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firstelevens · 5 months

Note

hi hello are we still allowed to send you prompts for the taylor swift lyrics prompts list? 🩵

Hi, sweet Anon! Since you put two numbers in your other ask, I'm gonna post one of them here. Here's a silly little future fic from the F1 AU; I hope you like it!

(also posted to AO3)

14. our very last kiss

The downside of being a professional athlete is that Sam still has to stick to a strict workout regimen, even on vacation.

The upside of being a professional athlete who still has to stick to a strict workout regimen on vacation is the view.

Behind Sam, the cliffs of Ravello seem to drop straight into the sea, the morning sun sparkling off the water and making every color seem brighter. As he climbs out of the pool, however, his focus has narrowed down to a singular point, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the Italian coastline.

Ordinarily, Bucky can always be counted on for some kind of reaction when a dripping wet Sam is involved. Most often it’s a note perfect wolf whistle, but responses have ranged from dumbfounded staring (always entertaining) to a single-minded determination to get Sam warm and dry again (a favorite of Sam’s, rare as it is.) A non-response, though…that’s egregious, especially when Sam and Bucky spent the last week reigning in all of their worst and flirtiest tendencies out of respect for the fact that they were sharing the villa with Steve and Peggy and the kids.

Now it’s just the two of them again, and instead of shamelessly ogling Sam—which he has, on multiple occasions, referred to as a right granted to him by their marriage license—Bucky is completely hidden behind a book, lost to the rest of the world. Sam might be more offended if lost-in-a-book Bucky wasn’t such a fixture in his life: that little furrow that appears between his eyebrows and the frown of concentration that always comes with it are as beloved as they are familiar.

Still, Sam isn’t above demanding attention when he hasn’t gotten his share of it, so he makes his way over to the sun lounger where Bucky is sprawled out shirtless and pokes him in the side with a water-chilled hand. With a yelp, Bucky sits bolt upright, the book nearly flying out of his grip.

Sam bursts into laughter, dodging out of the way as his husband swats at him with a rolled-up towel. After a few ineffectual swipes, Bucky just throws the towel at Sam’s chest, shaking his head.

“What are you, twelve?” he asks. “Not getting enough attention from your crush so you have to pull some pigtails?”

“You like when I pull your pigtails,” Sam says slyly, grinning as a flush spreads over Bucky’s face and neck in response.

“Not the point,” says Bucky, batting away Sam’s hand before he can tug on the hair that’s managed to escape the bun it was corralled into. Then he deliberately turns away, bending his left leg so he can brace the book against his thigh as he flips back to where he was before.

Sam watches him for a moment as he finishes drying off, then tosses the towel onto the next chair over. It lands with a soft thump, and Bucky’s gaze doesn’t lift from the page, but his eyes narrow just a little bit. Over a decade of racing against each other means that guessing the other person’s next move is second nature, and Sam knows exactly what kind of calculations Bucky is making as he keeps his eyes glued to his book.

Deciding to change tactics, Sam nudges Bucky’s leg aside so he can sit at the end of the lounger. Bucky moves out of the way and doesn’t say anything, but the minute Sam is sitting down, he stretches both of his legs out again so they rest across Sam’s lap. His eyes are still on his book, but his lips are twitching with a bitten-back smile now.

“The patented Bucky Barnes ‘I’m not going anywhere but neither are you’ maneuver, huh?” laughs Sam, idly tripping his fingers up and down Bucky’s legs. “I haven’t been on the receiving end of this one since Melbourne 2019.”

Bucky snorts. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what’s happening in the mornings when I grapple you like an octopus to keep you in bed.”

“Ha!” says Sam, pointing at Bucky in delight. “I knew I could get you to talk!”

He finally sets his book aside, leaning back against the headrest and watching Sam through half-lidded eyes. “Well played, Wilson.”

“It’s Wilson-Barnes now. And thank you,” says Sam, feeling very smug. “Now what is it about this book that’s so much more interesting than me coming out of the water looking like an Adonis, hm?”

Bucky just nudges the book towards him. Sam picks it up and flips it over, raising his eyebrows as he reads the first blurb on the back.

“‘Witty, tender, and’—oh shit, okay—’effortlessly sexy, Simon and Jack’s story will have you misty eyed and hot under the collar in equal measure,’” Sam reads aloud. “Bucky Barnes, are you just reading smut out here in broad daylight where people can see you?”

“Honey, there’s a literal cliff between us and our closest neighbors; I don’t think being spotted is a real concern right now,” says Bucky. “Do you seriously not know what this book is?”

Sam furrows his eyebrows. “Am I supposed to know what—” he flips the book back over to look at the title, “—Six Evenings at Barnham Court is? I’ve never even heard of it before.”

Bucky sits up so quickly that his sunglasses fall off of his head. “Holy shit, I forgot you don’t read articles with our names in them,” he says, and Sam knows that whatever he’s about to say is going to be wild because his eyes are wide with delight. “Sammy…Six Evenings at Barnham Court is about us.”

“Very funny,” Sam says flatly, but Bucky isn’t laughing. He looks down at the summary on the back of the book. “This book, which is about an earl and the ‘smoldering son of the groundskeeper’ at his family estate is about us?”

“Yup.”

“Buck, they’re British.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t have earls in America, so…”

Sam raises his eyebrows expectantly and Bucky sighs.

“Okay, before I explain this to you, I’m reminding you that it’s about the internet, and I kind of found out about it against my will, so I’m giving you the choice I didn’t have.”

“Barnes.”

“It’s Wilson-Barnes,” says Bucky, with a half-smile. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Fine, I walked into this knowingly and whatever I learn next is my responsibility and not your fault. Tell me more.”

“So you remember when we did that photo shoot at the castle, back in our first season together at Stark?” asks Bucky.

Sam nods. “You got to climb up that ladder in the library,” he says with a grin. Bucky had looked so delighted, up there among the books, that Sam had wished that they could spend the whole day there. Then they’d had him change into a leather jacket and some very tight jeans before pretending to repair a car, and Sam had been very glad for the change of scenery.

“Do you remember Peter telling us how wild people were going for the pictures in that spread? That the Vanity Fair people called him and asked if we had any behind the scenes stuff to post because traffic on the website was blowing up?”

“Yeah, and we had that selfie that we took with that weird marble bust, so we sent him that.”

“You also had that picture that you took when you were hanging out in the backseat of the car, of the view from where you were sitting. They were setting up for a shot so it was just me leaning on the hood of the car, it it was kind of through the windshield?”

“You’re really explaining that whole picture to me like it wasn’t my lockscreen for a month?”

Bucky’s face goes pink. “Right. Anyway, we posted that one, too, and people really liked it. And they liked the car repair pictures even more, and the ones where we were playing with the dog, and there’s one where I’m on a motorcycle, and I guess maybe the clothes were telling more of a story than we thought? Because the internet decided that the story of the photo shoot was that you were a lord of the manor type and I was some kind of hired hand, and that it was an upstairs-downstairs romance.”

“Seriously? We weren’t even together then.”

“Sam,” laughs Bucky, “if you didn’t notice me staring at you with heart eyes that entire shoot day, I don’t know what to tell you. I felt like the most obvious person in the world. Clearly I was the most obvious person in the world.”

“Baby, please. I’ve seen how I’m looking at you in the picture where you’re working on the car. Sarah texted it to me and asked when the wedding was.”

“So we were both obvious, then,” Bucky says. “Point is, some person on the internet thought the upstairs-downstairs thing was a great idea, and they turned it into a fanfiction, and apparently it was really popular.”

“And then, what? The author just changed the names and sold the book to a publisher?”

“I think the publisher approached them because the fanfiction was so popular,” says Bucky. “So yeah, Sam and James became Simon and Jack, and the book became a bestseller.”

Sam blinks. “So this book about an earl and a groundskeeper’s son really is about us.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you…bought a copy?”

“Peggy gave it to me; I think it was supposed to be a joke.”

“You’re like a quarter of the way through this joke present, Buck.”

“I already finished all the books we brought with us,” he says, shrugging a little.

Grinning, Sam starts to say, “Well, lucky for you, I sneaked—”

“—like ten more books inside your garment bag; I know. I read those, too.”

Sam feels a rush of affection as Bucky’s grin turns sheepish, and he sprawls out across the lounger to kiss his husband. “You’re such a nerd,” he says.

“I don’t think the man who took college level engineering and calc courses for fun is allowed to call me a nerd, actually,” says Bucky, leaning in to kiss him again.

He might have a point, but Sam is hardly going to acknowledge that now. Instead, he settles in on the sun lounger and gets comfy, resting his head on Bucky’s chest and throwing an arm over him.

“Whatever.” He holds the book out to Bucky. “Are you gonna read me this book about us or not?”

“I’m halfway through, Sam. You’re not even gonna know what’s happening.”

“I hear it’s about some people I know pretty well; I’ll figure it out.”

“It’s literally set in 1950, Sam.”

“So World War Two is the stand-in for your accident and your character coming back to the estate is the start of the 2024 season. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” says Bucky. “But that was a lucky guess, and I can’t guarantee how good the prose is. I’m just invested now so I have to know how it ends.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” says Sam, shutting his eyes and tucking himself more comfortably against Bucky’s side. “It’s got a happy ending, and I don’t care that much about the writing.”

Bucky laughs with his lips against Sam’s temple. “You say that now,” he says, “but wait ‘til we get to the next sex scene.”

Sam waves a hand. “You can just improv there if you need to; you know what I like.”

“You want me to improvise a sex scene?”

“You’re telling me you’ve been scripting them so far?”

Bucky gently swats at Sam’s arm with the book, but Sam’s head is over his heart and he can feel the laugh rumbling through his chest.

“You gonna put your listening ears on or not, Wilson?”

Eyes still closed, Sam mimes zipping his lips and gets another forehead kiss for his trouble.

He hears the flutter of pages as Bucky finds his place again, clears his throat, and starts reading.

“When he woke up the next morning, still a mess of confused feelings and somehow more exhausted than he’d been the night before, Simon was itching to start the fight that had been interrupted by Cecilia’s arrival. At least time was on his side now: spring had settled over Barnham Court, and that meant that Jack was going to be in the greenhouses all morning, taking care of the plants he’d so carefully nursed through the winter.

It wasn’t at all difficult to slip out of the house unseen and take the roundabout path to the greenhouses. The morning was brisk, the grass still dewy, but the walk had done little to quell the frustration that had burned hot since last night. By the time Simon stormed into the greenhouse, he was spitting mad again, already talking as he pushed through the door.

‘When we saw each other in London, you said that you were going home to New York, and I– I only acted the way that I did because I thought that that would be our very last kiss, but that’s hardly any reason to–’

He was cut off by Jack shushing him, like there was a sleeping baby in the room, only there wasn’t a sleeping baby at all. Sleeping babies, he saw all the time when Cecilia visited. What was in front of them now was the first Barnham Court rose to have bloomed in decades, and Jack was cradling it in his hands like it was as precious to him as it was to Simon…”

#sambucky #sambucky fanfic #this is just So Mushy #also...spoilers if you haven't read the epilogue to the F1 AU I guess?#sambucky f1 au #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics #anonymous #my fic

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ellaenchanting · 1 year

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50 Days of Fetishes Day 26: Almost-Telepathic Rapport.

Almost-telepathic rapport: Being so connected to the other person that it almost feels like telepathy. I know this happens in many relationships over time- me and my wife have some of it for example - but the quick, often overwhelming way that can feel like it happens with hypnosis play is both a fetish and a danger.

Everything we do while hypnotizing leans into that sense of telepathy- from the mirroring to the pacing and leading to the utilizing- all of it is to convey the impression that we're already in someone's head. With that intense focus on each other, both people are aping some of the mechanisms by which people fall in love in real life.

Actually being in trance together- whether through mutual trance or the hypnotist focusing to the point they are in uptime trance and kind of enter the subject's world-can be an especially potent love spell. Hell, even the very beginning stages of the most classic induction- look into my eyes- sends all our mirror neurons firing and is a bit of a biological love spell in and of itself. I know I have personal experience of developing quick profound crushes on good hypnotists- and this is partially why. (I also won't do mutual trance anymore unless I really, really want to fall for the other person because that's a magic that works too well on me.)

