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hp-fanfic-archive · 3 years

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an introductory rec list (that no one asked for) to some of my favorite ships: drarry [4/10]

First fic I read for the pairing: Obsession by yesbocchan [2k,T] Harry thinks Malfoy is up to something evil. Until he finds out maybe he's not the only one with an obsession. [just a cute little eighth year fic i saw on tumblr back when i was first getting into fandom stuff (and back into harry potter in general) when i was near the end of high school. it’s cute, it’s sweet, and i was curious about drarry as a concept so]

Fic that really sold me on the pairing: Stealing Sweaters by DorthyAnn [12k,T] It's their eighth and final year and over the course of several months, Harry and Draco have managed to become close friends. Their friends are entirely certain that they ought to be much, much more. So they just decide to... help things along. [listen, everything that DorthyAnn writes is phenomenal, so how could i not fall in love with this ship after this?]

Absolute favorite fic(s) for the pairing: Animus Nexus by MystyVander [96k,T] It's Eighth Year at Hogwarts and it seems Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy hate each other more than ever before. Everybody is sick of it. Somebody was tired of the two enough to curse them, binding them together. What at first appears to be a death sentence to both Harry and Draco turns out to be the thing the both of them needed the most. [it’s enemies to friends to lovers coupled with accidental bonding coupled with discussions of magical theory coupled with wizarding traditions with a few misunderstandings and some angst all set in eighth year and that’s basically the perfect combination for me.] Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 [302k,T] Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness. Pairings: HP/DM (Slash) Timeframe: 1994-2002 Goblet to 4 yrs post-DH EWE Rating T for language, high angst, content. [this fic has lived rent-free in my head for three years and it fucking slaps. there’s angst and fluff and so many bittersweet moments and it’s both canon compliant and completely canon divergent and i am obsessed with it. 40000/10]

Most recent fic I’ve read for the pairing: love me now (touch me now) by swisstae [3k,G] Harry's never had a bath. Draco plans on changing that. OR in which Harry gets his hair washed and Loves It (and Draco. He loves Draco too.) [this fic is adorable and sweet and i enjoyed it immensely.]

Favorite AU(s) I’ve read for the pairing: Alternate Sorting AU (Slytherin!Harry): Malfoy Flavor by Vorabiza [199k,E] Harry’s ready to banish the Golden Boy image and take charge of his life. Unfortunately for him, or fortunately, there are surprises in store for him. [Slytherin!Harry but it’s not an entire canon rewrite like most of the alternate sorting fics i love so much, so that’s fun. also severitus and just the right amount of soul crushingly painful angst. oh and it has a delightfully fluffy little sequel. ] Alternate Sorting AU 2: Electric Boogaloo (Ravenclaw!Draco): Chaos Theory by Tessa Crowley [102k,E] Chaos: when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. One gene varies, one neuron fires, one butterfly flaps its wings, and Draco Malfoy's life is completely different. Draco has always found a certain comfort in chaos. Perhaps he shouldn't. (warnings for: major character death, graphic depictions of violence, psychological torture, implied/referenced non-con) [as my notes on my bookmark said: GOD DAMNNNNN. I LOVE THIS FIC. I CRIED SO MUCH AND ALSO THERE WAS LAUGHTER AND JUST GOD DAMN. ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITES. so that about sums it up.] Time Travel AU: Annus Mirabilis by Ren [39k,E] Harry and Malfoy are trapped at Hogwarts around the time the school was founded. Stuck with a different way of doing magic, with no chocolate, and with each other, they have to find a way to work together if they want a chance to go home. [i almost never fuck with time travel aus but… this one slaps. also? hogwarts founders era?? hell yeah. also also? their relationship progresses in a way that feels so natural and the tension is so palpable and the writing is excellent.]

Favorite Series for the pairing: Leo Inter Serpentes by Aeternum [746k,E,6 Works] Just one conversation between two eleven year old boys goes slightly differently, and the world changes. Just how much will be different with Harry being sorted into Slytherin, and how much will stay the same? [Slytherin!Harry? Harry, Draco, Hermione friendship? Severitus? All in a complete series re-write that’s currently six completed works deep? What more could you possibly need?]

Longest fic I’ve read for the pairing: I Do What I Want by XxTheDarkLordxX [509k,E] They say you shouldn't touch what isn't yours... Too bad no one told Harry that. A simple mistake that Harry made in his first year at Hogwarts is coming back to bite him in the arse. The war is over but the threat to his life is just beginning. This story begins with a simple apology that changes Harry’s life. It starts a domino effect that leads to unbelievable connections, undying love, unique past lives, unknown villains and an unstoppable family. Follow Harry and his friends on an epic adventure filled with twists, bumps, comfort, enemies, a new life and a lot of love. (warnings for: major character death, some character bashing) [the first (or first few? i forget) chapters are written in first person but they’re an internal monologue and the rest of the fic is not in first person, just so you know. Also, the concept slaps and the fic is cute and i love to see it (and i’ve read it thrice).]

Fic(s) with some of my favorite tropes: Matchmaking: Ron Weasley: Accidental Matchmaker by Phoenix_Waves [2k,T] "There's not a sexual tension out there that the man can't accidentally detect!" George beamed. "And then ask the stupid arse question that's going to light the spark and fan the flames." Lee added matter-of-factly. A fluffy Christmas one shot featuring our favorite older Gryffindors. [god this is excellent: the obliviousness, the mutual pining, the matchmaking, having the older gryffindor kids around and having a good holiday time- it’s all excellent.] Soulmates: Kiss Me Not by DorthyAnn [21k,T] Sometimes a witch or wizard's magical signature is so completely incompatible with another that they repel one another like magnets. On the other hand, if two magical signatures mesh well together, well there are no stronger relationships in all the world. In a sample of a thousand people, the average witch or wizard will be slightly repelled by four or five people and strongly repelled by only one, at the most. The opposite is true for attraction. But Harry Potter can't kiss anyone at all. [this is actually such a fascinating take on the classic soulmates trope. there’s no predestined person for everyone and there’s no magical guarantee of anything, just magic being a little difficult and i adore that. also the writing style is excellent and the characterizations are spot on.] Accidental Bonding + Bed Sharing: Let's Take A Chance On Happiness by endless_grey [21k,E] Harry works with Luna at her magical antique shop, and everything is going pretty well until a mysterious ring makes an appearance. Cue curse-breaker Draco Malfoy and an accidental bond, and suddenly Harry is magically married to his former nemesis. They need to break the bond before Hermione's fundraiser, but Harry doesn't remember "fall in love with the git" being part of the plan. [i discovered this fic while looking for something else, but it’s so good. i love their dynamic and it’s shift as the story progresses and i love both of their friendships with luna just as much. it’s funny and a little angsty and well written and has two of my favorite tropes in it. what more can i say?]

#drarry #drarry fic rec #drarry rec list #drarry fic rec list #drarry fics #drarry recs #hp fic rec #hp recs #hp fics #hp fic rec list #hp fic list #hp fic recs #drarry fic recs #intro to my fav ships rec list #queue is for quibbler

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aficwhore · 3 years

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Truth Is (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: Paper Weighted Problems

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After the night before, tensions between Fish and Chip arise. While tearing through the jungle and Lorea’s place, Frankie and the reader fight, leading to an amazing discovery.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity?, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death/death itself, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: Sorry for the late update, Life has its ups and downs! Today we had a bad storm so I sat in my basement and wrote this. I hope you like it<3

Regret. Frankie couldn't hide the emotion from me. It was as clear as day, I wondered if the boys had noticed it.

“Well what’s for breakfast?” I broke the awkward silence, causing everyone but Frankie to break their gazes away from me, but exchanges looks between each other. I finally looked anywhere but in Frankie’s direction.

Tom cleared his throat, “Uh nothing special, we saw that you had some frozen waffles and just made those.” He tried to lighten the mood, it was obvious, everyone knew about last night.

“Haha, yea, what grown woman buys Eggos?” Benny attempted to joke, causing Santi and Will to stifle a laugh.

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile, thoughts of Frankie still clouding my mind. “For occasions just like this one! When five grown men have a slumber party in my living room.” I added, walking over to the counter and grabbing a plate full of waffles and dowsing them in syrup.

“Right, because that’s definitely what it was.” Tom chuckled, handing me a napkin.

“Exactly, I’m pretty sure I saw Pope braiding Benny Boy’s hair.” I joked biting into a chunk of food.

Ben scoffed, “It gets in my eyes!” And everyone froze, staring at him in shock. After a second of complete silence, Frankie burst into laughter, sending the rest of us into a laughing fit, except Ben. He stood there blushing, trying to act like he didn’t reveal that he braids his hair.

Will began to cough, struggling to not choke on the mouthful of food while he snickered. Pope roughly patted him on the back as our giggles died down.

“So, does that mean you sit in the mirror and braid your own hair?” Tom questioned with a smirk on his face, wanting to bother Benny more.

“You shut up.” He jokingly spits. Tom raises his hands as a sign of defeat and continues to finish the last bites of food on his plate.

“Anyways...Other than our ‘slumber party’ I know two people that had some fun last night.” Pope spoke up, causing mine and Fish’s eyes to open wide.

“Oh yea, how could we forget? ‘Oh FrAnKiE, Oh YeS! HaRdEr!’” Benny mimicked me while thrusting his hips for dramatic affect. I could feel heat rising to my face as the boys roared with giggles again.

“Would you cut it out?” Frankie replied, wanting to avoid this talk entirely.

Then Pope joined in, making fun of Frankie, “’FuCk, bAbY, I wOn’T LaSt LoNg!’” I sat there, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Normally this would be a joke, but with everything, this wasn’t a joking matter.

“I said enough!” Frankie shouted, “It shouldn’t have happened, okay?!” He expressed, shoving his chair back, getting up, and storming outside.

All the commotion died immediately. Pope and Benny opened their mouths to apologize when they turned to me, but were met with a blank stare.

Did he really mean that? After pursuing me? After trying so hard to make up, he goes and says ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

Everyone remained quiet, continuing to stare at me in concern. After what felt like hours, Tom pushed his seat back and got up, hopefully headed to catch Frankie.

Once Tom had made it out the front door, I cleared my throat, "So, what time are we leaving?" I asked, trying to hide all the hurt and pain from my eyes.

The three remaining men all exchanged looks, "Here in 15." Santi spoke quietly, unsure of what exactly just happened.

"Sounds good!" I faked enthusiasm, stuffing my mouth with the last bite on my plate and getting up. I swiftly put my dishes in the sink and headed back to my room. I could hear the boys whispering to each other, trying to understand what the hell was going on with Frankie and I.

I closed my door behind me. I leaned against it, letting my head fall back with defeat and hit the door. Feeling my emotions topple over the brim, tears rushed to my eyes as I slid down the door and sank to the floor.

What the fuck was going on? Why was Frankie so upset with our actions. I thought finally we had made up, that he was once again MY Fish. Had he just used me last night? What changed his mind? Why was this happening all over again?

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that my sobs were now audible. I couldn't hold back the garbled gasps I let out. Tears stained my cheeks and began to soak my shirt.

Through the door I could hear the boys trying to get each other to come get me, because it was close for us to leave. Not wanting to deal with the water works anymore, I slapped my cheeks a few times, trying to smack the emotions out of my head. I wiped my tears off and quick got up to change my shirt.

After rummaging through my clothes, I found a similar shirt, threw it on and swung open the door, wanting to just head to the airport, and to get this over with.

Holding my head up high, I confidently walked back to the kitchen/living room to meet the boys. Only Benny and Will stood there waiting for me, finishing the dishes and putting them away.

"All set? I'm ready to get this over with and be rich." I attempted to joke, causing the brothers in front of me to awkwardly chuckle, their eyes full of worry.

Benny shook his head, acknowledging that I wanted to ignore the fiasco and to get on the road. He led the way out of the apartment after hanging up a dish towel and grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter.

I followed quickly behind him with Will right on my heels. When we made it to the cars, Frankie sat in the front passenger side of Santi's truck, Santi in the driver seat, and Tom between them.

"I'll drive," Will offered, making his way to his truck and getting in. Benny walked ahead of me, opened the door and waited for me to hop in, before getting in after.

No one spoke as we tailgated Santi's truck all the way to the airport. Will placed his hand on my thigh the whole time, as a way to console me. Benny had his arm around me, slightly pulling me into his side. With them, I felt much better, they were my best friends and knew exactly how to comfort me.

When we found a good parking space, we all hopped out, and grabbed our things from the bed of the trucks. It was still awkwardly silent between everyone.

As we checked into our flights and went through TSA, Benny tried to lighten the mood by saying he needed a snack, even though we had just ate. We all giggled when Will called him a 'garbage disposal.'

Sitting at our flight gate was almost unbearable, realizing this mission would be very difficult, now with the added tension.

When we boarded the plane, Will and Santi sat with me, of course I was in the middle. Tom, Benny, and Frankie sat in the seats next to us. During the first hour I attempted to read a book, but quickly got bored as I felt Pope fall asleep and rest his head against my shoulder. Will sat with his eyes closed and headphones in.

I glanced over Pope's sleeping frame to find the others. Benny was leaned forward, head down and snoring on the tray he had propped up. Tom was slouched in his chair, his head lulling back and forth with sleep consuming him. And Frankie, who was also reading, looked up and met my eyes.

I ignored the gaze he gave me and turned my attention back to my book. Moments later I felt my phone buzz with a text. I sat my book down and pulled out my phone, reading the message;

Fishie: "I'm sorry..."

I rolled my eyes, was he really apologizing for his blowout, over a text?

Locking my phone, I put it face down into my lap, leaving the message unanswered. I continued my page in my book, only getting past a few sentences before my phone vibrated again. I acted as if I didn't feel it and remained reading. Only for it to ping again.

Frustratedly, I opened my phone again, seeing two additional texts;

Fishie: "Really?"

Fishie: "I meant what I said. I am sorry, but last night... was a mistake."

Heat began to rise to my cheeks, I forcefully typed back;

Me: "Wow, you are unbelievable."

I heard him shuffle and type back quickly;

Fishie: "Because I apologized? It's true, I'm only helping us both here. Yea it was my fault, but I shouldn't have gone to your room."

Me: "You took advantage of my feelings. You acted like we can just ignore this, I can't help but feel you led me on."

Fishie: "Led you on?! How? WE both decided to sleep together, thats it. I didn't LEAD you to do anything."

Me: "You're a real fucking piece of work."

Fishie: "Oh really?"

Me: "Yea, fuck you."

Fishie: "God you are the most stubborn and hard headed person I've ever met. Can't you see that this was a damn mistake?"

Me: "Screw you, oh wait, I did, but look where that got me. I don't even know why you're trying to apologize, because somehow you keep shifting the blame to me."

As I hit send and shoved my phone between my legs and put my book away, I heard Frankie huff with anger. Awaiting a reply I closed my eyes and leaned against Will, using his arm as a pillow.

But for a while, nothing came, and I slowly began to drift into unconsciousness.

My sleep had been interrupted by the plane shaking and a loud thump. I opened my eyes abruptly, and slightly frightened. I faced Will, to glance out the window and found that we had finally landed in Colombia.

We all silently gathered our things and slowly made our departure from the plane and airport. Once we trudged through the doors, we made it into the humid climate, the wet air immediately dampening our skin and clothes.

"Damn, this is gonna be fun." Benny chirped as we all huddled into the jeep Santi had prepared for us. Santi hopped upfront, and so did Tom, leaving four of us to try and fit in the backseat.

"Pope, there six of us, there's no way we'll fit AND have room for the bags." I spoke up, watching as Will, Benny, and Frankie smushed into the seats together.

"I know, I promise I'm more prepared than that," he laughed. "We only have to ride like this for a few miles, then we're on foot, and they'll have cargo vans there." He explained, turning on the engine and motioning for me to somehow get in.

"You can sit on my lap, I'll hold you down during Pope's insane driving." Benny laughed from between Will and Fish. I climbed over Will, careful not to hurt him, and landed in Ben's lap when he yanked the arm I used to brace my weight.

I twisted in his lap to sit comfortably, hoping I'd fit and we could just hurry up and get this over with. Benny wrapped his arms around my waist as Santi sped off and made way to a long and bumpy road.

We hit quite a few bumps and potholes, causing me to shift and bounce in Benny's lap. I tried to lean forward and hang in-between the two front seats, to help alleviate the rough contact between us.

"Damn it Chip, quit wiggling." Benny grunted from behind me.

"I can't control that, Pope is hitting every possible bump on the road." I squeaked as we hit a particularly hard one. I landed back into his lap and felt something. "Ouch, what the hell is in your pocket."

Will snorted and faced the window to hide his face as Benny gulped loudly. "I-I can't help it, you keep moving!" I froze, wanting to still believe it was something in his pocket.

"C'mon man, can't you control yourself?" Frankie angrily spoke up.

I pulled my back from Benny and sat as far forward on his legs as I could, turning to look at Frankie. "What? How is it-" I countered, my voice dying in my throat.

"Fish, you know how it works, it's not like I'm doing this on purpose." Benny awkwardly explained.

Frankie huffed and shook his head. "Whatever." he muttered.

"Looks like someone is jealous." Santi quietly joked.

"I am not jealous! We-we are on a damn mission! That should be the last thing from anyones mind, we need to focus on not dying and getting the fucking money." Frankie snapped, filling the jeep with his booming voice.

All noise ceased, the only sound was the creaking of the car as we rolled off the main road into a trail. The tension was at an all time high, it was engulfing and in a way, suffocating.

After some time, we stopped, Santi throwing the car in park and quickly turning to us. "My informant said that the mansion should be vacant, but we only have about 15 minutes, so we get in and get out, with as much as we can carry, but we can't take too much time." We all nodded. "When I get the signal, we're coming in hot and getting right to it. Get out and suit up." He turned back around and hopped out.

