#why is this making me want to write a succession style modern au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

streetlights-was-taken · 2 years

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🌗🌙☀️: character notes i

I spent the whole afternoon working on a fic idea instead of actually writing the fic I'm supposed to write.

this idea has been building in my head for the past month so I think I'll take notes here for when I'm ready to write the fic. tbh I'm a little bit nervous to write this since it's a lot more personal than my other fics, and it will feature some unhealthy relationships. I might archive lock this if I ever write it.

first, I made playlists for Æsir/LUMI and kunikuzushi as idols. this will come up later, but the playlists are here to set the vibe of what their careee has been like.

> story premise

eclipse (working title) is a gender exploration fic set in an academia+idol modern alternate universe, told through the perspective of albedo. albedo is a researcher who just came back from studying in sumeru and is now continuing his ley line research back in mondstadt. upon his return, he meets aether, an undergraduate student who applies as his research assistant for extra credits.

their relationship is polite and professional, somewhat distant. one day, aether asks him why he likes to wear nail polish. albedo tells him that klee paints it for him, and he doesn't mind. he grew up surrounded by women, so he's used to helping other people style themselves and apply their makeup — sometimes even applying them to himself. it's not a big deal. after that, aether takes a liking to him and makes an effort to befriend albedo more.

albedo appreciates aether's company a lot. he's attentive, clever, hardworking, and very fascinating to observe. aether, he finds, is an expert liar. aether can switch up his presence with the snap of his fingers — he can command the room's attention if he wished it, and disappear in the crowd in the next. and he disappears too often on albedo's watch. aether has a secret other life that, for whatever reason, he doesn't want albedo to be involved in.

albedo can respect that. except, by accident, albedo stumbles upon it himself when he accompanies a friend (xingqiu) to a music festival and sees LUMI perform on stage for the first time. LUMI, who resembles his research assistant a little too much.

aether can lie about being his sister's idol manager. but if there's one thing that albedo can't resist, it's a mystery to solve. and aether is proving to be one of the most interesting mysteries he's faced yet.

venti: albedo, if given the chance, would you ever date lumine? albedo: are you asking me if I want to date your girlfriend? you do know I like aether, right? venti: I'm not asking who you like. I'm asking if you would ever be interested in dating lumine.

> character backstories: aether, lumine, venti

okay I haven't worked out the actual fic plot yet but I have worked out a ton of backstory and things going on behind the scenes that set the motivations of our characters. I should probably note that the idol au is heavily inspired by the kpop idol scene.

first, let's start with our most important character: aether. aether has... a lot of things going on with him. he's close to his twin sister and cares about her to a grave fault. when they were still students, they shared a dream of becoming idols together. aether is a good technical singer with a great falsetto, while lumine is an amazing dancer with great stage presence. she charms people with ease and has the "star quality" that aether lacked at the time. they wanted to debut together as a duo since they complement each other's skills.

they are childhood friends with venti, who wanted to become a music producer and produce songs for them in the future. venti and lumine were both infatuated with one another, but they mutually agreed not to act on it until they have achieved their career dreams together.

although aether is a good singer, it takes more than music to become a successful idol. an idol must be a performer and entertainer as well. and though lumine is not as technical with her singing, she is improving the more she practices. she is learning to write lyrics as well, since she wants to write her own raps to complement aether's melodies. at the time, although aether himself has been training hard too, he pursued his undergraduate degree alongside idol training, unlike lumine who went all in from the start. he felt that if he only went on like this he would only be taking the scraps of his sister's trails until she left him behind. was he holding her back?

he never gets to see that happen because one day, on whatever random event that needs to happen in the story, they get into a car crash. aether survives, mostly unharmed; lumine does not.

after this event, aether disappears from mondstadt. he doesn't finish his degree, he doesn't finish his idol training. he leaves everything behind. along the way he befriends kazuha, who is starting out as a choreographer, and kunikuzushi, who is about to debut with the screen name scaramouche in his idol group. kunikuzushi used to be called makoto, named after his aunt who passed away. this affected how his mother treated him. but kunikuzushi didn't enjoy that life, and he didn't connect with being seen as makoto. so he changed his name and decided he didn't want to pursue whatever job ei or makoto had in this universe (I'm not sure yet). so he went on to become an idol on his own.

after meeting kunikuzushi and seeing his determination, aether resolves to do better. he trains to become an idol again. and kunikuzushi and kazuha help him through it. he gets better at dancing, at entertaining, and aether also helps kunikuzushi with his music in return.

venti doesn't see aether again for two years and goes on to become a music producer in paimon productions, the label that diluc started after terminating his contract with favonius (popular label that manages kaeya, eula, amber, and barbara as its artists). it is also the same label where the twins' former manager, dainsleif, now works in.

many things have changed since then. although diluc still releases and performs his albums, the company's primary focus is music production. venti is now a rising producer (under the alias barbatos) who has worked with different artists from various labels, including artists from the famous and mega popular fatui label.

and then one day, two years after having zero contact, aether shows up in paimon productions, wearing a familiar white dress, and introduces himself as a trainee who wants to train under paimon productions specifically, under the condition that he debuts as LUMI.

since the twins were still training without exposure before the car crash, there are very few people, if any, who knew them. but venti does, and so does aether's former manager, dainsleif. they know who this "LUMI" really is, and maybe that's the point. maybe that's why aether sought them out.

they cannot convince aether out of the idea. aether storms the ceo's office and demonstrates that he can sing really well, and he can now dance in a way that venti has never seen before. he cane entertain. he can be an idol; he can be THE idol that everyone can love. diluc is notorious for not accepting other artists into his label. and yet, after a very long talk, aether manages to sign into the label with dainsleif as his manager. they keep his identity a secret, per his request. for most of the company, aether is simply lumine, a talented performer who will one day become greatest idol to dazzle teyvat.

venti is understandably upset about all this. he had to mourn for them both alone, and now aether comes back pretending to be lumine, parading as her ghost. he does understand that this is aether's fucked up way of coping with everything. but venti himself hasn't really moved on.

(side note: this fic idea actually started out as an omori-inspired fic so... the car crash is much more tame than what I originally had in mind. originally, this would be a situation where venti is basil, aether is sunny, and lumine is mari. naturally, lumine dies in a similar way as mari. but I'm already handling a lot of traumas for aether so I don't think I can handle an actual accidental murder, so. survivor's guilt via car crash it is) .

after a very messed up night of drinking and pouring out their emotions, venti asks aether if he enjoys pretending to be lumine.

"sometimes I like myself better when I'm lumine than when I'm aether. and I want her to achieve her dream. I owe her that much," he confesses. "did you know," venti drunkenly continues. he is not sober enough to hold his tongue and speak tactfully. "that I wanted to marry her someday?" "I know," aether says. "she... wanted that too." "..." "you won't be happy marrying me. but... as long as I'm lumine, you can play pretend with me. you can treat me like you would treat the real lumine." "that's a terrible idea," venti lies. "and totally unfair to you." "we don't have to do it if you don't want to. but for the record, I don't mind. it would make this situation less lonely for me." venti hesitates. "then," he continues, "how far are you willing to be like her?" "until nobody sees me as aether when I put on this dress." "...okay then, lumine. we can try."

and so they have a drunk making out session that is weirdly healing for both of them. they continue the charade because, well, it helps sometimes. it grows into a codependent relationship, but it keeps both of them steady.

soon, aether debuts as LUMI, an idol with a moon aesthetic and an R&B/dream pop sound. mondstadt is known for its love for music but not for its strong performers (that's snezhnaya's thing) so LUMI rises in popularity for her strong dancing skills and stage presence.

in the song credits, any time they use the real lumine's songs or choreography (she has plenty that she wanted to do when they debuted, but they never got to perform them), the credits name her as LUMI. but any compositions by aether is credited with the name Æsir.

taking inspiration from real life, I created a playlist that pretty much describes aether's career as LUMI. LUMI's career is inspired by a mix of wheein, chungha, and moonbyul. LUMI debuts with a dreamy pop/R&B sound. she is a smooth, clean dancer. she goes viral for her iconic suit dance. she plays between light, airy, dream pop (think make me happy by wheen and INVU by taeyeon) and dark, moody songs (think play by yuju and eclipse by moonbyul). aether also tries to rap this time, using the lyrics the real lumine wrote in the past. LUMI is associated a lot with the moon aesthetic in her promotional materials and music videos.

in between all of this, aether also has his own vlog and he signs a contract to be a music show host, so he becomes friends with a lot of people in the industry. he also produces music, though he acts more like a ghost producer and only works within diluc's company. he works very hard to become a successful idol.

eventually, as time passes, aether becomes less conscious of presenting as a woman. he grows confident enough in it that he's comfortable being a woman. but he also likes being a man; he likes being both! the problem is... he doesn't like being aether. because of his trauma (unresolved inferiority complex + survivor's guilt), he would rather explore his gender identity as "lumine" and just never be aether ever again.

of course, this cannot be a kpop-inspired gender exploration fic if I don't take inspiration from the gender queen herself. so in response to all of these feelings, LUMI releases something that's basically like moonbyul's dark side of the moon album. when this was released, eclipse (the title track) was considered unique because the music and performance is usually associated with boy groups. moonbyul herself is known as an idol who experiments with gender expression.

however, the process of creating and promoting that album turns out to be very stressful. aether develops severe anxiety and depression because, well, parts of himself are bleeding into "lumine" and he cannot have that. he is pretending in ways lumine wouldn't. he can't ruin her image, her memory, with parts of himself. and so, he spirals. it gets so bad that diluc and dainsleif puts his career on hiatus and makes aether do something else other than idol work.

