all freaking day... The whole desaster takes place somewhere in the first movie or between 1 and two. Some details are changed up Which I did on purpose. I know all the movies from start to finish because the hyperfixations are hyperfixating real hard right now.

This is just a random story of how I get idk let's say teleported into the bayverse movies and how I'd probably handle that.

While I sprinkled in a bit more confidence than I actually got, I think it's an accurate representation of what kind of person I am: always cracking jokes, overthinking EVERYTHING, random useless knowledge that turns out to be somewhat useful.

About this fic: sfw, implied romance with OP, trans ftm character, no reader just Alex, confused Autobots they still need to learn so much about earth and everything, I also don't know okay?

This is just me struggling while simping hard for Optimus.

But we still ain't know what fucked up big M's navigation system when he crashed. Infact, why are all of our navigation systems useless here?! ", Jazz adressed, arms crossed over his chassis. "We all be getting lost all the time.

"I think I know why"

Oh please, why did I speak up just now...

All optics and eyes were fixed on me as I said that, making me immediately regret opening my mouth in the first place but here we are now.

"What? Maybe your systems think you're on Pangea.", I said, taking in the same position as Jazz by crossing my arms over my chest.

Optimus leaned closer, one servo on the railing, blue optics studying me thoroughly as to look for any signs of lie in my attitude.

"Pangea? May you elaborate?"

Hearing this deep voice so full of interest made me feel things honestly.

"The supercontinent. Wait, Imma show you."

I take out my phone, careful not to reveal the background, because I couldn't find the time to change it yet.

"Here, this is earth today. You see everything, Europe, Asia, South and North America, Autralia, Greenland and all the islands in the oceans."

"And this is Pangea, it broke apart into the continents as we know them today about 200 million years ago. This is probably what Megatron had in mind. See? When you look at a map of earth today you might think, if you turn south America around and snug it up to north America, they fit like a puzzle. It's because they were together as part of the supercontinent. Or push it up to Africa, same thing. Just squish it all together"

"That human is incredibly well educated.", Ratchet chimed in.

"That human has a name and thank you."

"But why did that happen? It makes no sense.", Ironhide complained, lifting one servo as to show his frustration in what I just said.

"If I may...", I look at Lennox, awaiting some kind of approval to continue. He nods and so I proceed with my explanation.

"Well, I don't know how to explain it scientifically, but I'll try to make it understandable."

Optimus nods, listening carefully. How do these highly educated space robots not know about that? But who am I to judge, they aren't from here so I can't expect them to know everything about earth.

"I think it probably started because of something called mantle convection. That means the heat from earth's interior rises up to the hardened crust. That caused it to break open, creating a volcanic rift zone. The cracks went further, the tectonic plates drifted apart. The rifts filled with water over time and while the plates drifted farther away, the oceans were formed. Or something like that I don't know but today we've got 6 continents."

Always undermining everything I say, great job on trying to act confident...

"And Greenland, I don't discriminate.", I added as some people eyed me.

"But I don't know if Pangea is what your systems used as the base to calculate. There were other tectonic combinations even before that, but it's a wild guess I'd say. I am certain it was one of them."

As I was explaining, Optimus' gaze changed to a warmer tone and I could feel my pulse rise to my ears. He was just so beautiful, and seeing him for the first time in person made my heart flutter uncontrollably. I wish I could tell him how I feel,

But this is real. No scenarios, no daydreaming or fanfiction. It was as real as it could get. Damn it, I wanted to shift here, not get teleported or whatever caused me to end up here with all of them. I hope we can atleast become friends. No need to get my hopes up though.

"Alexander?"

The baritone voice of the Prime pulled me out of my thoughts about him.

"Hm?"

"What kind of heat were you talking about?"

"Oh that. Well, starting at earth's core, it's liquid magma. It's really hot, like 5.200 Celsius hot. 9.000 something Fahrenheit for the Americans here..."

This was met with laughter and I continued with my lesson or whatever you might wanna call it I don't care, I'm struggling here okay?

"The further you go up, the 'cooler' it gets.", I say, underlining the word cooler with my hands in a joking matter.

"They probably got fancy scientific names but don't ask me which. Anyways shit's really hot. And it's what shoots up from volcanoes.", I finish as I look into a round of confused optics and a few tilted helms.

"Volcanoes? When tectonic plates crush against each other, or built up pressure is released, no?"

They all look at eachother, chuckling coming from my fellow humans around me.

"Okay here, that's mt vesuvius, big ass volcano."

"Sometimes these mfs shoot lava from this hole up there, pretty fascinating and scary at the same time.. It looks like this.", I add as they look at the pictures, not knowing whether to be amazed or afraid.

"The glowing stuff you see here is the lava. When it's still underneath the crust it's called magma."

"Are there many on earth?"

"Yup, don't get too close."

Optimus' optics widen at that statement of mine

"Don't worry bossbot, not on this island. The closest from here is next to Madagascar, Africa. Unless you decide to swim a few rounds up there there's no need to get worried."

The Prime relaxes, shoulders dropping while optics still focused on me.

Why is he looking at me like that? I mean I ain't complaining but if he continues like that Imma internally combust.

"You explain everything so well Alexander."

"Please, call me Alex. Alexander seems so long."

The Prime nods understandingly. "Very well then, Alex."

Oh god make it stop. I love you so much Optimus please...!

"His heart rate just shot up exponentially.", Ratchet mentioned and it was right then and there that I wanted to vanish, dissappear, sink into the ground, never to be seen again.

"Haha yeah, chronic Tachycardia, no need to worry."

That was a lie. Yes, my pulse is through the roof right now, but I've got no heart disease.

As I was met with confusion from every bot except Ratchet I explained before any questions could be asked.

"It's a general term to describe an elevated heartrate. You know, the thing in a human's chest that pumps blood through our body."

"Blood?"

"Oh come on. Okay, well then I can explain that to you guys later. And answer any questions you have as it seems no one else here cares about your education on earth and it's inhabitants.", I say grumpily, looking at Lennox, who raised his hands in defeat.

"I can see us becoming friends Alex.", Jazz laughed.

"Looking forward to it!", I said, pointing fingerguns at the silver bot, which is met with more laughter.

"Okay, class is over, what are we gonna do now?", Ironhide asks into the round of bots and humans.

I just shrug, looking at Optimus, who was still looking at me. But when I looked at him, he quickly looked away to Ironhide.

Cutie~

"Alex seems to know so much, why not ask her?."

That statement of a bystanding soldier was met with a glare from Optimus.

"Alex is a he, you better make sure to remember that!"

They went to protest, but Optimus wouldn't let them. "Unless you wish to get what humans call fired."

Oh shit he's really mad...

"I will make sure of that if you continue your unreasonable behavior."

As he said that I could swear I saw the soldier shrink right then and there infront of my own two eyes.

He looks at everyone. "This counts for everyone here. You will respect Alex."

Oh god, he's standing up for me I can't please marry me Optimus, like right now!

"Okay, lessons aside.", Epps put a hand on my shoulder, smiling. "You were great by the way. I think we can use that for good."

He looked between everyone, a stern expression replacing the warm smile, hand leaving my shoulder. "As much as of a crucial hint this is, we can't know for sure what's exactly causing the malfunction. Better dig people."

True honestly, but HOW is anyone supposed to figure it out without cutting someone open? Megs maybe...?!

"Something's on your mind again, I can see that.", Bumblebee said with snippets over the radio.

"What, me?! It's nothing."

"Nothing?!", Jazz protested. "You just gave us the best clue we could ask for. I'm no Optimus Prime but I can say that I wanna hear ya out my man."

He looks up at Optimus, who was looking at me again after listening to his lieutenant.

"I must say, that you have given us great insight on your mental capabilities Alex."

He leans closer and it took everything of the mental capabilities he just mentioned to not kiss him right here right now.

"Well uh, it's just some kind of impulsive thought. You know, the ones you can't really control...",I said nervously, one hand behind my neck, avoiding everyone's gaze.

But he didn't budge, only blinking once while awaiting an answer.

"Okay, you're not budging I see. Fine."

Taking a deep breath and regretting every life choice I had made up until that point, I went on. "Look, I don't know anything about Cybertronian culture and how things are handled. Especially this right here. Us humans, we always wanna know what exactly caused certain events. For example death here. So we came up with analyzing the body of the dead by cutting them open and stuff, it's called autopsy. Maybe, just maybe we could find something. I know Megatron ain't dead but he's in some sort of... Stasis? Someone could check his navigation system and maybe find the cause for the disruption."

I lower my shoulders, trying to be as small as I possibly could infront of Optimus, who's gaze I couldn't quite interpret.

"On Cybertron, there is quite a similar practise."

"So you're saying it's worth a shot, Prime?", Ironhide asks, unsure of what to think of the situation. "But he's not dead, as Alexander pointed out correctly.", Ratchet added.

Optimus turned around to face his Autobots.

"This may be our only chance. We must take it. For the sake of both worlds. This war has been going on for so long, we cannot let this hold us down. And now it seems there is a way to find out why this is happening. We will fix it, together."

Now it was on Lennox to speak up again.

"So we gon' dissect Megatron? I'm all in honestly. That fucker did enough damage."

My eyes widen at that. "They're not gonna kill him!" Unsure of the righteousness of what I just said I looked at Optimus, who nodded.

"See? They're just gonna take out the navigation system and leave."

"Ooh, big M is gonna be SO mad when he finds out."

"He won't.", Optimus retorted with an absolute certainty in his voice.

"Alright then, it's settled. Prepare people and gather as much information as possible for this mission and await any orders from Big O!"

And with that final order of Lennox the soldiers scattered around, leaving immediately.

Okay great, I'm gonna go be useless again wohoo.

"Alex?"

I look toward the sound of the voice I already grew to cherish. "I know, I know. I ain't accompanying you. I'd die if I did, already know that."

The Prime nods.

"I am glad you understand."

I love you so much I wish I could tell you...

As he remained standing there I grew nervous, fidgeting with the strings of my hoodie.

"Is there something you need?"

"Wha- me? No! Just... go be a hero.

You know you're good at it."

I clear my throat, pretty sure Optimus could hear my pulse. "But remember to take a break sometimes. I always see you up and about."

Did I overstep? I knew it. Chance blown. Goodbye earth. No romance.

"I highly appreciate your concern Alex."

He's always saying my name help. Is he just being polite or what does this mean?!

"There is this human saying. What was it again? I grab it with my heart...?"

Please he's so cute I can't~

"I'll take it to heart was it probably. It means to honor someone's wishes as you see them important."

He tilts his helm in question. "The person or the wish?"

That is when I think all the 5 liters of blood inside my body went up to my face.

Keep calm, stay cool Alex. Don't embarrass yourself.

"It's up to the person saying that."

Whatever higher power there is, please help me!

"You deem my wellbeing as important and so do I"

Phew, that was close...

"Can it be both?"

WHAT

"Eh, sure. There's always room for interpretation."

I guess...?

What has my life come to? They probably think I'm a know it all person. I gotta keep my damn mouth shut from now on.

"Very well then Alex, I look forward to working with you."

I only nod, trying not to get lost in those beautiful blue optics.

"I'm sure it's gonna be great Optimus!"

Unless I unsubscribe from life because a Deception squishes me...

#transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #what the fuck #what is this #what is happening #i don't know #what am i doing #send help #i do be simpin

[the73rdpostscript]

Tell me again about No Sleep Till JoeNicky - 7 - nice version and also tell me about aaaaahhhhhhh

(I know you know the background of this fic, but since most people don't I'm just gonna explain it.)

I'm writing a modern au where Joe develops really bad insomnia and discovers that the only way he can get some sleep is if he's sleeping...next to Nicky. He doesn't like Nicky but he REALLY needs to sleep before his big art show so they have to make it work and oh my GOSH wouldn't you know it they fall in love.

The first draft of this fic had Joe acting too rude for too long without adequate reason. I was essentially half-assing an enemies to lovers when the vibe of the story was just cutesy romcom stuff and it didn't work at all - even though I had some really fucking good scenes in there if I do say so myself.

So right now the story is being reformatted so that Joe is less of an asshole and the climax of the fic is no longer the two of them being vulnerable and apologizing to each other at a sleep clinic.

So since the sleep clinic climax isn't happening I'm gonna just share it here. It's a very long section but I really like what I had.

So....enjoy a massive amount of writing that is now totally irrelevant!

-

“I need to sleep! I want to sleep! And ideally I would be able to do that away from you!” Joe shouts.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Across from him, Nicky has gone completely still - mouth pinched shut and eyes shifting from hurt to distant so quickly Joe would miss it if he hadn’t spent the last week looking into those same eyes every morning and every night.

“Then it seems we have no more need to keep up the charade, as you called it.” Nicky says quietly. He might as well be sitting in an office meeting with strangers.

“Nicky, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’d like you to leave now.” Joe thought he had heard the worst of Nicky’s coldness during the first fight they ever had. The ice in Nicky’s voice now would have shredded him that first day. It’s all he can do to look at Nicky long enough to nod and turn away.

-

He walks home, even though his hands are shaking and his legs feel weak. The cold air is an unpleasant sensation and he thinks he might be in trouble if it’s still better than the feeling he has after that fight.

When he gets home he walks past Nicky's shortbread and eats leftover takeout that smells questionable at best.

Maybe there was something to his false bravado about not needing Nicky, because after an hour of crying to himself he falls asleep on his couch, alone.  

-

The next day he can barely get any work done, and the Nicky painting sits in the corner, staring at him as he struggles with the other canvas – the one he was so close to finishing yesterday.

Around dinnertime, Quynh sends him an email with the options for an appointment at the sleep clinic – detailing the merits of the place, and asking for a response when he’s able. When they’re able actually. Nicky is the other recipient of the email, and though he hasn’t responded with his availability yet, Joe knows he’s seen it.

Nicky is always checking his phone – Joe’s seen him do it so many times he could paint the gesture from every angle. He would want to do one from just behind, and capture the privacy of the moment from over Nicky’s shoulder, highlighting the angle of his nose as the screen lights it up, and the clench of his jaw that he never seems to notice. Maybe Nicky would sleep better if he looked at his phone less.