We followed behind, pulling out our bags and pulling on our gear. Not much else was said, due to the shit that was about to go down, even though it would be empty, you never know what could happen.

"Alright, obviously with everything, we no longer fit, I'll ride the side." I spoke, waiting for Will to get in and shut the door.

"Me too, easier that way." Frankie offered, shutting his door after Benny jumped in.

Will shut his door and I placed my foot on the step bar, hauling myself up to grab the rack on top for support, hanging on tight as Frankie did the same. "All good?" Pope asked through the window.

"Game time bitches." I quirked, slapping my free hand on the top of the Jeep. As we waited for the signal, I took in my surroundings, lush, thick forest all the way around, If Pope doesn't know where to go, we'd definitely get lost.

As I admired the greenery, I turned to look over the roof of the car, meeting Frankie's eyes for what seemed like the millionth time since we've reunited.

He sheepishly looked away and down at the ground, his knuckles which wrapped around the frame of the rack, tightened and turned white.

A garbled and staticky noise came from the cab of the vehicle, causing Pope to slam the gear shift into drive and yell "Hold on tight!" He lurked the jeep forward, stepping up the speed.

I held on tighter, pulling my body as flush as I could to the side of the Jeep, to avoid hitting the branches and brush that littered the sides of the overgrown trial.

After a long blur of green, the forest broke into a path, leading to a small mansion. Just as fast as we drove, we stopped. I jumped off and quickly swung the door open for Will, stepping back and pulling my gun from my side.

Without any words, we all strategically filed into the house, making sure to take cover and search the premise, eliminating any threats. The first floor had been barren, as for people, though it was filled with expensive artwork and furniture.

Once we all searched and met at the staircase, Pope nodded at me, signaling for me to take the lead upstairs and sweep the area. I quickly glided up the stairs and took cover near the first door, getting ready to burst in the room and check. To my luck, when I leaped into the room, it was empty. I glanced behind the door, and walked further into the office, keeping my gun at attention.

I could hear the boys doing the same, in the last four rooms. I observed the room, a big desk sat in the middle, a fancy chair accompanied it, the walls were decorated with paintings and portraits. The was a door in the corner, which I strode over to, swinging it open, full force. An alarmed Fish sat on the other side, the door led to the next room. I quickly pointed my gun at the ground and rolled my eyes, turning to examine the room again.

"Clear!" I yelled, letting the team know our section was safe.

Frankie walked through the door and up to me, as I sifted through the desk. "Hey I just wanted to talk real quick."

"Really? Now is not the time, look for the money." I spat back at him. "Any luck?!" I yelled hoping someone found something.

A faint voice answered, "No! I swear, she said there was money here!" Pope echoed.

Getting antsy, I shoved the desk, causing it to fall over, Frankie stepped back, "Listen, I didn't mean to make things worse, okay? Trust me I wanted nothing more than to be with you again."

I paused my movements, holding a paperweight in my hand, "No Frankie, you've done enough, either you want me or don't." I spoke harshly.

"Damn it Chip, just listen!" He raised his voice.

"No! I'm not doing this again, get your shit together and fucking look for something!" I yelled, bending down to put the weight down. He leaned forward and grabbed my arm. "Fuck you!" I yanked away, causing the paper weight to leave my hand and barrel into the wall.

The wall cracked, a hole forming as the weight bounced off and fell to the ground. "Look at what you did!" Frankie gasped with frustration.

I whipped around, walking to the wall, grabbing the paperweight. As I stood, I stopped halfway up when I was met with the hole. But it wasn't just an empty wall or beam behind it. There were plastic packages sticking out, which is very unusual for houses. Frankie began to murmur again.

"Shh! Shut Up!" I shushed him, reaching into the hole and tugging at the bag.

"You never let me talk-" Frankie continued.

"Frankie shut the fuck up! Look!" I screamed when the bag came out of the wall and into my hands. I Twisted on my heel and showed him the bag, which contained a huge stack of One-hundred dollar bills.

"Holy Fuck." Frankie gulped, making eye contact with me.

TAGLIST @tanyaherondale @winter-fox-queen @supernaturalgirl @actual-spawn-of-satan @hnt-escape @toomanystoriessolittletime @shadowolf993 @goldielocks2004

*if your user has a strike through, it wouldn’t let me tag you*

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish Morales x reader #catfish x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #frankie morales angst #angst

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 3 years

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TINSITOGS, a retrospective (happy birthday)

(yes I’m like two days too late I know I’m sorry)

Why hello followers and ass class fandom, nice to see you there. I’m sure MOST people know about this, but in case you don’t, hi. On AO3 I’m better known as livixbobbiex, writer of maybe one of the most infamous Assassination Classroom fics.

Which I mean like, if you haven’t read it yet you totally should it’s fanlore at this point I promise-

Shameless plug that I don’t need aside, I felt that, on its first birthday since actual completion, I just wanted to share some things about it. Some tit bits about writing it, fun facts, maybe even some author advice TM. I appreciate that it’ll be super annoying if I do that in the tags, though, so that’ll all be under the cut. If you don’t want to read the whole post, then no matter what, thanks for the support in general!

I also want to take the opportunity to announce that I’ve reopened my discord, so if you want to talk about my fics with me (and others), you’re more than welcome to join! (the link is here)

The origin story

I’ve stated this many times, I think, but TINSITOGS was never supposed to be a serious story. Taking you back, quite a long time, it actually started in a facebook DM with a friend. We used to come up with “head canons” with each other, which were basically just very condensed fanfiction plots over a multitude of text messages. I believe I was trying to cheer her up, and I tried to come up with some kind of plot line.

At the time, I was fairly fresh to the Ass Class fandom, and I was joking about how there were no teen pregnancy melodrama fanfictions. It wasn’t that I wanted one, I just thought it was strange for a school centric anime with a bunch of ships to NOT have one. And, back then, I only really cared about karmagisa. So I just decided ‘right it’s happening’. The reason I decided to make it ABO was due to ‘it making sense’. Fun fact: it was almost written as AFAB trans Nagisa, but I decided against it as I didn’t rate my ability to handle it well back then. Looking back on it, I’m glad I made that decision.

Over around two months, writing out the plot of this story took over my life a little bit. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I was having so much fun with the drama that I decided that Karma and Nagisa shouldn’t get together soon at all, and I had a lot of fun teasing my friend with the ‘will they won’t they’. It was only when I got bored that I invented this intense drama plotline to finish it all off.

That period of time was a lot of fun. And whilst that friendship didn’t end well, I still have a lot to thank her for. She chose Daichi’s name because I had no idea, and she wanted to annoy me because I didn’t like Haikyuu. When I couldn’t decide on his hair colour, the purple was her suggestion because ‘why logic?’ Daichi speaking Korean was because of how much she liked Kpop. She even helped me choose the title of the actual fic, so there’s a lot you can thank her for, honestly.

After I finished that story, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I daydreamed, I used to think about that damn Daichi Akabane, and how much I wanted to tell his story. I’d even come up with extra stuff to fill in a lot of the gaps, and developed his character in my mind. I decided that I was really desperate to write it down. Usually that worked when I had an idea I wanted to work through.

I wrote the first chapter in late 2017, and then the next two as well. I just, kept going, and realised that I could go further still. TINSITOGS was never something that was supposed to be shared, but I decided I may as well. After all, that fated ‘teen pregnancy drama’ fic still didn’t exist, and I thought it would be funny to make it happen.

Yes, as I’ve stated publicly a few times, TINSITOGS was a crack fic. If I wanted attention from it, it was infamy. We even joked about me cursing the fandom if it ever became the most popular fic (whoops?). What I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of people, in a fandom where at the time there were NO ongoing karmagisa fics and it was pretty dead, to really seem to enjoy it. It was enough to have me keep writing it, at least. I still don’t know at what point I actually started taking it seriously, but somehow I did, and the rest is history?

The reception

In my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would be the author of one of the most popular fics in the fandom. To this day, the amount of views TINSITOGS has is insanity to me. For the record, across all platforms it’s on today it has 238,000, which is literally a number I can’t even visualise anymore. Almost quarter of a MILLION. To this day on AO3, it’s the most viewed Ass Class fic that’s an ACTUAL ass class fic (the others are multi fandom compilations). So yeah, I achieved the original goal, I guess?

Now you might be wondering, “omg the karmagisa fandom is fujoshi trash”. And, considering the origins, it is kind of funny. The thing is, though, TINSITOGS was written at incredibly good time. It was written when there were, essentially, very few long form Karma/Nagisa stories. If any other fics did get posted on occasion, they were usually just oneshots. I was also, at that point, writing very fast. A symptom of ADHD is becoming obsessively productive over certain things. Since I was able to get a 3k chapter out every few days/once a week, TINSITOGS was consistently bumped to the top of AO3′s default view. And some of those first few chapters were altered canon, and transcribing the canon dialogue didn’t take very long. The more views it got, the more people would read it out of sheer curiosity.

I think it also helps that, at least after it started getting some positive feedback (which was honestly after the pre written chapters), I purposely tried to make it ‘not terrible’. I mean, I personally think the first chapter is pretty weak and if it wasn’t somewhat iconic to a lot of people I’d rewrite it. But in general, I purposely tried to make the world of ABO my own, to make it more accessible to those who don’t like that genre, and stay away from the inherently grosser stuff as much as possible. I genuinely do get comments about how I introduced people to the genre as a whole, still not sure if that’s a GOOD thing but hey, it happened.

TINSITOGS turned into a lot more than just a joke. It turned into my favourite hobby. It turned into a research project (honestly, you would not believe the amount of mummy vlogs and legit scientific articles about child development I consumed). It turned into something that, at least I believe, was widely loved.

Meaning

I think it might be wrong to say that I don’t have AN idea of when I started to take the fic super seriously. For me, it was around the time someone commented something along the lines of saying my writing meant a lot to them, that they’d spent all night reading it and had been unable to put it down.

Not to get too dark here, but I do have a past in writing a very long, somewhat popular fic (it’s still on my fanfic net profile if anyone’s interested, but I don’t recommend it). However, in the latter part of my teenage years, the depression struck. Writing was the love of my life, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Maybe I’d be able to muster an idea or even a chapter at the best points of that, but I’d never completely finished any story. Starting to write again was a huge step in my recovery, and one of the reasons I convinced myself that life was worth it was being able to impact someone’s life somehow. Even to this day, I still remember the fics I read when I was, like, thirteen. How much I still remember them, and how much they meant to be at the time. I wanted to be that writer for someone else. To be honest, it was actually Yuri!!! On Ice that got me out of the super bad, but I still never wrote anything of real consequence. TINSITOGS was the first time in a long time I actually committed to something.

And, to be completely honest, there were a lot of times I was tired of it, and wanted to just quit. But, the thing was, I felt like people depended on me in a way. I got so many comments that were just FILLED with support, telling me how much they looked forward to every update. It wasn’t just empty words, either, a lot of the times these comments would be super engaged with the actual writing. I can’t even describe just how much they meant to me, how much I would look forward to reading everyone’s opinions. And then discord happened, which was a lot of fun.

TINSITOGS went a lot further than I ever thought it would. There were comments, discussions, fan art, fan FIC (which is honestly incredible to me). Someone even added it to TV Tropes, at one point. Not to mention the Cards Against Humanity deck and quiz It makes me so unbelievably happy that I could inspire that much creativity, but it’s a two way street. It was all of that which inspired me to write, too.

Writing

The only real goal I actually had was aiming for around 3000 words per chapter. I had a whole facebook log of plot points as planning, and I was mostly just trying to expand on them into prose. I honestly thought that, at its completion, the entire fic would be around 100k words, if that. Not, at one point, being literally the longest ass class fic on AO3.

There are a lot of aspects that were directly adapted from the original messages, and I tried to stay faithful to it more so at first, even if I later removed some of the pure crack. But the style was also vaguely similar, with the story being told mostly from Nagisa’s perspective with swaps to Karma when it made sense. All the main plot beats, too, are pretty much identical. The plus to this was I was able to add a lot of really fun foreshadowing, and I feel like it’s a fun reread because of it.

Honestly though, if there’s a demand to release those OG message logs, I will. Mostly because it’s kind of funny, and interesting to see. Isogai and Nagisa were engaged at one point, even.

Obviously, it changed somewhat. 3000 was the minimum length, and the time to completion was whenever it felt right. One of my big concerns was about pacing, so it took a lot more fleshing out and maybe ‘filler’ content for some of the main arcs to work.

There’s parts of TINSITOGS I don’t think aren’t written that well, and some that I’m still super proud of. I think you can definitely tell there’s a gradual shift in style, and I get a lot more comfortable with writing them as characters as it goes along. To be honest, my pride for the fic overall is what it represents.

It is funny to think about the places it got written in, though. I started it when I worked at McDonalds with no life direction, then it went through my first year of university with me. It’s been written in at least four countries. Aeroplanes, night clubs, long haul buses, a train through the Japanese southern coastline. Even the start of covid. TINSITOGS managed to see a lot. I even turned a scene in (the boat scene during the India chapter with altered names) to my university as a legitimate assignment.

There were also a few messages I wanted to achieve, once I realised I had the platform to put them across. One of them was, obviously, ‘use protection kids’. It was important to me that I didn’t glamorise it too much, and I think that came across. I also wanted to dispute some of the issues with ABO, and subvert the consent issues as much as I could. An arc I really ‘liked’ writing was how abuse doesn’t always look the same way, and that it can be a drawn out change in behaviour. How the most important part of ‘being a good parent’ isn’t perfection, but genuinely loving and doing the best you can for your kid. How love doesn’t solve everything, and effective communication can take a very long time to learn and build a functional relationship. I mean, there definitely was a lot I tried to put in, and you’re free to interpret it all how you want. But, I like to think some people learnt some of these things, at least.

Daichi

Honestly, Daichi developed almost of his own free will. I had a good idea of his appearance, and that he was smart. Writing him from birth until around nine years old (older if you read the sequel fic) pretty much allowed that fluidity. It was really fun to explore a nature vs nurture development, and let his own characteristics speak for themselves.

He’ll always have a special place in my heart.

This is the first image I ever made. When I was trying to figure out what Daichi looked like, I honestly just edited Karma’s hair (pretty well, actually? I’m impressed with my past skill). That’s where the ‘he looks just like Karma’ meme kind of came from.

This was the first image I actually created of Daichi. I THINK it was on rinmaru games mega anime creator or something, but it’s literally not available on the internet anymore as far as I can tell, so I can’t double check. This was in the pre-piccrew days. His eyes are closed because they didn’t have the right tone of goldish/silver.

His sister, Kaguya, didn’t even exist originally, even though I decided on that ending pretty early on. Actually, she was going to be called ‘Irina’ due to some hijinks. Initially, when Karma found out about Irina’s pregnancy, she was going to get super emotional and mad at him and basically force him to name his first born daughter after her. Karma agreed to shut her up, never intending to have another child, so when the surprise second child later came along they had to live with the pain. However, to be honest I just forgot to write in the actual scene that set it all up, and I decided against adding it anywhere else. The name Kaguya was a very last minute decision, and it was a chance for me to explore some ideas that didn’t fit with Daichi’s character.

Interestingly too, Daichi and Nao were never intended to be a thing. I only decided that towards the VERY end. Even though the reason I named Nao that was because of a ship I had in a J Drama (Good Morning Call). It just kind of ended up happening because I won myself over with imagining the cute.

The music

I used to write with a lot of background music, though not all the time. Particularly towards the start, there was a lot that didn’t really make sense thematically, yet I would write to a lot.

Here’s a link to the spotify playlist if you want it it’s basically all the ones I noted I’d listened to a lot. Not including the smut ones, though, I have a whole playlist for that.

Some of the notable ones:

Five String Serenade - the first scene I wrote of the entire fic, in Chapter 25 New Year Time where they fell asleep cuddling.

Cosmic Love - when I wrote Nagisa’s love confession scene in hospital (I also wrote this pretty early on)

Northern Downpour (though it was actually a cover by Emma Blackery) - The chapter after Daichi’s born (30)

When The Party’s Over - Confession Time Third Period, Chapter 69. I literally listened to this song on REPEAT when I planned and wrote the kind of ‘break up’ scene, and it’s one of the few parts that made me cry writing.

Turning Page - I know I said no smut, but this song actually gave me the idea to have the “I love you” in chapter 108 be less on a whim and actually more built up. In the original plan, Karma really did just say it without thinking. I’m glad I changed that.

Bury Me Low and Numb - pretty much all I listened to when writing the last few chapters, because Evil Nagisa core. So much so that Bury Me Low was in my top 2020 songs rewind.

As for the title, there’s actually quite a funny story. I had no idea what to call the fic, and when that happens I usually just try and find some song lyrics. I really wanted to use something from ‘October’ by the Broken Bells. Not only because it’s my favourite song (has been for years), but thematically it really worked. The issue was, it worked as the WHOLE song, there were no individual lyrics that captured everything. And, if they did, they didn’t flow very well. And naming the fic ‘October’ would have been weird for a lot of reasons. There Is No Sweeter Innocence That Our Gentle Sin really was just plucked randomly, in a desperate search to find any snappy lyrics from any song that had some kind of meaning. After a bit of discussion, we settled that it kind of worked... if Daichi is innocent and they committed a sin or something. It also wasn’t the most obvious lyric from the song (Take Me To Church if anyone doesn’t know) so I just went with it. It works out, I think, because TINSITOGS turned out to be a pretty good acronym and pronounceable word in its own right.

The merch redbubble drama

It’s a well known fact that I’m not very good at art. However, I decided to try pixel art because it seemed the easiest to not mess up. I made Karma and Nagisa, before deciding to also give Daichi a try.