But aside from all of the science-y stuff, I really love learning into that impression that I'm in someone else's head and they're in mine. The hotness of being that known - even if it's an illusion- is intoxicating. The idea that someone knows you so well that you CAN'T hide, can't lie to them is scary and thrilling. It creates a sense of intimacy that's so romantic and so human- that need to be known by someone you can trust. I love that feeling of just resting with someone after a hypnosis scene and feeling like we're connected on some deep, wordless level- enjoying the closest thing to an easy telepathy that I'll ever experience.

On the flip side, there's a hotness of playing with the idea that I know you so well that I can change the way your brain functions. I know you so well that I can twist you and turn you and shape you how I like.

It's powerful stuff, and potentially destructive stuff, but so heady to experience with the right person

BONUS RECS

@h-sleepingirl actually inspired this entry with her story Spiral Crosses yesterday. Warning - it's an incest fic which is normally a big squicky for me- but I took a chance and the way she leans into the twin telepathy here hit me in ways I didn't expect. Darkly hot and well worth reading.

She's a master of writing about this so it shows up in other stories she has written as well. Open up for Me is a long time favorite of hers about intimacy and rapport.

I keep trying to capture aspects of almost-telepathic rapport in my stories- and I don't know if I've ever quite succeeded in the way I want to. My favorite one is probably Psychic

but there's some of it in Eyes https://www.readonlymind.com/@ellaenchanting/HypnovemberDay19Eyes/

and a friendly version in Hivemind- https://www.readonlymind.com/@ellaenchanting/Hypnovember2021/16/

I'd love to get any recommendations you have on this topic- either of your own work or someone else's! What should I check out?

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ozonelasher · 1 month

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GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

(i don't actually have a mun fc so you're getting shiny azumarill because. i like it :3)

name — Ana!

pronouns — she/her primarily but they/them is fine too

preferred comms — tumblr IMs are preferred for OOC talk/plotting, & my discord is open to mutuals if they'd like :3

name of muse — Kaki

experience in RP — honestly i've been rping since i was probably too young to rp on the internet 💀 i started on deviantart (which like. oops but also i was like 9) and then started rping on tumblr likeee ~2015 or so. i actually first started writing Kaki on tumblr in like 2016, and then kinda started writing on twitter in 2019 when the RPC on here started to wane from its peak. i came back very recently because i got tired of the limitations of writing on twitter

best experiences — as of recent, i've had a few really really fun crossover threads on twitter that will stay with me forever atp. one was a real slowburn romance plot with a spike spiegel, and another was of isekai plot with desmond miles from assassin's creed that ended up being really fun and sweet. i also have a really cute ship going with a friend's DB OC on twitter, too. oh kaki and her tendency to adopt men two heads taller than her ❤️

pet peeves/dealbreakers — trying to force OOC scenarios/behaviors onto kaki or otherwise just making it clear you don't respect her character outside of writing will really sour me in terms of trying for future interactions. i doubt this will happen here as it's mostly a problem i've had on twitter but JUST IN CASE!!! i'm mostly talking stuff like, oversexualizing her because she has muscles ("step on me, m*mmy" & such comments are a HUGE no-no), assuming she's overly aggressive/belligerent, or on the flip-side, babying her like she's a cutesy helpless waif. she is a 30+ year old woman with thoughts and feelings and i would like her autonomy to be respected.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — HONESTLY i'm down with anything as long as it's interesting. on my own i tend to write adventure-drama type plots (the dbz fic i'm working on is just a space opera tbh) with a splash of horror of some flavor, usually with anti-capitalist/fascist/imperialist messaging. i think the one thing i should mention is that i do really enjoy when there's a conflict or overarching storyline happening in longer plotted threads; it just keeps me more engaged.

plot or memes — both are good and work tbh. memes can be good for breaking the ice or actually figuring out a dynamic in practice, but if we want to go for something more in-depth, i do prefer some plotting (even if it's just planning points A and B and then just improvising how our muses get there)

long or short replies — quality > quantity. even if your response is like 3 sentences or less, if it moves things along, it's fine with me (:

best time to write — i tend to write more at night or on the weekends. really just when i'm not dead tired 😭but also if i really get into the plot of a thread, i'll get kinda hyperfixated on it and respond in like 3 seconds. my fault

are you like your muse? — In a lot of ways, yeah. Kaki is an OC i've been developing for like at least a decade now, and a lot of her experiences are drawn from things I personally have experienced (albeit, greatly exaggerated lmao), and the kind of character she's become is a projection of my beliefs and how I feel about the current state of the world. Writing her is a bit of a catharsis for me, really.

TAGGED — @pzfr

TAGGING — feel free to do it if you'd like :3

#ooc.#meme response.#yay yippee yahoo!! this was fun to do!

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clay-cuttlefish · 1 year

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Vic and Helena reunion headcannons

well, I don't know what prompted this, but fuck it here's the fic outline that lives in my brain. Caveat that I only vaguely understand how the timeline nonsense that is canon works and how characters understand it. I'm going off the wiki, Lois Lane (2019), and vibes for that side of things.

The reunion isn't on purpose. Vic only reunited with Renee accidentally, so I can't see him reaching out to Helena, and she doesn't remember him. I think they just bump into each other during a case, causing Helena a massive continuity headache.

It'd be incredibly weird! Getting smacked with alternate universe memories wouldn't be a great time, and I'm not sure Helena would acknowledge them as hers right away, especially since weird visions of other people's lives aren't anything new to her. Honestly she probably threatens Vic about it until she gets someone to confirm his story and make sure that this isn't a brain parasite situation again. He'd take it pretty well though. He's had quite a while to come to terms with being a continuity snarl, and standing there chilling while people flip out at him is one of his skills.

Even once she knows he's telling the truth, priority one is still dealing with her existential crisis. Luckily Vic is a pretty good person to have an existential crisis with. Unluckily her memories of avenging her family would be one of the more important conflicting memories, and that's also the breakup memory, so she's extremely aware that she was both angry and pining about that despite the fact that in that timeline she had a lot of time to process it.

Once that first interaction ends and Helena gets some space to process, I think it gets more chill. Vic is still unsure how much he should help, since he's split between his instinct to insert himself into situations and feeling like he already tried and failed that, and neither of them know what the right level of familiarity is with someone who's simultaneously an ex and a stranger, but as weird as it might be to talk it's weirder to leave it. They work the case together, discuss timeline bullshit, and keep falling into comfortable banter about the butterfly metaphor or whatever before getting awkward and stilted again.

At this point it spins out into the Vic, Helena, and Renee "world's most uncomfortable road trip" fic that also lives in my brain and is even less writable than this one.

#clayposts #anon i suspect this might not be what you were looking for #but i am always thinking about how 'exes from another dimension' is such a relationship #vic sage #the question #helena bertinelli #huntress

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 8 months

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Draco the Death Eating Cupcake AO3 Fic Master Post

Hey all!

So, this is something I’ve wanted to do for a while but always struggled to find the energy to do it. But I had the will today, so here’s a master post of all my fics! That way, anyone interested can find the fandom they’re interested in and read one of my fics. I’ll also put the year it was written so that all of y’all are aware that older fics might not be as good, as well as if it’s complete or not. Finally, I'm going to put this in a bit of a random order, mostly with fandoms I'm more active with going first, and older fandoms going last. I won't add synopsis, otherwise this would be way too long!

So, without further ado… my fic master post!

Super Mario Bros: Bowser/Luigi

Luigi and the Beast: Words: 136,482. Chapters: 13. Year written: 2023. Rating: T. MOSTLY ABANDONED WIP.

Danganronpa: Kiyotaka/Mondo

The first four are all part of one series, called "The Problem" series.

The Problem with Perfection: Words: 384,025. Chapters: 30. Year written: 2021. Rating: E. COMPLETE. The Problem with Mondo: Words: 396,658. Chapters: 23. Year(s) written: 2021-??? Rating: E. MOSTLY ABANDONED WIP. COMPANION TO TPWP. The Problem with First Dates: Words: 28,482. Chapters: 2. Year written: 2021. Rating: E. COMPLETE. SEQUEL TO TPWP. The Problem with Families: Words: 69,090. Chapters: 6. Year written: 2021. Rating: M. COMPLETE. SECOND SEQUEL TO TPWP. Love Blooms in Unexpected Places: Words: 27,286. Chapters: 1. Year written: 2022. Rating: T. COMPLETE. The Violence of Your Touch: Words: 34,634. Chapters: 2. Year written: 2023. Rating: M. COMPLETE. Another Life: Words: 8,352. Chapters: 1. Year written: 2021. Rating: M. COMPLETE. Light up the Night: Words: 25,924 Chapters: 2. Year written: 2021. Rating: T. COMPLETE. Harry Potter themed. Games and Consequences: Words: 27,515 Chapters: 3. Year written: 2021. Rating: M. COMPLETE.

Supernatural: Dean/Cas

My Big Fake Gay Wedding: Words: 57,377. Chapters: 7. Year written: 2020. Rating: T. COMPLETE. Bravado: Words: 14,213. Chapters: 2. Year written: 2020. Rating: T. COMPLETE. Eyes are the Window to the Soul: Words: 3,757. Chapters: 1/1. Year written: 2014. Rating: G. COMPLETE. This is my first fic posted to AO3. :-)

Avatar the Last Airbender: Lu Ten & Family.

Strangers to Suffering: Words: 43,239. Chapters: 6. Year written: 2020. Rating: T. COMPLETE.

Merlin: Merlin/Arthur

The Warlock Prince: Words: 378,848. Chapters: 38. Year written: 2020. Rating: E. COMPLETE.

Batman: The Tell Tale Series: Batman/John Doe (Joker)

Only Human: Words: 12,442. Chapters: 1. Year written: 2018. Rating: G. COMPLETE.

The Avengers: Tony Stark & Steve Rogers.

The Dance of the Robot: Words: 24,887. Chapters: 2. Year written: 2019. Rating: G. COMPLETE.

Gravity Falls:

~Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines

A Pirate's Life: Words: 118,885. Chapters: 22. Year written: 2015-2016. Rating: T. COMPLETE. A Pirate's End: Words: 2,753 Chapters: 1. Year written: 2017. Rating: T. COMPLETE. SEQUEL TO APL. Compatible: Words: 37,263. Chapters: 7. Year written: 2016. Rating: G. COMPLETE.

~Stanford & Stanley Pines

These are all part of one series.

The Life of Pines: Words: 33,500. Chapters: 12. Year written: 2015. Rating: G. COMPLETE. The Flip Side: Words: 42,381. Chapters: 12. Year written: 2015. Rating: G. COMPLETE. COMPANION TO TLoP. Moments in Time.: Words: 6,953. Chapters: 1. Year written: 2015. Rating: G. COMPLETE. COMPANION TO TLoP. An Old Faded Photograph: Words: 1,620 Chapters: 1. Year written: 2016. Rating: G. COMPLETE. COMPANION TO TLoP.

The Hobbit: Bilbo/Thorin

And Where the Road Then Takes Me.: Words: 43,707. Chapters: 12. Year written: 2015-???? Rating: G. ABANDONDED WIP. Meet Me at Twilight and in Darkness We'll Wander.: Words: 4,281. Chapters: 1. Year written: 2015. Rating: G. COMPLETE.

Detroit: Become Human: Connor/Hank

The Psychology of Loss: Words: 129,992. Chapters: 19. Year written: 2019. Rating: M. COMPLETE.

AAAAAANNNNNNDDDDDD done.

Jesus do I have a lot of fics. 😳But that's done with, oof. I'll pin this post so people can see it, especially now that I'm kind of... not really writing again. There's just too much going on in my life to worry about writing and posting fics. Maybe I'll post the Our Flag Means Death fic I've been working on once the second season airs, but for now, I have no real plans. I also might go back and add mini synopses for some of these fics, just like "kid fic AU." or "Role Swap AU" kinda thing, but for now I'm tired.