The email stares up at him from his phone, and Quynh’s impatience is clear in every perfectly chosen word. There are implications there: Quynh and Nicky have spoken since last night, or Andy and Nicky. Maybe Nicky didn’t say anything and Quynh saw his mood at lunch. She’s been suspiciously quiet towards Joe since this whole thing started and it hasn’t escaped Joe’s notice that Andy introduced her to Joe after she was already friends with Nicky.

Joe’s pulse spikes at the idea of losing Quynh or Andy over this. But then he remembers the time that Booker almost hit Joe outside the nightclub, and the time that Andy disappeared for a week in the middle of her own wedding preparations. Joe doesn’t make friends with people who would turns him away over a single fight. Even if he feels like he might deserve it right now.

None of this matters in the moment, however. Joe had asked for a solution to his sleep problem that doesn’t include Nicky, and that’s what’s being offered.

With a sigh, he sends back his availability, and he only barely resists throwing his phone when Nicky responds less than a minute later with his own confirmation of a date that will work.

Before he can stop himself, Joe opens a text message to Nicky, and he gets halfway through his first sentence before he realizes that he doesn’t know what he could say that would even start to address everything that’s happened so far.

Instead he shuts his phone and pulls out an old canvas he once left half finished out of sheer annoyance. He paints until the sun comes up, and then he paints some more.

-

The sleep clinic is small. Joe only sees two assistants and one clinician. The assistants have Joe fill out forms when he arrives, perched awkwardly on a plastic chair next to Nicky.

Between the staff’s polite and distant demeanor, and Nicky’s stoic compliance, Joe feels like he’s alone in the room. It isn’t until they’re asked to detail what’s been going on that he feels a semblance of normalcy.

“So that’s why we’re here to see you,” Joe finishes, having taken point on explaining the situation.

The clinician behind the desk looks at Nicky. “Anything to add?”

Nicky shrugs, “Joe covered it all more or less accurately. I have been struggling with sleep for longer than him, but sleeping beside him has let me sleep regularly and more easily.”

“How much longer have you had trouble sleeping?” The clinician asks, looking down at Nicky’s chart.

Joe watches the lines of Nicky’s shoulder lift – tension clear in his jaw, “I don’t think that’s relevant.”

The clinician responds coolly, “I can’t help you without the proper background information.”

Glancing at Joe, Nicky lets out a sigh, “I stopped sleeping well in my late teenage years.”

Joe tries not to visibly respond, but he can feel his mouth drop open. Beside him, Nicky seems to tense more - as if he can sense Joe’s reaction.

“Any idea what caused the change?”

“I don’t think Nicky needs to share that,” Joe says, speaking before he thinks about it. The idea of Nicky being asked to tell a strangers details that he hasn’t even been able to tell Joe after a week of sleeping in the same bed feels inappropriate at best. This was not a part of his plans to get some sleep.

If Nicky has anything to say about the interruption, he doesn’t get the chance as the clinician addresses Joe, “We are not mind readers Mr. Al-Kaysani. We can’t tell you what is going on with you if we don’t have context for the things you’re experiencing.”

“That may be true, but Nicky didn’t want to share any of this with me before, and I don’t-“

“Nothing changed,” Nicky interrupts Joe with all the calm that Joe can’t feel, “I could not even guess why I stopped sleeping. I’m sorry if that hinders any part of this study.” Something in his voice sounds off, but the clinician doesn’t seem to notice as she nods.

“Okay. Well thank you for telling us what you could. I can’t promise any results tonight, but we will do our best with what we get.”

As the woman rises from her chair, Joe turns to look at Nicky. The other man is gathering his coat and his bag – avoiding Joe’s eyes.

It’s all Joe can do not to grab him and ask him if he still wants to do this at all.

-

When they’re led into a room with two twin beds, Nicky still isn’t looking at Joe.

They were directed to put on their own sleepwear before they came in, and Joe notices that the shirt Nicky picked is different than the worn out ones he usually wears to bed. Joe himself is wearing sweatpants that he normally works out in, and he isn’t even close to feeling relaxed as they get into their respective beds.

The woman speaks over the intercom to them, instructing them to try and sleep but not to feel pressure. They have time, according to her.

For a few minutes, Joe and Nicky lay in silence.

“Quynh didn’t come,” Joe observes at last, “I thought she might.”

“Her meeting ran late,” Nicky responds, voice stiff.

And with that, they return to silence.

Another few minutes pass by, and Joe knows they can’t have been there long, but he’s distinctly aware of how slow time is moving based on how loud Nicky’s breathing feels – uneven and overwhelming over the distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says, suddenly.

In the silence, Nicky’s breathing has changed, “Scusi?”

“I’m sorry that they asked you about your past, and that you have to be here at all. This wasn’t where I thought we’d end up.”

For a long time they lay in silence.

“Where did you think we’d end up?” Nicky asks.

Joe opens and closes his mouth several times before Nicky shifts in his bed and says, “We should try counting down again.” The lights of the room are dim but not completely dark and Joe can see Nicky laying stiffly under the sheets – looking as uncomfortable as Joe feels.

“Alright. 10, 9, 8,”

Nicky joins him on 7, and this time Joe is still awake when he gets to 1, so he hears Nicky’s voice slow down and drop off during the countdown. For a moment the only sound in the room is the unnatural hum of a different air system, and the steady inhaling and exhaling of Nicky’s sleep.

-

The clinician wakes Joe up, and after a moment of feeling disoriented, he looks over at where Nicky is already sitting up – waiting for one of the assistants to finish pulling the sensors off his face.

“Did you find anything?” Joe asks the clinician, not bothering to let her say anything before he sits up and reaches to help her pull the sensors off.

She catches his hands and tells him to be patient and to relax a moment, but he only lowers his hands and asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“We got what we needed, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed with what we discovered.”

Joe can’t see Nicky’s face but he can feel the tension radiating off of him.

The clinician steps back to more clearly address them both as she says, “We’ve confirmed that there’s nothing unusual about your physical readings when you sleep beside each other. There’s nothing specific going on biologically that we can point to right now.”

Joe wants to scream. “What does that mean?”

For the first time all night, the woman looks a little soft as she addresses him, “It means I don’t have any answers for you, Mr. Al-Kaysani.”

"So why cant I sleep without him?" He can’t stop himself from asking.

The woman gives him a patient look as she responds, "It could be any number of things. External or internal. Rhythms of your apartment, lack of sound, a pet, nightmares, anxiety-"

Joe doesn’t know why, but the very word makes him choke. “Are you saying that being without Nicky gives me anxiety?" Before he finishes the question he’s looking over at Nicky, and Nicky turns to look back. His face is intense and his gaze unwavering. It’s the expression he made the night that they talked about his nightmares – scared and determined and so unbelievably vulnerable that it makes Joe choke on the last word. Something in Nicky’s jaw ticks, and Joe wonders about it for a moment before Nicky speaks and the moment dissipates.

"Impossible. Anyone who feels anxiety when I'm gone has never lost an argument about something as stupid as whether or not [team] will make it to [tournament]."

Joe crushes the urge to argue and takes the offering for what it is, turning to the doctor and asking, "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor hums and looks down at her chart, "if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you both go. We have all we need for now and you'll get results in your email within a few days."

-

They leave the lab in relative silence, and as they step out of the doors, Joe asks, “Will you come back to my place?”

Nicky looks startled at the question, and Joe remembers just as suddenly what day it is.

“Oh. Right, you have that thing.”

After a brief look of confusion, Nicky’s expression turns to something that might be either frustrated or fond, “That’s not tonight. I’d be happy to come back to your place.”

The radio keeps them company on the drive back to Joe’s apartment, and it isn’t until they get inside that Joe thinks to ask, “Did you cancel your mystery guests?”

“I did,” Nicky says, sounding tired. For a moment, they stand in the hallway together – Joe leaning against the wall and Nicky with his hands on his hips. They must paint a rather sad picture – half in and half out, of both the apartment and this peace that could be something deeper if they let it. If Joe let it, maybe.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you said,” Nicky replies, one corner of his mouth lifting, “Show me where your kitchen is. I think we both could use something to eat.”

Once Joe’s gotten Nicky acquainted with the space and convinced him to keep the cooking simple, he settles himself the counter he thinks will be least in the way.

“You know don’t have to cook for me. I wouldn’t exactly want to feed me right now after everything.”

“That is why it’s good that you don’t make decisions for me,” Nicky says, digging around in the fridge, “You could do something for me though.”

“What?”

Standing up straight, Nicky turns to meet Joe’s eyes. “Tell me what this has all been about.”

-

#god i love this fic #mine #raedear #ask

[taradactyls]

Trying to Tread Water: Chapters Twenty-Three through to Twenty-Seven

(yeah, I haven't been great at posting on tumblr)

The Marriage of Convenience fic no one asked for

Chapter Twenty-Three: Mr Darcy follows a happy Elizabeth to Longbourn, but their morning takes a turn when they arrive to find Lydia acting quite wild, and with Mr Wickham present, no less. Elizabeth tries to prevail on her father to exert some control since his health is improving, and he accepts, though not without his characteristic bluntness which Mr Darcy doesn't know how to reply to. Then there is also Jane to worry about, who has recieved another letter from Caroline Bingley.

And then the tensions over Mr Wickham are set to explode in the very next chapter...

These chapters feature: tension, arguments, learning how to communicate, and then getting caught in a London rainstorm with only one umbrella.

Read on Ao3 here

Reviews of Chapter Twenty-Three: "I'm loving the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy. They are growing more and more comfortable together." "You just convey emotions so well, precisely yet lightly 🥰" "Oh, this is such a lovely story. the amount of work and attention to detail is just incredible, i'm so glad i found this♥️♥️♥️" "Still trying to leave more kudos here..." “You do not want to see any little Mr Collinses unleashed on the world?”/“One is quite sufficient.” Aksjsk well said Darcy, this made me laugh. ... You think it deficient in length?”/“I think it deficient in sincerity.” Heck yes call her out, Lizzy!" "I adore this fic! It's so wonderful!" "Oh wow. I have speed read the whole story to date on the last few days and now have wait for the next chapter. Wonderful writing!" "I know this is quite far from the usual plot of p&p and you're writing as close to the original style and characterisation as possible, BUT , have you considered writing Darcy punching Wickham in the face. Just once is fine. But like a real solid hit and then I'll be happy. I think it could do wonders for Wickhams character arc. Amazing chapter, thanks for the update!!!!" "Darcy is so in love with her and it's so obvious. Elizabeth is falling for him so hard and she doesn't realize it. ... I'm really really enjoying this story. I'm so happy I stumbled upon it <3" "The slow burn is killing me! It's really nice, though, to see the little moments between Darcy and Lizzy. ... Caroline Bingley always makes my blood boil. I can't believe she had the audacity to say that when she's fully aware how her brother feels for Jane! ... Awesome chapter, as always <33"

Story updates on Ao3 fortnightly, with Chapter Twenty-Eight coming out on the 5th April.

Story tags: Elizabeth/Darcy, Marriage of Convenience, Unrequited Love, Not Really Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Pining, Pining Despite Being Married, Mr Darcy thinks his worst enemy is Wickham but maybe it's himself.

#jane austen #pride and prejudice #ao3 #archive of our own #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #darcy x elizabeth #elizabeth x darcy #fanfic #fanfiction #fic:t3w #trying to tread water #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #authors of tumblr

[penguinmerchant]

Return to Sender--failed attempt

Well, this did not turn out well. I'm deciding to post it anyway because the front cover is so pretty I can't stand it and I'm hoping that maybe if I detail what went wrong it will either help someone else or prevent me from making the same mistake again. So here she is, my first failed binding of the first fic I've ever done for my own stuff (and goddamn I hope that's not a metaphor for something)

Just look at her. Gorgeous. Inspiration taken directly from this version of a Shakespeare book that I found on Pinterest. I just loved the cutout text in gold, the triangle in the middle that seemed like an envelope. Perfect for an epistolary novel, right? And the boyfriend did the graphic design again this time, carrying his burden of knowing exactly how crappy these things are to weed, and made it so that weeding was a particularly easy process. Now, actually getting this stuff to stick---that still sucked. The black went down really easy but the gold took forever to stick down, and I'm not really sure why. It took 30 seconds for the black to stick and probably 6 different sets of 30 seconds for the gold, same heat and everything. If anyone has any insights into how to get this cricut vinyl to act better, I'd appreciate it forever.

(But god, look at it. It's so pretty).

The back.

The spine.

And now to the horrors, under the cut.

So I guess the textblock came out crooked, or maybe I cut it crooked. I don't know where the badness came from, but look at how these endsheets (the beautiful, beautiful endsheets) came out.

Look how far down the left side of the block sits, and how high the right is. And to get it like that, the bottom looks like this:

It's practically falling out of the case. Also these headbands suck. I keep using them because they're the only gold ones I have but they just shred themselves to pieces, I hate them.

It's so bad, you guys. I could not get this block to sit straight no matter what I did. And to make it even worse, I figured out the way that it fit in the least horribly, and made a mark on it and everything, and then promptly attached the cover to the wrong side. I don't think it would have mattered much, but it would have only been like 80% bad instead of 90%.

I think--If I'm guessing here--that I somehow pressed the spine out of whack during one of the glue applications. Because by the numbers--and I did measure this thing about ten thousand times--it should have been even. But I think the spine kicked out in a really funny way that made it so it wouldn't lay flat on the boards, and so when I tried to case it in the spine pushed on the crooked part and wonked out the whole thing. And what I should have done was 1) Make boards that fit the wonkiness, try to even it out a little (even if it would have made the book itself sit funny), or, better yet, 2) redo the textblock and try and fit it into the already made boards. But I didn't. I just forged ahead and now I'm going to have to make another one from scratch because this is my story and I can't have it looking like this, it feels like too much to take that disrespect and/or laziness.

But at least I won't have to set the text again. Look at it. I found different handwritten fonts for each character that I felt like expressed their personalities. Laurent's is tidy and clean but with a few little flourishes.