"isn't there anything aether would want to do that lumine wouldn't?" aether thinks about this seriously. "well. I've always wanted to study alchemy." "great, okay, that's completely outside of idol work. we're getting you enrolled to study and you will not do any idol work until you can manage your breakdowns."

aether has been gone for too long to continue his alchemical engineering degree. and besides, idol work is completely outside the purview of ley line research, so he can't even use it the way some idols can use their work experience to compensate for some credits required in a music/performance related degree.

so they compromise with the university. aether has to pass an exam (he does), attend a few core classes, and work as a research assistant to complete his credits. this is also the university's way of handling The Albedo Problem™

albedo is a genius, and he's very courteous and nice. but because of his work ethic and very high standards, there are very few people who can fit in with his research team.

thankfully, aether is a hard worker who genuinely likes research. it says a lot about aether's stress levels that he finds the environment of mondstadt's academia to be a great distraction from his idol work.

and so, aether meets albedo for the first time. this is where the story starts.

he likes that albedo doesn't have any rigid thoughts about gender, and that albedo has no idea about aether's identity crises. he doesn't know about LUMI, not personally anyway. he only knows aether, the research assistant. for the first time, aether finds an opportunity to try being nonbinary not as lumine, but as aether. with albedo, he doesn't have to worry that his actions are seen as performance or as an act, and he doesn't have to worry about ruining his sister's persona.

fic plot happens, their relationship develops, etc etc. eventually, aether should be okay again to start doing light idol work while still doing his research work. he drops some vlogs and dance covers. he collabs on a pre-release track for scaramouche, who left his previous idol group (due to a "scandal" where he punched someone after they deadname him, and since they never reveal the truth of why that happened, the fans just kinda turned on him for being "violent") to become an independent soloist.

then, with zero promotion, aether releases a digital album and mv similar to red moon (kim woo seok). it's sensual, confident, and aether leans more into being Æsir than LUMI. long hair, androgynous, a completely different side of himself. a side that belongs to him, not to lumine.

more fic plot happens. I am imagining two scenes with albether. one, albedo gives aether a white dress that he thinks would look great on him. of course, white dresses are LUMI's iconic outfit, so aether demands to know why albedo thought of this gift. he has to make sure that albedo sees him as aether, not as lumine.

second, I imagine they would eventually have a fight. I haven't hashed out the details yet, but I think their personalities will just clash at some point. something like:

aether: I am not a problem that needs fixing / I am not a puzzle you need to solve. I don't have to justify myself / I'm just me.

albedo: it's unfair of you to ask me to love only the sanitized parts of you. you can treat the academia life as your escape, but what happens when you stop running? I'm not invincible / I have feelings that can hurt too

anyway, blah blah blah, fic plot happens, they make up, etc etc. eventually, aether becomes more comfortable with being himself and becomes a happier person overall. he learns to move on from lumine and give himself space to grow and express himself outside of the LUMI persona.

when he wears that white dress, he'll wear it because he wants to, and not because lumine would have wanted to. he can be an idol without compromising his love for research. he can be both. he can do whatever he wants!!

when albedo's paper shows up in an academic journal, aether is credited because he made significant contributions to it. aether gets an honorary degree from the university. when he has the time, he'll even attend an academic conference too.

aether's growth also shows in his music. his latest release is back to danceable upbeat tracks. he releases songs that are fun. some feminine, some masculine. if LUMI's idol concept is the moon, Æsir's idol concept is the sun. aether does some creative performances using an eclipse motif to switch between the two personas. but for the first time in his career, he finally feels like both identities are true to himself, and not just him "playing pretend" for his dead sister. this is also his dream, and he deserves to enjoy it for himself too, and not just for lumine's sake. at some point in his career, the persona of LUMI that was a mask of his sister that he hides behind, is now something beyond just lumine. it is his too, and perhaps it always has been.

this post is getting too long so I'll continue with scaramouche and other characters in another post.

#fic: eclipse #appendix

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harryspet · 3 years

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please don’t bite | p.parker, s.rogers, b.barnes

[Warnings] peter parker x reader, dark!steve x reader, hints of dark!natasha/dark!bucky x reader, vampire!steve/bucky/natasha, vampire au, vampire blood addiction, withdrawals, kidnapping, dubcon, intoxicated sex, oral sex (female recieveing)

A/N: hello, it’s been forever! I was in the middle of writing this when @cherienymphe announced her “Cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge” so I decided to join in! She’s one of my favorite dark writers so please check her out if you haven’t.

In which addiction leads you into a den of vampires.

taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan

main masterlist

word count: 3.7k

You piled all the dollar bills you had in your pocket on the table, “There. We can just use this.” You plopped down beside your boyfriend on the couch, fully feeling the headache you’ve had for the past two weeks. It was like your brain was pounding against your skull and sending painful waves through your body.

“This is twenty bucks and a … grocery store coupon for … shampoo,” After counting it, Peter flicked the money back onto the coffee table, leaning back with you. You tossed your legs over his lap and he wrapped his arm behind you, “So we have fifty bucks between us … great.”

“That’s enough, right?” You asked, barely able to hear yourself think through your headache.

“It’s like two-hundred just for a small vial,” A shiver ran through your body and Peter pulled you closer. Not only did the heat not work in the shoebox you two called an apartment, you were starting to get random chills and it was another rough winter in New York.

“Fuck,” You cursed, “Fuck, fuck-”

Peter shushed you, “We’ll be okay,” Peter said, trying to be strong for the both of you though his body was punishing him even more than yours was, “I got a gig by the pier, and by the end of the week, we should have enough.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you clutched his chest, “That’s too long. We’ll die before then.”

“We’ll be okay,” Peter insisted though he didn’t quite believe himself.

Vampire blood was one cruel mistress. It was hard to remember your lives before you took your first sips of the addictive potion. You both had everything going for you, highschool sweethearts that became successful college students but that was all gone now. You can’t hold a job or go to school when you’re on vampire blood. The highs last hours and, when you have enough of it, weeks can go by without you noticing.

“What was it like? Drinking from the vein?” You asked him, the taste of the blood was faint on your lips as you tried to remember the exact taste.

Peter’s head tilted back as he stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, “Like Heaven on earth. Like eternal life …. like nothing any normal human would ever feel. So good … jesus.”

Sometimes Peter wished he never introduced you to the taste but he’d forget all about it when you were high together. The sex was unbelievable, vampire blood being a strong aphrodisiac, and your love felt even stronger, “I want to try it,” You thought out loud, “If I’m gonna die soon, I-I wanna try it.”

“You’re not gonna die. Our brains are just totally miswired right now,” Peter groaned, turning his face towards yours. He kissed your forehead and, for a moment, it eased the pain. You tilted your head up to kiss the sides of his mouth. He tilted his head to the side and you kissed deeply. He pulled away suddenly and his eyes gazed into yours, “What would you do?”

“W-What?”

“What would you do to taste it from the vein?” You swallowed and your throat ached.

You nodded your head, “Anything. Oh god, anything, Peter.”

You’d sensed he’d had an idea and a weak grin began to pull at your lips. That quickly fell as Peter pulled away from you. You expected him to be excited but he was completely solemn, “I have an idea,” He said, “You can say no … but if you don’t say no, you have to promise that things will be how they used to be afterwards.”

“How they used to be,” You couldn’t even think that far back. You couldn’t imagine a single date, single birthday card or New Year’s Eve kiss while you were in so much pain, “Sure, Pete. We just need a taste a-and that’ll clear our minds and things we’ll go back to how they used to be.”

As if things couldn’t get any worse, your stomach growled. You’d gotten dressed up, put on light makeup, and styled your hair for whoever Peter had taken you to meet. You didn’t quite care anymore because your headache continued to cripple you over the past few days.

You pulled your jacket tighter as you waited on the steps of the gentrified brownstone. Peter pressed the doorbell nervously, watching as you shiver in your small, black dress. Peter dressed in his finest slacks and button down but was very aware that he probably wouldn’t be the center of attention tonight. He reached out to grab your hand which you happily took.

“Why is he making us meet him so late?” You whispered, shivering.

“He’s a vampire,” Peter shrugged, “They’re like nocturnal, I guess.”

Peter had reached out to ring the doorbell again when the door suddenly opened. A red headed woman opened the door, her hair cut short and a sultry smile on her face. You could tell instantly by the shine in her skin and darkness in her eyes that she was not like you.

“Peter,” She greeted, smirking, “You look … hungry.”

“And cold,” He added, sensing your uncomfortableness as she took him in like he was her prey.

“Right, come on in,” Peter led you inside the expensive home and out of the cold winter. You pressed yourself closer to him, not only because you were still shivering but because you’d never been alone with a vampire, “Steve will be here any moment.”

The woman led you down a corridor and you passed modern art sculptures and other expensive decorations you didn’t quite understand, “Steve?” You perked up at the mention of someone else.

“That’s, uh, who we’re meeting,” Peter said quickly.

“Unfortunately, I’m booked tonight. A sweet young thing I met a few weeks ago. British accent, total dreamboat, but Steve will take great care of you two,” She led the two of you into a dining room where wine and horderves were laid out, gesturing for the two of you to take a seat, “Let me take your jackets.”

You looked at Peter and he nodded, “It’s okay,” Hesitantly, you slid off one of your sleeves and you felt her eyes begin to burn into the skin of your neck. Your arms weak, you lifted it out to her and she graciously accepted it. Peter did the same, taking a seat and waiting for you to do the same. Your eyes were still on the mysterious woman until Peter grabbed your hand.

“I hope to see you both soon,” She smiled again, leaving the room, “Keep your eyes on this one, Pete.”

You turned to him, your eyebrows raised, “How do you know her?”

“That’s her,” Peter said, grabbing the bottle of wine, “I told you about the first time I tried it from the vein. I think she has a thing for young guys. Or young anything.”

As he poured himself a glass, you reached out for a cracker and tried not to eat too fast as you pushed them into your mouth, “Why’d she look at me like that?” You asked, covering your mouth.

“You’re a virgin,” You almost snorted, “I mean, your veins are. You’ve never been fed off of.”

“Oh,” You swallowed, taking his glass from him as you washed down your food, “I don’t wanna be. That’ll hurt, right?”

“Don’t worry, that’s not what we’re here for.”

Feeling some of your energy return, you stood up from the dining table, deciding to look closer at all the artifacts, “Y/N, what are you doing?” Peter asked, his fingers rubbing his temples, “Sit down, please.”

“Why do they have food if vampires don’t eat?” You asked out loud, annoying him further. There seemed to be a million framed pictures on the wall and you studied them as you passed along. They seemed to transform from black and white to fully in color, polaroid to digital.

“For their human prey, probably.”

“Prey?” A deep voice spoke up, surrounding the room, bringing Peter out of his chair and your head turning quickly, “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Mr. Rogers,” Peter rushed out, and you wondered how he could muster up so much energy to be nice, “I didn’t mean …”

“No worries, I try to be polite but I am a blood sucking demon after all,” The blonde-bearded man smiled. He was so muscular, you’d pictured someone skinny and frail. “Won’t you introduce me to your …”

“Girlfriend,” Peter said a bit sadly. He wasn’t sad that you were his but that this was the saddest excuse for a date night, “This is Y/N.”