This, to this day, is the only good quality art of Daichi that I actually own. The only one I’m actually happy sharing and thinking it doesn’t look terrible. As much as I love people sending me fanart, it’s not ‘my property’, right.

So, I was kind of joking about TINSITOGS having merchandise. At first I just made two funny quote things, and uploaded it to redbubble. I was never intending to actually make money from this, and I’d agreed to myself that if I did, I would just donate it to charity. I was joking with the quotes, but since I had this artwork I figured I may as well uploaded. Separately, there was also an image that had pixel Daichi next to pixel Nagisa and Karma (which I also created).

Aside from showing up in a few people’s adverts across the internet, there was no real harm with this. In fact, I didn’t make money anyway. It was just... more the joke of it existing. I did, however, buy myself a Daichi phone case, which is one of my favourite possessions.

The funny ‘drama’ comes in when they got taken down due to copywrite. Sure, the one with Nagisa and Karma, I understand. But the other three literally had no mention or anything to do with Assassination Classroom, aside from being from a fanfiction. So basically, someone who owns those rights claimed my OC as theirs. Which makes Daichi canon? Whatever the case, I found this hilarious don’t worry.

How has TINSITOGS changed my life?

This is quite a strange thing to think about. Because, in a lot of ways, it really hasn’t. As I’m sure a lot of people know, I don’t really consider myself to have any real ‘fame’, despite the impressive numbers. Whenever I tell people in my personal life, they seem to think I’m some sort of internet celebrity, but that’s never been the case for me. I mean, it’s hardly a cultural phenomenon.

In a lot of ways, I’d much rather befriend someone than have them admire me. Possibly because being someone’s inspiration is kind of weird... I’m just an awkward duck who likes to write after all. I don’t mind it, though. I genuinely find it an honour, even if I don’t necessarily agree. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone ever wants to talk or message me, you’re more than free to do so. I’m usually super casual with people who do that, I promise.

TINSITOGS was the first story I ever finished in the way I truly wanted to. Start to end, a full narrative. And it took a LOT. There were so many times I almost felt like quitting, or took super long breaks. For me, ADHD queen, actually finishing something was a huge deal. And I know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t owe it to everyone who read it, and myself, to see it through. You know like, if I were to die tomorrow, at least I’ve left something behind.

In a lot of ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s helped me develop my writing styles, and way of thinking. It encouraged me to become more active in the fandom, and develop some important friendships. I always feel like my Tumblr and Fanfiction ‘known’ factor is separate. I think most of my Tumblr following is more to do with my theories/Japanese context research if anything, for example, but I know I wouldn’t be so interested in that if TINSITOGS hadn’t lead me to deeply examine character and really look into analysing source material for clues. I also think there’s just... a lot of myself in it.

I was 17 years old, when I first came up with the idea. I finished the story when I was 20. Now, at the time of writing, I’m 21. That time has seen some pretty significant changes - just in general life facts and my own personal human development. For me at least, a lot of that was pretty turbulent, and TINSITOGS stands as a time capsule for that, in a way.

I know I gained a lot of confidence, and it affirmed to me that writing is what I love. Telling stories and sharing them is what I love.

Conclusion

Do I think TINSITOGS is an outstanding piece of writing, or the best fic ever? No. I really don’t. It’s strange to say because I definitely spent a lot of time on it, but it’s not like I put my full unbridled efforts into the story. I don’t fully plan, use a beta, or even read through on my own. And that’s okay - that’s not what I write fanfiction for. Fanfiction is my place to have fun with characters and stories I like, without the pressures of having to stand on my own complete originality. Yes, I’m fully confident that I can write at a “higher quality”, if I really wanted to. I’m also aware that some authors put their full effort into their fics, and that’s just as valid!

It feels odd to say this about my own writing, but I honestly think there’s just something in this story. It might not be written in the best prose ever, and the premise might be kind of dumb for a lot of people. But, I think, there’s some part of this fic that managed to grab people. Somehow, at some point, many readers get captured into the emotions and so drawn in that ‘they just have to finish it now!’ Again, I’m not sure myself how I actually achieved that. Of course, that won’t apply to everyone, but I do feel there’s some truth in it. And it makes me happy, to have caused that.

If TINSITOGS is your favourite fic, or if you genuinely think it’s the best story you’ve read, then thank you. I really appreciate your support, and I’m happy to have been a part of your life, I guess. I know how much fanfics can mean to a person, and that’s why I’m not going to take it down, or edit it at all. And it’s fine too, if you loved the fic for a while and moved on -i t happens. Whatever the case, I’m very honoured to have been able to occupy a moment of your life. Or if you find this fic in 10 years time, even, I still wholly appreciate you.

This story was incredibly important to me, and thank you for reading if it was ever important to you too.

You may ask, what now? Well, this is only intended to be a detailed look back for whoever’s interested, and it’s likely the only one I’ll actually do, a year after completion. Of course, if you ever want to ask me anything or just discuss the story, you’re honestly good to contact me in whatever way I have available.

I’m still writing my ongoing stories, of course, despite taking a small break due to the university work load. I fully intend to complete the stories I’ve already started to tell, at least. After that... I’m not sure if I’ll still write fanfiction. Don’t panic, this isn’t a ‘I’m quitting writing’ thing. I may, however, have bled the Karmagisa genre a bit too dry at that point. Who knows? I am pretty interested in writing something original for once, so maybe that’ll work out.

For now, at least, thank you to anyone who read this fic. To anyone who commented, liked, or interacted with me over it. To anyone who created or learnt from it. I’m really glad that I got to share this story with you all, and ultimately left some kind of mark, no matter how big or small.

Happy birthday, TINSITOGS. I had a lot of fun writing you.

#ass class #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #tinsitogs #karmagisa

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prisonhannibal · 4 years

Note

Do you have any cablepool fanfic recommendations bc I suffer daily trying to find good ones (especially comic based, but movie is fine too)

I think you might be a long distance telepath because I got an ask like this a while ago and didn’t answer it bc I needed time to think. and then I couldn’t find it in my inbox so I decided to just write a regular post, and while I was writing that post I got this ask!

ok these are in no particular order and I’m not using the actual plot summaries the authors used on ao3, just making stuff up or using quotes from the fic

one-shots

Landing on both broken hearted knees by rayguntomyhead (1.6k words, rated M)

Post Deadpool 2. Wade and Nate share a hotel room. I know what you’re thinking, it’s not that kind of fic. Nothing is going on with them yet.

Tropes by quakey (2.2k words, rated T)

Wade’s been reading TVtropes, and if Nate is fucking with him right now, Wade is gonna gut him like a fish and throw his bloody corpse in the sea for the sharks.

These days are great and so are you by bankrobbery (3k words, rated T)

Movie based. Wade gets kinkshamed by Weasel and hawaiian-shirt-shamed by Cable. They’re at the bar, basically

Motormouth by pavonine (13k words, rated T)

Wade can’t shut the fuck up, and this time it’s not even his fault! Wade’s been cursed to never be able to stop talking, which is really fucking inconvenient if you’ve got stuff you’re trying to not say.

also the norwegian prime minister is in it very briefly, and it was posted in 2013, when jens stoltenberg was the PM so I’m just gonna assume it’s him and bring your attention to this picture of him which I think is hilarious

Pressure points by denims (2k words, rated M)

Cable keeps casually touching him, which probably doesn’t mean anything (don’t listen to domino, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about), but it makes Wade feel weird. So, so weird.

Multi-chapter

Wade will f*** shit up for you by Quakey @withoutaconscienceorafilter (48k words, rated E, so minors stay away from this one, it’s the only thing on the list with actually NSFW scenes.)

The craigslist ad said “My name’s Wade and I fuck shit up professionally. So your ex getting married? I’ll crash that shit. Your job fire before their company picnick? I’ll show up with tequila and throw hands. Got some one one you hate an just wanna fuck their day up? I’m all over that shit. Serving all situations where we customize your service to your liking email me for pricing. Services guaranteed with video.” Maybe this is a horrible idea, and maybe he shouldn’t have, but Nate did answer it, so things are definitely about to get weird

I’m biased on this one because it was based on a post I made but it seriously is really good it’s super funny (almost choked to death trying not to laugh on the bus at one point) and in character and some of the scenes are so so so cute. Not sold yet? Hope is in it. AND Ellie. Hell yeah! This one is movie based, and I really like that it’s a regular non powered AU, but Nate’s arm+eye and Wade’s scars are still included. Like Nate has a prosthetic arm and Wade actually looks like Wade.

Fistful of shovels by surefall (28.6k words, rated T)

Now, you might be thinking, ms. Mutantapologist, this is tagged spideypool?? It is, but just trust me okay

Wade’s best friend, bromanciest of bros to ever bro, Nathan Summers is back in his life, and he’s really starting to get under Peter’s skin. They’re just too close, and Nathan is there all the damn time. List of things Wade’s weird time traveling BFF would look good in: 1. his own damn home. Nate and Peter get passive aggressive and competitive, Nate’s manipulative tendencies make an appearance, Peter is kind of a dick, and Wade’s honestly just happy to have his BFF back.

this is one of my favorite portrayals of their relationship dynamic tbh. just...their unbreakable bond...the way they keep coming back to each other through time and dimensions...that shit makes me cryyyy. and how well they know each other..the trust...the casual intimacy....how comfortable they’re with each other...also the dialogue in this is perfect, love their banter. This one is “screenshotting quotes and sending them to your friends” level funny. they also play mario kart and I think that’s nice.

Read Omake: Fistful of shovels for the Deleted Scenes Edition that has stuff that didn’t make it into the final fic or alternate versions of scenes. includes: Nate sending a shirtless selfie with ulterior motives, Nate being sort of a home wrecker (but at least he’s more honest about it!), aunt May, Nate being accused of being a bottom, etc.

Strangers by totallynotremus @totallynotremus (31k, rated T)

Nate plays games. Not weird manipulative mind games this time. Actual games. Online. With Wade and his friends. Wade feels targeted because come on, you behave mildly flirtatiously with the guy your friend group is gaming with online a lot acouple of times and suddenly your so called “friends” won’t stop harassing you about it. unbelievable. this one is also super funny

Motion Practice Universe: Cablepool Edition

I couldn’t put these in either category because they need to be in order and there’s one-shots AND a multi chapter fic so i’d have to separate them and that wouldn’t work. These are part of the (as of august 2020) 1,405,078 words long Motion Practice Universe, but you don’t need to read the rest of it to know what’s going on, I didn’t and it works 100% fine as a stand-alone storyline

Wade Wilson explains it all (or at least, how Clint’s keeping his job. Mostly keeping his job. It’s complicated.) by the_wordbutler (3.3k words, rated T)

Wade is trying to put together a fruit basket for Clint, because he’s a thoughtful friend (who does not get enough credit, hello?), unlike some other people. Example: his coworkers, who won’t let him focus on his super special important project (fruit basket!). And Nate, who’s eating an orange (from the fruit basket!😡) which has no business being that distracting.

it’s sort of an introduction to the next thing in the list, and I highly recommend reading it first. Definitely does a great job at showing what you’re gonna get from the full fic. Also, it’s cute and funny.

Admissions, Interrogatories, and other discoveries by the_wordbutler (150k words, rated M)

No, that wasn’t a typo, it really is 150k words. And I read it. Twice.

Basically, Wade is a criminal defense attorney, good job, you get to defend goat fuckers and other weirdos. Fun times. Nate’s a coworker, works in immigration and civil rights law, they do projects together. Just a bro he jokes around with, who sometimes brings Wade lunch, and whose arms Wade really likes to stare at, but that doesn’t mean anything, right?

this one is REAL slowburn (never in my LIFE have i experienced slow burn like this one holy FUCK), great relationship development and I just love their dynamic and banter in this one. Perfect dialogue and it’s really fucking funny, made me laugh out loud at several points! AND!! Hope is in it<3

What I learned on my summer vacation, an essay by Hope Summers by the_wordbutler (4.5k words, rated T)

Sequel to Admissions, interrogatories and other m discoveries. Wade, Nate, and ten year old Hope go to Disney World, and the beach. A lot of love and family<3 Wade took 3 sign language classes to talk to Hope (who’s deaf)

I’m sure I’m forgetting a lot of great ones but here’s what I could think of rn!!

#txt #cablepool #anonymous

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softbiker · 5 years

Text

Born to Run - Chapter 7

Warnings: some language, people being sneaky, bad editing

Word count: 3k

A/N: This chapter feels like filler, but it’s filler that moves the plot. Some people are hiding things. Some people are dealing with things. The slow burn continues. As always, let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!

She sat on Bucky’s couch, both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

He was on the phone in his kitchen, voice harsh and angry, as he had been for the last half hour. When she had finally calmed down from her panic attack, he had scooped her up with a nearby blanket and carried her across the street, settling her on the couch with another blanket. While he brewed coffee and yelled at someone on the phone, she took the opportunity to look around his home - noting the sparse arrangement of furniture, lack of photos on the walls, lack of anything that could really be called decor. She watched her own thoughts float by, unattached. How was this a real person’s home? How was she here? What the hell is going on?

Bucky reappeared minutes later, having hung up his phone, and strode to the front door, checking his three locks. Three locks, in a town like this, would have seemed like overkill until an hour ago. Until someone upended her house and her life.

He was still pacing near the door, hands running through his hair and tugging slightly at the roots, breathing deep and measured. However funny and kind he had been at the clubhouse tonight, he was all business now. The scowl on his face deepened as he muttered softly to himself, worry lines etched into his forehead.

“Bucky?”

Her voice pulled him out of his head, eyes snapping over to her face.

“Can I -” she cleared her throat. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “It’s just down the hall, on the right.”

She thanked him, leaving the coffee and blankets behind as she stood from the couch and padded down the hall to where he pointed. He watched her go, chewing his lip, eyes strained and sad.

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as she closed the door.

Steve R.: She’s ok though?

Bucky: Yeah. Shaken up but fine.

Bucky: This was why I didn’t want to do this. You should have listened to me.

Steve R.: I know. I’m really sorry. We’re on our way over now.

Bucky: Ok.

Another buzz.

Sam Wilson: Reaching out to Stark. I’ll let you know what I hear from him.

Bucky Barnes: Good. Tell him to move his ass or I’ll take care of it myself.

Sam Wilson: Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll be there in 10.

Y/N shuffled out of the bathroom, eyes red and glazed, and Bucky shoved his phone back in his pocket. Giving her a shaky smile, he led her back to the couch, sitting on the coffee table - a reversal of their positions just 2 weeks ago.

“So, listen.” He rubbed her arms a little, reached for the discarded blanket and tucked it around her shoulders again. “I know you’re tired, but I’ve called the police, and we’re going to need to talk to them first, okay? And then you can sleep here on the couch if you want. I called Steve and they’re coming over here - Nat and Wanda can go get some of your things?”

She was only staring at him, not responding, her eyes flitting over his face.

“Or - well, actually, we could take you to the clubhouse,” he fumbled. “Shouldn’t have assumed, you don’t have to stay here with me. You’d probably be more comfortable with the girls-”

“I wanna stay here,” she blurted, surprising both of them. She blinked a few times, throat working to swallow. “I’d...rather stay here...with you. If that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, of course that’s okay.”

When the police arrived, they questioned her much less than she imagined - who had access to her house and how long was she gone and were there any valuables missing. A kind-looking detective with a thick mustache patted her hand and kept her interview short, while a couple more officers went through the house, taking in the scene.

“Now, Doctor,” the detective, O’Conner, sighed heavily. “Can you think of anybody who wants you gone? The graffiti says ‘leave now’. Who wants you to leave?”

Y/N licked her lips, eyes sliding to Bucky who was standing near the hall with his arms crossed. He had refused to leave during the interview, and the officer hardly protested, preferring to get on with the investigation. But what could she say - how much was she allowed to say? She’d joined a biker gang and now had a target on her back? She might be in danger because of the Avengers, but what would happen to them - to her - if she ratted to the cops?

“Doctor?” Detective O’Conner was still watching her, his graying eyebrows drawn together.

“No one,” she shook her head. “No one that I know of, at least. I...I barely even know anybody here.”

O’Conner nodded. “Yes, you mentioned that you had recently moved to the area, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve had no...run-ins with the locals? Made no enemies?”

“No.”

O’Conner scratched his head and sighed, putting his notebook back in his pocket.

“Alright then. Well that’s all I needed from you right now. You should get some rest - have you got someplace to stay?”

“She’s staying here.” Bucky piped up, still glowering from his place across the room. Detective O’Conner pursed his lips and nodded.

“Okay. You folks rest up. We’ll call with any news on the investigation.”

Y/N thanked him and Bucky showed him to the door, leaving his locks undone this time. He glanced over his shoulder at her, tucked into the corner of his couch - smaller than he had ever seen her.

“So, um,” Bucky scratched his head. “Let me get you some sheets and you can sleep there on the couch, okay?”

Y/N just nodded, eyes vacant, as he made his way to the linen closet in the hall and pulled out a set of sheets and a quilt. Standing to the side, she watched him spread the sheets over the couch cushions, tucking excess fabric down underneath so it wouldn’t bunch underneath her. The top sheet and quilt followed, with a corner folded down and a pillow beaten to proper fluffiness. A part of her, the part not still in shock, was touched by his efforts. Most of her wanted to pass out.

She crawled under the covers, let him put the extra throw blanket over her feet when he mumbled something about the living room being cold. He flipped the overhead light switch, leaving only a lamp on in the corner of the room, and let her shift and sigh and settle until she finally grew quiet, breaths slow. He watched her breathe for a few minutes, a crease between her brows even in her sleep. He really hates himself for this.

Outside the house, he hears Steve and Sam pull up.