#My fic #My fics #Master post #Fic master post #I'm not sure if this will help anyone but I kinda like seeing all my fics in one place here on Tumblr #Obviously I have more fics from when I was like... 13-15 hidden on my ff.net account #But they will die with the site. :-)

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crazyman185 · 1 year

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*All data is as of 12/16/2022*

Well even if I am in writing block hell I still have my obligation to do this once more. Expect 23 more posts after this one with all the data. The other posts will have a link back to this one as well.

Four years ago I started a [little project] ([2019], [2020], [2021] editions) to see what the fic numbers were for certain ships on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net, and today I wish to show this year's stats! The first time I only did seven characters, in 2019 I did eleven, in 2020 I did 15, in 2021 I did 20, and this year I did 24 (adding Sero, All Might, Shigaraki, and Mirko).

So now, to the specifics.

To do this, I basically looked at the numbers for tagged ships in the filter system each site has (which was a lot easier for FF.net than Ao3). I excluded poly, OC, and x reader ships as that would have questioned my sanity to track them all down. I also excluded any ships that fell below 1% or 0.5% cause I didn’t wanna cite every ship that might have 1 fic in existence (this takes an entire day to gather the data as is).

Certain characters were unique in that their fic numbers being so high that certain ships got buried, so I split them into Combined and Heterosexual so you could see more.

Crossover fics on FFnet were excluded as they are not included with the main set of fics (though people still post crossovers on the main set anyways), which means I would need to do double the work for each ship. Luckily they are a small data set (less than 10%) and usually have cross shipping over in-universe more often than not.

Illegal ships were also excluded (kid x adult) for obvious reasons.

For the charts themselves: The number next to the title of each chart is the total number of fics used for the data set. Colors are probably inconsistent as I had to use a slider to choose them, which reset with each new data set. Also if two of the same colors I assigned to characters happened to be right next to one another, I chose one as black (which never conflicts with Tokoyami or Sero). And finally, I used my preferences for name spellings and using first or last names. Now to the flaws.

FF.net has a much smaller pool to pull from (Ao3 has 14x more MHA fics) and is limited to only being able to tag two ships at a time for a fic. On the flip side, ships that are tagged are guaranteed to be a showcase in that story. While Ao3′s numbers are impressive (at 249k), the downside is that writers can tag to their heart’s content, so lots of fics that get tagged for a ship often have little to no presence in the fic (or is just harem wank nonsense).

So super accurate, this is not. Take the data with a grain of salt.

If you have any suggestions for future data gathering by me please do ask!

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #fanfiction #shipping #izuku midoriya

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ao3feed-zukka · 2 years

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'til death do us part

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/KhJzgGI

by hotdamnitszuko

“What’s it say?” Azula says softly, eyes on Zuko on the other side of him.

A beat. Sokka flips the card over.

“Hide and seek?” Sokka starts to smile as he looks at the card.

“Oh my god,” Someone gasps from somewhere around the table.

“We are not playing that-” Zuko starts to say quickly, chair making a loud noise on the expensive wood floors as he stands up.

“You know the rules, son.” Ozai says from across the table.

Words: 8068, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Azula (Avatar)

Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)

Additional Tags: uhhh..., so it's a horror fanfic, Ready or Not (2019) - Freeform, what is it with me and marriage-centric fics, Minor Character Death, multiple of them actually, Mild Gore, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Thriller, yeah it is literally ready or not 2019 but zukka. like if u watched the movie it is that, except i went off my memory of it, bc i've seen it over a dozen times, so it's also. a bit different

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/KhJzgGI

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #zukka #avatar: the last airbender #atla #zuko #sokka

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ao3feedzukka-blog · 2 years

Text

'til death do us part

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42435189 by hotdamnitszuko “What’s it say?” Azula says softly, eyes on Zuko on the other side of him. A beat. Sokka flips the card over. “Hide and seek?” Sokka starts to smile as he looks at the card. “Oh my god,” Someone gasps from somewhere around the table. “We are not playing that-” Zuko starts to say quickly, chair making a loud noise on the expensive wood floors as he stands up. “You know the rules, son.” Ozai says from across the table. Words: 8068, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Azula (Avatar) Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: uhhh..., so it's a horror fanfic, Ready or Not (2019) - Freeform, what is it with me and marriage-centric fics, Minor Character Death, multiple of them actually, Mild Gore, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Thriller, yeah it is literally ready or not 2019 but zukka. like if u watched the movie it is that, except i went off my memory of it, bc i've seen it over a dozen times, so it's also. a bit different October 16, 2022 at 09:09PM

#IFTTT #Zukka #AO3Feed Zukka #Sokka/Zuko

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samatedeansbroccoli · 2 years

Note

Right back at you 😎:

🤡🛒💋 (this one I must know for my own sake lol)

You gave me a long answer, so here’s my long ass answer XD

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

Oh god I have so many 😭 Before I tortured characters for fun, I was a comedy writer. I actually have my writing career (so far) divided into two segments because the first era (2012-2018) was straight comedy with a side of historical fiction, and the second era (2019-present) is angst with a side of comedy. Two sides of the hemisphere.

That being said, I went back and read some of my finest and funniest stories I had written and did my best to collect “quickie humor moments”. I’ll get into the full reason why I call it quickie humor in the next question.

The first example is from the first fic I ever published. Age of Ultron had just released to theatres, and unsatisfied with how it ended, this story was about the Second Age of Ultron, in which Ultron is rebuilt and debating whether he should destroy the world again or flip it on its side.

[ID: I don’t like sunglasses. They make my already red-sighted world a darker shade and now I can’t see a single fire hydrant.]

Then we have two from my Wattpad story. My most popular story actually to this day despite it turning 6 years old this December.

In the left one, Chirrut is naming 10 rules the Rogue One characters should consider adhering to. In the right, Lyra is yelling at Jyn and Galen for… well, it’s pretty obvious.

[ID left: Chirrut Îmwe: NUMBER 8: Don't steal

Cassian Andor: I stole Death Star plans

Bodhi Rook: You also stole my heart

Cassian Andor: Oh. Let me give that back /end ID]

[ID right: Lyra Erso: Then eat your spinach. Both of you

Jyn Erso: No

Jyn Erso: slimy icky arugula ripoffs /end ID]

These next two are from a more modern fic written in 2020 in which Adler takes care of a 7 year old Bell.

[ID left: “What kind of person is Perseus?" Adler asked.

"Who's Perseus?"

"I thought you knew who Perseus is."

"Is?"

"Isn't Perseus a person?"

Bell took a second to think. Then her eyes widened. "Ohhhhh! Yeah! I know Perseus. He's weird. He's all naked and stuff."

"Wha—"

"I saw the statue. The Greeks like him but I dunno why." /end ID]

[ID right: Bell's short attention span took note of the evidence board. She stood up and wandered over to it, Adler following while massaging his hand. He trailed her gaze to the picture of Perseus.

"When was this taken?" She asked.

"1950s," Adler said. "Handsome man. Hope the years haven't been too kind to him."

"They haven't. Papa's uglier now." /end ID]

Finally, we have one from my current wip. It’s an exchange between Count Dooku and his apprentice Rael Averross when the two are stuck on a ship (I know fucked isn’t a word in Star Wars, but Rael Averross has crack energy in this story, so crack moment for the crack head)

[ID: “So, Master." Rael drummed his nails against the panel, the clicking crawling through the floor and up Dooku's spine to raise the Jedi's ire. "How are we supposed to get out of here?"

"Be quiet, young one. You should know patience is a virtue."

"In other words, you have no idea."

"I didn't say that."

Rael threw his hands up. "Welp. We're fucked." /end ID]

Also if anyone finds these stories on the internet, please note that some of the scenes are slightly edited to draw faster connections between the setup and the punchline.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

There are two primary things that I can think of that have been in both my writing eras. All others have really only been confined to one or the other.

The first goes back to the humor thing. The reason I called it “quickie humor” before was because it didn’t take a lot of context to understand the joke. Which is contrary to my “slow burn” humor style. No, not the type you hear on the radio stations that last 3 minutes long. The type where there’s snappy moments to set the scene, but the actual joke pays off later as characterization, and it turns out the first half was building up to the second half. A lot of my humor takes multiple lines to build up. Sometimes the full joke can take paragraphs if not chapters to completely set up. From my kid!Bell fic, there was a joke where Bell asked Adler where babies came from, and Adler told her to ask Woods. The joke wouldn’t be completely resolved until 5 chapters later when Woods would get peer pressured by Mason into answering the question. And he dragged Adler down with him for even starting it. There isn’t a grand thing to this or some literary study thing. Or me just trying to be some god of smart writing. It’s just something I do. I have literally no explanation for it, but it lands with me so it’s staying.

The second is that I always have a crying scene. Somewhere. Somehow. Whether it’s something silly like Captain Phasma crying because she loves Poe Dameron but Poe is in love with Finn, or it’s Ghost and Roach crying as Roach saves Ghost’s life from the edge, at least one person cries in nearly every story I write (there are, like, five exceptions I can think of right now, but it’s far and few between). I think part of it has to do with my repressed emotions XD. But also I see crying as such an important aspect of communication without words. You cry when you’re laughing too hard, you cry when you’re in pain, when you’re relived, when you’re scared, happy, sad, tired, angry, the list goes on. Crying is the first instinct of babies, and really one of their few ways to communicate, and it doesn’t stop being a method of expressing feelings at infancy or at toddler years. There are so many unique ways to make characters communicate through tears. Plus, it helps slowly remove the stigma of crying being bad when it’s put into different contexts.

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

This answer is short. It would be wrong to say I hate them because I literally wrote and published one last week XD. Granted, one of the characters couldn’t kiss so it was a tender forehead kiss instead. So yes, I love them!

That said, if they’re creepy, I hate them XD

Ask game here!

#WOW this was long #i stayed up to finish this because I’m insane apparently #thebroccoliresponds #thanks Sarah!

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cantwritethetword · 5 months

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Never Run Off Alone

(originally posted January 4th 2020)

~A/N - Happy Squealing Santa everyone! Sorry this is like, legit last minute upload I’ve been really busy over the past few weeks and just have not had the time to finish this bad boy.

In saying that, I hope this is alright! It is for brokeback-switchylee (hope you get the notification lmao), so as long as she likes it I’m happy :)

A huge thank you to ticklygiggles for running the entire Squealing Santa for 2019, you’re absolutely incredible!! Hope you had an awesome festive season!

But yeah, little bit of Doctor Who fluff this time. I’ve never written fics around Five and Nyssa, and it’s been a while since I watch old who (or any doctor who tbh, need to catch up on it) so apologies if it gets a little OOC (Out Of Character) and if it’s a bit short.

Also apologies I haven’t uploaded a fic in a while, I’ve got a couple in the works (in addition to rewriting ‘Show Me What You Got!’ cause it got deleted) which has a little A/N at the start that explains stuff wink wonk.

Nonetheless, hope you all have been enjoying the holiday period, and a very happy 2020!

Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link

“I was fine!” Nyssa exclaimed, bursting through the TARDIS door and storming towards the console.

“You shouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place!” The Doctor replied, letting out an exasperated sigh and shutting the door behind them.

After a particularly nasty run in with some oddly vicious worm-like creatures, the pair had become separated. More accurately, Nyssa had broken off from the group whilst they were distracted. Obviously, the Doctor was less than impressed with her antics, but (though it may not have been clear to either at the time) his frustration came from a place of worry. Though it was no debate that Nyssa was capable of taking care of herself, he still felt responsible, almost obligated, to look after her.

Following his companion, the Doctor took a breath. “What would I have done if something had happened to you?” He let the TARDIS console take his weight as he lent his hands on it, bowing his head. “You can’t just run off alone.”

“I could have handled it, Doctor.” Nyssa huffed, but her eyes softened.

It was not often that she lost her temper. She was usually the level-headed voice of reason in the TARDIS. There was just something about the incident today which really got on her nerves.

The Doctor looked up. “I came to help you, and had I not done so I worry where we would be now.”

“I would have been fine.” She said sternly. “I’m indestructible.”

“Indestructible you say?” The Doctor’s eyes lit up, as his mouth formed a teasing grin. He knew exactly how to both snap her out of this mood, and give her a lesson in running off alone.