You raised a hand to wave but he crossed the room to take your hand. He kissed your knuckles, smiling charmingly as he looked into your eyes. Blue eyes, you weren’t expecting those either. Despite the porcelain skin he looked quite human. His suit was black, and his white shirt was pressed nicely beneath it, like he’d just returned from an important event. You smiled back weakly, “Pleasure to meet you, doll.”

“It’s … nice to meet you too.”

You felt Peter’s eyes on you as your hand fell back down to your side, “You two look like you’ve seen better days,” You moved closer to Peter because, despite his kind smile, you didn’t fully trust him.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Is it that obvious?” The nice clothes couldn’t hide the fact that they hadn’t had any vampire blood in almost three weeks. It was amazing that they were still standing.

“I think I can help you both out,” Steve assured you two, “If you had enough of the horderves, you can follow me upstairs.” He turned and Peter grabbed your hand as you all left the room.

“What exactly do we have to do … you know, for the blood?” Looking up at Peter, you worried that he was nervous for reasons that he was not telling you. Steve led you to the stairs and, as you climbed, you couldn’t help but look at all the photos that lined each wall. The upstairs wasn’t lit, making it feel like you were stepping into a story with a not-so-happy ending.

“Peter didn’t tell you?” Steve asked, not bothering to turn around. He led you down the hall to what you assumed was the master bedroom.

“Not everything,” Peter said quickly.

You expected some kind of evil den but the room was quite normal. High ceilings, brown upholstered bed, a view of the neighborhood, and a fireplace. You and Peter stood awkwardly, looking around, as Steve made his way over to the fireplace. He leaned down to turn a dial and moments later, it sprouted with fire.

“Peter,” You nudged him, your brows furrowed. He didn’t say anything which worried you more. Steve stood up, taking off his jacket which made your heart begin to race. Some of the fear disappeared quickly as he rolled up his white sleeves … exposing lower arms.

Now, your mouth was watering, “There’s no need to worry, doll. I already promised Peter that no harm will come to the two of you. But you do understand that this is a trade? I give you my blood and you give me what I want.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted, “And what do you want?”

“I want to watch,” He stated, looking the two of you over, “I consider myself somewhat of a voyeur, I like to watch when people are intimate.” You looked back and forth from him to Peter.

“Y/N, we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Peter spoke quietly, worry in his eyes.

“Of course not,” Steve smiled, already a bit aroused by your shocked expression. He reached into his pocket to pull out a pocket knife, its handle having an old and intricate design, “But I think it’ll be very enjoyable on your side of things. The blood will certainly take the edge off and I won’t overstep my boundaries, I promise.”

“And we’re supposed to trust a vampire … ,” Steve stepped closer, pressing the knife to his skin.

“We don’t have another option,” Peter said, his eyes focused on Steve’s vein. Peter let go of your hand, the addiction taking over as he moved closer to Steve. Steve cut into his arm, the crimson running down it but not a drop touched the floor before Peter pressed his lips to the wound.

When Peter pulled away, his head tilted all the way back, as the sweet serum traveled down his throat. You were still staring in shock, the scent reaching your nose, and drawing you further in. It took everything in you to keep your feet planted and your fingernails dug into your palm as you watched.

Peter smiled, blood on his lips and mouth, “Y/N,” He drawled, “Please, taste it …” He walked towards you, his hands outstretched. The blood on his lips, you could smell it, and you wanted to taste it so bad that it was hurting you. When he leaned into your lips, you didn’t stop him. His tongue entered your mouth and you felt the high he was feeling.

Your vision began to blur a little as your head tilted back. Peter’s hands were holding you steady as the biggest smile spread across your lips. It was like tasting heaven, something beyond reality and you wanted to never let that supernatural feeling go.

You felt a foreign hand against your back but you felt like welcoming any touch under the influence of the drug. As Peter pulled his lips away from you, your eyes opened to Steve’s as he was offering you his wrist. With the taste already on the tongue, you gladly accepted more, Peter’s hands roaming over your body as you drank.

You weren’t sure how you made it to the bed, it felt like you had floated. Peter was right, he was so right, were all the words you could think. You heard those words, felt Peter’s hands, and watched as Steve’s lips turned into a mischievous smile.

Steve stepped away, the cut on his arm already healing, as he made himself comfortable in a lounging chair by the fireplace. He had to give it to the kid, he seemed to know your body much better than he expected for a guy his age. Either that, or you couldn’t tell what was what at the moment and it was all just pleasure in your glazed over eyes.

Your head tilted to the side so Steve could analyze every detail of your face. Your dress was pulled down at the top and the bottom rolled up past your stomach. Peter held your legs firmly, biting and kissing your thighs as he made himself comfortable between your legs.

“God, I fucking love you,” Steve smiled at Peter’s words. Your back arched up as he finally pushed your panties aside, tasting your warm center, “You smell so good. You taste so good.”

You cried out his name, biting down on your bottom lip, and Steve imagined you accidentally drawing blood. You wouldn't have noticed, there was already blood dripping down your chin. Steve liked how loud you were, he didn’t like the girls that held everything in, and he liked even more how Peter took your mewlings as encouragement to lap at you faster.

“Fuck,” You cursed, gripping the sheets tightly. Steve felt his pants begin to tighten though he promised himself he would wait, “Fuck, fuck!” You finally came and Peter crawled up your body in order to kiss you on your lips.

He fumbled with his belt and Steve felt his desperation to be inside you. He was still slow with you when he finally entered you, much more patient than Steve imagined he would be. He kept things slow so you could adjust. He made love to you, kissing your neck, “Is that good?”

You nodded eagerly, “Y-Yeah! Like that …. I love that, Petey. Feels so good … feels so good.”

It was more than ecstasy. The blood mixed with the love of your life, you thought you might cry knowing that no other feeling could compare.

Steve watched the young lovebirds through several rounds and several different positions, your stamina never seeming to run out. Like any other drug, the high relieved the side effects but it didn’t last forever. Eventually, you and Peter floated to sleep.

You slept through the entire morning and you thought you’d wake in Peter’s arms. You could face any shame and guilt if you were with him but, when your heavy eyes finally opened, you were alone. Your palm against your head, you sat up in the bed, a little bit of sun creeping through the curtains. Looking down, you were completely naked most likely from last night's escapades.

You felt dirty, for more than one reason. “Peter,” You whispered, stepping out of the bed to look for your dress. Covering your chest, you kneeled down to check beneath the bed, “Peter.”

You breathed heavily, trying to push down your anxiousness as you struggled to find your clothes. When the door of the room opened, you panicked, grabbing ahold of the comforter and pulling it against your body.

It wasn’t Peter or Steve but a dark haired man, abnormally muscular for a vampire just like Steve. He tilted his head as he looked at you, “Where’s Peter?” You asked immediately.

“Who?” He raised an eyebrow, shutting the door, “Ohhh, Peter. Right. The boyfriend.”

“Where’s Peter and who are you?” You continued, your eyes wide with fear. Bucky ran his hand over his beard before folding his arms over each other.

“I’m Steve’s … friend,” You began to recognize him from all the photos, “There’s a few of us who share this house, you know. And I heard you all last night, I asked Steve if I could join the fun but sitting on the sidelines is a bit boring to me.”

You didn’t care, “If you’re not gonna tell me where Peter is-”

He rolled his eyes, “He’s with Natasha I think. He woke up still craving. Are you craving something too, dollface?”

“Nothing from you,” You shook your head though the idea of his bleeding wrist did pop into your brain, “I-I need to see him.”

“Be my guest. Are you going naked?” You scowled at him, “Go clean up first, please. There should be something for you to wear in the bathroom.”

The two of you stared awkwardly until Bucky realized you weren’t going to move until he left the room, “Fine,” He raised his hands in defeat, “They always get shy in the morning.” He mumbled to himself as the door shut. You quickly hurried to the bathroom, shutting and locking it.

Why the hell was Peter with Natasha? She’d look at him like she wanted to devour him, in a completely non-vampire kind of way. And he’d left you all alone for that man to find you. Sure, you’d done things last night you weren’t proud of but he’d promised that things would go back to normal after.

You freshened up in the sink, throwing on a night blue, silk nightgown. You had to scrub the dry blood off of your lips and your inner thighs and you were forced to relive the night. Everything was perfect but as soon as you thought about who watched and probably got off to it, you only felt guilty. You felt even more guilty that you were craving more blood.

The room was empty when you stepped back into it. Tip toeing over to the bedroom door, you made sure to check to see if the coast was clear before stepping out into the hallway. You thought you could find Peter, snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and take the two of you home even if you had to carry him out on your back.

“Natasha warned me to keep an eye on you,” He appeared in front of you so suddenly that a small shriek left your lips. You backed up quickly only to run into another tall figure.

“Bucky, you’re going to hurt her,” Steve warned, his deep voice sending chills down your spine.

Bucky smirked, “No blood, no foul.”

“You say that now.”

You stepped away from both of them, your back pressing against the nearest wall, “Would you like breakfast, doll?” Steve asked, catching you off guard.

“You should get something on your stomach, doll,” Bucky seemed to mimic Steve’s concerned nature which caused Steve to press his lips into a frustrated, thin line.

“Where. Is. Peter? I want to go home.”

“He’s-”

Bucky interrupted him, “You can’t go home.”

“Buck-”

“There’s no use in sugarcoating it,” Bucky stepped closer, resting his arm above you, “We need new blood bags and it’s not like you guys have much to go back to.”

“We’re not blood bags-”

“We’re all blood bags,” Bucky chuckled, “You guys need us too. Anyways, it’s not a request. Steve is just nicer than me but we’re all going to take what we want.”

You slipped away from him, your feet pushing you even though you knew you were faster. The only reason Bucky didn’t chase after you was because of Steve, “Peter!” You called out, running down the hall, “Peter!” You frantically opened each door you walked past until you got to the end of the hallway.

When you stormed in, you found him shirtless, sprawled on a bed. Natasha, in a robe, was in front of a vanity, brushing through her red hair. You hurried over to the bed, grabbing a hold of his shoulders, “Peter, we have to get out of here.”

He smiled, softly grabbing ahold of your arm, “My love, you’re so beautiful, you know that?” He was so high that you weren’t even sure if he was really seeing you.