**********

Low voices are floating from somewhere behind her, maybe the next room. She leaves her eyes closed though, content to stay in her hazy dreamlike doze, only half-awake. Scraps of her dreams float behind her eyes - a beach, a faceless man - none perfect but none bad. The quilt is bunched up under her chin, where she had tugged at it in the night when she got cold. Snuggling further into the fabric, she got a deep whiff of the scent, one she didn’t recognize. Did she change detergents? And when did she get a pillow like this? And-

She bolted upright when it all came back.

The clubhouse.

Bucky’s hips between her legs.

His eyes when she said goodnight.

Her house. Her house.

When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, four pairs of eyes were on her. Sam, Steve, and Natasha all sat at Bucky’s kitchen table, with the man himself standing by the sink with a pot of coffee. Their faces ranged from concerned to sympathetic to curious; as they took her in, head to toe, Y/N realized what a picture she must make with her slept-in makeup and messy hair and yesterday’s clothes. She curled in on herself a little, self-conscious, and stayed in the doorway.

Bucky was the first to actually speak.

“Good morning.” He gave her a soft smile. Unlike her, he had changed his clothes - an Army t-shirt and baggy plaid pajama pants, making him look unbelievably soft. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” she croaked, embarrassed at the hoarseness of her morning voice. She cleared her throat. “Yes, thanks. I slept pretty well. What time is it now?”

“Just past 11.” Steve checked his watch. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

“Eleven o’clock? Oh god, oh my god - I’m so late-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky soothed, holding up his hands. “I called the clinic for you this morning and told them about what happened to your house. They’re letting the nurse practitioner cover your patients for today. Everything’s fine.”

“Oh.” Her heart continued its panicked beat as her mind caught up with the situation. “Oh. Okay then.”

“I brought over some of your clothes,” Natasha spoke up, leaning her elbows on the table. “And a toiletry bag. Toothbrush, makeup, that kind of thing. The lock was still broken on your door so I just let myself in - sorry about that.”

“That’s - that’s really nice, thank you.”

“Are you hungry? I can make you breakfast?” Bucky glanced at the clock on the oven. “Or brunch I guess.”

Y/N rubbed her eyes and winced at the crunchy feeling of her mascara.

“Um, I think a shower first. And then maybe food.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Bucky nodded. “You can use my bathroom actually - the shower is bigger.” He pointed her to the end of the hallway where his bedroom was. After grabbing her toiletries by the door where Natasha had left them, she scurried off to the shower, eager to wash off the last 24 hours.

**********

Bucky waited until he heard the water running before he pulled out his chair and dropped down at the kitchen table.

“So. What the hell are we gonna do about this?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck, looking exhausted. The bags under his eyes pooched further when he stared at the wood of the table.

“Buck, we’re so close. We’ve worked on this for a really long time - we can’t blow it.”

“This will be a huge score for me, too,” Natasha added. She had thrown her hair up into a bun at some point during their all-nighter. “You guys know how Ross has been breathing down my neck on this one.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I say we wait it out and finish the job.”

Bucky’s look was scathing.

“You’re telling me you wanna fuckin’ let this go? Are you serious right now?”

“There’s a big difference between letting it go and biding our time.”

“Not to her!”

“Look man,” Sam cut in, holding a placating hand between them. “I know that this felt...personal to you, but there are always risks in this business. You know that.”

“Of course I know that but - fuck - this isn’t about me!” Bucky was incredulous. “How the hell was she supposed to know, really know, the risks of helping us? Huh? Did anybody sit down and spell it out?”

“I mean, you did go over there and nearly bleed out on her couch,” Sam offered.

“That’s different. That’s not - she wasn’t threatened by that. But this, I mean, they broke into her house! What if she had been home? What if -”

“Buck.” Steve interrupted his tirade, stern eyebrows leveling at his friend. “I think we all appreciate the danger she was in. But I also think...you know how dangerous it is to get attached in this line of work.”

Bucky scowled.

“I’m not attached. Caring about what happens to an innocent woman is not attached.”

“And it’s really nothing more than that?” Sam challenged, brows tilted in a skeptical look.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out - his words lodged in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. He gaped at his friends for a moment, floundering. Of course that was all it was. There couldn’t be anything more than that. Not for his sake, or for hers.

Steve sighed heavily, with that world-weary gravitas that never seemed ridiculous on him, and leveled a tired look at his best friend.

“Whatever the case, we can’t let this get in the way of finishing the job.” He spoke slowly, tone almost condescending. “If we - if you - take this personally, go looking for revenge, you could blow the entire operation.”

Bucky’s eyes rounded the table, looking at each of his friends in turn. He was outnumbered. Outvoted.

“Fine,” he shrugged, his scowl settling deeper. “Fine. I guess we do nothing.”

**********

She grabbed a towel from the counter and wiped fog from the mirror, revealing her smudgy, damp reflection above the sink. Her face was clean now, but traces of mascara blurred around her eyes, making her look ragged and tired. Which was fitting, considering how she felt. Her palms pressed into her cheeks, breathing deep the steam-filled air.

In the sparse bathroom of a man she barely knew, she walked through the steps of her beauty routine, happy for the stability, the familiar tasks. She rubbed in a moisturizer and brushed her teeth, tapped concealer under her eyes. Tiny rituals to put the world back under her feet, instead of Bucky’s cold bathroom tiles.

Bucky was just about to knock on the door when it swung open, revealing a startled Y/N towel-drying her hair.

“Oh!” She jumped back half a step. “Sorry, you scared me a little.”

“I was just going to ask if maybe you were ready for breakfast?” Bucky had the good grace to look sheepish, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. She had changed into a pair of leggings and a college football sweatshirt. Just her, without her lab coat or scrubs or protective professionalism. A soft girl shuffling her feet on his bedroom carpet. A victim of his lies.

“Breakfast would be nice - what’s cooking?” she sighed, attempted a smile. He nearly fell over himself in relief.

They sat across from each other - his other houseguests showed themselves out - eyes meeting over stacks of pancakes. Bucky had made his specialty, homemade blueberry pancakes, and he even warmed the syrup before setting it on the table.

“It just doesn’t make sense - why would you put cold syrup on a hot pancake?” he insisted.

“Wow, I had no idea your feelings on pancakes were this strong.” Her sarcasm dripped like the syrup from her fork.

“Hey. It’s the only way to eat pancakes. I’ll stand by that.”

She just smiled, shaking her head at his intensity. Sitting down at the table with him felt so normal - like it had at the clubhouse last night. His soft smiles and light teasing worked like a charm; in spite of what happened, her home violated and her own life threatened, she was laughing in his kitchen, soaking extra syrup into her pancakes and smiling at him over a fresh cup of coffee.

“So I was thinking -” he started around a mouthful of pancakes, but was interrupted by her phone vibrating on the table. When she saw the caller ID, she sighed anxiously and grabbed the phone.

“Hi, Mr. Van Horn.”

“Afternoon, ma’am.” He sounded tired, and she couldn’t blame him. “I’ve heard about what happened at the house and I wanted to call and check on you - was anybody hurt? You alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, they broke in when no one was home.” She fingered the rim of her coffee cup as she spoke.

“Well...that’s good at least.”

“Yeah. Listen, Mr. Van Horn, I am so, so sorry about this. Really. I-I know your mother’s house was very important to you and I promised to take care of it, and now this has happened-”

“Now, don’t you worry about that,” he cut her off. “I know it wasn’t your fault. And it’s just a house. But...well, I’ll know more when I get a look at the damages, but I’m afraid you might have to find another place to stay.”

Her heart dropped out of her chest.

“Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I’m very sorry,” he hesitated. “It’s just that, with what the police have told me, the house is gonna need some serious work, plus new furniture and dishes and things, before it’s livable again. I don’t mean to leave you stranded out here, but I’ve got no idea how long all of that is gonna take…”

“It’s alright, really. I understand.”

He apologized profusely, despite her reassurances, and even offered to let her stay with him and his wife, which she also declined. When the old man finally hung up, after refusing to let her pay for the damage, she dropped her head into her hands.

“God, what am I going to do?” she whispered, mostly to herself. She had practically forgotten Bucky was still sitting there, watching her with sad, soft eyes.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine,” he insisted. He shuffled a little in his chair. “Actually, I already asked Steve this morning if...it would be alright for you to move into the clubhouse.” Her head shot up and he scrambled. “Just temporarily! Until you find another place. There’s a few spare bedrooms we keep made up for anybody who needs a bed, so you could just take some of your things up there. Nobody would mind.”

Y/N blinked at him.

“You want me to move in...to your clubhouse.” He nodded, and she blew out a harsh breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t know...I don’t think I can do that.”

“Hey. Look at me.” She met his eyes over their now-empty plates. “This is our fault. What happened to you, your home. It’s the least we can do.”

“I-I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” Without thinking, he slid one of his hands across the table to cover hers. “I - we will take care of you. I promise.”

His eyes were so sincere, his hand rough but warm on top of her own. She took a deep breath, then two, and swallowed.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Okay.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #avengers #avengers fic #marvel #marvel fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky au

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kpop-uni · 4 years

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Through the Lens // Four

Christian YuxYoutuber!Reader Words: 3K A/N: Okay, let’s get back into the mojo of finishing this chapter before I completely lose hope and go into another writer’s block! Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys still enjoy~

Chapter Three // Chapter Five

You woke up to the sun hitting your face, a small shift under your arm made you move it away, Lori sitting up and scratching her neck, jumping off the bed. You sat up, squinting from the sun and rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out, yawning one last time.

You groaned a bit, looking around the room, getting up from the bed, making your way out. You shivered from the cold as you stood in the empty kitchen, the only sound was from Lori munching on her food. The folded paper on the counter caught your eye, picking it up and opening it.

Went to the studio for my laptop, be back soon -Ian

You smiled a bit, folding the note back up and slipping it into your back pocket, following the small sound of Lori's collar as she walked to the living room. You took a few steps toward it before Lori came bounding back, tail wagging and panting toward the front door.

"Hey, Rome?"

You looked at the door where Dabin walked in, Scott right after him. You smiled immediately, Lori rushing over to greet them.

"Hey, what brings you here?" Dabin asked, crouching to get Lori before walking over to the fridge, checking in and scrunching his nose when he couldn't find anything good to eat.

"I came over last night to play with Lori and I guess I ended up crashing on Ian's bed," You covered your mouth as you yawned, stretching your arms over your head. "Can I have a ride back to my hotel though? I want to shower and get everything ready for my vlog..."

"We're finally getting an update? Those IG comments have been asking for it like crazy." Scott teased you, making you roll your eyes and smile.

"Give me my phone, you idiot." You laughed, taking your phone back from Scott. You said your goodbyes with Dabin, Scott staying behind with Lori to wait for Christian.

"How was your night?" You asked once inside your room, Dabin immediately crawling on your bed and sighing as he gets comfortable, snuggling into the blanket.

"Wild, Scott said I wouldn't let some girl go until she distracted me at the bar with more drinks," He laughed a bit, small memories of it coming back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, shaking your head. You took a seat on your chair, opening your laptop and connecting your phone to it. You waited a bit until everything synced, smiling at Dabin's snores when you began organizing the videos into the correct folders.

You began editing your vlog, going through each video and trimming them, adding filters when necessary and most importantly, making sure the video flowed smoothly. You reached the video at the small store with Christian, fixing your earbuds to listen to your laughter and the conversation.

You replayed the video twice, taking in a breath when you saw Christian's smile. You felt butterflies creep up, trying to ignore them as you went through other videos, reaching another video of the two of you.

You were in his studio, filming yourself with Christian in the background. Only half of your face showed, Christian mostly being the center of the video as he played on his phone. You cleared your throat, Christian looking up at you briefly before looking at the camera. You laughed and pulled away when he quickly moved toward, the two of you fighting for your camera until he took it, getting a closeup of you covering your face.

You looked through the videos from the party the night before, smiling at a few before getting to the video of you dancing with Hyuk. You laughed at the faces Hyuk made, trying to move his hips along with yours, laughing a bit when you twirled, moving closer. You added a small clip of it to the vlog, moving to the other of you and Christian.

You could hear Scott talking to someone, not even paying attention to what he was recording. But there you were, hands clinging to Christian, his hands dangerously low on your hips, eyes scanning the party as he whispered in your ear.

You shivered, remembering what he said and feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach once again. It was then when Christian spun you, the two of you laughing that you leaned closer to your screen. You watched as you both teased each other, going in for the kiss. You pulled back at the kiss, definitely not remembering that as you went back a few seconds, re-watching it to make sure you weren't seeing things. The kiss lasted no more than two seconds until Scott moved forward, that you looked over at the camera. You let go of Christian's hand and hugged Scott, the camera pinning to the two of you.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the way Christian's face turned serious, ignoring the two of you and grabbing both glasses he set aside. You didn't want to jump to conclusions about what it could've meant, shaking your head.

"He's not jealous... no way..." You whispered to yourself, going back to editing the video. "We were just drunk, there's no way he could like me."

You sat back on your chair when you added the video with the rest, thinking about the feelings you had. You sighed, rubbing your temples to clear your head of any thoughts focusing on finishing the vlog.

You looked over at Dabin as he muttered something, waiting for him to settle down before he shifted a bit. You took your phone and started recording him, waiting for him to talk. You were about to stop the recording, giving up on hearing him talk again before he sat up, staring out the window.

"Dabin?" You asked, the phone still aimed at him before he fell back with a thump. You giggled after stopping the video, adding it into the vlog.

Once you double checked everything, making sure you didn't forget any links, details or videos, you began uploading it. You turned at the shuffling from your bed, Dabin awake and looking around.

"I'm bringing food," He announced, getting up. You smiled at him, watching him leave before turning back to your laptop, you began organizing the first video of the series. You were about to click the first video when one of Christian caught your eye, clicking on it. You had filmed him as he worked, making a note that you were going to speed the video up.

You silently watched the video until it ended, your eyes going to your phone. You pressed it to your ear, hearing the ringing as you made a call, wanting to confirm what you began feeling. You let out a breath when you heard an answer, gulping.

"Do you think it's possible to fall in love with someone solely because of the way they look in front of a camera?"

Christian walked into his home, laptop under one arm, both hands holding bags with a few groceries. He looked around, hearing Lori's collar as she ran from the living room to Christian. Christian gently pet her, walking to the living room to be met with not you, but Scott.

"Hey, where's y/n?"

Scott looked up from his phone, humming. "She went with Dabin to upload her vlog,"

Christian nodded, setting the groceries down on his counter. He picked up Lori, holding her as he took a seat on the couch, biting his lip. He wanted to be open with Scott, tell him exactly how he's feeling toward you and get all the facts straight.

"You okay?" Christian looked up at his friend, gulping a little before clearing his throat.

"I think I fell for someone..."

Scott's eyes widened, all his attention going to Christian. "Wait... it's not that girl that was obsessed with you, right?"

"What? No!" Christian shook his head, sighing. "It's another girl, it happened so quick that I don't know if she even likes me back,"

"She has to be special if you suddenly fell for her so quick-"

"I don't know man, she's just perfect in every aspect." Christian kept his head down, eyes looking at Lori who slept on his lap. "I mean, I know there have been other girls but her..." Christian looked up at his best friend, shaking his head, almost as if trying to find the words to describe her perfectly. "She's different like she's just filled with kindness it's almost unbelievable that she has not one mean bone in her body,"

Scott hummed, nodding along as he listened to Christian go on about this girl, finally sighing. "I say go for it, I mean, when are you going to meet another girl like that? If she's everything you want, get her."

Christian nodded, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought about what Scott said, agreeing with him. But the hesitation came in when Christian remembered one crucial thing, frowning. "There's another guy though..."

Scott tried to think of all the friends Christian had, trying to pinpoint who was against Christian in getting this girl. "He never said he likes her but they just vibe so good and they're always talking... it's just obvious."

Scott shook his head, fixing his posture in his chair. "I say you either tell her how you feel or get a new girl because if she likes the other guy, it's over for you." Christian didn't answer, only thinking about what Scott said. "Plus if your friend never said that he likes her, maybe they just click? I'd go for it and snatch this girl from right under him before he could do anything about it."

Christian nodded, staying in his spot for a bit longer before he picked Lori up, shushing her soft bark as he went to lay her on his bed. Scott took his phone out when it vibrated answering your call, smiling as he stood up and walked toward the kitchen, looking through Christian's fridge. "What's up?"

"Do you think it's possible to fall in love with someone solely because of the way they look in front of a camera?"

Scott hummed, thinking about what you said. "I guess? Why?"

You sighed, throwing yourself back on your hotel bed, groaning. "I think I fell in love with someone..."

Scott never thought about putting two situations in the same category, never thinking that in fact, you were the one who Christian was talking about. He never even said your name and how was Scott supposed to know? Plus, you were filming so many people a day, the gang, their friends, who would've known it was Christian that you fell in love with?

"Go for it!" Scott egged you on, making you sit up on your bed.

"You think so?" You asked, biting your knuckle, unsure.

"Go for it! Anyone would be lucky to date you, and what do you have to lose?"

Christian walked to the kitchen, eyes landing on Scott as he grinned at the call, looking up at Christian who gave Scott a curious look. Scott covering the phone, whispering your name as you spoke to him, unsure if you should.

"Do I have to repeat it?" Scott laughed a bit at your whine. "Hell, I would be happy to date you,"

Christian stared at Scott as he moved to go to the back balcony, stepping out and having some privacy with you. Christian gulped down the anger, glaring at Scott's back, holding in the urge to punch his best friend.

"Hey, I'm going down to the studio to get some last-minute productions in, you coming?" Scott walked back inside, pocketing his phone, his movements slow as he watched Christian. He stood with hands clenched, jaw tense and looking like he was ready to start a fight. "What's up?"