Nyssa, realising she was now dangerously close to the Doctor’s threatening fingers, gave a nervous laugh. “Doctor, don’t do anything you might regret.”

“But why would I regret anything” The Doctor moved closer “If you’re so indestructible?”

As if a switch flipped in their heads, they began running around the console. Nyssa trying to avoid the man chasing her, the Doctor steadily catching up to his companion. Both with equally wide smiles (though one had a noticeably more nervous laugh).

“Doctor nO!” Nyssa (embarassingly) squealed as she fell to the floor, her laughter increasing in both volume and pitch as 10 fingers wriggled up her shirt.

“No what? Whatever could be the matter?” The Doctor teased, skittering all over the poor woman’s sides and tummy which he was currently sat atop. “No… I shouldn’t have run off Doctor, perhaps? I’m sorry for going off alone Doctor? I’ll never do it again Doctor?”

Through her helpless giggling Nyssa managed to yell out a “FIHIHINE!”

Grinning, the Doctor continued his relentless assault (much to Nyssa’s despair). “You see, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson ye-”

“I HAVE I HAVE I HAHAHAHAVE!” His victim laughed, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

The Doctor stopped abruptly. “I also don’t think your attitude has changed. Interrupting people is very rude!” He jammed his fingers into Nyssa’s armpits and she let out a screech of a laugh (to which the Doctor chuckled at).

“IM SOHOHORRY!! JUST STAHAHAP!”

“Just imagine what those creatures could have done to you if they had found out about this.” He continued teasingly. “With their wiggly bodies…”

As if to emphasise his point, he wormed his fingers into her neck. Scrunching up, she squirmed underneath him, but it seemed to have little effect.

“Squirming just like you’re doing now.” He chuckled.

“Stohohop!!” She giggled, attempting to pull her hands out from her sides (where the doctor’s knees had them pinned).

“But it’s so much fun! And besides, we’re going to have to work on this little weakness of yours if you’re going to be indestructible!”

It was obvious that being 800 years old meant he had plenty of experience tickling people, as Nyssa was currently in hysterics. The combination of the Doctor’s teasy grin, nimble fingers and taunting words just turned her in to a giggling mess on the TARDIS floor. And although most of her wanted it to end immediately, part of her enjoyed seeing this carefree side of the man she had been travelling with.

But mostly she wanted it to stop.

“I’LL STAY WITH YOUHOUHOU!” Nyssa laughed, kicking her feet out of desperation. “I PROMIHIHIHISE!”

“Stay with me? Whatever do you mean? Are you trying to say you won’t run off?”

“YEHEHES!”

“You will run off, well that’s disappointing, here I was thinking we were getting somewhere…” He sighed, squeezing repeatedly into her hips.

“NOHOHO!”

“Alright you don’t have to rub it in! I’m aware we aren’t getting anywhere with this… Hmmm.” He used one hand to pulsate into her tummy, whilst the other dramatically stroked his chin. “How about we try… HERE!”

With a few knee squeezes Nyssa’s laughter went silent, as did her begging.

“Ohoh, that did the trick!” The Doctor gasped, spidering his fingers over her knees.

“STAAAHAHAHAHA!” She began before dissolving into laughter. “I CAHAHAHA!”

“What was that?” He brought his ear closer to her face. “I didn’t quite hear you over your giggling.”

“PLEHEHEAHAHAHA!”

“Alright, I suppose that’s enough.” The doctor chuckled, standing up and offering Nyssa a hand. She flinched, before taking it.

“That was cruel.” She muttered, but the small smile on her face told otherwise. “But I will try not to go off alone.”

“I was only worried for you.” He admitted, before she gave him a quick hug.

“I know.” She smiled.

And of course, Nyssa did run off again. Many times, in fact. But the Doctor always reminded her of that important lesson. Never run off alone.

#crow's tickle fic #asjkhalkjfsh so funny that i was like 'hope you all have a happy 2020' like honey you got a big storm coming

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getalittleclosey · 4 years

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under 10k larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 25k

under 50k

under 100k

100k+

☆ colors of the rainbow (shine so bright) by whisperdlullaby 9k

Louis' a popular skateboarder who's out to ruin Harry's life, and sometimes Harry just likes to wear nail polish and panties. Or alternatively, the one where Harry absolutely does not have a diary.

note: there’s a part 2 that’s 6k

☆ day 3: tossed salad by missandrogyny 5k

Harry sighed. “Lou,” he said, as Louis pressed kisses onto the skin of his neck. He gripped at the edge of the washing machine as Louis nibbled lightly at a spot below his jaw. “I’m doing the laundry."

note: this is part of a series by multiple authors but imo can be read on its own as a pwp

☆ jealous of the moon by objectlesson 10k

This is how he dies, Harry Styles saying I want you in me when Louis can’t possibly fulfill that request in a reasonable or safe way.

☆ string theory by graceana 10k

au. louis buzzes with something and glows with another.

The last few players are trickling off the bus when Louis looks down at his hands to see that he is pretty simply put, glowing gold,” Aww what the fuck is this shit. Is it that noticeable?” He whines, doesn’t even make a big deal out of it like it’s a normal thing that should be happening right now.

aka. a cliche soulmatey-fate thing.

☆ you’re like a sponge (abrasive and colorful) by ladylondonderry 7k

Harry LOML Styles: Hey, can you recommend your fav shoe stores? Heels Abroad is closing and I know you know some good places

Butterflies have erupted in Louis’s stomach. This is the first time Harry has ever texted him. He glances down at the beat up old Adidas he wore for his run this morning. Harry thinks Louis knows some good places? He trusts Louis’s opinion on something?

Louis gulps, and then coughs up toothpaste, hastily spitting into the sink. Everything depends on this. Harry - Harry Styles - has texted him! Louis can’t mess this up. He has to be perfect. He has to have great shoe store recommendations. He feels giddy. This is it! A turn in their friendship! The toothpaste-y grin firmly on his face, he picks up his phone again just as another message comes through.

Harry LOML Styles: Sorry, wrong person

Oh.

Or, Louis's flirts look an awful lot like insults.

☆ rated r by cherrystreet 8k

Louis gifts Harry with a surprise sex tape, and it accidentally makes its way into Harry's family Christmas party. Ridiculousness ensues.

☆ stars and boulevards by cherrystreet 6k

They’d been friends for years, had known each other throughout middle school and into high school, meeting in a music class on a sticky September morning. They hit it off instantly, falling into one another immediately, never looking back. Their friendship was comfortable, genuine, safe, always there, achingly present and solid. Harry never felt uneasy confiding in Louis, their one year age gap making Louis somehow seem more worldly, more experienced, and even when Harry had to look down at Louis, he still looked up to him. They spent the quickly passing school years making each other’s homes their own, Harry’s mom calling Louis her honorary second son, Louis’ mom giving Harry a similar title, and everyone knew that if you wanted to find Harry, you had to find Louis first.

☆ in retrospect by ologist 9k

In retrospect, messing with time travel probably wasn’t the best idea George has ever had, and if that’s not the most ironic thing he doesn’t know what is.

note: this is from george shelley’s perspective so there’s quite a bit of union j!

☆ just you wait and see by orphan_account 7k

In which Harry mistakes Louis' flirting as an attempt to steal his job.

☆ i wanna be yours now by justalittlelouislove 8k

“Look, I’m not saying that it’s for sure a serial killer.” Pressing the end of his cigarette to his lips, Zayn takes a short pull and speaks through the exhale, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth and up towards the sky. “All I’m saying is there’s a good possibility it’s a serial killer.”

Someone is sending Louis flowers. Everyone suffers until Louis gets answers.

☆ come on over tonight by dinosaursmate 6k

As Louis reached Harry’s front path, he spotted something curious on the grass, near to Harry’s wheelie bins. Louis frowned in consternation. Was that…? He crouched down to look at the item a bit closer. It was a snowglobe. Not only was it a snowglobe, it was a Winnie The Pooh snowglobe. A rather large one. A Christmas themed one. - A friends with benefits au where Louis finds out there's a bit more to Harry than an insatiable sexual appetite.

☆ like vines (we intertwine) by turnyourankle 8k

The "Roswell" AU where Harry is an alien, Louis is not, and they've both been pining after each other for far too long.

☆ i was getting kinda used to being someone you loved by werebothstubborn 8k

His hand clamps down over Louis’ mouth as firmly as he can manage. “What do you want? C'mon, you have my full attention now. What. Do. You. Want.”

Louis manages to look apologetic as he licks slobbery circles around Harry's palm until he lets go. “Pretend to be my boyfriend,” he says, dramatically gulping in as much air as he can breathe.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“This bloke just came up to me, said he’d give us fifty quid to be in his music video.”

“And you said what? ‘Sure, just let me coerce my friend into it with uncomfortable amounts of PDA and blackmail’?”

Louis has a brilliant idea. Harry begs to differ. Until he doesn't.

☆ can’t you see the glow by supernope 8k

Four times Harry tries and fails to tell Louis he's pregnant, and the one time he (accidentally) succeeds.

☆ i’ll know my name when it’s called again by pukeandcry 9k

Louis wakes up in Harry's body. This is a problem for several reasons.

☆ make you never wanna leave by fairytalelights 9k

“But that's fine?” Now Louis just looks confused. “There are so many ways you can have fun sex. Wetness is helpful but not a requirement.” Harry can feel his face heating up. The way Louis said fun sex, like it's that easy, like he has all the experience. He might be a year older than Harry, but Harry's not quite sure if age is the only factor at play here. He doesn't know why the thought of Louis having sex makes his heart start to race again and he especially doesn't know why the next thing he blurts out is, “You could show me.”

or, Harry is an omega teen who has trouble getting wet even when he's turned on, Louis is his omega best friend who helps him experiment. In a completely platonic way, of course.

☆ i’ll show you magic by kingsofeverything (fullonlarrie) 5k

Louis didn’t mean to go home with a Muggle, and he didn’t mean to sneak out of his flat in the morning. He definitely didn’t mean to wind up in that same flat a month later, attempting to steal a magical object before the Muggle gets home.

☆ streetwise hercules by bottomlinsons 7k

“I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”

Right.

This is Harry’s part.

(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)

☆ a fully armed battalion (to remind me of my love) by mediawhore 6k

“He was flirting with you by the way,” Niall says casually once he’s finished saying goodbye to Louis and he’s joined Harry outside.

“No he wasn’t,” Harry replies automatically, feeling his heart clench at the thought. Was he?

Niall simply raises a mocking eyebrow in response before wrapping his scarf twice around his neck.

“Not that it matters!” Harry says quickly, eyes widening. “I wouldn’t care even if he did because he’s awful and the worst.”

Everyone at Hogwarts knows that Professor Styles and Professor Tomlinson absolutely despise each other. It's too bad that they're in love.

☆ we found love (right where we are) by dea_liberty 7k

Harry Styles hadn’t meant to come back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a celebrity. Except, somehow – by accident - he sort of had. Now he can't go anywhere without someone (or a lot of someones) screaming hysterically and or trying to charm him into falling in love with them. To make matters worse, he couldn't even eat anything he found just anywhere because it might be laced with a love potion. The absolute kicker though was the fact that the one person he'd been trying to impress when he'd apparently impressed the whole bloody world was probably the only person whose attention he hadn't managed to catch.

☆ dreaming of you by orphan_account 10k

It’s as he’s smoking on their shitty little balcony that it really dawns on Louis. These thoughts he’s having are about Alex’s boyfriend. His brother’s boyfriend. Louis is an awful person. He’s always been the kind of person to want what he can’t have and while he’s never wanted anything like this, he can’t stop thinking about it now. How small he’d look next to Harry. How he could easily pin Louis to a wall. How good his long, thick fingers would feel on him, in him . He feels his dick twitch and leans against the cold glass door leading back into the house.

[or; Louis falls in love with his brother's boyfriend.]

☆ won’t you love me? by halos_boat 6k

Where Louis is Spider-Man, Harry is oblivious, Liam has a problem with communicating his feelings, Zayn is frustratingly handsome and Niall has a pet turtle.