Tears pricked your eyes, “You promised, Peter. You promised.”

He shushed you, “It’s okay, just give me a few … hours. We’ll be … okay.”

You felt hands on your waist that you didn’t fight. She brushed a piece of hair from your face, touching your cheek with her freezing hand, “I knew you’d like her, Buck. They're both so perfect,” Natasha guided you away from the bed and towards the door where the other two vampires were standing, “So who gets the first bite?”

“Steve’s had his fun. She’s mine tonight.”

hope you enjoyed that fun little one-shot!

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mooni-bunni · 3 years

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AOT with a Black S/O

A/N: There are SO many characters I want to do so this is definitely going to be a part one. Please know that I’m going off of MY ✨black experience✨ so if I mention something that you don’t do or experience, then idk, write your own. 🤨

CW: Modern AU, Black!Reader, Reader is female oriented,

TW: some light racism mentions.

Eren Jaeger

I’m going to start this off by saying Eren is completely into ethnic women.

If it’s not the way your skin glows under the summer sun, it’s definitely the goddamn brown eyes that are just BEAUTIFUL MAN.

He won’t say it, but he is such a nerd for learning more about your culture. Learns a lot about black history and excitedly tells you the new stuff he learned. He gets so happy when he learns about inventions by black people too.

He gets really mad about a lot of social issues though. He’s a really good listener when it comes to you voicing your feelings about something that’s happened in the community. Definitely an unapologetic activist.

Take him to a predominantly black church, watch him be all awkward but tapping his toes. He’ll tell you after that he really enjoyed it and had a lot of fun. He may not be feeling the Holy Ghost, but he is definitely going with you on sunday just to enjoy it with you

Over all, he just loves you so much, he gets to experience so,etching new every single day and he loves it. Especially when it comes to music, food, and clothing. Dress him up please, he likes it. Use him as a wig stand too.

Armin Arlert

Please, he was doing research on black culture before you were even dating. 🤨🖐🏾

When you started dating, you were definitely surprised by how much he actually knows about black culture. It’s all because he wanted to make sure he never says anything to you that makes you upset. If he has questions about something, he is going right to those books and the internet. He’s also not afraid to ask you questions but he would prefer to not burden you with the responsibility of educating him.

If you grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood, he tries his best to make you feel comfortable about being your most authentic self and not washing yourself down for him. He doesn’t like it when you hold yourself back or fix your speech so that he can understand you better, he’ll fight you to be yourself. USE YOUR AAVE AND TEACH HIM.

He really likes the way you talk. He takes note of any little inflectional accented letters in the words you speak. He will use words like “bussin” and “Chile” in the wrong way, so please just… stop him, he’s trying his best.

He’s also really into African American protective hairstyles and why they are important

Definitely sits down with you and helps you with your hair. He’s not the best with it, but he is definitely helpful. Like he’ll at least hold stuff for you or let you use his hand as the pallet for the grease or gel. If you’re a wig wearer, he likes being the model while you shape it. If you’ve got an Afro, he’s buying you the cutest bonnets to wear at night.

Mikasa Ackerman

The thing she loves so much about you is how she’s able to swap cultural experiences with you. 🥺

She grew up in a half Asian household and has a lot of things to share. The fact that she gets to mix her culture with yours is incredible to her. Especially with food because traditional Japanese dishes with traditional African American foods is fun to combine

She is really into r&b music, too. Swapping music with her is so much fun because she finds some new artists she’s never heard of before. She really likes Destiny’s Child

Asks you a lot of questions, too. It’s always light hearted and she means so well. She wants to know more about your family, the dynamic, what kinds of struggles you went through, the celebrations.

Bring her to parties and family functions, she is a visual and hands on learner.

Calls you beautiful every single day. There’s not a single thing about you that she doesn’t love.

Jean Kirschtein

Jean definitely gets quite the culture shock when you first start living together.

Mainly because of the food. He is not used to any cuisine that as a little spice in it. The first time you cool all the fixings for him, he is overwhelmed. It smells so good and some is familiar, but he’s never had them in this way.

He’s eating all of it anyways honey. He’s telling you it’s BUSSIN. Every fuckin meal, bro, he is saying it. Y’all can’t even go to cookouts because he says it so loud, tell him to STOP. (But don’t because it sounds funny and he’s just trying to express his love for soul food.)

OH AND DANCING. BRO. He learns a lot about how dances were ripped off from black people and he asks you to teach him the correct way to do it, if you know how. If not, he’ll happily teach you. He loves the history of it, too.

He is very active as an ally and does a lot of work to make sure the community you guys live in is accepting and safe for you and everyone else.

It really does take him a minute to get into the swing of daily life, but he is so happy he met you and that you let him in.

Sasha Braus

You already know I’m going to say food with this girl.

The way she is tearing up a plate the first time you cook food for her is a little animalistic. She licks that shit CLEAN. Some soul food at a party is going to be nonexistent if you bring her.

She may not be the brightest girl, but movies are definitely her thing. She likes it when you show her some movies directed by black people like Jordan Peele or Tyler Perry. One of her favorite movies is Dream Girls.

She also asks a lot of questions. (Ahem, her with Onyankopon…) It’s always her trying to learn more but they sometimes come off as a little uhhhhh… you know…. Like that. Don’t worry though, explain things to her and she is immediately apologetic for even asking.

You might have to teach her a few things though, I’m not gonna lie.

Take her to a family reunion or a Juneteenth celebration party, trust me she’ll enjoy herself.

Levi Ackerman

Surprisingly the thing he enjoys the best is the music.

You’d think with his classical tea loving ass, he’d be a little weary with the music, but no! He actually really likes old hip hop and rap. New age is not his favorite, but he likes artist like Tupac, Biggie, Jay Z, Old Kanye. Don’t be surprised to see him rapping randomly. I’ll stand by this.

He’s also really good with hair. Like surprisingly good with it. Like, he could actually just do your hair and you will probably never have to go to a salon ever.

He saw you struggling with yours one morning and noticed how expensive it was for you to get yours done, so he literally went out to any black owned salon and asked if they could teach him how it’s done. For weeks he just spent his free time learning how to do textured hair, which products were good, which ones were harmful, how to style, all of it. He came home one day and saw you booking an appointment to get yours done and told you he could do it. Success.

He also learns your favorite soul food meals. Spends time with your family to learn how you like it.

Overall, Levi isn’t great with words but he shows you he loves you by doing these extravagant things for your that’s how you know he cares about you and how important your heritage is.

A/N: this was so cute wahhh. Idk why I’m worried about being canceled when I’m black- also sorry for any typos I miss.

#soft side 🌕#moon writes ✍🏾#aot x black reader #Eren x reader #armin x reader #mikasa x reader #jean x reader #sasha x reader #levi x reader #aot headcanons #aot fluff

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 7

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,480

Warnings: none

A/N: This is long overdue, sorry - hopefully it’s worth it. It’s also incredibly long... idek anymore. I want to thank you all for your patience and support. It means a lot to me.

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

You grumbled into your pillow when you heard your phone buzz on the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, you lifted your phone and squinted to read the neon numbers showing on the screen.

7:12 a.m.

You had an email notification, nothing important, but it somehow managed to come through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ feature. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so you got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

A smile curled up your lips when you saw the leftovers from your made-up holiday. There were a few cookies and muffins in a plate, a large bowl of cereals, and two dirty milkshake glasses on the counter.

It had been a fun and relaxing couple of days. You ate, talked, played board games, and watched movies in your fanciest loungewear attire. Bucky sought your touch more than usual and it left you a little confused. Every time he touched you, the line between feelings of friendship and feelings of love became blurred.

Bucky was an early riser, always up before you, dressed in his usual khakis and long sleeved Henley shirts with his hair slightly tousled. He looked effortlessly sexy and always had a warm smile for you even though you looked like a hot mess in your mismatched pyjamas, staggering into the kitchen, blindly following the smell of food cooking on the stove.

Today, the kitchen was silent. Bucky was probably still asleep, so you decided to cook breakfast. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d catch him in his night clothes.

Wasting no time, you made a beeline for the coffee machine. You filled the water tank and measured fresh grounds into the filter, but your task was interrupted when you heard groans coming from somewhere nearby. You soon figured out that the sounds were coming from the living room.

Curious, you silently made your way toward the sound. The shades were up, and you could see the midnight blue sky fading into pastel hues of yellow and pink with the approaching dawn. Under any other circumstances, you would have been completely enraptured by its beauty, but something else caught your attention.

Bucky was standing upside down with his head on a yoga mat. His eyes were closed and his features were set in an expression of serious concentration. You half hid behind the wall and observed him.

You were impressed, his headstand was perfectly vertical and he was doing it without hand support, meaning that he was supporting his entire weight on his neck. He slowly lowered one toe back down, then the other, before he rested his forearm on the mat and lifted his butt toward the ceiling, his body forming a perfect inverted V.

“You’re up already,” he asked, sitting back on his haunches. “I can hear you breathing behind that wall.”

Busted...

You peeked out into the living room and cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but that was sooo impressive.” You walked into the room and perched yourself on the arm of the sofa, facing Bucky who was kneeling at your feet. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, his cheeks red from exertion and bashfulness. “Practice. Yoga’s good for building strength.”

He looked up at you with a boyish smile, his hair damp with perspiration. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, rolling too close to his eyes and making him squint.

His pants left little to the imagination, the fabric stretched across his powerful thighs, and his sleeveless shirt clung to his drenched chest, outlining his muscles. Your eyes darted to his left shoulder where his stump was visible.

Despite living with him for over two months, you had never seen him in one of those sleeveless shirts before, though you couldn’t blame him since it was the middle of winter and you hadn’t been wearing any either. It was warm inside the apartment but not enough to walk around bare-armed.

“It’s easier to do yoga when the sleeve isn’t slapping me in the face every five seconds,” Bucky said, looking at his stump. “But I can cover it up if you prefer.”

“No! Of course not,” you rushed to say. “I’m sorry. That was really rude.”

“You were just looking, it’s only natural,” he said. “People are curious. Staring... well, staring is different.” His frown smoothed away and he turned to you with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

You smiled down at him. “Starving.”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll start breakfast.”

“Actually, I was about to start cooking before I got distracted.” Bucky looked away, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “But I think we have plenty of food left over from last night.”