Christian shook his head, walking away annoyed and beyond furious. Scott left without another word, slightly worried but leaving Christian alone to cool off.

Dabin returned to your room with food, the two of you eating and talking when Dabin's phone rang. You waited as he talked, hanging up before finished his food. "Scott is going to the studio to just finish up last minute. Consider this your day off," You smiled at Dabin, finishing your food before standing.

"Can you give me a ride to Ian's place?"

You had made up your mind, you were going to tell Christian that you liked him, knowing it was too soon to tell him how you fell for him, but he had to at least return your feelings with what happened last night. You fidgeted with your fingers, Dabin noticing but stayed silent, knowing that you and Christian had a thing for each other.

You thanked Dabin as you got off, rushing up the steps and knocking, hearing Lori barking. You smiled, bending down to hear her better. The opening of the door made you stand, giving Christian a bright smile.

"Hey, sorry for leaving earlier-"

"What do you want?" Christian leaned on the threshold, blocking Lori's path to get to you, ignoring her barking.

You blinked at the harsh tone, suddenly losing your train of thought. "I just wanted to apologize... maybe see if you wanted to hang out-"

"I'm busy today, I'm expecting someone." You took in how careless Christian looked, not to mention how angry he seemed.

"Ian... did I do something to upset you?" You whispered, Christian, staying quiet. "I'm sorry if I did, I probably didn't mean it..." You quickly tried to think before a car pulling up made you turn. Your eyes widened as a girl got out, hair long and falling down her back. She was tall, flipping her hair back as she hung her designer bag over her shoulder.

You turned back to Christian who watched you. "If this is about last night I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"Hey," The girl's voice made you immediately look down, hands shaking.

"Did you need anything else, y/n?" Christian asked, watching as you just shook your head, leaving without another word.

You tried to keep it together, trying to not freak out in front of Christian as you rushed away. The moment you rounded the corner, you let out a breath, chest tightening as you wheezed for air, hands shaking. You tried holding your phone, calling Scott but not getting an answer before calling Gyungmo. You tried to breathe, eyes closed as his voice rang in your ears.

"I'm by Ian's... please come pick me up," You wheezed, Gyungmo immediately rushing out of his studio, staying on the phone with you as he drove to you. The car skidded to a stop, Gyungmo rushing to you and helping you breathe.

"What happened?" Gyungmo turned to you once you sat in the car.

"I didn't know Ian had a girlfriend! How was I supposed to know? With the way were last night, of course, I wouldn't have known! And with the kiss-"

"Okay, calm down, what are you talking about?" Gyungmo reached over to wrap an arm around you, shushing you as you cried.

"It was my fault, I thought this was double-sided and I guess with last night I just let my feelings get the best of me-"

"Hold on, you kissed Christian?" Gyungmo interrupted you, finally getting that.

"He has a girlfriend!" You cried, burying your face in your hands.

"No, he doesn't, Rome isn't dating anyone,"

You sniffled, lifting your face to process what Gyungmo said. Gyungmo watched as you faced him, pointing at yourself. "So... I'm the problem?" You whispered, sitting back on the seat.

"I don't think you are-"

"Can you drop me off at my hotel?" You asked, drying your eyes. Gyungmo nodded silently, turning back to the wheel and driving you back to the hotel.

"Thank you," You gave Gyungmo a small smile, unbuckling yourself.

"Call me if you need anything, even if it's stupid, okay?" Gyungmo returned your smile, making sure you went inside your hotel fine before driving off.

You closed your room door behind you, leaning on the door as you stared at the floor, sliding down until you curled into yourself, hiding your face to freely cry.

You didn't show up the following day to record the guys, instead, staying in and fixing up the second half of the series. You watched through videos, editing them as you stayed seated in your chair. The sound of a text coming in made you sigh, reading it.

Scott 3:27 PM: We're going to get food, wanna come by?

You stared at the text, wondering if you should or shouldn't, before replying back, asking for the address of the place. You pocketed your phone and simply pulling on a hoodie and your running shoes, leaving once getting the address.

You walked into the semi-busy restaurant, right away spotting Scott who waved you over. You walked over, your steps slowing as you noticed Christian sitting with the girl from the previous day. She sat eating, leaning into Christian as his arm was around her shoulders, only briefly looking up at you.

Scott moved over, letting you slide in next to him as he offered his plate, making you shake your head as you reached for the menu Gyungmo offered. You looked through in, occasionally sneaking glances at Christian, looking away when he shifted, too afraid that he might notice.

Cline had spoken up, talking about whatever the conversation was before you joined in before you looked over at Christian. You watched as the girl looked up at him, his lips moving as he lowly said something to her. She smiled, only leaning up a bit to press her lips to his jaw. You set your menu down, rather roughly which made the table quiet, all of them looking at you.

"I'm sorry... I forgot... I had... I’m sorry," You ignored Scott's attempt to hold your arm, ignoring Scott's question on if you were fine. Christian looked up as you rushed out of the place, only passing by as you bit your lip, trying your best to hold in the tears.

Tag List: @mara-twins // @derya-t

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agentbarton12 · 4 years

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Sticky Business

a/n: an update! yay!

word count: 3K

masterlist | series masterlist

CHAPTER THREE

Resident Idiot #2 was the reason I sat in front of them. Not on the other side of the table, but right in front of them.

The day after I made my bet about the spider thing, I was enjoying my solitude because the stares had become minimal and bearable. I was buried in the inked words on my book and ignored everyone. I was so transfixed that I didn’t notice him slide his tray of stale lunch food in front of me with his body not far behind.

Ned didn’t say anything. He just sat there, staring at me expectantly. His friend still in the normal place, probably gibbering like a fish. I still hadn’t noticed him. He grew impatient and gently nudged my leg under the table.

My head shot up and I got ready to yell a string of profanities, but he silenced me by waving his arms around my face. “Relax, MJ. I was just trying to get your attention.”

I scowled. There were other normal ways of getting someone’s attention, like calling them. I didn’t say this though. I kept the scowl on my face. I didn’t want to give him the idea that this whole talking to each other was going to become a normal occurrence. He took my silence as an invitation to continue talking.

“So, MJ,” he said leaning on his hands. “My friend, Peter over there, just said the dumbest thing in the history of dumb things,” he revealed while pointing at Peter who was watching us from the other side of the table with an incredulous look on his face. I didn’t bother acknowledging him.

Ned continued, “This fool had the audacity to say that Chris Pine’s Star Trek is better than the originals. Unbelievable, right?” His arms flailed around for emphasis on how shocked he was. I kept my face devoid of any emotion. “Now, MJ, I know that while you are sitting here in your corner, you actually hear our conversations and I’m sure you have your own little opinions — ”

Yes, I thought, you’re both idiots.

“ — so, I need your help to rebuke his idiotic beliefs and bring him over to good side.”

That’s when Peter was able to form coherent words and moved over to Ned in order to chastise him. “No fair, Ned. You can’t ask for outside help to sort out our arguments, especially when you never said we could and especially when it’s Michelle.”

“I will do whatever it takes to correct you.” He turned back to me. “MJ. Please bestow upon Mr Parker your wisdom and tell him with that steel tongue of yours that he is an idiot.”

I felt inclined to say something. Even if it was a short quip (the shorter the better) I had to say something. And so, I did.

“You’re both idiots. The fact that you — both of you,” I said pointedly to Ned, “are here talking about Star Wars and whatever the other one was, when it is clear that Interstellar is the superior space movie is what’s unbelievable. Now, you both can go back to your place and leave me alone until you correct your backwards views on movies.”

I expected them to leave. No, no. scratch that. I wanted them to leave. I practically told them to. But they remained in front of me and continued talking amongst themselves like I hadn’t kicked them away.

“Well, that backfired,” Ned huffed out.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “She totally just told us.”

Ned snorted. “Interstellar, the best space movie? Pfft.”

“Dude relax.”

I sighed and turned back to my book. I ignored them for the rest of lunch, but they still didn’t move. I checked the time on my phone and calculated that if I left right then, I could still spend at least twenty minutes in the library. I started clearing away my things discretely, so that I don’t alert the boys of my departure. As I was standing up, I heard the last bit of their conversation.

“ — she needs a space movie intervention,” Ned said to Peter.

“What did you have in mind?” Peter asked curiously.

“A movie marathon of all — and I mean all — the space movies ever created in the history of the universe and at the end of it all, we rate them and see if her opinion changes — which it will.”

“Umm…that’s gonna take forever, not to mention the fact that she might not want to.”

“Shut up. It will happen, and she will — hey where’d she go?”

I guess Tweedledee and Tweedledum finally noticed my absence.

Terrance had gone back to school when I got home that day.

The next day they sat in the middle of the table, closer to where I sit. I didn’t comment on it. I ate and read quietly, glad that they didn’t rope me into one of their pointless conversations.

But today, today they made the bold move of inviting me to sit with them. They did not impose themselves onto me but asked earnestly. I know how this goes: they invite me in, I say no, they get all deflated but feign a carefree attitude. It happened every time. Only this time, with these weirdos, they didn’t take no for an answer.

“MJ,” Ned begged. “Please.”

“No.”

“But you already sit with us. Why not take the next step and actually, you know, sit with us?”

“No, thanks. People suck.”

“But we’re not ordinary people, MJ. We’re cool and funny and awesome — ”

“ — And dorks,” I added without thinking.

Ned noticed and didn’t even skip a beat when saying, “See? Banter. One of the signs of a good friendship.”

I snorted. “We are not friends.”

Peter just stared at me. He needs to stop doing that. It’s creepy.

“Stop that,” I snapped.

“What?”

“The staring, you dork. Stop it.”

“I’m not — I wasn’t — I — ”

“Don’t care. Just stop, okay.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. I hadn’t noticed that they had slowly inched their way closer to me. Ned slid over as gracefully as he could and Peter, well he got stuck and had to yank himself over.

“Sticky,” I commented, absentmindedly.

He looked at me. “What?”

“You. Sticky. Another comparison between you and spiders. Sticky.”

“Michelle, I — ”

“Metaphorically speaking, you are really attached to things, people mostly. You meet, you love them and boom!, can’t leave 'em alone.”

“I don’t do — ”

“This,” I said gesturing to him and Ned, “is exactly what I’m talking about. Nothing wrong with it, but you’re kinda sticky. Can’t let go of people. Literally, I mean that you are sticky. I remember, it was the day when you came to school, and you suddenly didn’t need glasses — ”

“Laser eye surge — ”

“ — Yeah, yeah, yeah. You had ‘laser eye surgery’ or whatever.” I waved him off. “No matter how many times you use that excuse, I won’t buy it. Anyway, you were closing your locker, right, when your hand got stuck on the door and you yanked on it so hard, you ripped it off its hinges.”

He just looked at me.

“Sticky. And if I am not mistaken, this is what, the fourth comparison I’ve made?”

Ned looked incredulous. “Why do think of this stuff?”

I shrugged. I felt like there was something there every time I brought it up, and even though I don’t want to be their friend, I still feel entitled to find out what it is.

I didn’t tell them that though. Instead I said something that I immediately regretted. “Twenty dollars.”

“What?” they asked in unison. Turns out it wasn’t planned, and they shared a grin like the dorky dorks they are.

“Twenty dollars,” I repeated. “If by, let’s say, next week Friday, I can’t come up with four more comparisons between Parker here and spiders, I drop it and give you guys twenty dollars. But if I can, you owe me twenty dollars.”

Peter opened his mouth to object, but Ned spoke before him. “Deal.”

He gave me a lazy smile and I pursed my lips and gave him a half nod. Peter was still staring at the two of us, unsure of how this had even happened. Honestly, I don’t know either. I went from not wanting to talk to them, to making bets like it was second nature. But it wasn’t second nature. I didn’t — don’t — have friends to make bets with.

For the first time that week, I spent the entirety of lunch in the cafeteria. I didn’t bother leaving and I excluded myself from their conversations. I did, however, tell them to leave, but they stayed. Dumb boys are way too stubborn for my liking.

We left the cafeteria together. I walked a few steps behind them, but they kept turning back to look at me to make sure I was okay. I didn’t like being looked after. It’s an uncomfortable feeling having people watch you. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been so used to people ignoring me. ~~~

Terrance came home the same Thursday. As soon as I got home, I headed straight for Mr Torres’ apartment like I had been for the past week and spent an hour talking with him. I said my goodbye and was surprised to find the apartment completely empty. My mom doesn’t go to work during the week, so her absence was surprising.

I shrugged it off and assumed that she was probably getting groceries. The fridge had been empty for a while now, so that would make sense. I kicked my shoes off in my room and headed to the kitchen counter and did my homework.

As soon as I was done, I jumped over to couch and turned on the Rosa Parks documentary that I had watched repeatedly. I could practically quote the lines from the bus scene.

Five rolled around faster than I expected, and my mom was still not back. I ignored the looming feeling of worry that was forming in the pit of my stomach. She was coming back, I told myself. I convinced myself and I returned to the brain rotting activity I was partaking in.

At five thirty, Terrance came stumbling the apartment and dropped his basketball bag by the door. He plonked himself on the couch next to me and let out a sigh.

“Rough day?” I asked, noting his obvious exhaustion. He nodded breathlessly. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

I nodded, releasing silent rays of apology. He looked around. “Where’s your mom?”

I shrugged. “Wasn’t here when I got back. I was hoping you would have brought food cause I’m starving.”

“Me too! I came here thinking y’all were ready to feed me. I guess not.”

I rolled my eyes but chuckled none the less. I shoved him lightly. “Wanna get pizza?”

“What happens if your mom walks in right now and finds us ordering pizza?”

I pondered this for a while. “Fair point.”

We sat in silence, waiting for my mom to come home. Six came. Half past six. Quarter to seven and she still hadn’t come home. She hadn’t even called or answered any of my texts. I was growing impatient and so was my stomach.

Also, it was hot. Sweat was clinging to my body and my thighs were sticking the couch underneath me. Terrance wasn’t doing any better. Even in a tank top, he was sweating feverishly, and he was leaving patches of sweat on the couch where he was sitting.

The heat was suffocating, creating a thick blanket of warmth that encompassed our entire bodies. It was uncomfortable sitting there, and I felt like the heat was gnawing at my skin.

It wasn't windy. Our windows were shut, and the terrace door was closed. I know, I know, how can we complain about the heat while our windows and everything were closed? Well, my mom hates having the windows open. It allows mosquitos and nasties to enter.

It wasn’t windy. So, when the terrace door rattled, Terrance and I did the rational thing and panicked. Silently, so we didn’t alert whatever it was that was out there. When the rattling continued, we bolted off the couch and headed for the door. We rushed over to Miss Crux’s apartment and knocked on her door hastily, stealing glances at our apartment door.

She opened the door in the silkiest night gown I had ever seen. The image was too horrifying for me to even relay. I was temporarily too stunned to even remember what I was there for. The rattling that came after snapped me out of it.

“Evening, Miss Crux. Sorry to disturb you so late. My mom isn’t home and our aircon isn’t working, so we were wondering if we could stay here until she gets back?”

Miss Crux enjoyed company. She fed off it. Her hair was cropped off and her face seemed to be pulled up. Her cream coloured skin glistened with sweat, but I could feel that her apartment was considerably cooler than ours.

She invited us in and told us to make ourselves comfortable. We headed for her terrace. She gave me a quizzical look. “So, we can see our mom if she’s walking home. Birds eye view and everything.”

She accepted that without any further questions.

We quietly shut the door behind us. I crouched down behind the railing in order to peer at our terrace and see who it was that kept making a noise.

“How do you do that?” Terrance asked crouching down next to me.

“Do what?” I asked back, not taking my eyes off our terrace. I could make out a figure in the dark, but I couldn’t tell who it was.

“The whole lying thing on the spot.”

I shrugged. I had been perfecting the art for the past sixteen years of my life, so it had become second nature to me. I didn’t divulge this to Terrance just yet. We were on a serious mission and couldn’t afford distractions.

That’s when Terrance’s loud phone rang.

Obnoxiously loud.

The figure snapped its head in our direction. I punched Terrance in the arm and motioned for him shut it off. He complied. I looked back over the railing, still crouching in my position and saw the figure scanning for the source of the noise.

“Shoot. You idiot. Now its seen us and — ” I whispered to Terrance. But Terrance wasn’t there anymore. I looked around for him but found him nowhere. I peered through the glass of the door but saw no sign of him.

Then one of the deepest voices I have ever heard, boomed over from my terrace. “Hey! Relax, I’ve got your mom and — ”

Thud!

I looked up to see Terrance standing over a body holding a baseball bat. Oh no. I sighed.

I ran out of Miss Crux’s apartment telling her I spotted my mom and that we’d be okay and I thanked her for letting us stay there. When I got to my apartment, I found Terrance on the terrace (ha-ha) muttering swear words under his breath.

“What did you — oh my gosh.” My hand flew to my mouth when I saw who it was lying unconscious on the floor. I slowly looked at my cousin then back at the body and back at him again. I couldn’t believe it. My cousin just knocked out Spider-Man.

The Spider-Man.

We were so going to jail. And I was so not ready.

I slapped Terrance’s arm. “What is wrong with you? You realise you just hit a superhero?” I scolded through my teeth.

“I didn’t realise at the time. He spoke with this deep voice and all I heard was: ‘I have your mom’. If that didn’t sound any alarms in your head, something is wrong with you.”

“With me? How could you — you know what? Let’s get mom inside, we’ll figure out what to with him later.”

Together we carried my mom to her room. I noticed how she had a couple scratches and her purse was missing. I tried not to think about all the possible bad things that could’ve happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to think of the good. I opted for not thinking at all.

I went back to assess the damage. I was surprised he hadn’t gotten up yet. I wonder how hard Terrance hit him.