Damen's is a little looser, a little scribblier.

And then Auguste's is my favorite, it's curly and sweepy and completely over the top.

There's a few more, these were just the most prominent ones. And the whole of the actual text is italicized. I know it's kind of annoying to read but just regular text looked way too jarring against the handwritten flourishes at the beginning and end, and the handwritten fonts were impossible to read once there was more than like, six words. I even tried putting in a typewriter-esque font, but that did not look right either. The italicized font bridged the gap, I think, and it's not too annoying to read in context, honestly.

Ugh, I'm so disappointed, even though I'll probably try to display this somewhere because the cover is so pretty lol. I think the lesson I need to take away from this and remember is that I need to stop when I see a problem come up. I knew from the time that I cut the boards that this wasn't going to work right, and I still went ahead and did it anyway because I thought I could force it and I wanted it to be done. And now I've wasted my beautiful duo cloth, those gorgeous marbled endpapers, and I'm going to have to do this again. Patience is definitely not something I have in spades but I'm going to keep this as a testament to how important it is to take your time and make sure that things are right before continuing.

#fic binding #my own fic! #fanfic bookbinding #captive prince #lesson learned #book binding gone wrong

[kitty-mactabbysh]

I Know Those (Dead) Eyes

Okay, so... I was thinking about posting my prompts and fics on Twitter but the place is scary... so decided to go to Tumblr which is also a bit scary but less.

Anyway I'm Kitty or Tabby or whatever you want to call me idk

And this is my GhostSoap Count of Monte Cristo AU ♡

I posted the unfinished thing a couple hours back if you saw it you didn't ♡

And keeping in mind English is not my first language (but maybe you can guess which one it is, compadre ^^)

Let's get to it.

Heads up I'm basing it off this song. It's a Monte Cristo musical and said musical is my muse for everything I do. It's great.

"Smile a little, Johnny. They're all here for you." Phillip whispered, turning to face the guests with a kind, calculated smile as he took a sip of his champagne. John sighed, faking a smile as some people approached him to give him his birthday wishes.

But the brunette's mind was well elsewhere.

15 years.

It had been 15 years since Simon had been imprisoned. 10 since Phillip had confirmed his death at the Tower of London. He said it was an accident, but he was vague. It could really have been anything.

And not knowing hurt John like hell.

He always hoped they could have been reunited after the incident. That somehow they would prove him innocent. But trusting in the Magistrate had been a resounding mistake. Believing that Makarov would help them was insane.

And despite his grief, despite his lack of wanting to do... anything, and the hopes that his betrothed would return to him someday, Phillip had been so understanding, so kind... A childhood friend John had never thought of as anything else but a confident now had his hand in marriage. And the memories he held? Locked away in the depths of his mind. The mildest stir in his innermost thoughts enough to unleash an ocean of grief upon any who dared poke at his still bleeding wounds.

"I hope you are enjoying the party, Johnny." The blonde grinned. "I even managed to slip the Count of Monte Cristo an invitation, just for you.”

The words made the younger man raise an eyebrow.

"The Count of Monte Cristo is here?”

"Not yet, tootsie, no... but he will be.”

And, sure as daylight shone upon their bedroom every single morning, there he was, his presence taking all the attention in the room. In his formal attire, which resembled more a king rather than a count in any possible way, Monte Cristo looked like a mystery. A conundrum every single nobleman had tried to crack since he first showed up in the streets of Edinburgh. His skull mask, covering only half of his face, looked like it was made of delicate porcelain. The details pure gold.

The guests around the ballroom made way for him to pass, the sea of people opening up as if he was some sort of god.

He scanned the room, an air of superiority and mystique that was hard to match even for the richest Duke, enough to make him feel like he was lacking something.

The whole room seemed to be holding their breaths, and the whispers weren't always the most discreet.

“Told ya he'd be here.” John overheard his husband's cheeky voice from somewhere on his left. His eyes were focused on the figure ahead of him, swallowing hard in nervousness when the Count of Monte Cristo approached him with large, purposeful footsteps. His tall figure loomed above the younger man as the blonde held out his hand.

“My sincerest blessings for you on this special day, Mr. Graves.” He turned his eyes towards Phillip. “Count Graves.”

Phillip bowed his head in a formal response.

“My husband and I are delighted you could make it, Count. Isn't that right, Johnny?”

He turned his attention back to John witn the lack of a response, eyebrow raising slightly in confusion, as the Scotsman also appeared confused, but in a mesmerized way.

Those… eyes…

The Count of Monte Cristo was also curious about the birthday man's silence, eyes lazily returning to focus on him.

There was a spark of recognition in John's own eyes when he saw the Count's.

The eyes of a dead man.

“I'm afraid you are confused, Mr. Graves.” The Count replied, his voice surprisingly cold. “This is the first time we meet.”

“Excuse me,” He said, suddenly. “Have we met before?”

“Right… my apologies, then.”

But John 'MacTavish' wasn't convinced.

As the night went by uneventful, he kept watching the Count of Monte Cristo from afar, that mystery of a man… and there was only one person he could think of.

It was Simon Riley himself, the man he had once loved so viciously, who loved him with as much fire, as much tenderness, and he had returned from the dead, to haunt his past lover in his this new life.

---•♡

Sooooo if you're not familiar with Monte Cristo Graves is Mondego Mondego is a bad guy this and that... I might post more of this, I don't know... I'm really shy as hell there's not much I can do about it.

Thanks for reading ☆

#ghostsoap #soapghost #the count of monte cristo #a monte cristo au to be precise #i don't know how to tag or write ♡ #i think maybe i should tag call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare ii #cod mwii #soap is a softie poor thing #cheteau d'if vibes #but in the tower of london #i am gonna disappear after this is posted idc #Spotify

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi! I'm reading your ff and I saw you implied in the notes that Antoinette got her finger reattached after the turning, but in ep 7 we saw a close up of her hand and her finger was still missing when Claudia dragged her body to the incinerator

Hey!

Yeah that... is a bit difficult. I wanted to make an extra post, but since you provide the opportunity :))

Alright. (Under the cut for those who do not want to be spoiled in the fic^^)

Obviously Lestat uses Antoinette's right ring finger to prove he killed her, and he plays into Claudia's obsession with body parts and souvenirs by doing it that way. Claudia throws the finger into the fire, and keeps the ring (for now).

Lestat had to use Antoinette's real finger, because he did not know whether Claudia might bite into it to check (maybe).

In the hotel scene we see Antoinette wearing gloves and holding up her hand. And Lestat is disgusted by the stump.

And in the fight Antoinette wears gloves. HOWEVER, she uses her whole hand there (it might have been hard not to for Maura, granted), and when she takes off her hat, too.

Then, by the fire, when they throw Antoinette in... her hand is bloody and the stump is clearly there.

But... why?

Why are the gloves off and the hand bloody?

We already know that "murder night" did not go as shown.

The glove being off and the hand bloody once more give us a hint, too, imho.

I have explained in the notes how later body parts can be reattached. Lestat knew about that already, though he likely did not know the details.

I think he provided a new finger for Antoinette after turning... and then Claudia ripped it off again after the murder night.

Because Claudia was (of course™) furious about being deceived that way. And she hated Antoinette, for valid reasons.

I do not know how the show will revisit murder night yet, obviously. But there has to be a reason for the hands to be hidden in gloves and then those gloves being off before they burn her. Of course on sheer show-level it is a means to show us that they throw Antoinette in. But on in-universe level?

In-universe it has to be something else :)

And within the context of the VC and the possibilities there, and the disgust Lestat showed at seeing that stump... this made the most sense to me.

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #the brat prince #iwtv lestat #my fic #antoinette brown #murder night #finger #laden as the sea

[illumiera]

Hello, it's my turn to take a slide into your inbox with questions from the writer's asks! 💖

33, 35, 13, 70, 40!

from this 📖 ask game! 📖

ee, thank you so much for the ask, Gigi! 💖

13. what's a common writing tip you almost always follow?

here's where I give almost the exact same answer you did, and that's "write for yourself." when I started writing i fear no fate, I didn't think I'd have any readers besides the odd one or two, and I did expect to post it to a resounding silence or responses from people who didn't like the way I portrayed my characters—but ultimately, it was a story that was downright clawing its way out of me, so I resolved that I had to tell it all the same!

it's a very freeing thing, to think of how many similar ideas there are in the world and yet each author brings their own uniqueness to whatever tale they tell, so why not let your story speak for you? if your heart wants a certain thing to happen, why on earth not let it? 😼

33. do you want to be published some day?

I go back and forth on this one! I know the road to publishing can be a hassle and a half, and there will almost certainly be rejections to deal with, but I have the rough outline of an original story and some characters I'm rather fond of, even if they need more development. it's something to consider in the future, but for now, I love my fanfic playground!

35. what is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

for me, one thing I try to keep in mind with my villains is that they should have motivation for what they're doing. as fun as a character who's just evil for the hell of it can be, I like to consider what made them into the villain they are, what they want, how they plan to get it, and how the hero/heroes stand in their way. i fear no fate has a good few antagonists (several of whom we haven't properly met yet 👀) with varying motivations from knowledge and power, to keeping the world as it is, to fixing the world, to plain ol' revenge, and all of them have convinced themselves that they're doing the right thing!

40. if someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

ANYTHING AT ALL WOULD, AND DOES, MAKE ME GRIN, CRY, AND DANCE HAPPILY ABOUT THE PLACE FOR THE NEXT TWELVE BUSINESS DAYS, THEN REPEATEDLY COME BACK TO LOOK AT IT AND RESTART THE WHOLE PROCESS—

ahem. that said, if someone were to make fanart, I'd love to see something from that scene in chapter two where Miraak and Elentari are in the tent (h-o-l-d-i-n-g-h-a-n-d-s 👀), or something of their fight in chapter three, or of course, that kiss at the end of chapter four! or maybe even Ellie in full silvery Dragon Aspect standing up to Mora in chapter four, Miraak braiding his hair into the old Atmoran style for 'freedom' from the end of chapter six! 🥰

70. when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

in fandom spaces, I'm generally very enthusiastic about it, especially when fellow writer friends and I can ramble about our blorbos and plots together! outside of those spaces, though, I'm more of a private sort—but a few of my IRL friends who read fic themselves know that I write and, without any details, ask me how it's going and tell me about their writing endeavours. the mortifying ordeal of Showing Another Person Your Writing, huh?

(if they ever found my stuff, I'd be like, "okay, buckle up, buddy, next time I see you, you're receiving a one-hour long presentation about this story, don't worry about why all the exits will be barred, it's fine—")

#ask game #writing #i fear no fate (for you are my fate)

[elvensorceress]

✨️💫🌿🤲🕯

If you're so inclined 💙💙

Ro, beloved! Thank you! (Sorry this took a few days. Work is 🫠🫠🫠)

✨What’s a fic you’ve posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

The Orpheus/Eurydice inspired series.

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

My favorite comments are when people point out their favorite parts or when they tell me what they enjoyed, how they felt, what moved them -- those kinds of things. :) I also think it's fun when people get really analytical and find little details I threw in or even when they ask questions about my thought process or how the story came to be.

I'm also very fond of all the comments from people telling me the way I write ace/demi!Eddie makes them feel Seen. I know it's helped me work through and accept a lot of things about myself, and I'm always so so happy when people tell me it's helped them, too. Identifying as ace/demi has always been something that made me feel very weird, wrong, insufficient, etc... and if it helps anyone else feel better about themselves and their own sexuality, there's nothing more rewarding.

🌿how does creating make you feel?

Lovely! Expressive and fulfilled. 🥰

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

I mentioned this some when I wrote about why I write, but it's an emotional outlet for me as well as something therapeutic where I get to put thoughts, feelings, ideas into characters and make them tell a story. It brings me joy being able to write difficult things but give them happy resolutions, and one of the biggest things that made me want to be a writer was telling stories about people who don't typically have stories told about them.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn’t think it would take you?

Most of my bigger, longer fics took turns that I didn't expect. I usually go into a fic with an idea in mind but sometimes when I go to write, it ends up completely different. Either the characters take over and come out differently than expected or something comes up that wasn't planned but seems interesting so I go along and follow it.

Now to answer more specifically, we're going to put this under a cut. I ramble a lot. I'm sorry 💕

Unless You Ask Me To is absolutely one of these. It started, conceptually, as a little, maybe 25K kind of fic (yes, this is little to me 🤣) where Eddie goes on a couple dates with a guy, Buck gets jealous, and they get together. I had a whole first draft and it was supposed to be simple, straightforward, over and done thing, and it wasn't even 20K.

And then I started thinking about it. And wondering about the other things I could do with the set up that I had. Such as, what if this random guy becomes Eddie's boyfriend and Eddie has to work through relationship issues like his traumas from past, his worries about abandonment, his difficulties with vulnerability and emotional intimacy, and (because this is me) him struggling with asexuality and wanting sex vs having sex, coping with having had sex that he didn't want but essentially forced himself into because it was something his partners wanted, and taking his canon anxiety/panic attack(s) and making him confront this in more depth.

And because I put him in a relationship with someone who was not his best friend, partner, coparent, love of his life, it let me play with things that imo wouldn't necessarily come up were he to be in a relationship with Buck. Or wouldn't come up in the same way since it's set somewhere beyond season 6 or at least beyond 6a, so Buck and Eddie are already SO very devoted, committed, and in love with each other. Even though they have yet to realize this. 🙃 But they're already in a place where even though they haven't addressed many of their Issues, they are veryveryvery close and vulnerable with each other and turn to each other for most everything.

So, this one has become difficult to write just because it is so massively flipping long now and there are a lot of struggles with sex, with panic and anxiety and bad triggers, with relationships, with self-worth that are not easy things to feel or confront. (There is also the whole part where I made two of Eddie's worst nightmares come to life, and it put him in a very very depressed broken state.)

But it's also been one of the most rewarding fics to write? It feels like people have connected to it and like they've been enjoying the whole epically long journey. I mean. We're over 150K now and the boys are still not together and 🫠🫠🫠🫠 what is that about. That's a hard thing to stick with when that relationship is the favorite core thing for most of us.