“We’re not eating cookies for breakfast,” he said. “We’ll save them for later. Right now we need something healthy.” He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet and ran upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You shook your head at his antics and returned to the kitchen to finish making coffee. After all he’d done for you, it was the least you could do. You knew Bucky liked cooking –and he was damn good at it- but sometimes you wondered if this was a fair arrangement.

He had given you a place to stay, money, food to eat, your own artist’s studio, and you had given him... nothing. Admittedly, you knew that your presence calmed him, comforted him. You gave him the emotional support he desperately needed and it was important, but he could also have adopted a pet.

Too tired for coffee or tea, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, hoping it would wake you up. It worked but your self-deprecating thoughts were still playing havoc in your mind.

You were fixing Bucky’s coffee when he came back downstairs after his shower, and you were pleasantly surprised to find him wearing a clean sleeveless shirt. You met his eyes and found that he was watching you intently. You offered him a smile and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Looking good, James.”

He looked down at his feet with a bashful smile as he crossed the room slowly. You observed him in silence while he prepared breakfast for the two of you. It was a simple breakfast bowl with yogurt, granola, fresh fruits and honey but he somehow made it look like a gourmet dish.

“There you go, angel,” he said, setting your bowl in front of you. “What are you going to do today?”

You took a slice of kiwi and dipped in yogurt. “I think I’m going to paint. You?”

Bucky licked his spoon and you stared at it longingly before you quickly averted your eyes. No, you couldn’t be jealous of a goddamn spoon. Catch yourself on.

“I have an idea for a new book,” he said, running his tongue along his teeth to clean them before he spoke again. “I had a meeting with my agent last week. It went well, my old publisher really wants to work with me again. I’m signing my contract this afternoon.”

“Bucky!” you squealed after swallowing your mouthful of yogurt a little too fast. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” he said, staring into nothing with wide eyes. “I’m nervous, scared and excited at the same time. It’s strange, y’know, all these feelings mixed together. It’s a bit overwhelming and I haven’t even started yet.”

“Don’t think too much,” you said. “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling.

You scraped your spoon around the bowl and licked it clean. “What’s it about? Is it a novel? Can I be in it?”

Bucky chuckled to himself and you figured that every single writer had friends who begged them to appear in their books. You couldn’t help it, the idea of living forever as ink on a page was too tempting.

“It’s not a novel,” he said. “It’s the third instalment of my series. The style is a little hard to explain but this is what I like to say: self-help book meets Bridget Jones’ Diary.”

“I tried to look you up but I couldn’t find anything written by a James Barnes or a Bucky Barnes.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you a fraud? Or are you using a pen name?”

He pretended to think about it. “I’m a fraud.”

“I knew it,” you mock-sighed.

Bucky took your bowl and placed it in the sink along with his. When he started cleaning them, you joined him and took a dish towel.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he spoke after a moment.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

You knew he wasn’t going to tell you what his pen name was, not now at least. His books were a reflection of his struggles, his success, and his fears, and you could understand why he preferred to keep you in the dark for now.

The people who read his books didn’t know him, they were just anonymous faces in a crowd but you were real. You were his friend, his new friend, and your opinion mattered.

“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve published my last book. My agent said that people haven’t forgotten about me but I still have to,” he made air quotes with his fingers, “’show my face’, just to remind everyone that I’m still writing.” He sighed.

“There’s a charity event next month at the museum of Natural History,” he continued. “It’s a huge event, a lot of important people will be there, including some of the most famous gallerists and curators in the country. You’re allowed to say no but,” he paused and turned to look at you, “do you want to come with me?”

You pressed your lips together while you mulled this over. There was no doubt in your mind that it was a great opportunity, one that you would have never had without Bucky, and you knew you had to say yes. But this was your least favourite part of being an artist.

You didn’t know how to sell yourself and you always felt like an arrogant asshat when you spoke about your paintings, even though you had every right to be proud of your work.

You had managed to persuade yourself that this new life would last forever. Eat, laugh, paint, repeat forever. But it wasn’t real. You had to put yourself out there, even if it made you uncomfortable because painting was only half your job.

Something else bothered you. You didn’t want to be the poor, struggling artist who took advantage of a charity event to make herself known. It seemed wrong and hypocritical.

You voiced your concerns to Bucky who looked at you with a pained expression.

“Yes, it’s a fundraiser but I can assure you that everyone at the party will be talking business and exchanging business cards,” he said. “And they’ll compensate with a huge donation to clear their guilty conscience. Is it false philanthropy? Absolutely, and I’m ashamed to say I’m one of them. You’re not taking advantage of a good cause, we are.”

“You’re nothing like them,” you said. “You’re kind and selfless, you’re a good person.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, angel,” he said with a tight smile.

When you opened your mouth to protest, he leaned forward and cupped the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, ending the conversation. He had never done that before and you froze, feeling equal parts confused, incredulous and appreciated.

He pulled back and wiped down the sink with the sponge, acting like kissing you so sweetly was something completely normal, like he was unbothered. Meanwhile you just stood there wondering if you would ever be able to breathe normally again.

You pressed your lips together hard and tried to gather your thoughts but your mind was reeling. You were about to leave the room when your eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen counter.

The first letter was a cheesy view of the Tower Bridge, the words ‘Greetings from London’ written in bold cursive letters across the postcard.

You only knew one person who still sent postcards.

Wanda.

“What’s this?” you asked, nodding toward the stack of mail.

Confused, Bucky looked to you then followed your line of sight and saw the mail. “Oh, Natasha dropped these off last night. She wanted to see you but you were already asleep.”

You nodded distractedly while you picked up the postcard. The sight of it filled you with anxiety. Your sister didn’t’ send these postcards often, but every time you received one it reminded you that things were different now. Gone was the happy and supportive family you used to cherish.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read Wanda’s hastily written words.

I’m coming home.

She was coming home. A wave of nausea ran through you and your breathing came shallow and fast.

“Wow, wow, wow.” You felt Bucky’s hand at our waist, steering you toward a chair, and you realized your legs were giving way under you. “Deep breaths, angel. Look at me. There you go!”

“Sorry,” you said. “See what happens when you don’t let me eat cookies for breakfast?”

Bucky smiled at your poor attempt at humour. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You debated telling him but you weren’t sure how to voice your concerns so you handed him the postcard instead. You had told Bucky about Wanda. She had disappeared after Pietro’s death, sending postcards from time to time as proof that she was still alive and well.

“Your sister is coming home.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen her for six years. She doesn’t know our mom has Alzheimer, she doesn’t know I sold our old childhood home. She keeps sending those postcards there. I gave the new owners Natasha’s address in case they still receive our mail. They’re very nice.” You let out a humourless laugh. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I sold our house, and they could have taken advantage of me but they didn’t. I guess it’s not every day you buy a family house from a 24 year old girl. It probably screams tragic backstory, uh?”

“You did this on your own?”

“Yup.”

Bucky put his hand on your knee and gave you a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

You looked down at his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above your knee. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy.” You paused, then raised your head to look at him. “Living with you makes my life so much easier. I live in my own little bubble where I don’t have to be an adult. I feel like I can finally breathe. And I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me and all you continue to do.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “We help each other. We’re good together.”

“Yes, of course,” you said with a smile. “But we both know it’ll have to end one day. It has to, one way or another. I want to be more independent, start my career and support my family. I don’t want to rely on others anymore. I want to rely on myself.”

“But there’s no rush, angel.”

“I know, but nothing’s gonna change if I stay in my little bubble. I have to do things that make me uncomfortable.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’ll come with you to the fundraiser.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but a smile broke across his face. “That’s great! But what about your sister?”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. She’ll probably go to our old house, realize it’s not ours anymore. If she’s lucky they’ll give her Natasha’s address. I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions but she can’t show up six years later and act like our bond is still intact. I’m not at her beck and call. I’m only responsible for myself and, Bucky, I’m so tired of trying to please everyone. I deserve to live my best life, goddammit.”

“I am so happy to hear you say that,” Bucky said, his smile blinding. “Celebratory cookie?”

“Yes! Two cookies, please,” you replied, out of breath. “I’m slightly freaking out.”

You spent the next couple of weeks planning for the event; painting, taking pictures of your work, posting them on Instagram, searching for gallerists and curators you wanted to work with and cross-checking the attendees.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if Wanda was already in New York and if she was looking for you.

“Check this out!” you exclaimed, shoving a business card in Natasha’s face before you pushed past her to get into her apartment. “It’s official, I’m an artist.”

She laughed as she closed the door, her eyes on the card. “Hi, it’s nice to see you, too,” she deadpanned.

“Sorry, hi.”

“Well, looks like you’re all set. When’s the party?”

“Next week,” you replied, taking a seat on you former bed, her sofa. “I’m a little nervous, but also excited. I don’t know, it’s a strange feeling.”

Natasha pinned your business card onto the fridge using a magnet before she opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of orange juice. She took two glasses from the cupboard and joined you on the sofa.

“But, yeah, I’m ready. I have over two hundred business cards, I know who I want to work with, and I even bought an external battery pack just in case.”

“And what are you going to wear?” Natasha asked before taking a sip of orange juice. You looked at her with wide eyes, panic written all over your face. “You forgot to buy a dress,” she concluded out loud. “Why am I not surprised?”

“With everything going on, I completely forgot I had to... wear clothes.”

“I’m sure James wouldn’t mind seeing you in your birthday suit.” She laughed when you practically shoved her off the sofa. “Come on, I’ll help you look semi-decent.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to go shopping right now. Plus, I blew all my money on business cards.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s freezing outside, I’m not leaving my apartment,” she replied, reaching for her laptop. “You’re going to rent it.”

“Ew,” you made a face.

You remembered the formal wear store where you had rented your prom dress. The place smelled like moth balls and sweat, and the dress had given you a rash. Not a great memory.

“Trust me, I know this is your first but I’m a seasoned veteran. I’ve been to dozens of fundraisers, and I had to wear dozens of designer dresses. Do you even know how much a Saint Laurent evening gown cost? You can’t wear the same dress twice. That’s a big no-no. And it’s not just the dress. You need a clutch, a pair of shoes, jewelry, a coat. You have to rent them.”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

She opened up her web browser and typed in the website address for the dress rental. As she entered your size and budget, it was obvious that she knew her way around the website and you had to admit that it was a lot easier than traditional shopping.

You looked at the collection of dresses, not entirely convinced, when you found it. You instantly knew it was the right one.