☆ feels good on my lips by phdmama 8k

When Niall harasses Harry into returning to Vermont for their fifteenth high school reunion, Harry is really not sure he wants to go. High School wasn't the most fun for him, but when it turns out that Louis Tomlinson, his former best friend and current star of the silver screen is going to be there, Harry agrees. The road to reunion is never easy.

☆ like you hate me by krisstylinson 7k

“You have poor taste for someone with the last name Styles,” he says, turning to show the back of his pants to Harry—the pants Harry had just stitched his name across last night to keep this type of thing from happening again.

Of course, he’s accomplished nothing but indirectly making himself pop a stiffy over Louis fucking Tomlinson.

☆ call me a thief by moodlighting 9k

AU. Of all the people on campus, the one person Louis can’t seem to stop running into is Harry fucking Styles. And he keeps stealing all of Louis’ shit.

#bruh there's a george shelley fic in here that's how old this is im SORRY #on the flip side there are also 2019 fics #so i mean #variety #fic rec #one direction #larry stylinson #there are quite a few hp aus in this wow good for me #mine #25 fics in this one #fic masterpost

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horsesandhockeyplayers · 2 years

Text

When Life Gives You Lemons-- Part 12

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic, not just particular chapters.

Word Count Chapter: 6570

Word Count Total: 53,604

Author’s Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Reminder, that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. This part begins with Clementine. THERE BE SMUT (kinda).

Part Twelve*

I was sucking down a latte at a speed that was going to give me a stomach ache while Daze peed on every single patch of dirt we came across. Barbs had a small Americano he was nursing with a look of amusement on his face, and the fingers of his free hand were twisted into my belt loop, keeping me tucked into his side as we meandered in the sunshine.

We wandered along the river contentedly until the temps seemed to rocket into the 80s. The elevation in Denver always made it feel at least 10 degrees hotter than it was, and by the time we made it back to Mark's apartment, I was pretty sure the smell invading my nostrils wasn’t coming from Barbs or Daze.

The bottom layer of my hair was soaked with sweat and I was sure there was a pool in my underwear, which may-- or may not have been heat-related. As further proof life is entirely unfair, Mark was barely glistening and looked handsome as ever, but, to his credit, he was a professional athlete and that walk probably didn’t even register on his exercise-o-meter.

As we made our way through the front door and back to the blissful existence that is climate control, I asked him, “Is there a place where I could shower, maybe?”

He was unclipping Daze’s leash and hung it on a hook by the door, “Yeah,” he confirmed, “there’s a guest room with an ensuite through the door at the end of the kitchen.”

I looked at my bag, torn. What started as a casual conversation about a shower (if there was such a thing), seemed to have evolved into a bigger discussion, which, it occured to me, had been entirely avoided by my ability to fall asleep on the couch. “Do you want me to stay there?” I ventured.

He arched a brow; I could sense that he and I were on the same page and again, I was both irritated and impressed by his perceptiveness. But he remained unfazed as he told me coolly, “The master is down the hall, and you’re welcome to as well.”

I looked down at the weekender bag, which was still sitting by the door, and shifted my weight on my feet in an effort to buy myself some time. Maybe the silence would drive him crazy and he’d cave first and just tell me what to do. Instead, Mark trailed his hand across my back and pulled me into him, kissing the top of my head, before he headed to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water. “I’m not making the decision for you, Lemon,” he informed me, “you’ve had enough of that.”

“But…”

He smirked, though his lips were wrapped around the mouth of the water bottle. With his head tilted back, he downed all 16oz in a single drink; watching his throat move as he swallowed almost gave me heatstroke. At least, that’s what I’m saying it was, if anyone were to ask. The self-loathing I felt creeping through me was, I realized, entirely unrelated to all of my usual neuroses but instead, likely triggered by the level of “thirsty fangirl” I was feeling about the handsome man standing in front of me. It was then that clairity dawned on me: I didn’t know what was going to happen if I put my bag in his bedroom, but I knew what wouldn’t happen if I went to the guest room. Thus, I snatched the bag from the floor and disappeared down the hall toward the master, making a sincere attempt to look cool, unhurried and 0% desperate, though I probably failed on all three accounts.

His bedroom, like the rest of his house, was masculine yet warm and comfortable. A huge bed with a heavy looking dark wood frame fit the large space well, and I didn’t know what size it was, but it seemed larger than a King. I’m sure there was some super special athlete sized bed only professional athletes could buy. The sheets were dark gray and crisp, and his bed was made. He didn’t seem like the type to make his bed in the morning so I assumed the cleaning service had changed the sheets and made the bed.

The bathroom was also huge; the shower and tub were enclosed in the same glass room and it honestly just looked like a bitch to clean, although I suppose one could just spray the entire thing with windex and use a squeegee. And yes, this was the first thing I thought about upon entering it, despite all of the lust and hormones swirling around in my brain. You can take the housewife out of the house, but short of a lobotomy, I was still wired to think about cleaning and cooking, it seemed. With gratitude, I gleefully realized that cleaning the bathroom was entirely not my problem and I set my bag on the bed. Daze hopped up, circling three times before curling into a ball, right in the middle of the huge monstrosity, her keen eyes studying me carefully.

True to form, Nora had packed my half my bathroom and exactly one change of clothes, I loved her optimism that I wouldn’t *need* clothes, but I did like having the option of wearing them, which was the main reason I had run home the day before and now the bag was straining at the seams.

In the bathroom, there was a set of lush towels hanging on the towel bars and an entire additional set folded and set on the counter. The ones on the bars near the shower room were obviously the ones Barbs used, and therefore, I presumed the ones on the counter were for me. Suddenly furious, I narrowed my eyes; that assuming, idiotic moron man. He obviously assumed I’d be sleeping in his bed and using his shower. Despite my rage, a little voice in the back of my head, which sounded most concerningly like Nora, immediately wondered if there was an identical pile of towels in the guestroom.

Answering that question at once preempted all other activities, sweaty hair be damned. So, I marched down the hall and into the kitchen, prepared to give Mark the what-for, and much to my surprise, I was hit with the smell of onions and garlic sauteeing in olive oil. Mark was in the kitchen, tea towel thrown over his shoulder, the spitting image of, like, all of the hottest fantasies I’d ever had of him. My eyes widened and, distracted by the vision in front of me, my stare was fixated on him instead of where I was going, meaning, I hit the back of the couch with quite a bit of momentum from my march of irritation. Unceremoniously, I flew over the back of it in the most ungraceful somersault that had ever been done by a human and smacked my head on the coffee table. The resulting “thwack,” which echoed loudly through the space, functioned as an entirely too perfect soundtrack accompaniment to reality’s literal smack in the face. I sat on the ground, waiting for the rest of the life’s laugh track to kick in. I was only 50 percent positive the tweeting cartoon birds were my imagination.

“Holy shit! Clementine!!” I heard Mark yelp.

Unlike the birds, I was sure I hallucinated Mark vaulting over the back of the love seat that sat perpendicular to the couch to get to me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If getting to Tine just then depended on my sinking the winning puck in the Stanley Cup final, I know I could do it with one arm tied behind my back and my eyes closed. By the time I vaulted over the couch like Simone Biles, she was already sitting up, hand on her head as I knelt down.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. I’m totally fine,” she shushed me, before I could even say anything. “The good news about being crazy is I can’t possibly get MORE fucked up due to trauma to the head, so it’s fine.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said, sounding a little more exasperated than I intended, “Shut up and lay down on the couch.” As I picked her up under her armpits and deposited her there, I realized she didn’t really have a choice. I was considering plopping down on top of her to make her stay put, but that seemed a little excessive. Instead, I directed her firmly, “Stay there.”

Clumsiness and head trauma apparently didn’t fall under Daze’s duties, because it was a few minutes before she wandered in from the bedroom, mostly seeming curious as to what all the commotion was about. After retrieving a flexible ice pack from the freezer, I yanked the towel off of my shoulder over and wrapped the ice pack in it, making my way back to Clementine. I was half-surprised that she was actually laying down where I left her; leaning over the arm of the couch, I moved her hand from her head and put the ice pack on it. Curiosity got the better of me and I found myself asking, “What were you even doing out here? I thought you were taking a shower.”

She had hit her head over her right eye and sure enough, there was a big bump quickly forming there. She looked a little like a lopsided unicorn when she pulled the pack away, checking to see if there was any blood. She sighed, “It’s dumb.”

Once again, I was thankful for my taste in big furniture, because I stepped over the side table and settled onto the couch next to her, trapping her against the back, and held the ice pack to her head for her. “Try me.” I deadpanned.

She mumbled, words falling out of her mouth in one fell swoop. Were I not more well-versed in mumbling as a language (thank you to so many of my teammates for this unforeseen boon), I might not have followed her, but sure enough, when she uttered “Iwantedtoseeifthereweretowelsintheguestroom,” I knew exactly what she meant.

“I had towels set out for you, babe.”

She rolled the one eye I could see— well, I assume she rolled both, but I just saw the one not obscured by the ice pack, as she grumbled, “I KNOW. In your bathroom. I wanted to see if there were towels in the OTHER bathroom too.”

I cocked my head to the side, half-concerned I was following her inane “logic” and half-grateful I was able to as I clarified, “So you came out here all stomping mad because I laid towels out for you? And actually, let me note, that I personally didn't; I had the service do it yesterday. And you’re mad?”

“IN YOUR BATHROOM, BARBS,” she maintained shrilly.

“No,” I corrected her, “In both bathrooms. I wanted the place to be prepared for you to stay, in whichever way you felt comfortable.”

Her voice was small as she replied, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” I couldn’t fight the smile on my face if I wanted to, and frankly, I didn’t want to. “Now who’s the idiot?” I teased her.

She traced her fingers across the portion of my chest revealed by the several open buttons at the top of my shirt and innocently, played with the hair that peeked out. She always seemed to be touching the hair on my arms or, in this case, my chest and oddly, I liked it. “I mean,” she feigned consideration, “Probably still you. As a rule.”

I lifted the ice and gently kissed her new horn as I agreed, “Probably, but also you a little bit.” She smiled at me and it was so sincere and beautiful that I almost got lost in it.

We sat quietly for a few moments and she intertwined the fingers of her free hand in mine. Replaying the events of the minutes prior in my head, I realized I was missing a piece and as evenly and straight-faced as I could manage I asked her, “But how did you go from mad to tripping over the couch? It’s huge and kind of hard to miss.”

She squirmed away from me slightly, which was a feat, since there really was nowhere for her to go. “Nothing. It’s nothing,” she said breezily and I grinned, there was definitely something.

“Lemon,” I insisted, my smile practically reaching my ears.

“Barbs.” her tone was the one she frequently used when she was tired of my antics.

“Clementine.” I wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

“Mark,” she declared, almost petulantly.

I stuck out my bottom lip and gave her the sad eyes. It always seemed to work for Mikko. “Please?” I asked, with as much earnestness as I could muster.

A faint smile appeared on her face as she acquiesced, albeit resignedly as she griped, “Okayyyyyyyyyyy.” She looked me dead in the eyes, quirking an eyebrow at me as she added the disclaimer, “But you can’t make fun of me.”

“Ok.” I nodded, “I promise.”

She sighed again, pausing before she spoke, “I just… you’ve been bringing me food “from your mom” and I know she’s not sending a bunch of meals to you from Montreal, so I just figured you’ve actually been cooking them yourself this whole time and I have this fantasy of you with a towel tossed over your shoulder cooking dinner for me and I was, for once in my life, NOT the one cooking dinner and instead, I was drinking wine watching you cook and…..and that’s like, exactly what you were doing except it was breakfast not dinner and it’s all very hot.”

If I were a better man, I would’ve wiped the smirk off of my face. But I’m not. So I didn’t. “Do I fuck you on the counter?” I suggested. “Is that where it gets hot?”

“No,” she answered, “The whole fantasy is just you cooking.”

“That’s it? That’s what made you trip over the entire fucking couch?” This information was not what I was expecting and as much as I wanted to tease the shit out of her about it, it was so sweet and pure and genuine, I couldn’t find it in myself to do it. Plus, I’d promised.

She squirmed away from me again, frowning as she reminded me, “You said you wouldn’t make fun of me.”