I didn’t have long to ponder on it, because Terrance appeared with a jacket, hat and sunglasses.

“Put him in these,” he instructed handing the clothing to me. I was curious but complied either way. When I finished, Spider-Man looked really creepy. I looked back up at Terrance.

“So, you take his legs, I’ll take his arms. We sneak him out of the apartment and leave him around the corner. He’ll wake up and swing away. Easy peasy.”

It was not easy peasy. Superheroes are much heavier than they look. Much heavier. Walking down six flights of stairs while carrying an unconscious mutated super human is not fun. We managed to pass through the lobby without anyone stopping us or asking questions. We left him in a pile of garbage bags and walked away without looking back.

When we got back home, Terrance went to check on my mom. I went to my room and I could see him lying there on the ground from my window. Guilt crept its way up to my brain and forced me to grab one of my markers from my bag. I took it went back outside. Once there, I realised that I forgot to bring paper. So — very reluctantly, might I add — I lifted up a piece of his mask, revealing his cheek. I took out my pen and scribbled a short message.

I ran back my room. Terrance met me at the door. “Where were you?”

I waved the marker in his face. “I wrote an apology on his face, so when he gets back to wherever he lives, he knows it was an accident.”

“Let me see that.” He grabbed the marker as I walked past him to my bed. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, him visibly deflate. “Uh, MJ?”

I hummed in response.

“This is a permanent marker.’

I looked up at him and saw that he was right.

“Oh, well. Now he’ll know we’re really sorry.”

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#spideychelle #marvel #peter parker #avengers #peter x mj #spiderman #michelle jones #ned leeds #post sm: hoco #sm: hoco #spiderman: hoco #mcu

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mendesmelancholy · 5 years

Text

A Sunset State of Mind - Chapter 1

A Shawn Mendes Series

Teaser Synopsis: Clarity Nahimana is a 21 year old, fresh out of college, junior editor working with Penguin Publishing House. Her path in life has been dictated by one abusive man after another. She hopes Toronto will be a fresh start, and she might just get it when she meets a man who teaches her about her own sunlight by showing her his own. Warnings: mentions of death Word Count: approx. 3k Taglist: @qrangr @someoneunimportantxx @shawnsunflower @hehemendes @sunshineeashton @shawnscheekscar @ruinhoney @tnhmblive @hehemendes (Let me know if you wanted to be added to/removed from this taglist/permanent taglist!) A/N: Hey guys! So, I’ve started a new series. Hopefully you like it. This is kind of an introduction chapter to both Clarity and Shawn. It’s kind of cute (there’s a dog in it). Mainly I wanted to kind of set up Clarity’s state of mind and everything she’s going through at the moment, you know? Let me know if you have any suggestions and don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask whenever. Like or reblog if you enjoy! Love, Isabella x

She has been watching her bedroom ceiling since 6:03 pm. Her mind is vacuous but racing all at once, flipping through scenario after scenario, guessing how long it’s going to take and who’s going to do it and what if he doesn’t die and if she should be there. One part of her aches to be. To hold his hand and watch as he doesn’t even take his final breaths, but to watch as the machine does it for him. Yet the other piece of her can’t imagine ever putting herself in the same room as him again. The years of putting herself back together and stronger than he ever had been would be ruined the second she walks over that threshold into his hospital room.

Her guilt complex was working on overdrive, playing memories of the good times, almost as if it was trying to convince her that he once was a good person. Her first memory was of all the times he had brought her out for sushi and taught her how to eat it properly. Then, the first time she had been skiing since her mother died and how he blew out both of his knees the second they got off the ski lift and having to ride in the toboggan down the mountain because she couldn’t ski. And the times where he built her things because she wanted new furniture but they couldn't afford it. And how could she forget? The time when he bought her Bromley. The only time he’s ever kept a promise.

Her mind is replaying memory after memory, torturing her, trying to convince her that her perception of him isn’t true. He wouldn't have done all those things if he wasn't a good person, right? And before she can argue with herself and dig up all the memories she can’t bear to reflect on, she stops.

As the minutes tick along and the night grows darker, her thoughts begin to fade and all she can do is simply stare at the ceiling. Her mind gives up, knowing that she will never see him as a good father, let alone a good person because she’s aware of all of the things he’s done, things that are now memories she’s come to peace with somehow and that don’t need to be brought to the surface. So, her deep brown eyes glass over, not focusing on anything in particular. She can’t bring herself to think about him anymore. She has spent so many years agonising over him and now that it is finally about to be over, and she can move on with her life, she finds herself thinking about him even more.

She feels as if she never even blinked, or even fallen asleep the entire night, anxiously awaiting that phone call from aunt telling her the life support has been removed and he is finally dead. After years of wishing and praying and hoping to some higher power he would just die, he would truly be dead. Part of her wondered if she would believe it when she heard those words she’s been dreaming of or if she would have to see him lying in a coffin to truly understand and comprehend he could never hurt her again.

At 12:08 am, the vibration of her phone has her shooting up from her bed, fumbling and nearly dropping it on her face, not bothering to check the caller ID before answering,

“Hello?” She is breathless, stomach in utter knots, waiting for the words, ‘He’s dead.’

“Hey,” She recognises the voice of her stepbrother. She sighs and pushes a hand through her matted, curly hair. Her eyes are so unbelievably sore as she closes them, a burning sensation mixed with exhaustion crawls into her eyelids, praying for her to just sleep.

“Hey.”

“Any word yet?”

“No. They probably won’t do it until the morning, honestly.”

“But you can’t sleep?” She can hear rustling in the background of the phone call.

“What do you think?”

“Alright, no need to be a smart ass.”

“Coming from the king of smart arse-ry himself.”

Usually, one would laugh and the other would begin to bicker, but the line goes silent for a while. She knows he’s searching for the right words. She knows he wants to console her and try and reassure her that taking her aunt to court and fighting to have his life support removed was the right thing. That she didn’t do it out of malicious intent, like her aunt tried to say she was doing, and she did it because she cared more about the people who could use the resources more than him, who was to never wake up again, so why bother?

“I’m proud of you, you know?” He finally says, his usual loud voice hushed, almost a whisper. She can hear the genuine undertone and she rolls her lips into her mouth to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks.”

It’s 4 am. And she’s fully given up on sleep. She gave up on waiting for that phone call because she’s started to hallucinate the sounds of her ringtone. So, she throws the blankets off her middle and shuffles into her slippers at the side of her bed. She’s careful not to wake up her roommate as she opens her bedroom door and slips into the hallway, her slippers making a soft scratching sound against the hardwood floors. She creeps down the hall and into the living room. Her dog hears her coming and lifts herself off the floor, trotting to her owner, her nails clicking against the flooring.

“Hi, baby,” she coos, crouching down to run her hands through Bromley’s fur. She leans down further and rests her head against her neck. She can hear Bromley sigh and sit, nuzzling her muzzle further into her owner’s warmth. It brings a small, frail smile to her face as she runs her fingers up and down the fur on her neck, inhaling deeply and taking in the scent of the dog shampoo. Bromley doesn’t move, allowing her to hold her close.

“Wanna go for a run?” She asks, finally pulling away and looking at Bromley. The morning sky was still dark with night, but Bromley’s eyes glow against the lights of the city. She can hear the starting of her tail thumping against the floor. Bromley understood her question and indeed did want to go for a run. She smiles slightly to herself before standing up and returning to her bedroom, Bromley trailing after her and sitting at the foot of her bed.

She makes quick but quiet work of changing, getting her biking shorts and sports bra out of her walk-in closet and ducking into the bathroom to dress without turning on any lights. When she finishes, she grabs a pair of socks sitting in her laundry basket and slides them on. She grabs her phone from her bed, checking the battery percentage and stuffing it in the zip pocket of her shorts. She quietly whistles for Bromley, patting her thigh and leading her to the front door. She clips on her harness, buckling it and attaching a reflective light to her chest so cars can see her.

She slips on her running shoes, carefully opening the front door and stepping out into the cool air of the apartment complex hallway. It’s dimly lit and blowing with far too much air conditioning for her comfort, so she shivers slightly. When she feels Bromley’s fur against her leg, she shuts the door behind her and they walk side to side to the staircase where she pushes open the door and lets Bromley go first. With each set of stairs down, her dog checks to make sure she’s still there and continues descending. It happens until they reach the lobby and even then, walking through the lobby and the front door, Bromley doesn’t fail to check.

She takes a deep breath of the warm summer air when she steps outside, Bromley sitting on the sidewalk and waiting for her to start. She quickly bends down and stretches, only doing so for a minute before standing up, taking a deep breath and beginning her morning jog. She never has to worry about Bromley not following her. She never even trails behind her, always at her ankle and sitting when she stops for a stoplight and maintains the same pace as her owner. But she still finds herself occasionally checking the dog during her two-mile run around Toronto.

It’s her third week in the Canadian city and she’s already memorised as many running routes as possible. She tries to take a new one each day of the week to keep her body on its toes and to keep herself somewhat entertained. The only thing that remains steady is the constant beating of her heart, only slightly accelerating at the exertion. When she first started running, it would pound no matter how short the distance. Now, her body is so accustomed to the slap of her feet on the pavement and the movement of her legs that her heart barely picks up its pace. And as her run progresses, sweat begins to slick at the back of her neck and knees, her back becoming slightly damp as her body perspires.

Her mind remains blank. The only thing occupying her thoughts is to put one foot in front of the other, take steady breaths and to stop at crosswalks. She simply looks ahead of her, the occasional flickered glance towards Bromley occurs, but that’s all it is a glance. She’s aware of what’s happening in her head, but she can’t quite stop herself. She can’t stop the way her mind begins to numb and fog at the corners, keeping her from processing what’s occurring in her life. Her mindset is returning to the one she used to have when she was around her father. She’s completely and utterly aware of the shutting down, yet she can’t snap herself out of it. She knows how bad it is for her, how much it hurts her state of mind and being, but she can feel the control slipping out of her grasp with each slap of her foot against the pavement, with each minute that she awaits that damn text message. Once again, she has no control over how she’s feeling or what’s occurring around her and it’s killing her.

The sun is barely kissing the horizon by the end of her run. She stops at the coffee shop across the street, catching her breath as Bromley sits at her feet patiently, wagging her tail and panting, her tongue stuck out and slobbering against the pavement. She knows Bromley wants to go in, the promise of a treat from the barista obviously in the dog’s mind. She watches as Bromley’s glance shifts between the door and her. So, she gives in and brings the dog inside, even though she’s not supposed to. The barista greets them with a smile, even though it’s not even five in the morning. Bromley returns the enthusiasm as she gallops up to the counter and sits, waiting for the barista to toss her a cookie (that they secretly bought for her) from underneath the surface.

She offers the barista a strained smile before ordering, failing to hear the swinging open of the door behind her and failing to notice Bromley moving from her spot next to her and to the man who had dropped down onto his knees, making kissy faces at her. She pays, Bromley, paying attention to the broad stranger who had just walked through the door. It’s not until she hears a thud that she looks back and sees her dog laying on the ground, paws in the air, receiving belly rubs from a man she had never seen before.

She feels anxious, seeing a person this early in the morning, but she knows that Bromley wouldn’t have approached him if she didn’t feel safe. So, she looks at the man who’s petting her dog. His crouched frame is sporting a white t-shirt, wet patches on the chest and abdominals, the material stretching and nearly tearing the seams at his shoulders and biceps. His thighs strained against the confines of his running shorts, flexing as he adjusts himself to sit properly and pet the dog. His hair is pushed back by a headband, curls a mess and slightly damp with his perspiration. His hazel eyes are focused solely on the black Labrador in front of him, completely lapping up the undivided attention. He’s smiling, a bright, white beautiful smile. And she can’t help but smile to herself too, watching as her dog accepts love from a man she’s never seen before.

He looks up at the owner and his breath catches in his throat. She’s glowing, her skin sweaty from the summer air of Toronto and from what he assumes was a run in the summer air. Her olive skin is tanned and deep, sun spots decorating her nose and the apples of her cheeks, which are tinted pink from her exercise. Her dark brown eyes are mainly blank, void of emotion, except for the tinge of happiness at watching him interact with her dog. He thinks he spots gold specks in her irises, but he doesn’t say anything, completely in awe of her. She offers him a small smile, one which he returns but much bigger and wider than hers. He can see how strained it is, the exhaustion in her face and the bags that sit so deeply underneath her eyes.

He stands up, dusting his hands off and holding a hand out to her, unable to stop himself, “Hi, I’m Shawn.”

“Clarity, she offers, taking his extended hand. His swallows hers whole, his tattoo a stark contrast to his somewhat pale skin and her tattoo on her wrist, complimenting her sun-kissed skin. Her hand is so warm and delicate and sends a rush of goosebumps up his spine, shivering at the contact. It makes his stomach flip in on itself and he can’t help, but watch her the entire time.

“You have a beautiful dog,” he says when she drops his hand. His attention returns briefly back to the dog, who’s laying on the floor still, waiting for someone to continue the belly rubs she had been receiving. He smiles at the dog, crouching again and running his fingers along with her fur coat.

“Thank you,” she replies, her voice quiet and a small hum against the sounds of the whirring coffee machines and coffee roaster in the backroom. He looks up at her again, noticing her posture and how turned inwards her shoulders are, the hunch of her neck as if she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. And judging by the way that years of wisdom and pain have been etched into her eyes, he says she does. Her small stature, not more than 5 foot 1 inch, is clad in workout clothes, accenting her athletic, toned figure. He doesn’t stare at her body, even though he so badly wants to, knowing the last thing this woman needs is for a man to be drooling over her as she awaits her coffee at 5 in the morning.

“What’s her name?” Shawn’s begging himself to keep the conversation going. She seems to recognise his efforts and does her best to appear polite, even though she so badly just wants to go home with Bromley, curl up in bed and maybe even sleep if her mind allows her to. Her thoughts snap back to the text she’s awaiting, frowning when she recollects that her phone hasn’t vibrated since her phone call with her brother.

“Bromley, like the ski mountain in Vermont,” she explains, Bromley’s attention finally turning back to her owner. She can sense the sadness in her body language and reluctantly gets up from where Shawn was petting her and walks over to her side, sitting and nudging the limp hand that hands down from Clarity’s side. Clarity subconsciously runs her hands along with Bromley’s head, who’s eyes close in appreciation.

“That’s pretty, have you ever been there?” He asks, trying to engage her more and maybe even take her mind off of what is currently racing around it. He stands up again, his taller figure towering over her. She doesn’t even seem to blink, any intimidation or recognition undetectable.

“Yeah, I lived there for a while. That’s where I got her, have you?” she hums, looking down at Bromley before the barista calls out her name and Shawn can respond. Chai tea latte with soy milk. Shawn makes sure he remembers that for another day - he hopes he’ll need it another day. She offers Shawn a weak smile, turning around to collect her drink from the counter. And she makes a mistake.

Feeling her phone vibrate, she immediately fumbles from its space in her pocket. She doesn’t recognise the caller ID, but picks it up anyway, answering in the same breathless tone she had earlier in the night.

“Hello?”

“He’s dead now. Are you happy?” And the call drops. And so does the drink that she was holding. And for some reason, so does her heart.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes smut #sm #smtt #my writing

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scenicstoofs · 6 years

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breathe (2)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: Fantasy AU, Friendship, Slight angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Words: 3k

Summary:

Sunset had always been special, a time when you could gaze into a sky rich with rose pinks, warm oranges, and fiery reds and into an ocean full of fire. A time that left you breathless and filled with a nostalgia that couldn’t be satiated. A time reminiscent of laughter, friendship, love, and loss.

(1) Chapter 2

"Unbelievable," you muttered, shifting further up the shore. Jungkook laid next to you, eyes shut and mouth slack. The moonlight cast odd shadows against his face, but everything about him had softened. Even with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, his features stayed rounded, not quite bereft of youth.

His chest rose and fell in deep swells compared to the shallow waves that tapped lightly against shore. You turned your gaze away, letting it linger over the water. There was a tug against your chest, one that pulled you in the direction of a warm sand bed complete with the gentle brush of sewn kelp leaves.

A grunt stole your attention, and you turned back to Jungkook. He shifted against the sand, one fist coming to rub against his cheek then flopping lazily against his chest. Then he snorted and coughed, but his eyes never fluttered open. Rather, his breathing deepened even further and you could only watch in disbelief as he drifted deeper into unconsciousness.

You shook your head and sighed, sifting back and letting your head fall against a plume of wet sand. The water grasped at your ankles and tugged on them, pulling you towards home. You ignored it, letting your eyes travel onto the darkened sky above. Tonight, the moon hung light against the darkened canvas, a mischievous smile curling at its edges in sarcastic humor. And the clouds that rolled before it did nothing to hide its luminous shine.

And then you heard it.

A difference in splashing and rhythm. One that disrupted the waves and its undulating motions. And when you looked up, you blinked in confusion before realization slapped you hard and had you scrambling upwards. You pushed yourself up, nearly slipping on the wet sand as it devoured your feet.

A young man stood on the water, feet perched on the surface as if it were glass. And the waves that rolled towards shore avoided him, leaving a wide circumference around his figure. When he noticed your wide eyes and panicked expression, he grinned widely and quickly held up both hands.

I come in peace.

You relaxed immediately, grumbling incoherently as you plopped back down on the sand. The young man walked forward, the wide berth following his every step as he chuckled in merriment. And when he reached the line where water met shore, the ocean parted for him, and he hopped onto the sand, feet sinking into the grainy surface.

His grace was impeccable, movements smooth but playful as he shuffled around Jungkook, barely sparing him a glance until he stood next to your crouched figure. The air between you two simmered with intensity, but you'd learned early on to ignore its presence. And his power, though weakened, strongly pulsed in the sea-saturated atmosphere.