But that's been another fun, unexpected thing I got to play with -- because Eddie had a boyfriend for a good half of the fic, I really got to lean into the juxtaposition between a relationship that was good and healthy and didn't have issues per se, and a relationship that is the biggest best most beautiful and most right soulmate supreme kind of love. It's easy to write a messy incompatible disaster relationship and say that one with his best friend would be better. Obviously it would lol. But I think it was interesting and more telling to show him in a relationship that wasn't bad (and in fact eventually helps him resolve some issues) but it just wasn't right. And it makes the Buddie relationship shine all the brighter for it.

Anyway, this is a lot of midnight rambling 🤣 but tl;dr - Unless went completely off the rails, but I've really been enjoying the journey and I hope everyone else does, too.

And the next chapter should be finished and posted around Wednesday this week. It's going to be a very fun one. ;)

Thank you so much for the questions! I love and adore you and hope you have a wonderful week! 💕💕💕💕💕💕

#jenwyn gets mail #ask box games #fic: unless you ask me to

[lifblogs]

So in terms of fics I like, I had to go back to my faves list to see if there is a pattern somewhere. Apparently there is lol, and it can be summarized into hurt/comfort and whump lol.

On a more detailed note, I like a lot of character exploration, particularly with fear (or lack of thereof). Like stories where a character doesn’t feel like they’re good enough but chooses to try and push on. Or where a character has nothing to lose and they don’t realize they’re walking a dangerous line they won’t come back from if they make a choice.

In terms of physical aspects, horror elements tend to be a fave. Body horror, monster horror, irrational creepiness, the whole nine yards. Psychological horror could go here too maybe?

That all being said I love a good tooth rotting fluff fic if there’s any that stand out for you. Comedy and crack are also fun. As for ships, I don’t have much ship preference so I’ll read any ship, healthy or toxic.

That’s all I could summarize it as! Basically hurt/comfort, whump, and character fear, unless some fluff, comedy, or crack sticks out. Hopefully that narrows something down? I feel like that covers too many bases XD

Turns out there's a word limit, so I will have to reblog and reblog with more additions. Bear with me.

Blank Canvas - Lucifer's creativity when it comes to torture knows no bounds, and he yet again comes up with some new way to torment Sam. Even within the Cage Sam is reminded of what he truly is.

Pins and Needles - Since Sam stopped ignoring his hallucinations of Lucifer they've been getting increasingly worse, and he just wants it all to end. (Okay, summary doesn't really match the fic here, but this was for a Sammy's birthday prompt fill, and Lucifer just has a lot of fun with needles while Sam's on a bathroom floor.)

Sunder - After Sam gets mugged Dean sees it as his responsibility to get revenge. (Takes place during season 10.) (This one is definitely a character study.)

How to Get Rid of Nightmares - Dean has been getting nightmares since he got the Mark removed and the Darkness was unleashed. His unhealthy way of dealing with them leads Sam to summon a Baku, a spirit that devours nightmares, in order to help his brother. When the spirit turns Rogue, not only is Dean's life at stake, but his soul as well. (One of my first longfics.)

The Cave - Lucifer brings Sam back to life after he's killed by vampires in Apocalypse World and he forces him to make an impossible choice. (Bit of a rewrite of the scene in 13x21 "Beat the Devil" where Lucifer brings Sam back based on the original blocking to the opening of the scene.)

"Dean" - Lucifer uses his powers to make Sam think Dean is the one hurting him in the Cage. (I don't know where this one came from, but go nuts.)

Blood - Sam and Dean are investigating a vampire case, and for Sam it strikes a little too close to home. (First attempt at a script fic, so it's a bit of a mess, but I think it's a good Sam character study with decent gore and whump.)

A Rose by Any Other Name - Having the ability to manipulate the Cage to his will, Lucifer makes it look like he and Sam are in a rose garden. In this new setting, Sam undergoes unimaginable torture that makes him rethink who he really is. (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.)

I'm Sorry - Now that Sam's back with Lucifer again the Devil tries everything he can to get him to say yes. (I think I wrote this one while manic. Enjoy.)

Nightmares - With Jack staying in the bunker now, Sam's finding it difficult to sleep.

Sam - Sam is captured by a Satanic cult, and without Dean to help him, he has to find his own way to get out. (This is all about the Sammy.)

Keep On Fighting - Sam's hallucinations find an ironic way to torture him, and he can't seem to find a way to stop them on his own. (Lots of fun gore. Thanks, Teen Wolf, for teaching me about trepanation.)

The Price of Dean - John takes off, leaving Dean without money as a way to punish him for an argument they had, and after running out of options, Dean realizes he has to do something dire if he wants to feed his brother. (Readers love this one.)

Take Me to Church - When Sam grabs onto Jack as Lucifer teleports them to a church, Lucifer decides to do more than give up lying. He wants to show Jack up close why Team Free Will hates him, why Sam is so afraid. (Takes place during the season 13 finale.)

Take Me Home -After Lucifer's death and Dean being taken over by Michael, Sam and Jack are left in the abandoned church all alone. With their injuries they're going to have to figure out a way to survive, and pray that Castiel will make it to them in time. (Oh, look, the sequel to the one above!)

Bleeding Reality - Two are dead in the quiet town of Windom, Minnesota, and with no obvious cause of death, Sam and Dean decide to investigate. A new monster has them digging into uncharted territory, where the dangers are those they can't recognize. They're drawn in deep, and for Sam, there are dire consequences. (Bit of a novella, lots of gore, lots of fucked up stuff.)

Deathless - While sorting through the artifacts kept by the Men of Letters, Sam happens across a mysterious and powerful amulet. As he is pushed into using its dark powers he is forced to face his traumatizing past and forge the way into a possibly more terrifying future. (One of my longest and most popular fics filled with whump, angst, and character studies. Don't read the sequel yet as I was working on a rewrite.)

A Knight of Hell - Abaddon's journey to become a Knight of Hell. (Dark and fun.)

The Hole - Hunters capture Jack, and they decide to bury him alive.

Where It All Started - Something visits Sam in a nightmare, leaving very clear instructions about what he's supposed to do, threatening to kill Jack if he doesn't comply. Sam listens to it, unable to do anything else. (Definitely on my darkest fics list.)

Where It Is - Sam gets back home after his meeting with Lucifer, and he has to follow his demands. Dean and Castiel have found Sam's note. (Sequel to above fic.)

Where It Will End - The end is here, as Lucifer promised. (Final piece of this tiny series.)

Infection - Sam gets raped by demons on a hunt, and he realizes he has to get tested for STIs.

The Sins of Heaven - After running away from home, Jack is kidnapped by angels who want to use him to repopulate Heaven's dying forces. (Another one of my most popular and longfics ever. Angst, whump, gore, messed up dark shit. I think I've read it at least five times.)

Splintered - Sam finishes up a normal day at school when everyone suddenly vanishes. And as if things couldn’t get any stranger, a man appears and takes him away. The journey that follows leads to places new and old, and self-realization with dire consequences. (This is actually in a Sam anthology! It was so fun to write.)

Eyeliner and Cigarettes - After the vampire hunt where Dean found the man wearing makeup, he's been curious, and now he wants to give wearing makeup a try. Dean doesn't really know what he's doing, but he's on a tough case and knows he could use something to de-stress. That seems to go sideways when Castiel shows up and drags him into more violence.

Death by a Thousand Cuts -Castiel makes a deal with Crowley to keep the demon king off the Winchesters' backs, but it lands him in trouble with their Purgatory deal and his position in the civil war in Heaven. TAKES PLACE DURING SEASON 6. (Lots of Castiel torture time, and angsty Destiel. Does have a continuity error in it, but it's too late to fix it.)

Adrenaline - Dean is captured and used for an underground demonic fighting ring.

#ask #samatedeansbroccoli #spn #fanfiction #darkfic #whump #angst

[gwengrahm]

RIDDLER (Paul Dano) x Reader

WARNINGS: Mention/condemning of rape (because of a case you’re working on, but no details),just romance with a plot (there may be some gore in the future but nthng for now)

SUMMARY: You meet a new late night costumer at the coffe shop you work at. Being a waitress isn’t your main job (you’re actually a GCPD profiler) but he makes it much more interesting. Brain teasers and pumpking pie, that’s all the two of you need to get closer, though you can’t completely manage to figure him out. You both keep secrets from each other, secrets that could kill or save lives, secrets that you’re not even conscious of keeping, like the fact that you guys have already met, although it would be impossible for you to know.

Ok so i wrote the first chapter… it’s my first fic and english it’s not my native language… feedbeack it’s much appreciated

Link to the post that started it all https://gwengrahm.tumblr.com/post/680150491646361600/should-i-write-a-riddler-paul-dano-x-reader

Chapter ONE

YOUR FIRST RAINY NIGHT

Gotham nights could be quite boring, just as much as they could be excitingly scary. Working the night shift in a café would in fact have been a nightmare, if it wasn't for the once stranger, now close patron, that you met that certain late evening.

Rain was pouring from the sky, as if god himself was attempting to cleanse the city from its many sins, when the sound of the water drops became louder. The front door opened, letting not only the noise but also a drenched man inside. There weren't many other people in the bar and the soft lighting paired with the bright yet distant vigilante signal made the situation far more intimate, yet slightly eerie. You had been left alone to take care of serving the remaining clients, while in the back your other co worker was washing the last dishes for the day, ready to head home.

The man sat right near you, despite having the whole counter for himself, you didn't think much of it though, most people would rather get as close as possible to the waitress (AKA the lady that supplies you with alcohol). But this guy was different, he looked relatively normal, though something about him threw you off: maybe his messy damp hair, or his soft cheekbones on his exhausted face, or his nose on which sat a pair of clear glasses, or even his intense, deep eyes, that could have belonged to a beaten dog as well as a killer… those eyes, you couldn't get over how confused they made you, you're a profiler after all, even though at night you work here to make ends meet your main job is that of a GCPD consultant… you should… NO you MUST be able to decipher him, or at the very least the mask that he, like anyone else in Gotham, puts on facing friends and fiends.

< do you have any pumpkin pie left…uuuh> he tries to read what's written on your name-tag < …y/n…? > you nod and turn to hand him a plate with a slice of pie <do you want something to drink with that as well? You know refills are free…> you say, hoping it'll get him to stay longer or at least talk a little more <I'm ground, but I'm not earth, I'm brown but I'm not dirt, i pump your blood yet i don't beat, too much of me and you will bleed…> you stare at him in silence as he stares back…those damn eyes again…as the answer to his riddle crosses your mind you unconsciously grin, <you got it?> he asked, surprised you didn't get weirded out, as most people usually do when presented with one of his brain teasers <it's not so difficult to guess, but that's not the point… for now> <most people don't even try>.

You serve him the coffee he asked for and collect the last clients tips. He stayed sat there for a while, for the rest of the night he didn't speak another word.

Chapter TWO

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

To be really honest, you almost forgot about him after he left, but when he came back, two days later, he too seemed determined to figure you out, to make you his own little experiment.

A non verbal yet mutual agreement was made between the two of you as he made a habit of coming back to the cafe, late at night, always at the same time: he’d supply you with brain teasers, puzzles and riddles, while you provided the brain fuel that was coffee and pumpkin pie. Sometimes he demanded you'd make a riddle up and after a few times you took a liking to it, he always solved them so quickly while you took some time to solve his, but it was extremely rewarding, specially when he'd leave a good tip.

It wasn't all about the tips though… there really was a connection that neither of you had ever felt with anyone else, the kind of connection you’d never want to brake.

One night, a Halloween night, though it seemed ordinary like any other, became the beginning of a new journey that would have taken the two of you in much darker places: he had entered the cafe at the usual time, sat at the usual spot and ordered <the usual, y/n >, you kept your back to him, recognizing his slightly hoarse, almost metallic, voice , the sound of which seemed gentle and sweet, you immediately started preparing his order. You had put away the last piece of pumpkin pie for him, if any other costumer had asked for one you’d just say there was no more left, and the perfect place to hide it was with the case-file that you took with you from the precinct… you NEEDED to examine it further… that guy and his actions sickened to the stomach, you loathed him with every fiber of your being.

You kept your back to Eddie (you like calling him like that in your head, though you weren't nonchalant enough to use it in casual conversation) still looking for the file and the pie, while keeping up with the smalltalk <sooo what have you been up to lately? Any news from the GCPD?> the question seemed more than normal, you liked talking about your job and he liked to listen, so, while still looking for it, you started talking about the case file <It’s funny you’d say that because I do have something to tell you I-…> <are you working on any murders perhaps?>

He interrupts you… that felt rude, though you sensed excitement in is voice, you couldn’t really blame him, after all you were (and still are) a true crime fan as well, so, after pondering a while, you answered <no actually, but i do want to share a case that’s just as bad> you hear him sigh, but your attention gets caught by the pie and the file that you were so desperately trying to find, you had absentmindedly put them in a small metal drawer under the counter… no wonder you couldn’t find them!

When you stood up and turned your back to the coffee machine to face the counter… something seemed definitely wrong.

His left eye was bruised and slightly puffy, his hands, usually steady and pale-ish, were now shaking (in excitement, he would have said) and had red knuckles. One could almost hear the blood pumping from his heart to his veins, no wonder he seemed different to you, even by just hearing his voice.

Moved by concern you stared at him for a while, before hearing him say <it must be a really gruesome crime for you to feel sick… you never let these things affect you…> as if he didn't look like a punching bag.

Since you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, you replied and acted unfazed <well… i hope you’re not sensitive to sexually abusive behaviors…> you warn him, you couldn’t risk triggering him of all people. He shakes his head <it’s fine with me, though I’m starting to understand why you hate the guy so much, please do go on..> <ok…uuhh… well.. there’s this guy who abused like… 20 different girls.. he's not only a predator, he's also a sadist (which is fine if every party involved is ok with it i guess) but when it comes to rape… trust me it’s the worst case I’ve worked on, heard or read about so far… the thing he would do to them… they make me shiver>.