I pulled the ice off of her head and set it on the coffee table. Gently, I took her chin between my fingers, turning her head toward mine so I could give her a soft kiss. “Baby…” I whispered, “I’m about to blow your mind.”

I kissed her again, sloppy and fast and stood up, scooping her up too.

“Ohmigod, BARBS!!” She shrieked, “Put me down!! I am NOT telling Bednar I’m the reason you can’t start the season.”

I ignored her and instead, deposited her on a bar stool, skirting the island and making way to the fridge to grab a bottle of prosecco and a carton of orange juice. “I know you said wine,” I remarked, “but it’s not even noon yet. SO, if you take sparkling wine and mix it with orange juice and call it a Mimosa, you’re allowed to drink before noon. I learned that from Landy.”

The look on her face said she was not at all surprised that Landy drank mimosas and was the party who had clued me in to this novel fact.

I set the champagne flute in front of her, filled with the boozy mixture of sparkling wine and Vitamin C. She fingered the stem absently, looking like she was approaching, though not necessarily imminently, a panic attack.

I lit the burner and put the pan back on it, grabbing another towel and throwing it over my shoulder before I added more olive oil to the onions and garlic.

Tine took a sip from the flute and after a moment, followed it up with a much larger sip. “Lemon,” I looked at her plainly, “Just down it if you want, zero judgment from me. I will pour you another.”

She eyed me over the top of the glass before taking another sip. I took my glass and raised it toward her, then downed the whole thing in a single gulp. It was about four seconds before my face contorted into a grimace and I choked out, “Oh bubbles, that was a bad choice.” I screwed my eyes shut as the carbonation tickled my sinuses. Maybe she was onto something, sipping on her mimosa. I was gonna have to serve myself a side of humble pie along with this omelet.

My eyes watered a bit which, I’m sure, did nothing to bolster my reputation in that moment. I raised my eyebrows to stretch out my face and hopefully, make the sensation go away as well as perhaps be so adorable that she wouldn’t totally roast my ass for my terrible and frattish suggestion.

I pushed the onions and garlic around the pan to make sure they caramelized evenly and turned to pull some veggies out of the fridge. When I set them on the island, I caught Clementine’s gaze and she was looking at me like a timbits player looks at the Stanley Cup: with awe, adoration, and a lot of hope.

“What’s on your mind, Clementine?” I prodded.

She took another lazy sip of the mimosa and rolled the drink around in her mouth before swallowing. “This is a good Prosecco,” she complimented, “Did you choose it?”

I was quartering a zucchini before slicing it as I responded, “I think we both know Gabe brought that over once and it’s been in my fridge ever since. And that can’t be why you’re looking at me like a cop looks at a donut.” The words were barely out of my mouth before I realized what I said. Hurriedly, I tried to backpedal, “Fuck, shit. I’m sorry, Lemon. I didn’t mean…”

Her face didn’t change much, but nonetheless, her expression solidified just a bit and her expression became more wooden. She traced one of the veins in the quartz countertop as she said slowly, “You can make jokes, Barbs. It’s ok. Cops do love donuts.”

I sighed and put down the knife, bracing my hands on the counter and berating myself inwardly as I grumbled, “And now I’ve ruined the moment.”

She drained her glass and set it down on the bar, filling it with Prosecco and adding just a dash of orange juice before taking another swig. I arched a brow at her, intrigued.

She jutted her chin in the direction of the clock on the microwave behind me, and said, almost daringly, “What? It’s 12:01. Don’t judge me.”

I resumed chopping, and we sat quietly for a bit while she watched me, the only sound in the kitchen coming from the vegetables sizzling away in the skillet. Finally, I had to fill the silence and I asked, “So, why the cooking fantasy?”

She took another sip of her mimosa, if you could even call it that now, and shrugged, responding with an offhanded “I don’t know.”

I scoffed, not even half surprised with her answer and refusing to settle for it. “That’s such a crock of horseshit.”

She looked around, almost like she was looking for something to throw at me and took another sip of her drink instead. “Excuse your language,” she admonished me.

I scoffed again and suddenly, I realized how much time we spent rolling our eyes around each other and trying to figure out if that was a bad thing or a good thing. “Oh, please” I huffed, “You can ‘shit, fuck, damn’ with the best of us, honey. Don’t think I don’t hear you when you miss a good shot of me.”

“It’s because I have to work harder to make you look good,” she threw back easily.

A bark of laughter escaped my mouth and it sounded a little bit deranged but hopefully still manly. “I own a mirror,” I informed her, rejecting her chirp, “So that ain’t flying.” I gave it a minute, sensing that this could be a bit of a loaded issue and wanting to allow her a little bit of time and space. Maybe she wasn’t ready to talk about it, and I didn’t want to push her so hard that she was uncomfortable. I turned to look at her and my eyes met hers.

Softly, I asked again, “Seriously, Clementine.”

She sighed and took a deep breath before she explained, “I don’t think I’m comfortable going into the details, but Bill really wanted to be born in the 30’s so he could have a 1950s housewife instead of me. So, dinner was always at a certain time and I always made it, regardless of anything— even if I was sick, I made dinner. He insisted on approving any activities I might want to do at night, and if I wanted to join a book club that started before his dinner time, it was a no go. So, I …..I don’t cook anymore.”

I had a feeling my penalty minutes were going to skyrocket this year as I listened, letting everything she told me flow into a box labeled “Discuss with therapist later.”

She seemed to be waiting for a reaction from me and I started breaking some eggs into a bowl as I replied, “That sounds like it would suck any joy of cooking. So, it’s a good thing I love how you pause when you eat the first forkful of something you didn’t have to make and savor it, because, that moment right there? Because of that moment, I’ll cook for you anytime.”

The little wrinkle appeared between her brows and the sight of it made me smile. She eyed me over the top of her glass again and smiled at me in return as she chuckled, “That was a surprisingly insightful answer, and it is appreciated on many levels, Mr. Barberio.”

I continued cracking eggs, congratulating myself inwardly. “Weren’t you going to take a shower?” I wondered outloud.

She lifted her arm and took a whiff of her armpit, which made me smile again because she made a disgusted face, which was actually quite adorable. “Ugh, yes,” she sighed.

“Can you do it in 15?” I countered, “Brunch is almost ready.”

“Just for that, I can do it in 15. I don’t need to wash my hair today anyway, just get the sweat out.”

I continued chopping vegetables for the omelets while she climbed off the barstool. “I’m going to make you work out with me soon.”

She blanched and I laughed, “What? it’s good for you and it makes sex better.”

She rolled her eyes so hard I was certain she could see through the back of her skull, and wandered down the hall without a word. Daze stopped and looked at me, the giver of treats and back down the hall the way Clementine went. “You should probably follow the walking accident waiting to happen, Dog.”

Daze let out a huff in what I assumed was agreement and followed her charge down the hall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Daze wandered in and I closed the door to the master bedroom behind her, since the bathroom didn’t HAVE a door, per se; the toilet was in its own little closet, but the rest of the bathroom had an open doorway and a half wall of glass bricks to let the light shine in.

I looked at the tub— it was wide, long, and deep, and for a brief moment, fantasized about filling it with gallons of steaming hot water and hopping in and sinking up to my chin in bubbles, but I knew that was going to take longer than 15 minutes. However, Mark’s shower looked equally luxurious and, from even a cursory inspection, seemed to have enough showerheads to ensure that no portion of your body would go untouched.

Turning on the shower, I was proven correct; Water streamed out from what seemed like an uncountable array of showerheads (Spoiler alert, it was actually 3), including a giant rain one that hung down in the middle of the space. I had died and gone to heaven and heaven was Mark Barberio’s bathroom -- who knew. I had to pause for a moment and I leaned heavily on the counter while the water warmed. I was about to take a shower in God’s bathroom, while a man--scratch that, while a stupidly hot man-- made me brunch. It was a lot to absorb, and there was a definite tingle between my legs that, honestly, had been there since our makeout session on the balcony.

I just wanted to attach my face to his and put him inside me and that was how we were now. Freaky siamese twins attached at the mouth and genitals. In the sexiest and most not insane way possible. I didn’t think that was normal, but considering Bill was my ONLY relationship, I didn’t know what normal was. So maybe it was normal, because I had certainly NEVER felt that way about Bill.

I shrugged out of the clothes I had been wearing, which I realized had been marinating on my body for over 24 hours. The crotch of my panties was totally soaked, and even though I was alone, I made a face as I shoved all my dirty clothes into a small pile in the corner of the bathroom.

By this time, the glass shower enclosure had filled with steam and I swear, the minute I stepped in, I could feel my pores open up. All of the stress just leaked out of my body and into the swirling mist, and I realized that the only thing that could possibly improve this moment would be if the shower included some sort of eucalyptus oil diffuser to imbue the steam with all of its relaxing goodness. If Mark managed to figure that one out, he could probably charge admission fees for a visit to his shower.

The spray hitting me from 400 different angles felt amazing and I seriously wondered how Barbs didn’t fucking live in this shower and become some kind of landlocked merman.

I twirled my wet hair and plopped it on top of my head and, after doing so, realized too late I had left all my shower paraphernalia on the counter; however, I was so zen at that moment that I said fuck it, whatever, (three words I was pretty sure I’d never uttered in my life). Barbs had to have something in here, I figured, and I’d just use that. I saw something sitting on a small built-in ledge and I grabbed it: it was one of those homemade soaps with the loofah molded right in, which would suit me just fine. I was familiar with that type of item, as I had one just like it, and it was actually one of my favorite instruments of torture when I was trying to cleanse myself of the voices. I lathered it between my hands and realized that whatever this soap was, it was definitely one element of the fundamental smells that combined to make Barbs’ unique sexy manly smell - as I continued to lather, I detected hints of sandalwood and pine.

I ran the bar over my body and let the suds cover me before I flipped it to the other side, letting the water-softened loofah scrape against my skin in the way I would imagine rough but gentle hands would feel. I dipped the bar across my hips and then, between my legs and the rough edge of the loofah dipped between my lips, just catching my clit.

The sensation made me gasp. I had obviously tried to masturbate over the past years-post Bill, and considering the last time I was successful was pre Bill, my therapist and I speculated it was because of the trauma I suffered. But maybe, I didn’t need to ‘get over’ my trauma or learn to work with it, I just needed to be...turned on? What an entirely insane concept. That intense need I had felt that morning with Mark, I had never felt with Bill, even before the abuse started.

I made the same motion with the loofah again, and my hips twitched. I did it again and again and I could feel the euphoria building in my body. Eventually, I traded the loofah for my fingers and I swirled circles around my clit until I had to brace my free hand against the glass wall to keep my legs from going out from under me, hips twitching as the wave crested.

Mark’s name may have been on my lips and a pleasant roaring muted the rest of the world and I thought I heard my own name but I wasn’t sure.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The omelets were done, and I debated with myself about whether or not to set the table in the dining area, or if we should eat on the bar side of the island. I set the table, but it looked too formal and maybe too reminiscent of Tine’s old life, so I took the placemats and put them on the bar. In the end, it looked like a planned but informal meal and I was wondering what was taking Tine so long.

I knocked on the door to the bedroom, but didn’t get an answer. So, I knocked again, opening the door a little as I said her name.

“Lemon?” I spoke softly, words softly echoing through the mist rolling out of the bathroom.

Her hand against the glass was the only clear thing I could see, but it didn’t take a genius to see the shadow of her other hand between her legs, body bent as she came and I heard her say my name.

I closed the door quietly and leaned my head back against it. Holy fucking shit. Holy. Fucking. Shit. I was aching behind the zipper of my jeans, dick bent at an awkward angle and stuck my hand down there to straighten him out. I had no idea how I was going to function for the rest of the day without bending her over the back of the couch and fucking her until my balls were empty. I don’t think I had ever been so hard or turned on in my life, and as a professional athlete I felt like that was significant.

It took more than a few moments for me to compose myself but when I did, I knocked on the door again, this time being sure to stay on the outside of it. “Lemon?” I forced out, casually, “Food is ready.”

After a moment, she opened the door and smiled at me as she padded back into the bedroom. Her hair was still wet, held on top of her head with a clip, and she was in simple leggings and an oversized Avs shirt. Its neck was so stretched that it was hanging off of one shoulder and I could see the strap of her tank top or bra or whatever. Her cheeks were flushed, skin still dewey from the shower.