"Hello, (y/n)," he greeted, smile seeping into his tone. There was nothing but friendliness and curiosity as he glanced down at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. You mumbled your hello but kept your eyes on the horizon, feeling your cheeks start to burn. There was nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, yet here you were, defensively crouched with your arms wrapped around your knees for the false sense of security.

He cocked his head and snorted. "Sorry, what was that? Is this how you greet family?" You pursed your lips and let your forehead drop against your arms.

"Hello, Hoseok," you muttered, finger swirling the sand with patterns. They were indecipherable, random strokes that left fleeting imprints and disappeared with receding waves. Hoseok hummed, raising a brow. He groaned as he bent down and dropped next to you with an audible 'plop'. Mimicking your position, he pulled his knees to chest and wrapped both arms around his legs.

"So, we're using full names today?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Hello, Hobi," you corrected, and your finger sank deeper into the sand as you pressed harder. Hoseok nodded and turned away.

"You know, you only use full names when you feel troubled. Rectifying that won't change a thing," he said. He was right; that'd always been your tell with him. You gave up on your empty-minded doodling and brushed the sand off your finger.

"It's been a long day."

Hoseok nodded at Jungkook's unmoving form, acknowledging him for the first time. "Clearly."

You snorted. "Why are you here? You almost never visit." This was already a lot more than you were used to. Having two people, albeit one unconscious, around you was a lot more than you could handle. So accustomed to the creatures of the sea as your companions, you couldn't help the acidity that laced your tone.

"You know why." Then he took a deep breath, and you mentally prepared yourself as he pivoted his body so that it faced you. "Want to tell me why you saved him?"

Straight to the point.

You stayed silent, tasting for an answer that wouldn't end in bitterness.

"I'm not my twin. You know I won't do anything." He was right. Between the twins, Hoseok was the friendlier one—much less terrifying than the other's wrath.

"Why are you here? Don't you have enough to do, working the tides and all?" you opted. Hoseok's question lingered in the air, forming an invisible barrier between you. He could feel your avoidance but didn't comment on it. Instead, he shrugged.

"You know I'm at my most powerful when the sun is out. Therefore, I'm only needed during the day. Yoongi has control right now—you know he prefers moonlight. And you're lucky you saved this boy just before Yoongi awakened. He's not as forgiving," he said, tone dropping, "so, again, would you mind telling me why you saved him?"

You exhaled audibly, mind wracking for the best possible answer. But in all honesty, you weren't sure yourself. Jungkook was never meant to dive into the ocean after you. He was meant to leave, taking himself and the camera far from the ocean, and forget about you. Forget everything about you.

The thought stung.

"I—," you started but paused, struggling with your words. Hoseok could feel it, yet he patiently waited, attention wavering between you and the horizon. "I don't know."

That was the truth.

"(y/n)," he began after a period of silence. "At this point, at your age, you know we're not meant to be seen by others. We live there," he flourished a wave towards the ocean. It responded in kind, waves increasing in a tidbit of energy. "Not here. You remember what happens when we come up here. You remember what happened to—"

"—I know," you interrupted. "I know all of this. We become lost when we spend too much time on land. But Hobi, am I not allowed to make friends?" There it was. Your truthful confession of loneliness and despair. It caught your brother off guard, and he turned away, face dropping.

"You can—"

"—then what's the issue—"

"But most of us don't." He swallowed, gaze dropping to the sand. His eyes took on a glazed sheen, reflecting the light that shone from the moon's reflection. The atmosphere thickened, dropping heavily against your shoulders.

"Why? All I've ever been told is that we can't talk to humans, but no one has ever told me why. So, tell me. Tell me now—why?" you demanded, voice quivering. "Give me one reason I shouldn't see this boy ever again."

Hoseok pursed his lips and shook his head, hair flopping with the movement. He brushed away his bangs and blew a puff of air from his cheeks, a habit you'd adopted since young.

"Because there's never a happy ending," he answered. You sat up straight, angling your head towards him. There was a part of you that was keen to know the truth, yearned to understand. Yet another part of you, deep in the crevices of your mind, wanted to stay in blissful ignorance.

"When we make a true connection to humans, whether it's friendship or more, things don't end well. Sometimes, they go mad and come looking for us when we're not around. And we're not always there to save them. Without air, without our power, they become one with the ocean and are lost forever.

We, on the other hand, risk being tempted to join humans on land. And once we leave the ocean, we are lost. The only person who knows what happens once 'lost' is Yoongi, but he refuses to tell me. Says it's one of the most painful things he's ever seen," he ended. Not once did he turn back to you or meet your inquiring gaze.

"But what about friendships? Ones where we visit each other once in a while?" you asked desperately. Even before he answered, you already knew. In that little corner in the back of your mind, you already knew the answer. And yet, you still asked, hoping for a response that would differ from the one that bounced around in your head.

"It's possible but painful. Watching them wither away as we stay in our current state—it's cruel to see. Extremely hard to process because we'll live so much longer with their memory forever with us. It's quick—one day they're there, and another, they're not," he paused. "It makes you wonder whether it's worth it or not."

"You sound like you have experience."

His expression didn't change, but the vibrant smile from earlier had slipped into somber frown. His eyes had a glazed sheen in them, whether a reflection from the moon or something else, you weren't sure. But they held memories—both precious and damning—and with each blink, you could see his mood drop even further.

"Yeah, I do." Three words. Heavy and mournful—a story hidden that told of loss. He suddenly stood, inhaling deeply while brushing the sand off of his pants. "And depending on your choices, you may gain some as well." He gestured at Jungkook, who groaned. "Because he's about to wake."

Hoseok started for the water, and this time, the ocean didn't part for him. Instead, he waded in and was about thigh deep before you scrambled up, following his steps until you were ankle deep.

"Hobi!" At the call of his name, he paused, turning to you with a slight smile playing on his lips. "What should I do?"

The current that brushed against your skin warmed into a gentle caress—one of comfort and trust.

That's your decision. You could feel the answer clear as day as it vibrated through the water. Then he turned and resumed his path until his head submerged beneath water, and his presence evaporated, leaving the scent of a sunny day behind in his wake.

Another groan echoed from behind you, but your gaze stayed hot against where Hoseok disappeared. His message sounded vague and mysterious, but it was clear that he had no intention of making a decision for you. You'd been given much information, and now it was up to you to decide whether Jungkook was worth befriending or not.

You took a step forward, water rippling against your ankle as you struggled with your decision. The obvious choice was to disappear, to enter the ocean and watch from beneath the surface as he tried to comprehend why he was lying in sand, clothes plastered to his skin, and where the girl he'd tried to save had run off to.

But something was also holding you back. Keeping you from diving into the ocean and going home. It was evident there was something that kept you from leaving him; whether it was the promise of friendship or lingering guilt—whatever it was, it left you rooted in your spot.

"(y/n)?" His voice was hoarse, comprised of exhaustion and confusion. It was groggy and lagged as your name cascaded from his lips. You turned hesitantly to see him push himself up onto his forearms. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and he brushed them away impatiently.

"(y/n)? What's going on?" he croaked. Your eyes widened—did he not remember? Did he forget diving into the ocean to save you from what seemed like your end?

"Jungkook, are you all right?" you asked, moving towards him. Each step solidified your decision and you crouched down next to him. He shivered and coughed, eyes still somewhat disoriented. But when he glanced up to see your face, he bolted upwards, scaring you. You fell back, landing softened by the pliable sand that slid against your palms as you scrambled back to give him some room.

"You!" His eyes widened, almost comical in nature. He clambered up from his position, shifting until he toppled forward on his knees.

"Calm down," you tried, holding up a hand. "Hey, I'm fine. You're fine. Calm down."

He didn't. Instead, he crawled towards you until he was at your side. From there, he scanned you, eyes roaming up your body and your face for any signs of injuries. Even with good intentions, it brought a burn to your face and you lurched forward to push him away.

"I'm fine!" you exclaimed. Jungkook paused and heaved a breath, jaw dropping and opening every few seconds. Then he blew up.

"What were you thinking?! You could have drowned! Did you want to end your life? Are you crazy?!" His words were angry, harsh and piercing. It seemed like he remembered you walking into the ocean. The latter part would probably come to him in a second.

"I was going home," you stated, simple and clear. His brows furrowed, and he leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"Is that some kind of euphemism?" he asked. You shook your head and pointed towards the ocean.

"That's my home."

He blinked. "I don't—I don't understand. Are you sure you're ok? You didn't hit your head or anything?" You shook your head, tilting your head in confusion. The real question was if he was ok. You didn't say anything else but narrowed your eyes at him and furrowed your brow.

Gradually, his expression changed, from one of concern to one of confusion. Holding up a hand, he shook his head and leaned back.

"Wait." It was probably hitting him now. "Wait. No way."

You waited, watching him splutter to himself in disbelief while sending you occasional glances. The denial was coming first.

"I jumped in to save you. I got to you, but then." He paused, brows furrowing and hands waving in large gestures.

"You couldn't breathe," you completed softly. He tilted his head away from his hands and up at you. "You started to drown." The memory of his limp limbs and the last of his air escaping his lungs cause you to blanch, and you swallowed heavily, throat thick with emotion. Hoseok's words echoed from the back of your mind.

Because there's never a happy ending.

Jungkook gazed at you intensely. No words left him as he tried to process your answer. You didn't want to finish the rest of the story. If you did, then there was a large chance he wouldn't believe you. If he remembered himself, it'd make explaining much easier. So you waited.

"I—almost—drowned." He enunciated each word. You nodded, picking at your dress. There was a loose strand, and you pulled at it, wrapping it around your fingers. The disbelief that marred his face was indicative that he remembered some parts of it.

He just didn't believe it.

"But I didn't. I didn't drown. Because I could suddenly breathe," he said slowly. He was getting there. You stayed silent.

"Because there were bubbles, a lot of bubbles. And they were surrounding my head?" His pitch rose with the last word. You nodded again.

"That's—there's no way that happened. It had to have been a helmet, right? That's what it was?" Everything about him had turned to denial. You knew because this would—could—never happen to an average person. They would've just drowned, yet Jungkook had survived. In his eyes, so had you.

"Not a helmet," you responded. With each pull, the loose strand elongated, so you gave up. You looked up at him. "You're right. It was bubbles. That was the only source of air I could pull for you."

"Only source of air?"

"Bubbles carry air, so yeah. That was the only way I could keep you breathing. You were dying, Jungkook." You met his gaze and dipped your head, hoping you could convey how serious the situation was.

He was still doubtful, as any person would be. But then he blinked rapidly and glanced between his body and yours. You did the same, wondering what he saw that was clearly bewildering him.

"How are you dry?" he asked. That's when you noticed that your hair would move at the slightest of breezes, and his stayed plastered to his head. His button-up stuck to his body, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, and his sleeves had fallen from their position, loose around his wrists. His jeans were still damp, and sand stuck to every surface it could get to, meaning his back and clothes were littered with grains of sand.

In comparison, your dress was completely devoid of water, dry as if you'd never entered the wide expanse. And your skin was nowhere near as sticky or wet as his probably was, judging by the lack of sand that lingered on your body.

"Jungkook," you started, but he cut you off with a slash of his hand.

"No. Stop. First, you call the ocean your home. You call," he motioned a hand across the span of black water, "all of that your home. Second, you have some ability to control bubbles, or you helped me breathe underwater somehow. Whichever it was, it wasn't normal. Third, you're completely dry. I'm sitting here, completely soaked, barely dried off, yet you look like you haven't been in the water at all," he finished.

His gaze bore into yours, and you felt your heart start to beat in anticipation. This was it—this was your decision.

"Who are you?"

You sighed, brushing the sand off your hands and legs as you stood to face the ocean. You breathed in the familiar scent of home and answered.

"I'm (y/n), and I'm a spirit of the ocean."

#jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bts #bangtan #bangtan fic #bts fic #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #breathe #my writing #ficdate

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geminimoonbeamx · 6 years

Text

Sweet Tooth: Chapter Seven

A/N: I just want to write this story for the rest of my life. I love Lance Tucker man. I really truly do.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing. Fluff. A mild moment of triggering body insecurity. Lance Tuckery(hah).

Summary: Lance Tucker has come back to his hometown with his ego bruised and his look on life more tainted then ever. When he runs into Y/N; a vibrant plus size woman he went to high school with at her bakery ‘Cake Faced’, he leaves the shop with the taste of sugar on his lips and a hunger that has nothing to do with the cupcakes.

💘💘💘💘💘

Your pretty sure your dating Lance Tucker.

There’s a thought you never imagined would cross your mind. It feels alien just thinking it, but it was your reality. The last few weeks had been some kind of hazy day dream, full of intense touches and hot kisses and conversations that lasted for hours. You really couldn’t believe that it was even happening.

That’s what your telling Courtney as you two idly make your way through Target, your carts quickly filling up with various bullshit. When you’d only come to grab a pack of cupcake liners.

“So you guys are screwing?” Courtney inquires. She cant deny, she’s not thrilled about this whole thing. She still thinks Lance is a total ass hat, douche bag and that he wasn’t worthy of your time or your trust…but she did trust you. She knew you were more then capable of making your own decisions. All she could do was support you and hope that this thing between the two of you didn’t end in flames like she feared it would.

“No, that’s the crazy part. I haven’t had sex with him yet” You laugh at her wayward, unbelieving look that she shoots you.

“Bullshit” She drawls out the word.

“I’m dead serious. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s gotten heavy-”

“Like how heavy? Bj’s heavy?”

“No, more like a lot of dry humping. Like, a lot-”

“What are you? Fifteen?” Court deadpans, her nose scrunched as she looks as pasta sauces.

“You’d be surprised how intense that can get and Lance is very…sensitive. It’s too easy to make that man cum in his pants” She lets out a shrill fit of giggles and you try to contain your own “And I let him finger me the other day but that’s about it”

Courtney’s a little confused. It seems like you might really like the guy, and yet you hadn’t slept with him yet. She’d never known you to be a prude, there had to be a reason. “So why aren’t you doing the do with him then?”

“I just- I don’t know. I feel like once I really cave and give him what he wants it wont be the same anymore, you know? Like right now he likes me because I tell him no, and I like him because he keeps coming after me after I tell him no. It’s kind of a game of cat and mouse and I don’t want the game to end” You admit your fears in the simplest way you can word them.

“Have you talked to him about it? Your both adults, I think that it should probably be a topic of conversation” Courtney advises, her voice comforting yet firm.

“And what am I going to say? ‘Hey, Lance, I know you like to ditch girls after you sleep with them and I’m not trying to be one of them’?”

“Yeah, exactly. Let him know the boundaries of the relationship” Courtney can see the confliction in your eyes.

“Ugh. You know they say dating is supposed to get easier as you get older but it’s still just as hard” you whine. Thirty, flirty and thriving your ass.

“Well you waited long enough. You haven’t dated anyone since Eric” It hurts less, to hear his name you realize. If anyone had mentioned your ex boyfriend a couple of years ago you definitely would have winced. Now it kind of just went over your head. You felt pretty silly about it.

“Well we all cant be serial daters like you, Court” She’d literally been in relationships since middle school. Long ones, that lasted years. She’d been with her current boyfriend for seven or so years now. It was quite obvious Courtney didn’t like to be alone, she just wasn’t programmed that way.

“I take great offence to that” She quips at you “But onto bigger and better conversations. How excited are you for the interview tomorrow? What are you wearing?”

You adore the thrilled squeal in her voice. But honestly, you were more nervous then anything. This interview was big for you and Cake Faced, could be a tipping point for your small business. And although you’d always been good at talking to people, you couldn’t help but be shitted just thinking about it.

The rest of your Target trip with your best is spend planning your outfit for the next day to the T.

—————————-

Your up before the sun the next day, even though you’d popped a few sleeping pills the night before. You cant help it, your internal clock is wound tight in anticipation. So you take your time getting ready, spending hours perfecting you hair and makeup and then making a large, over decadent breakfast that you no way could eat yourself. You tend to cook when your nervous. Or sad. Or angry. It was just what you did, tried to pour the anxiety out of you. You end up packing the eggs benedict into containers, you’d bring them to work and feed the staff.

You check yourself over in the mirror, applying one last coat of neon-red orange lipstick and checking out your reflection. You’d chosen a sleeveless top. Because the weather was warm. Fuck if your arms looked large and jiggly in them, you tell yourself. You look damn good, and your determined to make a damn good impression. Confidence. Originality. Hard work. Those we’re your words that you had lived by and if you were going to be printed in the pages of a magazine, you were going to make sure they shined through. You with one last tousle of your hair, your out of the door. Walking tall in your heels.

After priming and primping the shop to look just how you want it to, you wait for the journalist. She’d said she’d be arriving at about 11 or so, so you did have some time to kill.

You prep the cupcakes your featuring, show casing. The Cookie Monster, The Lemon drop and the Red Velvet Classic. You want the batch’s to be perfect, and you don’t trust anyone but yourself to make them, so donning an apron you get to work. Your deep in concentration, squinting through one eye with and biting your lip when you hear a knocking on the doorway.

You look up and you cant help but smile.

“Hey there” Lance’s leans against the door frame, his arms folded over his broad chest as he watches you. He had been for a few minutes, before he’d decided to make his presence known. You just looked so cute, focusing all hard like that.

“Hi” You grin, “What are you doing here?”

He pushes himself from the door frame, coming towards you in long legged strides so that he can press a kiss to your lips “I had to come wish you luck, didn’t I?” he mumbles against your mouth and you sigh, leaning up on your heels, wanting more.

“Why thank you sir”

He pulls away first, his thumb coming to swipe at the corner of your lips, assuring that your pretty lipstick stayed in place. He’d had his fair share of interviews, he knew how important it was to keep your appearances. “You look nice”

Your chest swells at the way he says it, his sapphire eyes appraising you as they swept over your body “You think?”