Eddie stared at you, looking almost more concerned for you than you were for him… it was a bitter sweet feeling…

Chapter Three

SOMETHING IN THE NEWS

You decided you couldn’t bare seeing him in that condition without taking any action, you were about to open your mouth to speak your mind about it but he cut you off <i know it might sound insensitive but… why are you obsessing over this guy so much… is he THAT difficult to track down?> <No actually, we already know who he is… THAT is what infuriates me the most! We keep arresting him but he has too many connections and money to even stand trial, let alone be put in jail… as far as i can tell… he’ll NEVER stop, unless he dies,…> < ~or gets killed…~> (he thought), as a matter of fact, after you said that, something sparked in Ed’s eyes, you both hated corruption with a passion, but didn’t know about this common trait, not yet.

He’d successfully distracted you from your question for a few minutes but you were stubborn and worried enough to slip it in the conversation nonetheless <by the way, what happened to your eye?> <nothing…I…uuuuhh just-mmh… fell from my apartment stairs… haha, not the best experience, your coffee cheered me up though!>

You stare at him… does he think you’re THAT dumb? or… maybe… just maybe… you’re wrong… perhaps you’re worrying too much, as you always do when you connect with someone… you don’t really care all that much about strangers but injustice moves you more than anything, specially when you care about the one who’s suffering because of it.

<You know you can tell me everything, right? If someone hurt you I-…> <Can i be REALLY honest with you?> you nod and gently smile <well i was getting here when a group of masked guys threatened me with a knife, i had to give them most of my money, though i saved some for your pie and… well… even though they didn’t stab me they did give me a good beating… >

<I’m… sorry…> you looked at him and his puppy eyes that melted you to the core.

You decide to trust him (BIG mistake, you’ll later realize) and as he shrugs it off with a muffled laugh, you do the same and indulge in further explanation about the case that he now seemed so fond of.

Suddenly Ed raises his head. He starts watching the old tv, that has been on that ceiling corner of the cafe for a decade now, almost zoning out as you too listen to the metallic voice of the news.

<~As night falls on Gotham city another prominent political figure leaves us: our beloved Don Mitchell, who was then running for Mayor, got murdered in his own residence, head taped allover and a warning written in blood on it… “no more lies”… he was unfortunately found by his young son, coming back from a halloween party… more updates will foll-… wait we have.. we have last minute news…> you two look at each other, almost content with the information, as the news anchor tried to understand what the guy on the other side of the line was telling him though his earpiece <the… bat.. the Batman! was found lurking around the scene, he was apparently let inside by the cops, as most people testify… what does Gotham’s vigilante have to do with all this? We’ll follow all the story developments, so come back tomorrow and stay tuned on chann- ~> some guy got up and switched to a football match, Eddie looked at him, annoyed by his very presence, but the he turned to you. You could tell he was exited to tell you something… < weird case, right?> he smirked but didn’t realized you noticed <Absolutely! I hope I’ll get assigned to it! Such a peculiar MO must require a profiler… i need to take care of that other guy first though> <well if you need any help…> he makes himself available as if he could do anything a bout a rich rapist <I’ll figure it out somehow and if I do manage to get assigned to the case, trust me, I’ll tell you everything! Within the limits of confidentiality of course> you wink at him, you both blush, he didn’t expect you to flirt with him, neither did you to be completely honest. <it’s not like he was the most incorruptible guy in Gotham anyway… I’m not saying he deserved it it’s just…> you said, <better him than an honest citizen right? Maybe the killer knew about his real nature and… decided it was best to eradicate evil from its very roots > he added.

That comment was unsettling but… he’d only said what you already felt deep down… maybe talking to him about the case, if you ever manage to work on it, will turnout to be useful.

Chapter Four

<work in progress…>

#the riddler #arkham riddler #riddler x you #riddler x reader #paul dano riddler #riddler #riddle rp #riddler fanart #riddler fanfic #reading fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #paul dano #the batman #batman #dc #dcu fanfic #riddler year one #robert pattinson

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

HOT DAY AND A TIRED MAN

This fic is dedicated to @lovelyladyraven for being my first ever paid commission.

Shouta Aizawa x fem reader

Tw:dangerous situation, breeding, OVERSTIMULATION

Word count: 3.5k

This was not how you had planned to spend your day. Your boss had decided that the roof needed to be cleaned on the second hottest day this summer! Of course you were the only one who had just finished up their task so he sent you to do it by yourself with a promise of sending the next available person up to switch with you soon. Instead you had spent two hours cleaning up dirt and shining the vents on a roof that no one but maintenance workers ever set foot on! Once you had seen how much time had passed you went to the door with every intention of stomping down the stairs and clocking out, not willing to do overtime just to clean a roof. But the knob wouldn't turn no matter how hard you pulled. You banged on the door a few times only to realize that one of the idiots that you work with had locked the door. Quickly you took out your phone and called the store phone no answer, then your boss's phone no answer, then you called the two other coworkers who had been working with you today. Not a single person answered you! You went over to the side of the building that looked over the parking lot seeing that all their cars were already gone from their usual spots. The bastards had left for the day and left you locked on the roof with no way to go home or even get water. You tried for another 30 minutes to reach your boss and coworkers only for them to start rejecting your calls. They did this on purpose. You went and sat in the shade of the roof door access and took a few calming breaths. You knew that they weren't going to come back until tomorrow and you also knew that they probably expected you to sit up here and cry waiting till morning for them to come and "save" you. So instead you looked up the number for the local fire department. Once someone picked up you heard a deep gravelly voice through the speaker. 

"Fire station 6 what can I help you with?" 

The man seemed tired and kind of put out but instead of apologizing for bothering him like your brain was screaming at you to do, you cleared your throat and spoke. You gave him a detailed rundown of your situation and explained that you would have called the emergency line first except your boss's wife worked the police directory and if he was locking you on the roof like this you were afraid that his wife would just not send anyone to help you. It was a small town and things like that were constantly looked over as long as you knew the right people. He hummed in agreement.

" That's sad but true. I know your boss and his wife well enough that you're probably 100 percent right about what they would do and how they would cover this up. They've done it before. Me and a few guys will be there in about 20 minutes to come get you down. Just keep calm and do your best to stay out of the sun until then we don't need you getting any more dehydrated than you already are."

He gave a quick goodbye and hung up. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that you had chosen correctly when you called the fire station. You sat in the shade and tried to put a face to the voice of the tired firefighter who would be coming to free you from your rooftop prison. Like a fool you had never asked his name. As you thought about it you started to get a bit lightheaded. It had definitely been too long since you had any water. The heat was starting to get to you now that your adrenaline had stopped pumping so hard. With nothing else to do you layed down as much in the shade as you could and did a breathing exercise. During your exercise you must have blacked out because the next thing you knew you were being carried down the stairs in a set of strong arms. 

The person carrying you was speaking to you but you couldn't make out what they were saying over the fog that was covering your brain. You knew the sound of that voice though. It was the tired firefighter but he sounded a whole lot less tired and a whole lot more angry. You really hoped he wasn't angry at you. Maybe you were too heavy and he was annoyed at having to lug you down the stairs. With a weak hand you reached up maybe to apologize somehow, but ended up cupping his cheek. His stubble felt funny in your already funny feeling hand. He stopped walking at the feeling of your hand on his face. You still couldn't open your eyes so instead you mumbled a garbled sorry and proceeded to pass back out going limp. The last thing you heard was the tired firefighter yelling at someone, maybe you?

You woke up again this time to the feeling of something plastic on your face. Opening your eyes was still a bit too much for you so you listened and tried to figure out what was going on. You vaguely remember the tired voice you had spoken to before you felt light headed and the feeling of being carried. As you listened you could make out the sounds of machines. Slowly you took stock of your body. You were sore and kinda warm but you could move a little bit. You breathed deeply, finally realizing that the plastic was an oxygen tube. You were definitely in the hospital then. After a few more minutes your eyes were in good enough condition that you opened them to look around the room. When you did you saw someone slumped in the chair in the corner. This was incredibly strange since you had no family in this town. Doing your best you cleared your throat preparing to ask who they were. At your sound the person's head shot up, eyes wide. 

It was a man with tired eyes and long black hair that was on the scruffy side; it easily matched the stubble of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He stood up definitely tall enough to tower over you even when you were standing up yourself. The man walked to your bedside and took a deep breath before speaking. 

"It's good to see you awake little one. I was beginning to think you weren't going to wake up. I'm the firefighter you spoke to asking for help when you were on the roof. I have a lot to explain to you but I'm gonna call the doctor in and have them look you over before anything else."

He called out into the hall after that and a doctor and a nurse bustled into the room within minutes. Your throat was too dry to answer their questions so you stuck to little nods and head shakes as they began to check your vitals and adjust your iv drip. Once they were sure you were stable enough you were once again left with your savior and no voice to thank him with. He came closer and pulled the chair along with him to settle in for your conversation. 

"So you've been out of it for about 3 days. You got sunstroke while you were on the roof and your boss had double locked the door to get in and the door to the roof which slowed us down in getting to you. Your boss and his wife and your 2 coworkers have all been arrested. It was your boss's idea though apparently he kept hitting on you but you didn't give him the time of day so he wanted to teach you a lesson. His wife had your name flagged so that if you had called for help it would have given a dispatcher a notification to ignore you as a false reporter. His wife found out about his interest in you and was planning on making sure you were stuck on that roof all night. Your coworkers just went along with it because they didn't want to deal with your boss's anger."

Hearing all this pissed you off beyond belief. They could have killed you all because you would be a man's mistress and the man's wife would rather hurt someone than confront her husband. He looked at your face and patted your knee knowing there was nothing he could say that would make you feel any better about this. You looked up at him and grabbed his hand and brought it to your forehead, touching his knuckles there before placing a kiss on them. You were kind of happy that you couldn't really talk just yet because the blush on this man's cheeks was well worth the dry throat. He poured you a cup of water and handed it to you. You gave him a small smile and drank it gratefully. 

Eventually you could speak some and the two of you formally introduced yourselves. He was Shouta Aizawa, the fire station chief and local fire safety instructor for this area. He hadn't felt right leaving you alone after he had gotten you off the roof and found that you lived alone in this town. He came off very blunt and serious but you could see his deep kindness in his actions. The doctors came back in, cutting your conversation short and making Shouta go back to his spot in the corner. After a few more checks the doctors cleared you to go home the following day as long as you had someone to watch over you for the next three days till your follow up appointment was. You frowned cause you did have any close friends who could do that for you. As you pondered over it you heard Shouta's voice over the doctor's. 

"If you don't have a problem I can have you stay over in the guestroom at my house. I was already on a temp leave due to watching over you here so it wouldn't be much different with you at my house."

This man with a deep whiskey voice truly had a heart of gold. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth you readily agreed. After you had been up a few more hours and had a little bit to eat, Shouta left with the promise of a freshly cleaned room waiting for you tomorrow. You fell asleep that night feeling more cared for than you ever truly had. You woke up again slightly disoriented and thirsty but in much better condition than you had been the day prior. It was early so you took your time shaking the numbness out of your limbs and getting back your bearings. The nurse came in fussing about you standing with calling anyone to be a catcher for you. She stopped fussing though when she realized that you were indeed stable enough to walk to the bathroom alone. 

Shouta had called the nurses station around 10 to let them know he'd be there by 12. With a few puppy dog looks you had a shower chair and an orderly who helped wash your hair and walk you back to bed. They had given you some hospital pajamas that you happily wore instead of the ugly gowns you had woken up in. You were clean and relaxed by the time Shouta had arrived to sign you out of the hospital. A nurse came around with a wheelchair and wheeled you down to the exit while the car was brought around. Shouta opened the door for the backseat but instead of giving you a hand to climb in he leaned down and scooped you out of the chair. Once you had been sat comfortably on the seat he shut the door leaving you with a moment to appreciate just how strong his arms were.

The drive to Shouta's home was relatively quick as is the way of small towns. His house was nice and seemed to be a cozy ranch style. After pulling into the garage you tried to get out yourself only to be caught up against a hard chest as your legs gave out the moment they were made to take your full weight. You looked up to see an exasperated glare. Part of your brain filled with chastised thoughts as the other filled with dirty thoughts. You really had to be better behaved when It came to your savior and benefactor but with him being so sinfully attractive it was kinda hard to do. Once again you were carried by the tired man this time into his home and deposited on the lone couch in his living room. He sat on his coffee table and faced you with a sigh. 

"You're really gonna have to rely on me for a few days brat. Your body is trying to heal and you pushing it as you just did isn't doing the process any favors."

You sighed and agreed with him. After a short conversation about a few things you might need from the store and checking about any food allergies he got ready and  headed to the store. You sat alone watching tv before clicking into his YouTube app to see what he watched most. A loud laugh burst from your chest as you realized that most of his watch history was full of cat videos and a few interviews with a local late night radio host. You watched the radio hosts videos thoroughly entertained by his boisterous personality. The next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by Shouta having fallen asleep with videos still playing on the tv. He helped you up and walked you to the bathroom and waited outside before scooping you up yet again. He was making it so damn hard not to think dirty thoughts when he kept carrying you around as if you were a small animal or something. Like sir the butterflies are in the stomach now but they will quickly fly south if you keep being so quietly sexy. A few hours later you were lying in bed when your thoughts finally got the best of you and had you touching your pussy as images of Shouta glaring down at you with his arms crossed showed behind your eyelids.

You had no idea how loud you were being as you rubbed your clit harshly, trying to get to the finish line. As you came you choked out his name. While you panted and came down from your high Shouta made his way back to his room quietly. He leaned back against his door and made a call before laying in his bed to jerk his very hard, very neglected cock. His brain kept replaying the sounds you made, the way you choked out his name as you came, how a satisfied little smile curled on your lips after you reached the finish line. He came with a growl, satisfied but not. He was definitely going to end up in trouble by the end of the week and he couldn't find it in himself to care. The following two days followed the same pattern, spending the day together and spending the night getting off to thoughts of the other in separate rooms. Though you were surprised to find that Shouta regularly walked around the house in nothing but sweatpants holding a full mug of coffee. On the fourth day you had become well enough to no longer need to be carried or walked everywhere. You were a little confused by Shouta's attitude as he had been glaring at the space above your head for most of the day. Finally tired of him doing this, you confronted him about it. You were not expecting his answer in the slightest. 