“That shower is amazing,” she sighed, “I might just live there.”

I didn’t know what to say since “I want to cum on your chest” was probably inappropriate. So I settled for nothing, raising my brows and nodding slowly in acknowledgment of the shower’s awesomeness which had been raised to another level since I was never ever ever going to be able to take a shower without thinking of that moment.

Her nose crinkled and I could tell she was on to me. Fuck. As she made her way through the bedroom, she looked at me over her shoulder and asked, “Lunch ready?”

I nodded, that seemed safe, and watched as she made her way down the hall, her gait a lot more relaxed than I had ever seen it. Daze followed behind her, avoiding my gaze.

I honestly had no idea what to do; she seemed unaware I had seen something so intimate and HOT and I didn’t know how to bring it up and explain WHY my horniness went from a normal 100 to a supercharged 1000 and I was acting like a totally awkward and lovestruck teenage boy. Or, more like one than usual.

She stopped short of the kitchen and looked at the island, where our places were set and the food was waiting for her. Daze whined and shoved her nose into Tine’s hand. When Tine turned her head and looked down at the dog, it seemed like she was trying to blink back tears. I cleared my throat and she looked over her shoulder at me again, a small smile on her lips.

“What are we eating, Chef Barberio?” She took the seat she’d occupied earlier, setting the napkin in her lap and leaning forward toward her plate, wafting the smell of the omelet toward her face with her hand.

“It’s just an omelet, Lemon.” I said modestly.

She snorted. “It’s about to be the best omelet I’ve ever eaten.”

I slid into the chair next to her and she lifted her glass, which I had refilled while she was in the shower. “To hockey players slash chefs slash playboys who turn out to be actually decent guys,” she toasted.

She took a sip from her glass and I followed suit; then, she dug into the omelet and let out a moan that made the situation in my pants a lot more dire than it had been and I didn’t think that was possible.

I shifted uncomfortably, she noticed but seemed to mistake why as she said quickly, “I’m sorry, it’s just really good, Barbs. I’m not exaggerating.”

I sighed, about to reinforce the playboy image and not the actual decent guy part. With my arm settled around the back of her chair, I confessed, “Lemon, it’s not that. Your moan gave me a hard on.”

She tried not to smile, holding her hand in front of her full mouth. She chewed several times before swallowing and apologizing, “Sorry. I’ll do my best to keep my pornagraphic food noises to myself.”

“God, no, don’t do that,” I objected. It was my turn to take a bite of my creation and I let out an exaggerated moan of my own; two can play at that game. As I chewed and swallowed, I smiled at her as I agreed, “But you’re right, I’m good.”

She smacked my arm lightly and admonished, “Stop making fun of me, it’s not nice.”

I stood up and cupped her head in my hands, pressing a kiss to her temple, and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “Eat up, Lemon,” I encouraged. “Trying to make sure you eat enough is a full time job.”

She frowned, pushing a mushroom around on her plate absently. “But what if I get fat,” she retorted.

Oh my god, that fucking ex-husband of hers. I leaned down on my forearms and stared at her over the island, resisting the urge to verbally rip him to shreds and ruin our brunch. “Babe,” I chose my words carefully, “You’re not thin now, and I like you a lot. I care more about your health than your size. You wanna be fat, get fat. But healthy, so you gotta be like one of those chubby instagram workout girls.”

She glowered. “Your sentiment is nice,” she acknowledged sarcastically, “But your execution leaves much to be desired.”

I didn’t choose carefully enough, it seemed. But even so, I grinned. “There’s my girl,” I teased.

We finished our meal in comfortable silence, with maybe some juvenile knee shoving under the countertop. Which was maybe started by me.

When she finished, she sat back in her chair, looking like she was contemplating licking the plate. I stood, grabbing her head and pressing a kiss to her temple again, which was starting to become a habit and I found that I couldn’t care less. I started clearing the plates.

She grabbed my forearm and rose from her own chair, saying “No, Mark, stop. I’ll clean up.”

I pried her fingers off of my arm with my free hand, and gently pushed her hand away. “No, Lemon,” I insisted, “Just go watch TV or something. I got it. I made you a meal and I intend to finish making that meal by cleaning up.”

“Mark, please.”

I gave her a pointed look, “Lemon, no.”

She practically pouted, “Fine, but I’m going to sit here and keep you company.”

I scraped crumbs off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, having cleaned up the rest of the dishes while she was in the shower. The petulant silenced stretch uncomfortably, “Lemon,” I asked, “Can you see if there’s anything good on the Food Network?”

It was a small manipulation, just a small one. But it got her on the couch, trying to bring up the TV while I finished cleaning.

By the time I was done, her head was back against the cushions and she was snoring softly. She was almost too predictable, and it pissed me off to no end that some asshole managed to use that against her for who knows how long. Daze accompanied her sleeping human on the couch and was keeping a weather eye on her, like she knew something about Clementine I didn’t know. Which, to be fair, she probably did.

I took the mean looking torture device out of her hair, laid her down on a pillow, picked her feet up and sett them on the couch before I pulled the blanket off the back of it and covered her with it.

I’d probably get so much shit if the guys knew most of my second stay over date was Tine catching up on a decade of sleep, but if I was honest, I didn’t mind. Partly because I felt some pride in the fact that part of her subconscious had decided I was safe and honestly, partly because of how intense it was being with her. I never knew when she would casually drop a small bomb of information on me, because her experiences were normal for her though they were absolutely not normal for me. I tried to be conscious of the language I used and the words I chose, but it occurred to me that maybe that was one thing I shouldn’t worry about doing. Like Stephanie said, maybe that was my burden and I didn’t need to watch myself that carefully, because that was work she needed to do and not work I needed to take on for her. It was a bonus that while she was here she was out of reach of her awful awful parents.

I kissed her forehead and decided to work off the sexual frustration in the building gym instead of utilizing Rosie Palm and her five sisters.. I left a post-it on her phone, knowing she would check it immediately when she woke, mostly, I assumed, to appease Nora, who had been texting Tine every hour on the hour, it seemed.

After changing clothes, I headed for the door, going to utilize the basement gym in my building.

#nhl smut #hockey smut #hockey writing #nhl fic #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #colorado avalanche #nhl writing #mark barberio #lausanne hc #colorado avalanche rpf #avalanche fic #avalanche imagine #avs rpf #avs imagine #nhl rpf

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fanficwritersinterviewed · 2 years

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MCM, shey

<<This post is a part of a longer conversation about fanfic writers, how they view fanfic, and their writing process. All views are the fanfic writer’s own, and whatever fanfic they choose to write is entirely their own decision. No judgment value will be placed on fic content. These conversations are meant to provide insight for other fanfic writers in whatever stage they are at in their writing life>>

Meet-Cute Monday (with Shey, @shey-elizabeth )

Pseuds: Shey Pronouns: she/her Current fandoms: Teen Wolf Current pairings: Steter, Stetopher (Stiles/Peter, Stiles/Peter/Christopher) How many total fic: 13 How many fandoms: 1 Total word count: 163,284 Long fic word count: 68,690 Shortest fic: 1,216 Highest kudo count: 2,429 Lowest: 184

What's the story behind your pseud? Shey was actually the name of my very first D&D character back in college! When I made my AO3 account in 2015 it was something easy that I would be able to remember, and shey-elizabeth happened when I made my Tumblr account. I couldn't have "Shey" so I added my real middle name to it.

How long have you been reading fanfic? I've always been a voracious reader (head in a book 100% of the time from elementary school on). I discovered fanfic sometime around 1998 on a Buffy the Vampire Slayer forum. It was one of those forums for talking about the latest episode and someone posted a Willow/Oz drabble. It all snowballed from there! I went from BtVS to Highlander, The Sentinel, and Mag7. Then I got into a few anime fandoms.YuYu Hakusho and Ronin Warriors in particular. After that I did a deep dive into Gundam Wing that lasted until that fandom died.

When did you start writing fanfic? I really started writing fic towards the beginning of 2019 (because we're going to ignore my brief, embarrassing attempts that never went anywhere way back in the day). I had been obsessively reading Teen Wolf fic for about a year at that point, and thought I'd try my hand at a short, smutty PWP fic, just for the hell of it. That fic is now my longest at 68K

Were you writing original content before you started writing fanfic? Nope. I dove right into fanfic. Unless we count that time in seventh grade that I wrote the first two chapters of a book. My closest IRL friends have been writing fanfic for as long as I've known them, so for 20+ years. It's always been a thing most of my friends were doing and sharing. I was a pre-reader and cheer-reader (not a beta cause I couldn't find a grammar error to save my life) for ages and writing fanfic was never taboo in my friend group.

So what were you hoping to get out of writing fanfic? I didn't really expect much from my first fic. I was hoping I'd maybe get 100 kudos and a couple comments if I was lucky. But it actually did surprisingly well! I had one of my friends (poor thing isn't even in the fandom) beta read it for me and help with my complete inability to understand how commas work. I didn't think it would get much attention since I was a complete lurker in fandom. But I got lucky because the Steter (Stiles/Peter) fans are incredibly welcoming. I've gotten such an amazing positive response to my fic, that, instead of one little PWP I've got 160k worth of words on AO3 and several more WIPs. So I guess you can say I'm enjoying it!

Any lessons learned along the way? I've definitely noticed that the longer I do it, the harder writing gets. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so I've always been very eager to learn how to improve my writing. The flip side of that is the more I learn, the more difficult it is to just throw some words on the page and call it good! Writing is hard for me. It's also very satisfying when I finally get a scene to flow the way I want it to. When I started, I thought practice would make it easier. But I've realized the more you work at improving, the more you see your own mistakes. It's definitely a catch-22! At the same time, I can also recognize how much the quality of my writing has improved, so that makes the struggle worth it.

I'm really lucky in that I made an amazing friend through fandom who is not only a phenomenal writer but is also willing to beta-read and handhold me. She gets a ton of the credit for guiding me through the learning curve. (We've had days long email chains with her patiently explaining how punctuation works. I wish my high-school English teachers had been half as effective as @queerfictionwriter.)

How has writing changed the way you read fanfic? Oh man. It's changed it so much!! The first thing I noticed was that I started reading so much less because the time I used to put towards reading is now going towards writing. I work full-time, so my writing time is already limited. And I'm slow so if I want to get something out in the next decade I need to budget my time.

The second thing I realized was that I had to take long breaks from reading fic in the fandom I was trying to write in, because I would lose the characterization for my story. This actually led me to reading a lot more pro-fic (professional fic), because I was desperate to read, but I didn't want to lose track of my characters by reading someone else's take on them.

What are some changes to your writing that you’ve been working on improving now that you see them? I feel like I'm working on improving everything all the time! I spend so much more time editing and tweaking my words than I do actually writing. I'll write a couple thousand words in a few hours, and then spend two weeks editing and rewriting.

Something I've been trying to focus on more is letting the reader fill in the blanks and connect the dots. I want to find the balance where it's obvious what's going on in the scene without me explaining where every arm and leg is. Along the same lines, I want to get better at this with the plot too. I want the reader to be able to infer context without me spelling things out. Some of my favorite writers are excellent at this. It's that moment when you're reading and the character mentions something for the first time, but you know exactly what they're referencing—even though it happened off the page.

Yeah, I get that. When done right, that sort of thing does feel like magic.

#fanfic writers interviewed #shey #meet cute monday #fanfic #fanfic writing

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crazyman185 · 2 years

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All data is as of 12/17/2021

Three years ago I started a little project ( 2019 and 2020 editions) to see what the fic numbers were for certain ships on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net, and today I wish to show this year's stats! The first time I only did seven characters, in 2019 I did eleven, in 2020 I did 15, and this year I did 20 (adding Aizawa, Takami, Kendo, Camie, and Tooru)!

So now, to the specifics.

To do this, I basically looked at the numbers for tagged ships in the filter system each site has (which was a lot easier for FF.net than Ao3). I excluded poly, OC, and x reader ships as that would have questioned my sanity to track them all down. I also excluded any ships that fell below 1% or 0.5% depending on the overall number cause I didn’t wanna cite every ship that might have 1 fic in existence (this takes an entire day to gather the data as is).