“Mmhmm I do” He says cheekily, as his palm planes up your side, skimming your waist, coming up to cup the side of your breast. You exhale shakily and lean against him, your arms twining around his neck as you soaked up the gentle attention he was giving you. You loved this side of him, the gentle needy touches. The affection. It turned you to jelly because truly, you’d never thought he was capable of it.

Lance loves the soft feeling of your body under his hands, he wants to dip under your top, feel the bare skin but he refrains(just barley), not wanting to wrinkle your outfit. It was funny, he thinks. That you were the one doing interviews, your face going to be posted in magazines and he was the one all but hiding from the media. When the story of the gym had dropped on CNN; it had been a shit storm, just like he knew it would be. It would have been hell for him, if it wasn’t for you. You stuck close to his side through it all…he kept thinking you might bolt. Might retreat, go back to hating him. Like everyone else seemed to.

The least he could do was not get you all flustered before you had to go out and be professional.

He had really been a big help with all of this, he’d told you how it was going to go. To be the charming little shit that you were. He used that coach tone that made your panties wet too, which was an added plus.

“I should go” Lance says, checking his watch. He knew the magazine would be there to set up soon and he didn’t want to be at the shop when they arrived “Good luck, baby cakes. You’re going to do fine, just feed them a few of those cupcakes and flash those pearly whites and you’ll be set” He assures but you don’t want him to let go of your waist.

“What are you doing later tonight?” You ask him, holding his bicep.

“Mmm, I was hoping you” Lance’s tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip in a way that makes your heart pound with what your about to say next.

“Charming” You tease, poking at his arm muscle “What about if you come over to my place? I could make you dinner? There might be a little wine involved?” A little more then wine, you don’t say it. But your eyes do.

“I’ll fucking be there” Lance says quickly and you chuckle “You need me to bring anything?”

“No. I’ll stop at the grocery store before I go home. Just bring your appetite and that cute ass of yours” You waggle your eyebrows and he grins.

“That I can do” He beams, giving you a wink, before he’s out of the door.

Your heart flutters uneasily and you shake your shoulders in excitement before going back to your cupcakes.

—————————————–

The interview goes well, fuck it goes more then well if you do say so yourself. The interviewer is a bright, bubbly intuitive woman and the two of you talk about a range of subjects: from how social media had helped to kick start your business, to what it was like to be under thirty and be your own boss. You crack jokes, you show case your sweets, you plaster on the charm. You take some awesome pictures; the photographer had set up amazing lighting in the shop. You wondered if you could set up that kind of lighting in your bathroom, it would really up your selfie game. When they leave the shop you feel accomplished and bold and electric.

A lot like you felt the day you’d put the down payment on your store, signed the lease and gotten the keys.

It was such a rush! It might be bad thing, the way power amped you up…

After doing a happy jig with Shane who was taking the managers shift for the day, you decide you might as well head to the market and get your shopping done. You wrack your brain for recipes as you head there on foot, deciding not to waste how the gorgeous afternoon weather. It was only a few blocks…or ten. Yeah, you kind of regret it when your pumps start to pinch your toes but whatever. Your still riding that adrenalin rush.

All the way through the isles of Walt’s grocery store, collecting ingredients and grinning like a mad woman.

“What’s got you so happy, little miss?” La'tecia queries as she checks you out. Your glowing, looking radian. She doesn’t think she’d seen you look like this in years. Most days you we’re so tired, your everyday life draining you of that bright light that now gleamed in your eyes. You looked a lot like you did when you’d come with your mama every weekend to buy candies by the pound.

You tell her about the magazine and the interview and when she tells you how proud your mother and grandmother would have been of you, you attempt to compartmentalize it, to suck down the emotion that burns your nose.

“Don’t go making me cry, I worked really hard on this makeup, okay!” You laugh it off.

“You planning on celebrating tonight?”

“Something like that” Your lips quirk as she rings up not one, but two bottles of white wine.

“With someone special?” The knowing look she gives you isn’t discreet. She’d heard the rumors, even though she tried her very best to steer clear of poisonous gossip. Lance Tucker had been the talk of the town since he’d come home, but since his face had been plastered all over the nightly news, he’d been the talk of the nation. The scandal of it all was insane, and to top it off, everyone was buzzing about how you two had been spending a lot of time together… The Olympic athlete and the fat girl. Who'da thunk?

“Eh” You tease, shrugging your shoulders but then you giggle “Yeah, he’s special I guess”

When your done paying, taking the bags in your hand she spits some real life truth at you.

“Not as special as you, Y/N. Don’t forget that”

Those words would stick with you for the rest of your life.

—————————————–

Your phone is sandwiched between your cheek and your shoulder as you stand at your stove, working between pans of simmering food. Music blares through the speakers and your hips sway to the music as you cook.

“You coming soon? I’ve almost got dinner ready?”

“Yeah, I have to do something first, but I should be there in a half an hour-ish?” Lance replies over the phone and you huff excitedly.

“Mmm, good. I might be a little bit excited to see you” You stir at the vegetables. You were definitely excited. The matching lace bra and panty set you’d changed into was a big indicator of the fact. You felt devilish knowing they sat, waiting for him, under your clothes.

“Yeah? You going to be nice to me tonight?” his words are dripping with anticipation.

“If you earn it” you quip. Knowing that you weren’t really going to make him wait. If anything- you’d be jumping his bones as soon as he walked through that door. You’d been torturing yourself as much as you’d been torturing him with this whole “hard to get” act and you were done with it. You wanted it. Wanted to be his. Wanted to let him have whatever he wanted.

You squeezed your thighs together just at the thought of it.

“Fuck- your going to kill me. Okay, baby, I’ve got to go, I’m driving. I’ll be there soon”

“I’ll be waiting”

“Naked?”

You shake your head, looking at your celling. Lord, help me.

This. Fucking. Man.

“No- but I made some really good food for you so there’ll be that”

“Thank fuck, I haven’t eaten all day…you going to let me eat that pretty pussy of yours too?”

You squeak at his forwardness. Even though it was nothing new. He was one crass motherfucker and had been whispering the dirtiest shit into your ear for weeks.

“We’ll see. Drive safe, Lance” when you hang up, you reach for your glass of wine and take a swig, hoping that it might help quell the bubbles of nervousness in your stomach. Shocker, it doesn’t. If anything it makes them worse.

So does the next glass.

As you wait for Lance, the minutes ticking by. You’d finished dinner, and had it low simmering so that it would still be warm when he got there…

If he ever got there.

Because thirty minutes roll by.

And then forty five.

And then an hour…

You send him texts. Asking him where he is? Is he close? Did he get lost?

You cant help it, the dread that sets in. The way your mind clouds with doubt and fear. He’d blown you off. He’d bullshitted you. Had this been a mistake?

The reasonable side fights your insecurities.

Bitch, he’s done nothing but try since he got back it hisses at you. You need to stop being a crazy, insecure child.

You drown both of them with wine. Your sitting at your kitchen table, feeling a little more then a little crestfallen as you talk to your dog.

“You know what, if he doesn’t show, I cant even be mad. I mean I will be fucking pissed, don’t get me wrong. But mostly at myself. Because do people ever really change?” You speak to the lapdog as though he’s a human being. He was the smartest person you’d ever met you decide. He looks at you with unamused beady eyes.

“And I’ve always been so stu-”

The sound of the doorbell stops you in your tracks. You hop up from the chair and have to force yourself not to run to the door. Be cool. Be calm.

Told you so, your reasonable side shoots at you as you open the door.

Lance is standing there, in your door way. His lip is bloody and his right eye looks like its just starting to swell up.

“Lance?” You gasp.

“Hi baby” He holds up the expensive looking bottle of scotch he’d brought to 'the party’ “Sorry I’m late”

——————————————–

@huntressxtimelady @i-had-a-life-once @peacefulwriter88 @spookyscaryscully @zombiewerewolfqueen @adyseesbeauty @geekyweed @pegasusdragontiger @booklover2929 @ultrafangirl000 @acunningstargazer @curvybihufflepuff @la-meneur-louve @tatathekissypotato @iamwarrenspeace @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @aknerdchick @avinaris @yslbucky @sophiealiice @sebstanwassup @4theluvofall @wildefire @debbielovesbucky @peaceloveancolor @effielumiere @ballerinafairyprincess @zofty15 @feelmyroarrrr @plumfondler @theplumclub79

Okay…don’t hate me. I had planned on making this chapter the one. The glorious smut filled one. But then I was like lemme’ hit them with some angst and I ended up with this. THE SMUT IS COMING. LET ME REPEATE. THE SMUT IS COMING NEXT CHAPTER. I’ll see you hookers then! Leave me some love, I love on you guys comments.

#Lance Tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tuckerxreader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #the bronze #Lance Tucker smut #sebastian stan #plus size reader #reader insert

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cyberstabbing · 7 years

Text

Sci-fi/Dystopian future/Danger Days/idk

Heaven’s Not About Your Reputation - Desolation Row AU. The Tipper Laws have consumed the nation; more and more freedoms are being restricted every day. After getting thrown in jail for causing a riot with their illegal punk show, My Chem decides to do the logical thing: cause even more trouble. 28k

In Repair - "Shit,“ Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he’s gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he’s gonna do. He’s just gotta do it.

Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It’s dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He’s pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate.”

Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging– the thing’s busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot’s skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they’re a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, “Am I dead?” 33k

sing it for the n00bs - Gerard would be killing twice as many dracs right now if his fucking spacebar would quit sticking. (Gamer AU, wherein the Danger Days universe is an MMORPG.) 17k

I was rereading this on a bus in France with my stepsister. She asked me what I was reading and I just squirmed around in my seat. So she shouted “FANFICTION??” And I was like … Well, I mean, yes–but hear me out!! And so I told her about Danger Days, the Killjoys and the whole gamer au concept.

She actually thought it sounded pretty cool. Or maybe she just wanted me to quit gushing about it and leave her alone.

The point is, if someone who just heard a second-rate description of this fic still thought it sounded interesting, that means it’s HELLA RAD. And it is. So. Read it.

The Way They Fly - Frank is a robot. He is in love with his genius creator, Gerard, who doesn’t realize that Frank is capable of real feelings. Frank starts breaking down, getting ill, and Gerard doesn’t know what to do to fix it - all his methods are completely useless, none of the programming explains why this is happening to his Frank - but it’s because Frank has a broken heart. 17k

Of Another Kind - Gerard is an alien on a mission–to find a human mate on Earth. He’s decided on Frank Iero, but his database doesn’t give him all the facts he needs to win over his future companion, and there are just some things he will have to learn on his own. 17k

Let The Darkness Lead You Home - Vampires are in charge and most of the humans on earth are prey, so Frank Iero’s parents have him train as a cyber tech to protect him. Leaving the family he’s born into may have saved his life, but his parents never could have expected the lengths he’d go to in order to find a new family to call home. 49k

The Chasing of Moons - The biggest dilemma in all of this is that Frank slept with his future husband. Now Frank’s just got to make sure that the future with him stays intact, but it’s not so easy when present day Gerard seems to hate his guts. 110k

Might I Have a Bit of Earth - Gerard took things. He didn’t used to take things; he used to ask before, say please and may I and other things his parents taught him, because that was what you did. You didn’t just take. 14k

Space pirates :D !!

Are You Broken? (from the Robot!Gerard series) - Frank gets sick and Gerard doesn’t understand. <1k (the series is 7k)

Lovely Way to Burn - Frank is no stranger to sickness. He’s been wheezing his way in and out of hospitals since he was a kid, but things are different now. He was already pulled from two assignments due to illness, and the third time is the charm. Three strikes and you’re out. 4k

video girl - This is a space AU that has more random worldbuilding than actual porn in it. In which Frank wanders into a virtual sex video booth. 1k

Reaching Through The Mirror - The one where Party Poison and Basement!Gerard have sex. 5k

(part one of Time Travel ‘verse)

James Cameron Got It Wrong - In which 2005!Frank and Fun Ghoul get it on. Then Frank accidentally winds up in 2019. 56k

(part two of Time Travel ‘verse)

yoooo i just found some really really REALLY good fanart. .. unbelievably good. and six years after the fic came out! that’s amazing!! anyway, here it is.

EDIT #2: found some more! Man, that fic just keeps giving.

EDIT #3: Damn it, the artist’s blog (second one) is marked as having “sensitive content”, so I couldn’t view it anymore on this account. So here is the post reblogged on a sfw blog for y’all youngins, and here is a screenshot juuust in case the sfw blog deactivates and that link stops working, too.

The Science of Sleep - It’s 2011 and Frank Iero’s life is pretty average until the night where he starts getting dreams about a strange, apocalyptic California where there’s rayguns, grey corporations and terrorists who use art and color as a weapon. Interesting and fun at first, but the more he dreams about this world, the more he starts to wonder if it really is a dream… and the deeper he gets into this futuristic world, the more it seems to affect his life in the present day.

And just how exactly does everything all seem to link in with that douchebag black-haired artist who sits in Starbucks every day?

(Set in the Danger Days world but not necessarily following the cannon established by the album and music video’s.) 93k

Killjoys Never Die - No description. 2k

i want to die i want to die i want to die

Up Against Your Will (HERE is the chapter index) - Stepping into a world so different from their own, Frank and Gerard struggle to survive. 18 chapters

this was amazing, but also hard to read in some parts, bc of the non con and gore :/ not my cup of tea, but I did love the word building and the fic overall.

Fogs, Sheets and Thunder - Not as grey as it seems. A post-apocalyptic postal service AU. 5k

And ze art!

The World Famous Extraterrestial Diner - Sure the menu had a picture of literally everything in it, causing the menu itself to be ten pages in total, but that was for the foreign visitors. And not just the ones from other countries, according to the owners.Gerard worked at a diner located directly on the famous ‘extraterrestrial highway’. The pictures were more for if any actual aliens ever came by Earth for a good meal and couldn’t speak English. They had the pictures to see exactly what was on offer. Even the beverages had their own separate pictures.Not that they had had any extraterrestial visitors since, like, ever. 8k

Born to Motorbabies - Here's the thing with having a crush on a mysterious DJ; it's kind of an inconvenient place to hang your affections. 12k

The person who’s rec list i snagged this from (can’t remember who, sorry!) added “affectionately referred to as the dishwasher fic” which is v cute so I’m putting it here too.

...the weapon - Tattoos are one of the ways they measure out the time between getting ghosted. Inspired by Art is... 0.2k

Code Red - In the fall out of a fire fight, Party Poison goes looking for medicine, and finds pretty much the exact opposite of that. 2k Ship: Party Poison/Korse

Workplace Appropriate Attire - Korse is a creepy boyfriend. 1k

Ship: Party Poison/Korse

This was fun to read, but some lines made me go OH SHIT, because ...... well if you read this you will know what I’m talking about.

We Got Machines - There are questions on the lips of everyone with eyes or money on the arena. Who is this kid? Where’d he come from? Who trained him? BLind’s got no records on him, meaning he’s a Zonebrat returning to the grasp of the city of his own volition. Another anomaly. That a 16 year old nobody could waltz in out of nowhere and turn the system on its head is... concerning to BLind. <1k

Part 1 of KJ/Griefers 'verse (3.5k in total)

Ship: Deadmau5/G3rard

xoxoxoxo - Party Poison wakes up somewhere he's never been - but there's plenty that's familiar here. 1k

Ship: Party Poison/Korse

Looking for Satellites - Galaxy-hopping alien trader Gerard has business on space station Perseus Four. Getting to know station administrator Grant is a nice bonus. 25k Ship: Gerard/Grant Gerard is a sexy, telepathic and open minded (heh) alien and it’s great.

the only hope for me - Korse has never been one to show his emotions. 1k Ship: Korse/Party Poison

your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same - a battery city ambush goes somewhat wrong. korsepoison. 0.8k Ship: Korse/Party Poison

Methane Skies - Run, run, bunny, run. 3k

Hot damn this is some creepy and suspenseful stuff. Ship: (implied) Korse/Party Poison

mutilate, maim and destroy (just a tad) - For clarification, this fic is about Gerard Way the actual person being tortured by Korse in the Killjoys universe. Like. Hnng, you'll see nevermind. Ship: Gerard/Korse

A Room Full Of Suicides - His jaw was clenched and his whole body quivering. He looked right at Korse with those huge, transparent eyes. “Do what you want to me. I don’t give a shit, Korse.” He drew in a breath that shook. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s about standing up for what you believe in.” God, the kid was adorable. Korse couldn’t wait to make him scream. 4k Ship: Korse/Party Poison, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (implied)

Of All the Places in the Universe - Gerard, an alien with a severe case of anomie and wanderlust, crash-lands in Jersey while traveling the galaxy. A chance meeting with a creature his studies had told him didn't exist leads to a surprising turn of events. With time, Gerard comes to call Earth home, and finds love with the adorable punk who found him--Frank, an energetic puppy of a werewolf who's really more bark than bite. 30k

"You know The Smiths?"

Gerard grinned. "Oh, yes! They're one of my favorite Earth bands."

Thank You For The - Just an alien in New Jersey, looking for a mate. 0.5k Ship: Gabe Saporta/Mikey Way

"Have fun," Gerard said, even though he'd just told Mikey he couldn't have fun because he needed to be careful. Mikey wished his venom sacs were fully developed. He would spit on Gerard's shoes.

Double Exposure - “The worst part was the confession. Well, the explanation sucked too.” Written for prompt 38. Frank/Mikey - Frank and Mikey bodyswap during tour and have to play shows as each other. 2.5k

Frank isn’t part italian in this fic. He’s part alien! :D Ship: Frank/Mikey

#frerard #frerard fic #frank/gerard #rec list

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