"I've spent the last three nights hearing you play with your pussy while calling my name, I'm hard enough to hammer nails and I can't get out any over this energy cause I'm supposed to be watching out for you. All I wanna do is fuck you till you lose your mind. me glaring above your head has been me doing my best not to seduce you like an asshole."

He said everything in such a deadpan manner that you couldn't help but laugh. Once you caught your breath you grinned at him and pulled your shirt off over your head. Sitting on his couch with your tits hanging free and your nipples hardening in the cool air you proceeded to play with them. You were immediately picked up and taken to his room before being dropped on the bed. Never let it be said that the tired man couldn't move fast as you were stripped of your remaining clothes before he stripped himself bare. He pulled you to the edge of his bed by your ankles and dropped to his knees, a fierce smile on his lips. 

"Been wanting to taste this bratty pussy for days. Bet it's as sweet as it looks."

His first lick was long. From your hole all the way over your clit. The squeak you let out at the feeling only made him more hungry. He spent what felt like an endless amount of time licking and thrusting his tongue as deep into your pussy as he could. By the time he finally gave your clit some much needed attention his chin was covered in pussy juice and your hole was fluttering as if it was seeking to be filled. Shouta teased you with a few small licks over your clit, making you whine and beg him to give you more. His arms wrapped around your thighs as he locked eyes with you and sucked your clit into his mouth. He sucked hard making you scream and thrash wildly. Your hands were buried in his hair as you squirted into his mouth. Your hips only stayed on the bed because of his strong arms keeping you in place. When he finally released your clit pussy juice was steadily leaking from your still twitching hole. 

"Oh did I break you already? You were so bold before and now you're just a mess. Think you can take my cock or do you want me to tuck you in for a nap."

The shit eating grin on his face was enough for you to pull his hair and glare at him. He sat up and shoved your wrists above your head to hold in one of his large hands. Slowly he worked his fat dripping cock into your almost too tight pussy. You whined and moaned his name as he finally bottomed out hitting your back wall. He stretched you more than you ever had been before but it was so damn good. Shouta started slow, one hand gripping your thigh as he ignored your demands for him to speed up.

"You're gonna take what I give you like a good girl or I'll just pull out and cum all over you right now."

That shut you up except for the constant stream of moans that left your throat. Just as you were finally getting used to being split by such a thick cock he changed his rhythm. Fast pounding thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs were nearly constant. You didn't have enough breath to scream so you sobbed. Your half words were incoherent except for "sho please." Shouta leaned down and whispered in your ear as his thrusts once again spread up. He bit your ear lobe before making you lose your mind. 

"Such a tight little hole. I can't believe I had the strength to ignore it for three days. I could have at least eaten it while you laid back and rested. God I'm gonna have you for breakfast tomorrow." 

The utter heat in his words threw you over the edge making you cum so hard you began to shake. He growled as your pussy clenched down on him. Shouta sunk his teeth into the pillow by your head before shoving his cock against your cervix and shooting his cum against it. As soon as he finished cuming he started to thrust again. No slow start this time, just hard pounding thrusts that made you wail in pleasure. It didn't take long for you to cum again but Shouta lasted longer this time entirely fucking his cum out of you before finally cuming inside again just as deep as the first time. 

He pulled out and laid down next to you before pulling you on to his chest. You both panted trying to breathe like normal human beings again. Right as your breathing evened out you heard a voice from the doorway. And looked up to see the blonde radio host trailing his eyes over the two of you.

"I told you you wouldn't make it till I got home sho."

#bnha simping hours #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa shouta #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #firefighter aizawa

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Pedro Pascal’s Characters

updated: 09/10/2021

Fic Ratings (read warnings in fic for details):

(G) General Audiences

(M) Mature

(E) Explicit: only suitable for adults

-> fake dating Drabbles with all the dude’s  <-

Home (M)

It’s been a long day year for Javi and all he wants is to go home.

Leave the light on (G)

Sleeping with the lights out seemed like a thing all the people do. So you told him how you struggled with it, after you almost fell asleep at a stake out he made sure you would feel safe from now on. 

switch (E)

When your new hot neighbor turned out to be no other than Javier Peña, the Agent that would join one of your Departments with you as his Superior, things should get a little more complicated. But somehow they didn’t…

Missing you (G)

A gala from the American embassy in Bogota lets you finally run in the man who you left without saying goodbye almost two years ago.

mix up (E)

A mix-up with the building's laundry was all it took to get what you always secretly wanted.

late night calls (E)

It all started with a phone call to the DEA office to tell Javier about the surgery of his father. You had insisted to take care of him after Chucho told you about the surgery. That you would fall in love with his son you had never met before? Just as surprising to you as it was to Javier. 

Night shift (E)

Meeting Javier during one of your nightshifts at the hospital turned into falling in love with him. But working different shifts can be challenging, yet you somehow make it work.

Whiskey, Cigarettes and Condoms (E)

You are working in a shop and your most interesting customer is the hot guy who buys XL Condoms every single week. Until he stopped.

Don't you want me (M)

6 years passed since Javier made the one decision he wished he could take back. What happens when he meets the one woman he ever truly loved?

Decisions (G)

You find your boyfriend cheating with one of your friends after getting home from work and call the person you always call when shit hits the fan.

Drabbles:

answering machine (G)

It's been two years since you heard Javier's voice. That didn't mean you weren't talking to him.

-> inevitable (series; M->E)

All your life you thought that there was no way the prophecy would come true. That was until you answered a distress call from a certain Mandalorian.

firsts (G)

Din knew it was the best for the kid to go with the Jedi. But on his way back to… he didn’t really know where, there was only one person he would allow to see how sad he really was. 

saved (G)

Being saved during a battle by a Mandalorian might have been faith for Alana and her little daughter Leila. 

my girl (E)

A Mandalorian crashing into your backyard and ruining your business might have been the best thing that ever happened to you.

Watch me (E)

You try to tease the Mandalorian after taking a skinny dip in the lake. He’s not having it.

drabbles:

one day (M)

One day you would get Din out of his armor to swim with you. Today you succeeded... partially

Happiness (G)

Din finds happiness. And his son finds his old armor.

prompts:

" I know we're not together but I might die today so I'm going to kiss you just in case there is no later" (G)

thots:

Din been jealous (E)

The baker’s daughter (E)

Mydra never thought she would end up in the local brothel, but after her father died, and she was too young to take over his business as the local baker, she found herself agreeing to what was proposed to her. So she lived at the local brothel, watching the girls and boys work, observing, until one day she finally would be ready to let one man be her first. That she would form somewhat of a friendship with the Prince of Dorne was as surprising to her as it was to him.

My flower (E)

Falling for the Prince of Dorne after he took you in, letting you work as his maid, was not something you (or him) planned. But when he found you sleeping in his bed, wearing his cloak, you were about to find out that maybe it wasn't just you who had fallen in love.

One step ahead (E)

When you took the job you knew that he might be there. Breaking up with him because of your ego was a mistake. But you were here to do your job. Weren’t you?

Drabbles:

caught (E)

It was a hot day in Sunspear. With the Martell family gone for travels, you wanted to sneak into the royal pool to cool down. Never thinking that maybe you weren't as alone as you thought.

and then the world stopped (E) Part 1 Part 2

Vic wasn’t unhappy when she moved with her husband to Washington D.C. She was happily married, had a new job as a teacher and was trying to get pregnant. But after a year of trying still nothing has happened. She didn’t know that just one accident of the nanny of one of the children in her class was about to change her whole life.

two lives (M)

Dave never planned to cheat on his wife. He never planned to fall in love with another woman. He never planned to live two separate lives. And he never planned to be attending the funeral of the love of his life after their mission went wrong.

second chance (G) (sequel to two lives)

7 months passed since Dave found out the woman he loved didn't die. Would she ever remember him?

disobedience (E)

Working as the babysitter for Dave York’s daughters came with all kinds of benefits. You didn’t mean to become one of those people. The typical cliche of the babysitter sleeping with the father of the kids you were watching but there was something about him you couldn’t stop thinking about. This is also how you found yourself at the only place he told you to not ever visit him, wearing nothing but a coat. The CIA offices.

private show (E)

Monica was struggling to give her two daughters everything they deserved. When Dave York walks into the Diner she worked in one night and offers her a job at his strip club, things begin to change…

Dance the night away (E)

He didn’t look like he could dance Salsa. But oh how wrong you were...

strictly professional (E)

AU: You were tired of handling your boss' affairs. Not because that wasn't part of your job. No. Because you wanted to be his affair. His only affair. And you had a plan for how to get there. Even if it meant blackmailing your boss Dave York.

unusual love(rs) (E)

When your husband Frankie proposed seeing other people while he’s gone for work you were hesitant at first. Until you found just how much he liked the idea of you with another man…

-> love(rs) (E)

Frankie is home and he hasn’t stopped thinking about the video you sent him. Now he wants to watch live. And participate.

found (G)

Dave and you had been friends for 20 years. You watched him get married to another woman and become a Dad, ignoring the constant heartbreak it was causing you cause you were in love with him. Four months after his death you receive a postcard with cordinates. What would you find?

to die for (G)

The man who broke your heart comes back to protect you from the man you were falling in love with.

one wish granted (G)

You could have wished that the man you had loved all your life finally would love you back. It was him granting the wishes after all. Instead, you wished you had never met him. That you really didn’t remember him maybe was the punishment Max deserved most.

Paris (G)

Maxwell Lord left after everything that happened with the Dreamstone. But a little part of you hoped you would see him again.

changes (G)

On your way to your last day at work before you start a new job you almost got ran over by a dog (and a boy). Thankfully a handsome stranger is there to help.

Neighbors (M)

After breaking up with your fiancé you find yourself moving back in with your brother and his daughter just outside of the city. Marcus Moreno is his neighbor and he really does take his neighborly duties to heart. Including taking care of mowing the lawn when your brother had to leave for work for a while.

Yes, Mr. Moreno (M)

With Missy moving out of the house to go to college Marcus felt more alone than ever before. When he met his daughters college roommate at a diner in the middle of the night he made a decision Missy could never find out about

-> Yes, Mr Moreno - The first time (E)

Marcus takes Alice home. She stays the night.

Going back home Masterlist (series)

Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Distraction (G)

Meeting a single Dad on the plane back to the states was maybe just the distraction you needed to get over your fear of flying. 

Nap Time (E)

Sometimes you and Frankie just need to have some alone time when the kids are napping.

Drabbles

Guy’s night (M)

You let Frankie decide how he wants to end his guy's night...

throwback (G)

Teenage you had bn head over heels for Frankie Morales. What happens when when your best friend takes you out on a double bind date almost 20 years later and your date is no other than Frankie?

Friday's at Frankie's (G)

After a week gone for work you come home to Frankie and his daughter

drabble about Frankie taking care of you when you have cramps

-> Sunday Morning (M)

You wake up in Frankie’s arms on rare quiet Sunday morning.

prompts:

you're sick, and we can't kiss, and it's , fkn, torture (M)

Max Says... (E)

Max remembered your aniversary and planned a trip to New York City. You gifted him the one thing he always wanted. Allowing him to use his mind control on you.

#masterlist #fanfic #fanfiction #Pedro pascal #javier pena #din djarin #oberyn martell #dave york #maxwell lord #the mandalorian #Marcus moreno #frankie morales #max phillips

[oingo233]

You Are Beautiful (1)

Summary: Sirius Black was entranced since the moment he saw you. He had to have you but you are convinced his feelings are fleeting, and will only hurt you. People inside and outside of your relationship meddle in the makings of something that could be beautiful... or disastrous. Will love and confidence win? Or will doubt and uncertainty tear you both down?

Young Sirius Black x Pus SizedFemReader

Warning: one inappropriate joke lol, fluff I suppose and nothing else really. All the real stuff comes later :0

Authors note: I mostly write my xreader fics as neutral but as this is a request, I wrote this as fem. But if anyone would like a male version or neutral version let me know and I will copy this but obviously change readers gender (and it's no burden to me I'd love to make more readers feel included and represented). Also reader is plus sized and she is confident and strong throughout the fic -because plus sized characters aren't represented like that in film/books alot (but if looking for amazing and empowering plus sized female characters Nina Zenik from Six of Crows owns my entire heart and changed how I saw myself personally and I would recommend that book for anyone really)- but as any human she has her insecurities because beauty standards are unattainable and have a way excluding so many people and making us feel less than beautiful. As a plus sized/overweight person myself, I understand how we have to fight to feel beautiful and fight this internalized bias we have when we look in the mirror. But WE ARE BEAUTIFUL. WE ARE WORTHY OF MAGAZINGE COVERS AND COMPLIMENTS AND ABOVE ALL SELF LOVE!! The self insert character in this has fought for her confidence, but it will shake and stumble throughout the series and Sirius and friends are there for her to help her realize for herself how beautiful she truly is, once again. So I hope I didn't stray too far from the request :) Enjoy....

Word Count: 1.8

Authors Note: About halfway through I decided to make it a series oops-

****Blabbering Idiot****

Sirius Black is a man of many, many words. In fact, I'm sure if he was writing this he could quickly turn it into one of the most entertaining novels ever written. He'd describe the laughter of his friends for a whole page. Tell a hilarious joke on the next. Then he'd describe the wind blowing through the open halls and courtyard and the spring sun. He could write about a great many things in great detail. (But he wouldn't because he doesn't quite enjoy writing as much as he does anything else, but that's above the point.)

As I said, Sirius Black is a man of many words. So it was such a curious thing when he first saw you. It was an astounding thing really, because for the first time he found something that rendered him completely speechless.