You stared longingly at the beautiful wine-red dress, made entirely of velvet. The bodice was cut on the bias, the fabric draping itself elegantly to contour the shape of the model’s upper body. The skirt was long and flowing, and the waist was cinched in with a thin black belt.

You clicked on the second picture and Natasha let out a strangled gasp. The open back was draped at the waist and weighted with a crystal on a golden chain.

The dress gave off 1930s vibes, it was elegant and refined but the back was daring and sexy. It was exactly what you needed. You paired it with a black wool cape, and Natasha offered to let you borrow a pair of shoes, jewellery and a bag.

The dress and coat arrived the next day. The woman who delivered them was kind and polite, she stayed in the kitchen while you tried on the dress. Once you gave the all-clear, she handed you your receipt.

The dress was yours for an entire week.

On the day of the gala, you were a nervous, sweaty mess. Natasha’s clutch was on your nightstand, filled to the brim with business cards. Your hair and makeup were already done. You sat on your bed in your underwear, staring at the dress hanging in your closet.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

You were adjusting the fabric around your cleavage, making sure everything flowed nicely, when you heard Bucky shouting from the kitchen.

“The car will be there in fifteen minutes.”

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands down the sides of your dress, the tickling caress of the velvet calming you almost instantly. You reached for the handle, your heart hammering in your chest, and opened the door.

Bucky was standing at the kitchen island, looking down at his phone. He looked up when he heard the sound of your door opening.

“Hey, are you-” The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he froze. He stood there, staring at you, his eyes roaming your body in a manner that could only be called amazement. “You look-” He shook his head as if he couldn’t find the right word.

You looked down at yourself, grinning. After weeks of seeing you in your big woolly jumpers, pyjamas and painting overalls, you could understand why this was a shock. It was one to you as well.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“Thank you.” He stood a little straighter when he noticed you were checking him out. He wore a dark blue suit with black lapels, a white shirt and a black velvet bow tie. You matched. “You look like a real heartthrob in that suit.”

He laughed and looked away, embarrassed. It was your favourite look on him; when he couldn’t maintain eye contact and his cheeks were slightly red and his nose crunched up a little.

“You’re wearing your prosthetic,” you said, noticing the stiff arm and fake hand.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking at his left arm. “This thing itches like hell, but I don’t blend well in a crowd when I’m not wearing my prosthetic. These people know me, they’ll be looking for me. Let’s not make it too easy for them.”

He finished his sentence with a wink and your entire body threatened to spontaneously combust. Do people still wink? Apparently. You walked over to him and briefly stroked his arm before you walked past him to the bathroom.

It gave him a great view of your bare back and the little crystal nestled just above the small of your back. You didn’t see his reaction but you heard his sharp intake of breath.

You left the bathroom door open while you rummaged through your makeup bag, relief flowing through you when your fingers brushed against your favourite lipstick.

You straightened up and looked at yourself in the mirror. Bucky was leaning against the bathroom door frame, observing you. You uncapped the lipstick and brought it to your lips, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost ready.”

“I’m not worried,” Bucky replied with a mischievous smile. “Please, carry on.”

You rolled your eyes at his sudden smug expression, trying to look unbothered, but you could feel his eyes on you and you willed your hands to stop shaking. Today was not the day to look like Miranda Sings.

“What’s it called?” Bucky asked from the threshold, spellbound.

“No idea, the label has faded,” you said, rubbing your lips together to smudge your lipstick. “It has probably expired by now, my mom gave it to me when I was a kid.” You blotted your lips and tossed the balled tissue into the wastebasket. “She called it ‘Carter Red’.”

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips. “When we were kids, we used to watch her apply her lipstick. We thought she was the most sophisticated woman in the world. When she was done, she’d turn to us and ask ‘Who wants red lips?’ Then we’d leave the house in our matching red lips.”

Bucky entered the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Did your brothers wear red lipstick too?” he asked with a grin.

You laughed. “Pietro did. Scott was more into nail polish.”

“Do you think I can pull it off?”

You turned to him with a wicked grin and waved your lipstick in his direction. He stood when you took a step closer to him. He seemed to enjoy the playful glint dancing in your eyes. You beckoned him closer like some kind of old witch.

“I’m sure you’d look real cute with lipstick all over your face,” you said, taunting him with your tube of lipstick.

Something in his expression changed, darkened, making you feel hot and cold at the same time. His eyes travelled down your face to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it.

It was your turn to freeze. You parted your lips to speak but nothing came out, you just blinked hard and stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain what that meant. But he never did, and you took a step back.

Did he just...? Did he just try to kiss you? No! No, that’s silly. Why would he want to kiss you? He was just being playful and you simply projected your own desires onto him.

He took a step back too and gave an imperceptible nod. “The car should be here any minute,” he said, smiling. It was a tight smile and you didn’t like it at all. “I’ll let you get ready.”

After he closed the door behind him, you dumped your lipstick back into your makeup bag and took a long look at yourself in the mirror. You looked deflated, miserable. You sighed... the night was off to a great start.

Bucky waited for you while you finished getting ready. You picked up your clutch, slid your feet into a pair of high-heel shoes, and struggled with your cape until Bucky came to your rescue. To your surprise, his smile was genuine again, and it made your heart soar. Maybe you had just misread the situation and he wasn’t upset, offended –or whatever that tight smile was.

The heels were higher than you were used to, but Bucky gave you an arm to hang onto. The sky was already dark when you arrived at the Museum of Natural History. You walked up the stairs and left your coats in the coat-check room before you took a look around the room.

Hundreds of people were milling around the hall, a glass in their hand as they weaved between the jaw-dropping dinosaur skeletons that were on display. You kept your arm linked through Bucky’s and tried not to stare at anyone.

“Be careful,” Bucky whispered in your ear, making you perk up. “Someone once told me that the exhibits come to life after the sun sets.”

“Remind me to stay away from the Biodiversity Hall,” you chuckled. Then you spotted one of the curators you wanted to work with, you let go of Bucky’s arm and squared your shoulders. “Showtime. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, angel.”

“God, I’m sweating. Is it noticeable?”

Bucky smiled at you. “No, you look perfect.”

You gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I hope I won’t make a fool of myself. I hate small talk.”

As soon as you were gone, someone took your place by Bucky’s side. You grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and made your way over to the curator. You didn’t drink alcohol but the glass made you look like you were part of their little group.

It went horribly wrong; you stuttered when you said your name and everything went downhill after that. While you were talking, he subtly looked around to see if he could find a more interesting person to talk to, which made you stutter even more. Then as you opened your clutch and fished out a card, several others fell at your feet in slow motion.

Between the dress, the glass and the shoes, it was practically impossible to bend over. The curator left and you stood there alone.

“Let me help you,” one of the waiters said. He gathered up your business cards and handed them to you.

You sheepishly took the cards and shoved them back in your purse. “Thanks. Can you take this? I’m not going to drink it.”

“Would you like something else to drink?” he asked as he took your glass of champagne.

“No, thank you. I... I think I’m going to go find my friend.”

You smiled politely at the young man but he had a strange look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“I saw you with Mr. Thomas,” he finally said. “I’m not supposed to talk to the guests but can you tell him I love his work.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Grant Thomas,” the waiter pressed on. “The writer. I saw you two together.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “He only has one arm.”

Oh...

Grant Thomas was Bucky’s pen name.

Your face broke out into a huge smile and you started giggling to yourself. The waiter recoiled a bit, confused and a little freaked out. You scanned the room for Bucky.

“Of course, I’ll tell him,” you told the waiter. “He’ll be very pleased to hear it.”

You went in search of Bucky, wobbling around in your high heels, a permanent smile on your face. After walking around for a few minutes, you felt more stable and in control, even going so far as to power walk from room to room.

You found him in the Hall of Ocean Life, entertaining a small group of people. You walked over to him, your heels clicking like typewriter keys. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation as you approached.

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely,” a woman cooed, a hand over her heart. “Who was your inspiration for your new book, Grant?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly when he saw you. You gave him a small wave and he held out his hand in your direction. He introduced you to the group, and while it was strange to hear him say your name, you kept a straight face.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you, Grant,” you told him, emphasizing his pen name. “I should have known I'd find you in good company.”

“Oh, she’s the painter,” the woman said. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind me saying this but-” she extended her arms in your direction “wow!”

The woman next to her looked half amused, half exasperated. “It means you look beautiful in that dress.”

“Oh, she knows what it means, Sylvia.” The ‘oh’ woman swatted Bucky’s fake arm. “Grant, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Bucky looked at you with a fond smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Oh, my heart is about to explode,” the ‘oh’ woman squealed before enthusiastically waving to someone behind Bucky. “Sylvia, darling, take her contact details. We need new blood at the gallery. Please, excuse me, I haven’t seen Michael in ages,” she said, stretching out the last word.

She was gone before you could comprehend what was happening. Her laughter echoed through the room. Oh, I hadn’t seen the back of that dress! Sweet baby Jesus!

You found her whimsical and quite intense but if you had to work for her, you’d probably end up looking like her assistant, Sylvia, who seemed at her wits’ end.

She sighed and opened her leather-bound notebook. There were several business cards attached to the pages with paperclips. You handed her one of your business cards as her boss shouted, Oh, Michael, isn’t this party deliiightful? It was Sylvia’s cue to leave.

“Thank you. We’ll take a look at your work and get back to you as soon as we can. Enjoy your night.”

Sylvia rushed to her boss who was looking around like a lost puppy. When she saw her assistant, a look of relief crossed her face. It was a little over the top but it made you smile.

“So, Grant Thomas,” you said, planting yourself directly in front of Bucky now that you were alone. “Cute name.”

“Agh, I wanted to tell you before the party but...” He shrugged. “How did you figure it out?”

“One of the waiters saw us together. He’s your biggest fan. Said you were talented, humble and devilishly handsome in that suit.”

“The waiter said that?” Bucky asked with a frown as he led you toward an empty corridor.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

“I seem to have that effect on people,” he said, linking his arm through yours.

“So humble.” You entered the Hall of Biodiversity together. “What’s the meaning behind your pen name?”

There was a small pause before he answered. “Grant is Steve’s middle name, Thomas is Sam’s. I wanted to honor them. Steve literally saved my life, and Sam... well, he stood by my side even when we barely knew each other.”