Certain characters were unique in that their fic numbers being so high that certain ships got buried, so I split them into Combined and Heterosexual so you could see more.

Illegal ships were also excluded (kid x adult) for obvious reasons.

Now to the flaws.FF.net has a much smaller pool to pull from (Ao3 has 13x more fics) and is limited to only being able to tag two ships at a time for a fic. On the flip side, ships that are tagged are guaranteed to be a showcase in that story. While Ao3′s numbers are impressive (at 209k), the downside is that writers can tag to their heart’s content, so lots of fics that get tagged for a ship often have little to no presence in the fic (or is just harem wank nonsense). So super accurate, this is not. So take the data with a grain of salt.

If you have any suggestions for future data gathering by me please do ask!

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #fanfiction #shipping #izuku midoriya

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metalbvcky · 4 years

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Back in May, I made my first Stucky Ficrec post and months later, I’ve decided to make another since this fandom is hella talented. There’s a little over two dozen fics down below ranging from 10k-100k+ and everything’s categorized.

Do note that lot of these are Modern AU’s (I love those) and most of them are smutty. (yes hello, an asexual here who enjoys smut so very much) Also heed the tags once you click the link(s). Other than that, enjoy!!!

Key: ♥ = My personal favorites, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

a) CANON UNIVERSE

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers by fallendarlings Words: 39,273 | Post/Canon Divergence 2012 Avengers/TWS, Recovery, Slow Burn

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

don't threaten me with a good time ♥ by canistakahari - Words 10,106 | Post-TWS, Sick!Fic, Sick!Bucky, Cabin Fic

Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Higher Ground by EmilianaDarling - Words: 13,002 | Post-TWS, S, DS (undertones), Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs quietly, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the brush of Bucky’s lips against his ear, his breath hot against the side of Steve’s neck. There’s a hint of a grin in Bucky’s voice; amused affection and confidence and something heated beneath it all, a familiar tone from so long ago that makes Steve’s heart clench and his cock twitch helplessly in his jeans.

“S’okay, Stevie,” he says again, and Steve can feel the curl of Bucky’s lips against his throat when he smiles. His metal thumb is rubbing circles on Steve’s shoulder. “M’gonna take care of you.”

A year and a half after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve's been acting recklessly. Bucky deals with it as best he can.

The Simple Life ♥ from The Simple Life Series by howler32557038 - Words: 114,329 (Series Total: 337,273 + ongoing) | Canon Universe, MPreg, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental),maichan, zilia - Words: 75,396 | 2012 Timeline AU, Post-Avengers 2012 (Endgame Divergence), Domestic Avengers, Recovering!Bucky

Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.

His own voice rings in his head.

“Bucky is alive!”

Kept Safe by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 54,419 | S, DS, BDSM

Steve and Bucky are friends. Best Friends. If asked, Bucky would say he knows absolutely everything about Steve. Except when it comes to sex. Steve lives such a monastic existence that Bucky doesn't know if he likes girls, boys, or none of the above. For all he knows, Steve may have no interest in sex whatsoever.

But then a mission goes wrong, Steve is bleeding out from a wound to the femoral artery and Bucky is trying to stop the bleeding when his hand brushes against metal. Where there most definitely shouldn't be metal. Or a padlock. And most definitely not a torturously small cage.

48 hours by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 25,894 | Post-CW, S, DS, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Steve is keeping it together. No one would say he's keeping it together well, but he's getting by. Mission after mission, he goes back to his apartment in Wakanda and breaks down. Then he watches Bucky sleep and tries to not notice how everyone looks at him like he's the saddest bastard that ever lived.

But, this time is different. This time, Steve goes back to his apartment post-mission and Bucky is awake, out of cryo and making them dinner in Steve's kitchen. The breakdown is still happening. Bucky isn't pleased, but he does have a plan. For 48 hours after every mission, Steve is going to let Bucky take care of him or he's going to be on Steve's next mission. He can't risk losing Bucky again. Which should make the decision simple.

It isn't simple.

The Sex Therapist ♥ by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 179,941 | S, DS, DKink, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Current/Past Steve/Sharon

Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.

Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.

He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.

Found My Place in Time - Cap_D, humapuma - Words: 12,492 | Post-EG (Divergence, duh) S, Fluff, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?”

In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Total Institution ♥ from the Institutions of Love and Incarceration series by thelittlestpurplecat - Words: 94,303 | Canon Universe AU, Prison!AU, Guard!Steve, Prisoner!Bucky, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, WS Trial

The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn't seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It's hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction...that is, until he's assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge. He expects a sadistic, violent murderer. What he finds instead is a broken, tormented man with no memory of his past life, and no control over what had been done to him. He's a victim. Not a monster. And Steve won't stand to see him pay for crimes over which he had no control.

Raise Your Glass by minkeys - Words: 10,008 | Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Light DS, S, DKink

Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn't until tonight. It's about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of "Never Have I Ever." What's the worst that could be said?

b) SHRUNKYCLUNKS

Waking Up Slow ♥ by odetteandodile - Words: 44,638 | Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic, Hurt/Comfort

In 1945 Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic Ocean and was never recovered.

In 2019 Bucky Barnes is walking along the beach below the decommissioned lighthouse where he lives with his sixteen month old daughter when he finds the body of a man washed up in the surf, half frozen but miraculously alive.

Bucky manages to revive him, but finds that the stranger has no memory of who he is or how he got here aside from a name: Steve. Snowed in by a blizzard soon after and unable to get Steve a medevac, Bucky discovers that the funny, good-hearted man slips into the fabric of his and Alice’s life faster than he would have thought possible. The two are undeniably drawn to each other, but as their feelings grow so does the looming possibility that the answer to the question “who is Steve?” might be much more complicated than either of them realized.

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think?) ♥ by HeyBoy, Huntress79, imhereforgaysuperheroes - Words: 33,342 | Jewish, Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic

Bucky is used to his daughter bursting into tears in the middle of department stores. What he isn't used to is someone braving the wails and actually being able to stop Becca's tantrum in its tracks. Oh, and he's also not used to that someone being Captain America.

AKA, how Steve Rogers calms a screaming kid in Target and falls in love with two more Barneses than he had bargained for.

in my condition love's the best physician by aniloquent - Words: 9,177 | Pharmacy!AU, Russian!Bucky

“This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts.

The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him.

Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?”

Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

c) MODERN AU

Home Is Wherever I'm With You ♥ by cydonic - Words: 88,570 | Neighbors!AU, Slow Burn, Parent!Steve, Kid!Fic

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

if only you could see me (for the pie that i am) ♥ by bitelikefire (theoleo) | Words: 35,121 | Baker!Steve, WeddingPlanner!Bucky

In which Steve is the proud owner of Frost; a semi famous local bakery in D.C. And despite the overwhelming insistence that it’s about time he start dating, Steve swears up and down he isn’t ready for that.

Or as of recently, just doesn’t have the time because of Mr. Barnes. The highly demanding wedding planner on the phone who keeps asking for nearly impossible deliveries and maybe Steve would like to personally strangle him. Maybe.

(There is pie. And misunderstandings. But a lot more desserts and eye rolls.)

So Alive ♥ from the Brooklyn Heights Books Series by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) - Words: 109,074 (Series Total: 165,440 + ongoing) | Bookstore!AU (sort of), Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, DKink

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

The Penthouse Suite ♥ by elle1991 - Words: 15,873 | S, DS, BSDM, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, Happy Ending

Bucky Barnes has the chance to earn $5,000 in one night. All he has to do is go to the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel and spend the night with his client, one enigmatic Steve Rogers.

The catch? Steve is a massive pervert, intent on using this one night to satisfy every single one of his many debauched kinks.

Even ignoring the big box of sex toys on the bed, Bucky should have known he was in trouble the moment Steve opened his mouth and said his first words: "My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me Sir..."

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded - Words: 15,753 | Firefighter!Steve, Detective!Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve Rogers is Fire Captain of Brooklyn’s very busy Station 118. He wants three things out of life: People he can count on, for everyone to get through their shifts safe and sound, and for Sergeant James Barnes to get the hell off of his arson scene.

James Barnes is Detective Sergeant of Brooklyn’s very busy 107th Precinct. He wants three things out of life: A decent cup of coffee, good leads to chase, and for Captain Steven Rogers to get the hell off of his arson scene.

Everyone knows to steer clear when these two have to deal with each other. Everyone knows about their mutual dislike and sometimes hatred. But what everyone doesn't know? How they got to be like that in the first place.

Collar Full of Chemistry ♥ from the Rich People Are Wild Series by 2bestfriends - Words: 188,437 (Series Total: 219,519) | Heavy BDSM, DS, S, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

Toothpaste Kisses ♥ by buckybees - Words: 18,736 | Dentist!Steve, Patient!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky

Sitting in the horribly antiseptic gateway to hell, otherwise known as the waiting room, Bucky was deeply reassessing his life choices. Maybe if he didn’t eat ice cream for every meal this wouldn’t have happened.

Steve's a dentist, Bucky's a patient. You know the drill.

Out of the Blue ♥ by IsabellaJack - Words: 37,564 | PreSerum!Steve, Detective!Bucky (and Sam!), Mystery!Fic

“Does she have family?” Barnes asks again.

Steve tries to remember. “I don’t know.”

“You sing her praises and don’t know a simple info like that?” Barnes huffs, looking irritated.

Love Is An Ocean Wide by fancyh - Words: 29,009 | Shapeshifter!AU, Orca!Bucky, Marine Biologist!Steve

When marine biologist Steve Rogers helps to rescue an injured orca from the marine traffickers Hydra, he has no idea how his life will change. Once rehabilitated, the orca is released and disappears, and a despondent Steve throws himself into his work, only to feel a spark when a new volunteer arrives, a man with one arm and curiously familiar blue eyes.

Bucky has lived in the ocean his whole life. But when his family is killed and his sister captured by Hydra, he is forced to turn to humans for help. One human in particular intrigues him, a man by the name of Steve. As Bucky comes ashore to search for his sister, he finds himself falling for the man, but dangerous secrets still stand between them.

Includes clueless-about-humans Bucky, heart-eyes-Steve, and lots of Very Important rocks.

Innocent Until ♥ by L1av - Words: 136,866 | Lawyer!Bucky, Defendant!Steve, DS, BDSM, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:

Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.

Brooklyn Syndrome ♥ by lordelannette - Words: 158,350 | DARKFIC, Dark!Steve (VERY DARK, heed the tags, you have been warned) Doctor!Steve, Writer!Bucky, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Graphic Violence

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin.

"P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down.

Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?"

Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

lay me down (tell me i've been found) by coffeeinallcaps - Words: 25,188 | Modern!AU, DS, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

The collar is a little on the heavy side, and incredibly soft against Bucky's skin. Even softer than he thought it would be. It seems to fit snugly, and for a second he feels like he can't breathe. Then, Steve slides two fingers under the collar and runs them along the inside, almost all the way around. Bucky shivers. Goose bumps spread down his back, his arms. "How does it feel?" Steve murmurs, hooking his fingers into the ring and giving a gentle tug on it. Bucky swallows. Nods.

(In which billionaire businessman Steve shows up and turns Bucky's life into an improbable fantasy.)

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse - Words: 92,142 | Family Man (2000) aka the Nicholas Cage movie AU, Domestic, Kid!Fic, PreSerum!Steve

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm ♥ by daisymondays - Words: 51,637 | College!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Slow Burn

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

I'll Be Your Shield by 17 pansies (17pansies) - Words: 23,332 | Bodyguard!Steve, Rich!Bucky, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

I think this is a pretty diverse list :) There’s a good sample of everything here, some old fashioned post TWS recovery fics, some good dom steve/bucky, slow burns, fake pretend relationships and so forth!

PS: I’m on AO3 with more bookmarks plus my own hurt/comfort fics if anyone is interested :P

#stucky #stevebucky #bucky barnes x steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #stucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic rec #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction rec #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #modern au #canon divergence #marvel #my reclist #long post for ts

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