The sun was peeking through the open corridor and pooled onto you, caressing your skin and hair in an ethereal glow. Highlighting curves that brought both sinful and sweet thoughts running through him. It was as if the universe was telling him, look at what we've created, look at this beautiful creature. But he could hardly believe that this world could create something so lovely and kind. You threw your head back in laughter at something your friend said and suddenly the world is back to normal and all he can hear is your laughter and the sound of his friends curiosity at what could have possibly kept him from the conversation about muggle rock compared to Wizard bands. In fact, James was so passionate about it half the hall turned to listen to his rendition of The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.

But he didn't care, he took a feeble step towards you and suddenly felt so nervous his hands began to sweat. He stuttered and coughed up his words just for a simple "hello" in your direction only for the wind blowing through the halls to carry it away. And his friends laughed at him as he watched you walk too far from where he wanted you. Because, oh did he want you.

Sirus POV:

"I'm telling you, I won't be able to sleep tonight unless I know who she is," Sirius says for not the first time that evening. James started to laugh.

"Why? Because you'll be too busy thinking of her?" James said, laughing as he made a very suggestive hand motion. Peter cackled and Remus rolled his eyes, trying to find the cleaner side of his humor but instead he couldn't help but snort. Sirius pushed James's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm sure Lily would love to know how familiar with that feeling you are," Sirius says and James stopped laughing immediately, his eyes narrowed.

"Please, you wouldn't dare. And I will deny all accusations, you'll be made out to be a liar. Then the mystery girl will never love you. Is that what you want, Pads?" James joked with a single arch of his brow. Sirius just rolled his eyes. He was only half paying attention, he has been scouring the hallways since he first saw that girl. He wanted to speak to her again, or maybe just stare for a bit. If things went well, he'd be able to do both those things on a date. But he hasn't seen her since that morning and his heart felt oddly shallow. He wanted those butterflies he had when looking at her to come back and overwhelm him again.

"What'll it matter if I don't even know who she is? Or- or if I can't talk to her? No one falls in love with a blabbering idiot," Sirius says. Remus shrugs.

"Lily fell in love with James," he says, Peter laughed again.

"Yeah, regardless of what he does at night," Peter added and now both James and Sirius were rolling their eyes. James and Lily just recently stopped denying their feelings for one another and gave into the sexual tension and mutual pining. Their relationship was still fairly new but they act as if they've been together for years. Sirius supposed that in a way, they have been.

Sirius would watch them giggling, hand and hand in the hall. He'd see them cuddling in the common room, or coming back after dates with rosy cheeks and beaming smiles. Sirius would never admit it out loud, but his heart cried out when he saw them like that. He rarely ever felt lonely. He could have any girl or boy he wanted if he really tried, but for what? One fun night? Only for one more morning where he wakes up alone? He wanted more than that whenever he saw Lily and James, their happiness was palpable. Their love was suffocating.

Sirius always thought he'd find the one after Hogwarts, if at all. But when he saw her... well that changed everything. In a flash he saw himself with her, their hands intertwined and her head thrown back in laughter. Rosy cheeks and bruised lips. Warm beds and making love... being in love. He nearly felt silly after and yet, he knew that even if he did sleep tonight, it would be her he'd dream of.

"Ello' guys!" Lily said, bouncing up to James who kissed her cheek. They walked with their arms looped and Sirius glared at the easy sign of affection. He thought of his parents, how they would be stiff with one another except for in quiet moments, when he'd pass through a hall and glance into their room. He'd spot a quick kiss on the cheek, and soft squeeze of the hand. It were those odd moments for him, that struck him so strongly with a sharp bitterness. They don't deserve softness and love, he'd think, how can such cruel creatures even feel such things? But even then, he'd walk away seeing them as still awful creatures born from the depths of hell, but more human.

"That's her," Sirius whispered so quietly Remus almost didn't hear it. In fact, Sirius didn’t think Remus heard it at all, but it was rather his look of longing towards the Great Hall entrance that gave him away. Because standing right there, was you.

Your hair was a little wind blown, messy around your face, bits of iit shaped your round cheeks and soft eyes. Sirius eyed you up and down and cursed clothes and cursed shyness and cursed his own head for thinking he could even talk to you. But most of all, he cursed a group of boys who walked past you.

Sirius was a confident boy, he knew how to spot someone who held their head up just as high as he did, and you were very much one of those people. You were giggling as you stole a biscuit from a friend and popped it into your mouth, you covered your mouth as you laughed when they complained with a little smile of their own.

"It's just so yummy, and I haven't eaten since breakfast." He heard you say, your friend just shook his head and handed you a plate as you sat down next to him. But right before you could get comfortable a sneering group of boys stole a piece of food from your hand and said something rather rude.

Sirius didn't even realize he had been walking towards you, this girl he has never even spoken too, yet thought of so endearingly, until he was standing right before the boys and had the pack leaders wrist firmly in his grip.

"Drop it boy, c'mon, drop it," he teased. It was humiliating for the boy and he knew it by the laughing and sneering others directed towards the group of boys, but Sirius did not care. The boy dropped the biscuit and looked as if his tail was tucked into his legs. "Good boy," he said, ruffling his hair until it was a knotted mess, the boy winced at just how hard Sirius dug his knuckles into his scalp, Sirius relented with a satisfied smirk.

Sirius’s voice took on a much harsher tone, "Now scram." The boys were out of their seats and in new ones within seconds.

Sirius felt his mood shift completely once they left, because now all eyes were on him, yours included. He looked up at you rather shyly, his hair falling in strands over his forehead. He tucked it behind his ear and found some confidence in the way your eyes followed the movement and how you blushed. He gave you his best smile, hoping his charm wasn't as weak as his legs felt at that moment.

"Hello, I'm Sirius... Sirius Black." Then, like an idiot he put his hand out for you to shake, what charmer just shakes the ladies hand? He stopped belittling himself the moment you softly placed your hand in his.

"It's nice to meet you, Sirius, and thanks for helping me. I know how to handle those filthy 'dogs'" you said, smiling as you remembered the way he spoke to them, he chuckled. "But I suppose it's nice not always having to," you finished with a bright smile on your face. He felt his own cheeks heat up and he nodded but could not think of anything better to say.

"Name," he said, you raised your brows. He cleared his throat, "your name?"

"Oh, how rude of me," you said and then you laughed, that same laugh that caught his attention and has yet to let go. "I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Nice to meet you," he said, it was as if he couldn't feel the appalled stares of your friends because all he could see was the blush on your cheeks and your head thrown back in laughter. He swallowed thickly before making his way back to his friends. They all wore raised brows and smirks, and he knew they were about to bite into him.

"Treating them like dogs, really? A bit ironic don't you think," Lily said, James shrugged

"That's why it was so good," he said, high fiving Sirius.

"But it admittedly went downhill from there," Peter was sure to add, just like Sirius knew one of them would. Sirius just laughed, too elated to finally know who you were.

"Don't start," he said, but it was too late.

All in union they sputtered out the lame word that will plague Sirius' memory of that moment forever, "Name?"

They cackled at him and ruffled his hair all the way to their seats, but Sirius knew they were pleased for him. And Sirius didn't mind, he could feel the pretty eyes of a pretty girl following him across the room. If only someone told him how important she would become to him, maybe he would have looked back at her and never looked away.

Taglist <3

@enchantedblackrose

#sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black angst #sirius black fluff #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #young sirius x reader #young sirius black #young sirius imagine #harry potter fandom #the marauders #plus sized reader #sirius black x plus sized reader

[otp-holic]

The one place (where something happened) (A03)

“In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, where something happened, and then there are all the other places.” Alice Munro. (or the one where they receive a letter from a familiar name and we go into 4Ks of fluff around a lost afternoon in France)

4K. Lamely explicit at one point. Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Trigger for FLUFF as the main plot. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3)

This was supposed to be a manip with 200 words of bantering and it's now 4Ks of fluff with a few pictures. I've decided to leave them inside the cut because I feel they work better with its context there. I'm sorry for the hassle, but I really hope you give this a chance... unless you have cavities, only like fics with amazing plots or are allergic to shameless fluff.

Please do not repost the pictures, I know this is futile, but… I try :)

DAGUERROTYPE, France 1944 Private Collection.

Steve is cooling down from his very early run, enjoying the feeling of the pink sunrise looming over the awakening Brooklyn streets as he walks the last couple of blocks on the way home, when his phone beeps.

“Check your actual mailbox, we dropped something for you there. I think you should appreciate us making it old-fashioned just for you, grandpas!”

Steve smiles at Sam’s text and as soon as he arrives at their building he snaps a picture of the very common and flat envelope with “Barnes&Rogers” scribbled on top of a Stark Logo, to send along his response.

“Nice try, but this is inaccurate. A letter would have never made its way to us without an address or stamp. We’ll send you a proper thank you card to show you how it’s done.”

He can’t help but chuckle at his own joke rereading the text while he opens the door, and when he looks up from his phone and into the kitchen, he is received by a sleepy Bucky looking at the coffee machine like he looks at Steve during their most soft and embarrassingly cheesy moments.

“You love that thing more than you love me, confess it.”

“In the mornings? Yes. I don’t even like you in the mornings most of the time,” he answers matter of factly. “Want some?”

Steve playfully wiggles an eyebrow.

“No way. Your sweaty self is tempting, but coffee smells better. I might join you in the shower later.” Bucky offers him one of the two cups he has poured and he notices the envelope Steve is holding. “What is that?”

“We’ve got mail!” He hands it to Bucky. “I have no idea what's on it, but Sam texted me to say they had something delivered to our mailbox and there it was. Open it.”

Bucky leaves the cup on the counter, face sparked with a curiosity that makes him look twenty-one (and Steve weak on the knees), and goes for it.

The content is a bit underwhelming at first glance: Another envelope, white, no Stark logo, but topped with a bright green post-it with a note on Pepper’s script.

“This got to me via PR. We analyzed it and checked with the source (no peeking, I swear) and it seems legit. With that return address, it’s likely to arouse your interest. Love, P.”

Bucky tears off the post-it and the letter is revealed to be addressed to Steve Rogers at the Stark Tower, but it is when they turn it around when everything goes still for a second.

The return address is some street in Marseille, but what has Steve’s mouth dry and Bucky’s hand trembling just a bit is the combination of the place and the name written on top: Emmanuelle Jaques Dernier.

“Boom?”, Bucky says, trying to cut through their heavy hearts and taking Steve’s hand. It’s a terrible terrible joke, but Dernier would have loved it and he grins.

“That’s a terrible terrible joke,” Steve verbalizes, “but I think at least we’ve reached the same conclusion.”

“Elementary, my dear Steve,” Bucky answers as he opens the second envelope, only to reveal a folded letter and yet another envelope. “It’s a fucking vault of paper!”

Steve takes the letter from him, unfolds it, and quickly scans it (normal office paper, printed, hand-signed) before he starts reading it out loud to Bucky’s undivided attention.

“Dear Mr. Rogers,

My name is Emmanuelle Dernier and I am the great-grandson of Jaques Dernier of the Howling Commandos.

First, let me tell you that we all in our family grew up with amazing stories and praise for you, Sergeant Barnes, and the rest of the team. I never got to meet my great-grandfather or any of them (you), but I’ve always felt like I did.

In fact, that’s the ultimate reason behind this letter: I ached to honor him and I’ve been putting in order all his remaining letters, pictures, and memories so they don’t get lost forever, and there are many things I’m discovering through this journey. So many pictures and tiny details… and amongst them, you and the rest of the Commandos appear at the most random and memorable moments. Nothing that’s going to make it into history books, more like the stories my grandpa used to share with us over and over again, those important tidbits that make him more human.

Anyway, I was going through the pictures he kept when I came across some war photos that didn’t seem to match the 40s timeframe. Typical daguerreotypes from the 20s in a very bad state, probably taken with a camera from the era in 1944 and developed on a later date by somebody who clearly didn’t master the technique.

They were in a very bad state and hidden inside an envelope that said “Terribly drunk soldiers in France making idiots of ourselves in unique and creative ways. Fun evening, horrible hangover. About 20 miles west of the Maginot Line. Autumn ‘44”. I’m attaching a photocopy of that, I hope you can understand my decision to keep the original.

After restoring the daguerreotypes with some experts, all I got were five very bad pictures with silhouettes of people apparently having fun…. but there was one that got a lot better in the cleaning process that feels important somehow. I’m sending the original, as well as the restored version I got.

I, of course, don’t have the whole context, but I hope it brings back a good memory. My great-grandpa might be in the picture, but I don’t think this one belongs to my family or to a museum.

Thank you for your service, I really hope this letter finds its way to you.

E.Dernier.”

“I can’t believe… Steve, most days I’m convinced that day and that place are a figment of my imagination,” Bucky smiles, remembering. “When I think of a moment of pure joy during the war, I think about that afternoon in France, and it always feels unreal. A bubble of air and laughter while we were so surrounded by death.”

Steve nods, reminiscing about that warm and humid September morning when they arrived at yet another abandoned and destroyed little village, this one about twenty miles west of the Maginot Line. They had orders to lie low and wait for twenty-four hours before they started the maneuver to wipe another Hydra base off the map, and that little town was perfect for that.

Among bomb debris and fallen walls, they found one small building miraculously standing next to the remains of the church, so they decided to set camp under a roof for a change since the weather was being a little flickery with the rain, and they had the rare luxury of time.

The inside of the tiny house was as unusual as the outside: nothing was destroyed beyond being dusty and worn by time, and everything they found (furniture, kitchenware, and even fabrics) belonged more to Steve and Bucky’s early childhoods than to 1944, a living museum frozen in time.

Only it was not a museum, but the parish house left untouched and non-raided: old-fashioned clothes, outdated church books, yellowing clergy collars, and, of course, the wine cellar. Oh, that wine cellar… the havoc it unleashed.

“I remember the absolute excitement when Falsworth found all those bottles of old unscathed mass wine from the parish,” Steve brings his memory to words, looking at Bucky, “I’m still a little convinced that we are going to hell for drinking them.”

“Not for that, probably, but it was a wonder nobody died on the spot of wine poisoning, it tasted like sweet vinegar, ugh.”

“But it did his part, right? Took our minds off things; got us drunk, bold and silly.” Steve answers.