“I’m sure they were touched.”

“Meh,” Bucky said with a grimace. “Steve said it sounded like a fake name, and Sam tried to make me use ‘Thomas Grant’ instead. I think deep down they like it.” He turned his head to look at you. “How did it go with the curator?”

You cringed. “Just to give you an idea, imagine an amateur magician performing at their first show. I was sweating, I stuttered, and I dropped my cards. It was awful.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. At least he’ll remember me, right?”

You spent the next couple of hours mingling with a bunch of rich people; most of them were incredibly weird, the others were strangely relatable. You were a lot more cool and collected with Bucky by your side. He always had really nice things to say about you or your paintings, and his words rang true, giving you yet another reason to fall for him.

When you reached the planetarium, Bucky took your hand in his, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

You practically had the place to yourselves, everyone else was either in the Grand Gallery or in the Roosevelt Memorial. Since no one was around, you decided to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot.

You lost track of time, listening to Bucky’s stories about the universe as he guided you along the spiralling walkway.

“We’re just tiny little specks living on a bigger speck, floating around,” he said, gazing up at a model of Jupiter hanging from the ceiling. “Our time here is so limited, our bodies are so fragile.”

“Umm,” you hummed. “At least we’re not at the bottom of the food chain.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a bummer.”

“Do you know who’s at the bottom of the food chain?” you asked. “French fries. I’m starving.”

His laughter rang out, loud and clear, in the silence of the planetarium. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You headed for the coat-check room, where Bucky left one of his ridiculously generous tips, and stepped outside, shivering from the cold winter night. You looked up at the stars glistening in the dark sky while you walked the short distance to the fast food restaurant.

You ate your fries in silence as you glanced around the restaurant. It was bright and gave off a friendly vibe. There were several other patrons even though it was almost two in the morning, though you and Bucky were the only ones wearing designer clothes.

Your high heels and clutch rested on the booth next to your hip, and Bucky’s bow tie was tied around your wrist. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tanned, muscular chest and a smattering of dark hair.

Bucky had removed his prosthetic after you’d found a booth. His fake arm rested on the table, scaring the hell out of the waitress when she came to take your order. Bucky apologized profusely, probably mentally adding another twenty to her tip.

You dozed off in the cab, utterly exhausted, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His arm was draped over your shoulders, his thumb sweeping up and down your collarbone. When you remembered that you still had to remove your makeup before going to bed, you let out a whine and nestled closer to him. He rested his head on top of yours, and you closed your eyes, enjoying his closeness.

A few days later, you told Natasha about the party, and she reminded you to be careful, to protect your heart. She wished someone had given her this advice when she’d met Sam.

It had never occurred to you that Natasha might have feelings for Sam, not because he was an awful person. No, it was quite the opposite. He was handsome and funny, always looking for some kind of trouble. She’d mentioned multiple times that he was really good in bed, which honestly didn’t surprise you.

You knew she liked him, but you didn’t know she liked him.

On your way home, you mulled over the things she had told you. About a block away from your apartment, you took your keys out of your pocket and stared at the little angel keychain, wondering if your feelings for Bucky were real. The line between friends and lovers was definitely blurred but you couldn’t cross it. There was too much at stake, you couldn’t risk ruining your friendship.

As you turned the corner into your street, you spotted someone standing outside the building’s front door. You slowed down, dawdled, so you could observe them.

You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, though you suspected a man. They were carrying a traveller’s backpack on their shoulders, blocking your view. Whoever it was, they had a fantastic ass.

They pushed the intercom button, waited a few seconds and pushed it again. When the doors remained closed, they turned around to leave and you came face-to-face with a man with long dirty blond hair, a bushy ginger beard and striking baby blue eyes. You immediately recognized him from the photos you’d seen on Bucky’s laptop.

“Oh my God, Steve!” you exclaimed, startling him.

Part 8

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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queen0fm0nsterz · 3 years

Note

*Slides a 5 dollar bill* So what are some of your ideas for those Little Nightmares fics?

OH BOY ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO KNOW.

Weeeell, I have various idea that I'm writing down all at the same time. I'll list the various AUs here.

The Gang! AU

Ok no this isn't some sort of Criminal AU, I literally didn't know what to name it JSKDKS

Anyway, I'm actually writing this along with a friend of mine. It's based on a rp we had and it's quite long. We're writing one chapter each, I'm currently finishing chapter five. It kinda follows the story of Little Nightmares 2, but at the same time is canon divergent. Does that make sense?

We added two of our kid OCs to travel with Mono and Six!

Their names are Zip and Emerald respectively, from left to right! Zip was made by my friend while Emerald is my kid. The art was done by me!

They're not the only OCs we made for this story; we also have five glitch kids, a couple of bullies and a patient from the Hospital.

Since it's long, we decided to split it into three parts. The first part takes place in the Pale City, the second part in the Maw and the third in a location made up by us that we're still crafting.

The good news: Mono doesn't get dropped and Runaway Kid is alive!

The bad news: everything else literally every single thing

It's gonna have a good ending, though. It's the least we can do after everything we put these kids through😭

Restaurant Maw! AU

Just the monsters of LN put in a modern setting! Not only that, it's Maw employees centric!

Basically in this AU the Maw is a very well-known restaurant and hotel, in a very similar fashion to the bathouse in Spirited Away. The Lady is obviously the boss, the Ferryman becomes the driver of the Maw's personal bus, Roger is the keeper, Bellhop is still a bellhop and also the maître d'hotel (aka the guy who makes sure the guests are comfortable etc.), the Chefs are still the Chefs - their names are Bruce and Bernard! And lastly, the Nomes are a bunch of waiters, bellhops and cooks.

Things are going very well for eveyone until one day the Chefs go outside for a smoking break and they find a baby in a box. They take her in and keep her hidden for a couple of days before the Lady invitably finds out.

She decides to let them keep her with the condition that they raise her on their own and take care of all of her needs wihout bothering her - which of course doesn't happen at all and eventually all the employees in the Maw grow attached to baby Sawako nicknamed Six.

This one has all my favorite tropes: slice of life, found family, and I'm hoping to achieve comedy (which is very complicated for me because I have a very dramatic style).

Plus the Chefs are italian because I'm italian and I claimed them, so if you want to see one of them teach the Lady how to swear in italian you came in the right place.

RCG and the Pretender Live! AU

And they lived! I started writing this immediately after I finished VLN but I was blinded by pain so it's a little messy. I have to edit it.

But basically the point is: they survived! But are stuck on land. The first to wake up is RCG, who I named Valeria, and she spots the Pretender a few feet from her and realizes that somehow they both managed to float ashore. Luckily for her, the Nest is now very far away, although they can still see it from the distance.

At first she wants to leave the Pretender there, but then decides to bring her along, tying her hands behind her back first. And so begins the girls voyage in the big wide world, trying to survive and becoming besties in the process.

Im debating wheter I want the Pretender to develop a little crush on RCG or not. Mhhhh. I'll let you guys know.

Mono Jumps in Time! AU

THIS ONE WAS INSPIRED BY THIS ADORABLE FANART BY @kelpermoosee !! Go check them out their art is adorable!!! This is also a Mono centric AU!

So basically! When Six is kidnapped by the Thin Man and Mono goes to save her, his high distress and strong, swirling emotions lead him to not only travel from a place to the next, but to also accidentally go back in time.

He jumps out from a TV but, surprise surprise, he's not in the Pale City anymore. He's landed right in front of the Pretender, who immediately takes a liking to him and wants him to be her new friend. Mono is extremely confused and at first and doesn't realize what happened, so obviously he tries to go back to the Pale City, but then he sees a girl in a yellow raincoat and immediately assumes she's Six.

He assumes that's where the Thin Man brought her, so he tries to run after her, but he's costantly hindered by either the Pretender or her staff. Will he ever get to "Six" and realize that he jumped in time? I'll decide, because this story is still under construction.

Six Forgets! AU

You know that quote from the comics?

"What's the last thing you remember? Tell me. If you don't tell us, you're sure to forget altogether."

Beautiful. And also what prompted me to come up with this AU.

Some things to clarify: the Eye is a collective conciousness that feeds off from negative emotions, the Thin Man lives but can't leave the Pale City, and The Lady is a grown up Six. The Maw kids from the comics are here! Plus a few OCs of mine.

And lastly: Six couldn't handle the guilt from dropping Mono and repressed all memories involving him altogheter, so she completely forgot about him.

Six gets on the Maw, but this time instead of waking up in a suitcase, she's brought to Roger adn the other children by the Ferryman. There, she befriends a few children but no one gets closer to her than the Runaway Kid. They both want to be free and plan an escape together.

In the meantime, Mono is still trapped in the Signal Tower, but he's convinced that Six let him slip by accident and that she'll come back for him. (The Eye is very frustated with him bc they be planning on feeding on his sadness and rage and then he has the audacity to be hopeful? The nerve!) That's until he gets a glimpse of his best friend and this unknown child through one of the TVs on the Maw, joking and playing with each other, and she confesses to this... no one, really, that he's the best friend she's ever had.

As you can imagine, Mono goes feral. The Eye couldn't be happier.

Chaos ensues! We got a lot of angst, violence, Monster!Mono and also some wholesome moments. Also out of context spoiler: RK and Six lead a revolution.

The Lost Ones

This one is just a bunch of quick drabbles that talk about the glitching remains. They all deserved better.

Hunter and Veronica

I was not gonna miss the occasion of writing simp hunter. Take it or leave it.

Based on my Hunter theory!

My beautiful terrible disaster of a man works on the Maw as a chef, but no one really knows why since he's not good at it. Fortunately, the vast majority of the Guests is just too hungry to care and the current Lady, a woman with a scarecrow mask, doesn't want to fire him. A few Guests have complains, though; for example, a Teacher who seemingly never blinks and a very massive Doctor, whom he befriends.

One day, a filming crew gets on the Maw and the Lady informs her staff that they will be staying for a while to film a commercial-documentary of the restaurant, which will bring more and more Guests. With the crew came a famous, very talented chef named Veronica who has her own extremely successful cooking show, who offers to help the current chef as a thank you for letting them stay without having to pay.

Initially the Hunter is not too happy about this. In his eyes he doesn't need the help, but they start getting closer and closer with time.

This will probably be wholesome but end in a very bad, tragic way. I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not lol

✓✓✓

And that's it for now. I have some other things planned with my monster OCs (btw y'all wanna see them?), but this is the whole thing. It may be updated in the future since I always seem to get more and more ideas!