“Apparently not all of us,” Bucky says very seriously, looking at Steve.

“Technicalities… I got drunk by proxy. Seeing you all so happy made me giddy and tipsy, too.”

“I came and went… I remember being a little surprised at the clarity of my thoughts at some moments there when some of the guys were basically drooling on the floor. Now I understand, of course.”

Steve squeezes his hand, not much to be said there.

They were already way too drunk by the early afternoon, drinking to the sound of a sudden rainstorm pouring outside. All of them scattered across the small dusty living room and its adjoining kitchen while they went through all the bottles of wine they had been able to find. Cheering for the foregone priest every time somebody raised a glass, and laughing as if there were no ruins or war on the other side; just silly men (boys, really) laughing their hearts out.

“Earth to Steve… I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to see what the hell that envelope is hiding. Especially now that we know about its time stamp.”

“I’m sorry, me too! Gabe drunkenly handling that old camera and those glass plaques the way he did? I’m honestly impressed that he was able to take any pictures at all,” he muses. “Shit, is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“I’m gonna save us the bantering because I’m nervous, too,” Bucky answers in all sincerity. “Truth is, Steve, I remember everything about that day.”

It’s a new admission, a newly opened door for them because for some reason, they have never talked about that peaceful surreal afternoon, and Steve nods in recognition as he silently goes for the envelope one-handed, not wanting to let go of Bucky’s hand because his surface is way cooler than his wrenching insides. Maybe the picture is an overexposed french wall but maybe…

The photo he extracts from the envelope is clearly the original and damaged one Emmanuelle specified in his letter. Anybody else looking at it would see nothing beyond Dernier’s blurry profile, but since Steve and Bucky were there when this was taken, they know exactly what moment Steve is holding in his hand.

“Buck,…” is all Steve can say, struck by the blurry keepsake.

Later in the afternoon when they had already consumed most of the wine and there was not a single coherent thought left in the room, one of the guys took the parish books and besottedly announced that there was a wedding set for today… thirty years ago. Alcohol fueled a goofy idea that escalated at the speed of light, with Morita saying they were going to a wedding because they deserved a celebration, Dernier confessing that he had once considered becoming a priest, and Dum-dum bringing out all the old fashioned clothes from the wardrobe and deciding they were getting nice and clean for the festivities.

“That’s clearly Dernier in the picture killing it in his priest role, right?” Bucky says, half smiling and interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “You know, I went all-in with that fake wedding party. I was laughing to tears when I saw you put on that ridiculously long and ill-fitting jacket from the 10s, feeling weightless and silly for the first time since sailing off, and God knows we all deserved that. And it was all safe and light-hearted until fucking Morita decided you had to be the groom, and...”

“Were you jealous because I won the dashing groom competition?”

Steve’s attempt at a joke is weak, but there’s truth behind it: Morita chose Steve as the groom (“Cap, you are the most dashing and the least drunk”) to a chorus of excited voices cheering for him. Somebody else, most likely Dum-Dum, chose the rest of the roles (Sarge, best man duty; Jones, camera; Morita, keep the wine flowing; the rest of you, misbehave!) and in the blink of an eye, they were all going outside laughing under a light rain, and about to celebrate Steve’s fictional wedding to nobody.

“How could I be jealous?” Bucky cuts in. “Do you remember all you said to me that afternoon? During World War II and in front of a battalion of men?”

“I was drunk.”

“Fuck you!” Bucky disentangles his hand from Steve’s to use both of them to hold Steve’s face and kiss him with violence. “Tell me. Do you remember what you said?”

As if he could ever forget. He can recall every step he took from the house to the makeshift wedding spot amidst the trees where his best man (looking dapper even in that ludicrous jacket) was laughing along Dernier. He can still smell the petrichor, can still sense the blush coloring his cheeks while hoping nobody noticed and can still hear the beating of his heart when Bucky handed him a battered umbrella (“You don’t deserve to get rained on your wedding day, punk”) and a fucking ring made out his shoelaces (“You’ll have to buy something a little more permanent.”). And then…

“Dernier started the ceremony and he wanted to know if I had somebody in mind and I said ‘of course’.” He replays, his voice barely a whisper. “I said I’d had my eyes on a brown-haired Brooklynite since before I could remember. I said that I was pretty sure those blue eyes were set on mine too and that hopefully those eyes would be set enough to want to marry me even if I had never dared to ask.”

He’s been holding Bucky’s gaze the whole time, and he’s far from over yet, but he needs to fucking breathe before he goes on. Neither of them has moved a muscle for the past minute.

“Then he asked me to repeat the wedding vows after him and…”

“And you said Buck, right?”, Bucky interrupts, voice winded. “You fucking whispered I take you, Buck, as my lawful wedded husband till the end of the line. I heard, Steve. Even if the rest of the world didn’t, I did. But you never said anything, so I always deemed it impossible, a product of the corniest nook of my mind trying to outweigh all those bad things, because not even you could be as bold, reckless, and mushy as to do that,…it’s my fucking fault, I should have known better!”

“Not completely reckless, pal. I was scared shitless as I said those words, but what else could I do? You were right by my side about to put a ring on my finger as my “best man”, everyone, including you, supposedly drunk past recollection, and everybody else too far away to hear my whispers. It was such an easy choice in the end because truth should always win over fear. And those vows were. The truth.”

“You have always been too honest for your own good, Rogers,” Bucky is breathless and exasperated and goes for his mouth again, bringing in all he (they) couldn’t in 1944. “You destroyed me, Steve. My knees were as weak as a teenager’s in front of his first crush. I wanted to kiss you so badly when I heard you say all that there in the open… and I couldn’t even acknowledge it.”

“I know. And for what it's worth, I really thought you didn’t remember.”

It is too much. Is it normal to feel this much? Steve would blame it on the serum enhancements, but he was already overwhelmed at 16, so that’s clearly not the answer.

He craves, no, he needs touching, grounding, closer. Bucky. There’s too much space between them even if they are back to kissing like they would have that day in 44, and at any other time if their own lives wouldn’t have stolen those moments from them.

“It happened.” Bucky whimpers, biting on Steve’s lip who abandons his own stool to straddle him, both of them gasping in sync at the feeling of their cocks, hard against each other’s through their soft pants.

Bucky soon ups the stakes by carding his metal hand through Steve’s hair pulling his head backwards to help himself into that spot on his neck.

“Same two moles as when you were tiny, as when we were at that war... Your cute vampire bite. Favorite spot.” He licks on them with the tip of his tongue. Steve growls on cue and Bucky giggles. “Favorite chain reaction.”

“Buck, you cheater, you know what that does to me!” Steve cries out followed by Bucky’s evil chuckle.”Bed, couch, countertop,…I don’t care, but naked. Now. Stained pants due to heavy petting are too much of a trip down memory lane for me. Let me keep a bit of my dignity.”

Steve stands up liberating Bucky from his grip but aching at the loss of contact.

They are naked and making out in the middle of the kitchen in no time; Bucky steadily pushing him against the refrigerator while fiercely grinding against his crotch.

“Hey, ‘teve,” Bucky pants. “The way this is going, it’s my dignity now that's at risk. I don’t think I can make it further than the floor before I come.”

Steve groans into his mouth just at the thought and they start sliding to the floor the best they can until he’s a human blanket moving over Bucky. With no lube at hand, and no time, that’s their best option.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, his hands not leaving Bucky’s sweaty hair. Bucky’s hands on his ass, forcing their groins closer with one while he (almost absently) plays around his hole with the other, driving Steve crazy in the process. Dicks left to do their own thing through pressure and friction. Everything is working. And fast.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky exclaims “Can you promise me all this stuff with the letter was real and not a long-con plan to assure your fragile masculinity that I love you more than I love that espresso machine?”

That. That silly unfunny excuse of a joke that screams Bucky all over is what pushes Steve all the way over the edge. He fucking laughs as he comes making absolutely embarrassing sounds, pressing their foreheads and noses together until it hurts, and shaking from head to toe without stoping his pressure on the stupid and smug man under him. His lover. His partner. His unofficial husband. His best friend.

His Buck.

“There’s still too much blood in your brain if you can play that dirty,” Steve states, placing one hand between them grabbing Bucky’s hard cock. “Let’s see if I can do anything about it.”

“Your hand, usually so helpful, but I was already following you after that sound you make when you come and laugh at the same time, shit, it always goes straight to my dick, I’m,…” he keeps talking with difficulty between breaths and moans until he leaves his speech unfinished coming all over Steve’s fist.

They kiss on the lips breathing into each other before Steve rolls over. They are sticky and panting in silence, spread on their kitchen’s floor, Steve’s shoulders crushed between Bucky’s and the dishwasher. Domestic bliss at its most literal.

One lavish fuck and two showers later they reemerge into the kitchen in search of something to eat: Bucky is in charge of the food today, while Steve cleans the mess they left a couple of hours ago.

He’s decluttering the counter when their damaged picture laying there puts a smile on his face but also reminds him of the restored version presumably still waiting inside the disregarded letter, so he grabs the envelope to retrieve its contents: one photocopy (from Dernier’s original writing), and the promised photo.

And it is restored. Everything is clear where it was blurry before: Dernier (so deep into his priest impersonation that he’s not even looking at them), the trees, the battered umbrella, the ridiculous jackets… and them.

“You had the nerve to call me reckless and mushy, Buck?” Steve laughs as he stares at the picture where a very young Bucky is about to put a ring on his finger with the least subtle lovestruck expression he’s ever seen (“and it’s for you”, his brain proudly reminds him) “Wow, you might as well be kissing me there, anything would be more subtle than this!”

“Don’t shame me, you punk, especially not when you were the one responsible for breaking my brain back then!” Bucky answers coming from behind and stealing the picture from his hands to scrutinize it. Goofy grin and raging blush quickly taking over his face. “But you’re one to talk, Cap. You are gazing at that shoelace’s ring as if I were handing you a diamond tiara!”

Steve laughs softly at that and moves his right hand to his pocket, feeling the weight of the little compass he had retrieved earlier from one of his drawers. He used to carry it with him everywhere for comfort, but he has a better option now.

“Didn't you know that shoelaces are forever?” He asks, taking the compass out of his pocket and holding it in both hands as he opens it, nudging Bucky with his elbow to get his attention.

Bucky is confused for an instant while he looks at his young face staring at them from inside the little box. Of course he knew that (he made fun of Steve for days and days) but Steve detects the change in his expression when he notices the other thing.

“Wow, you gigantic sap,” Bucky says, taking the compass out of his hands to double-check he is seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. “You saved my shoelace.”

He had. While they were all celebrating his wedding under the rain dancing to no music, he quietly slipped the little string off his finger and tied it to the most secure place he had back then.

“It’s not a shoelace, you jerk, it’s a symbol. A declaration.” He laughs, stealing the compass back to safely pocket it again.

“You are delusional,” Bucky snorts, kissing the top of his head. But he’s widely smiling and lost in thought as he goes back to their sandwiches.

Steve stays on the spot enjoying the peace in their silent companionship, his focus on the latest news showing up on his phone, the text he’s writing to Sam and the comforting sounds of Bucky moving around the kitchen.

“You might have married me, but I never actually married you.” Bucky blurts out of the blue a bit later, sitting by his side as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and some grilled greens on it. “Do you want mayo with that?”

“Uh?” Steve forgets all about the news and the text and looks at Bucky in confusion.

“Mayo, do you want some?” Bucky repeats nonchalantly.

“No mayo, thank you; but I was actually more interested in the other part, you know, that thing about marriage?”

Bucky looks him in the eye: earnest, blushing and with the same look of smug adoration he had on the picture.

“Oh, that part.” He jokes. “You apparently married me in 1944, but I never married you back. And I would like to.”

“Marry me?” Steve asks and Bucky visibly nods.

“I’m sorry for throwing the idea at you like this, books tell me I'm supposed to have candles, music, and a ring, but you showed me that restored picture and I couldn't stop thinking about it, about proof,” Bucky speaks uncharacteristically slow and very softly, voice trembling here and there while he claps his hand with Steve’s finger by finger for reassurance and as a distraction. “A single photo had the power to transform a moment that existed just as a made-up happy place inside my mind into something tangible and real. Something that would be tangible and real for anybody getting a hold on it and looking at our stupid faces.”

“So stealthy,” Steve says, and they both laugh together.

“Proof, Steve. I was slicing tomatoes and thinking how there’s so much evidence, thousands of files! out there proving that all the stuff that fuels my nightmares were real, but nothing solid about this. Us.” Bucky stops for a moment collecting his thoughts, still smiling even with the heavy subject he just dropped into the mix. “Sorry, I believe I put more time into these sandwiches than into thinking this all the way through so I’m…”

“Take your time, we’ve gone from mayo to marriage to nightmares in five minutes so don’t worry, you have me hooked here.”

Steve makes Bucky laugh again as he intended, and he feels their calloused laced fingers immediately squeezing closer.

“It’s stupid because it doesn’t change anything for us but,.. I don’t fucking know, Steve, I think that picture has messed up with my mind! I instantly found comfort in the idea of people finding facts beyond the nightmares now or in the future. An easy to understand, universal and oversimplified proof of how much I loved you and how much I was loved in return.” Bucky takes a breath and stares at him sporting a million-watt smile. “Marrying you,… I would really love that. And for real this time.”

“Ok, Buck.” Steve instantly replies, eagerness winning over thoughtful and heartfelt declarations. He tightens the grip on their joined hands to drive them to his lips and seals the easiest answer he’s ever had to give.

And it's done!Sorry for the cavities, for going on with the fic when it should have ended and for ending it where it might have had to keep going. It was painful and fun. I'm free!

#stucky #steve and bucky #fanfiction forever #painfully created by me #fic by yours truly #manip by yours truly #pics by yours truly #howling commandos #never let us lose what we have gained #fluff #so much fluff #sorry for the cavities #this was fun and painful #pictures inside #please do not repost the pictures #shameless fluff #no artistic value #but they deserve to be happy #long post #under a cut #yay its done #sorry because it ends 15 times #shoelaces are now part of my canon