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Island dreams

Ok, I had a moment of inspiration and i started planning a long fic... a Rowaelin Modern AU... set in Scotland. I am from Scotland so I am biased and also i love, adore the Outer Hebrides which is the location of the fic. They are amazing, incredible islands on the west of Scotland that stole my heart a few years ago.

Also, in my head in Modern AU Rowan is Scottish. There is nothing that will change my mind to do that.

Anyway... I haven’t written a long in a very long time and it’s a terrifying idea. but it just popped in my head and I had a feeling that I had to write it.

On the islands Gaelic is stilll spoken and I will use it from time to time in the fic. I hope it’s grammatically correct. It’s been year since I studied it and I am rusty. I will add a translation.

So here’s the story

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

Aelin is a successful doctor in London but her life in the last year has started to take an unhappy turn and she feels overwhelmed. So one day she decides to take a break from her life, book a plane to Scotland and head off to the islands in search of peace and herself as well.

Rowan has a bookstore in Stornoway, the main town in the Isle of Lewis.

Aelin is a bookworm and her first mission once in Stornoway is to find a bookstore.

Have fun reading it....

Chapter 1

Aelin was on the deck of the ferry. The frigid wind was savage against her cheeks. She tugged closer her jacket and a shiver ran down her spine. She was freezing but she had no intentions to get back inside the ferry. She had left Ullapool early that morning on her way to Stornoway on the isle of Lewis.

She needed a getaway. An escape from the busy life in London and from the bad turn her life had taken.

Without thinking, she went to grab the ring that was at her fourth finger on her left hand to then quickly realise it was not there anymore. And then remembered the reason why the band was missing. The nasty divorce she just had to go through was another reason, if not the main one, for the fact the she had now been on a ferry for almost two hours and a half.

The landscape had been breathtaking, other reason for why she was braving the cold. Once departed Ullapool, all around her there were mountains and the raw wilderness of the landscape tugged at something hidden in her. She was born and bred in London and skyscrapers, traffic and noise was all she knew. She realised she craved this: the stillness, the peace, the silence, nature.

In front of her the sea stretched peacefully and she was glad the sailing had been smooth that day. It seemed like the west of Scotland was welcoming her with a beautiful sunny day, apparently something quite unusual according to some of the people she heard speaking. The Minch, that was the name of the stretch of sea that separated mainland Scotland from the Outer Hebrides.

At the horizon she noticed land appear timidly and a big smile spread on her face. She was almost there. Her new adventure was about to start. She had taken a sabbatical from work and from her life and decided to go away. She had always been fascinated by Scotland but never had the chance to visit, albeit from London it was only an hour away by plane. So, one day she booked a one way plane ticket to Glasgow, rented a car at the airport and slowly and leisurely started to make her way north.

She had taken her time and the journey took her a week and she was already in love with the West coast of Scotland.

While in London she had bought a guide to Scotland and started doing some research and she had been fascinated by the chapter about the Western Isles or Outer Hebrides. Now she was dying to get off the boat and start exploring and living the island life.

Over the tannoy she heard the crew announcing they were approaching land. She grabbed her rucksack and made her way down below and waited in queue near the stairs to get to the car deck. She felt giddy. She hasn’t been this giddy in… she couldn’t even remember last time she had felt like this, or if she ever that way at all.

The boat was finally berthed and all tucked in at the pier and a crew member advised the car drivers that they could now access the car deck.

She went to her car and looking ahead she noticed the bow slowly opening to let the cars out. It was her first time on a ferry and even the mere disembarkation process was fascinating.

One by one all the cars in front of her were directed by the car deck crew to exit and once she was out she took her phone and set up her GPS. She had rented a place for a while and according to the landlord’s directions, once out of the terminal she had to turn right and at the junction turn right again. Her place was one of the many small detached houses along the bay. She fell in love with the house almost immediately when she saw the pictures on the ad online. It had an amazing view of the marina from the bedroom window according to the images and the description. She drove for 5 minutes and the voice told her she had arrived. She parked in the driveway and got off the car and stared at her new place for the time being. The house was painted a very light blue, a small garden at the front and a lovely blue door as a final touch. She grabbed the keys from the secret place she was told and made her way inside the building.

The house was modern and cozy. The owner clearly looked after the property and it actually felt like home. The living room had a big sofa and against the walls a couple of bookcases filled with books. She made a mental note to browse the titles later on. She wanted to explore the house first.

She moved to the next room and found the kitchen. A wonderful wooden and rustic kitchen with a big window that made the light filter in the room. In the middle a wooden table and a couple of chairs. The whole placed smelled like a forest. Her tour took her upstairs to the bedroom and the connected bathroom. The room was quite huge and had a nice king size bed again all made of wood. Childishly she let herself fall on the bed and it was amazing. The bathroom had a big shower room and again was quite modern with wood finish everywhere. The owner definitely loved the rustic style and she was not complaining. It was perfection and she already felt at home.

Her telephone rang breaking the peace and she smiled when she noticed it was her best friend Lysandra. She had been giving her a day to day account of her adventure with a massive amount of photos as well.

“I love it.” She exclaimed excited, sitting on the comfy chair at the opposite side of the bed.

“What?” Asked the woman on the other side of the line.

“This place. I just got into the house I rented and Lys, this place is marvellous. And the town… I have only seen the marina but I can so, see myself staying here.”

“And abandon London forever?” The woman sounded quite sad.

“You are the only person I would really miss, you know that.”

“Gee, I am touched.”

“Lys… the last year… well you know.” Aelin took a deep breath and lounged deeper on the chair.

“I know darling, I know. I didn’t mean that. I miss you. But I know that you needed this. You haven’t been yourself in a while.” Lysandra replied with a loving tone.

She and Lysandra had been best friends since uni. They went through med school and did their internship together and after they finished they were lucky enough to get to work in the same hospital. They both had raised the ranks pretty quickly and Lysandra had become a kickass orthopaedic surgeon and Aelin had ventured into cardio thoracic surgery. She was good at her job and loved it deeply but the last year had been literally hell for her.

She had been robbed of the chance of becoming head of the department because they gave the position to the son of the current head of the department. And that’s when she started to loose the will to do her job. She kept going on for the patients.

Then Chaol happened and their nasty divorce. Married five years and then months spent battling for divorce and papers and courts and lawyers. He told her she loved her job more than him. They fought. He told her she had changed and she was not anymore the person he married. Then he left her for another woman. As a present she had served him with divorce papers.

She heard Lysandra’s voice and realised she was woolgathering.

“What?”

“I was saying that your ex was in the A&E yesterday, with his new woman.”

“What did he do?”

“Looks like he was horse riding with her and he took a bad fall. His right leg was a big mess and I need to fix it now.” Lysandra paused for a moment “I hope it’s ok.”

“Of course Lys. He is a patient.” Aelin admitted quickly. She hated him but not to the point that she wished him to be denied care.

“He…” Lysandra was hesitant “He asked me about you.” Then she heard her friend laugh “I told her that you were off, taking a break gallivanting around Scotland and making legions of scotsmen fall in love and at you feet professing their undying love to you.”

Aelin laughed out loud at the joke.

“Leave some for me by the way…”

“What about Aedion? I thought you had the hots for him.” Aelin stood and walked to the window and opened it to let the sea breeze come in.

“I do, but I can’t be always the one to make the first move. I gave him a few very clear hints. Now it’s his turn.”

“Poor man.”

“Poor me.”

Aelin heard in the background the sound of a pager.

“Is that yours?”

“Damn yes, Ae, I gotta go. Send me loads of pictures. Love you.”

Lysandra hung up and Aelin stared at the window. The bay was peaceful, with sounds of seagulls and people going about their lives. She smiled and decided it was time to explore and most of all grab some food. She was starving. On the map she spotted a big Tesco nearby perfect for grocery shopping.

She took her backpack and left on foot. No car needed for now, she wanted to see the centre of the town.

She followed the same road she came from the terminal and saw on the corner an interesting building with huge windows and she walked toward it. She arrived and noticed it was called An Lanntair, apparently a community and arts centre with a cinema as well. She entered the place and straight in front of her she noticed a corner selling books and souvenirs. She rushed to the books. Some of them were in the other language spoken on the islands which she had learned was called Gaelic and that still quite a few people spoke. The books were interesting but not enough. She moved to one of the ladies at the counter.

“Hi, I am new here. I arrived this morning and I am out exploring. Do you happen to have a bookshop around here?”

The lady smiled warmly at her “Aye, lass… just go out here and then right on Cromwell st. and then right again. Rowan has a lovely bookshop. He is quite good and always has interesting titles. Down the road we also have a public library if you are moving here. Not as good as Rowan’s place but still worth visiting.”

“Thank you.” Aelin greeted the woman and left, curious to visit this bookstore.

She followed the directions and there it was. In front of her stood the bookstore. It had three windows, she moved closer and noticed that the main window and it had a very lovely display of children’s books with all the stories from Roald Dahl. She smiled. She loved Roald Dahl. She looked up and noticed the name of the shop “Aislingean pàipeir”. It must have been in Gaelic because she had no idea what it meant. A good excuse to chat with the owner.

She entered the shop and the doorbell rang alerting the owner of her presence. She reached the counter but no one was there. “Hello?” She called out looking around for a sign of life.

“Hi, anyone here? The door was open.”

“Tha mi a ’tighinn a-nis” said a deep voice from a corner of the shop.

The man, Rowan she assumed appeared and she almost forgot how to breathe.

He was tall. A good 1.80m, silver hair and short and eyes of the deepest green. His skin looked tanned and he had a nice healthy build. He was one of the most gorgeous man she had ever seen.

“You must be Rowan.”

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

Gaelic:

Tha mi a ’tighinn a-nis - I am coming now

Aislingean pàipeir - paper dreams. ( I know the name of the shop is probably lousy...sorry...)

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #fanfic #modern au #fluff #aedion x lysandra #lysandra

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1dsource · 4 years

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This list consists almost entirely of recent fics, so please show them some extra love and leave a kudos, and even a comment if you have the time. It’s important we also give the newer, unknown authors a chance so they keep having motivation to write more amazing stories for us all to read <3

loving you's a bloodsport by @rosesau l 106K l Royalty AU l Soulmates

harry is a bratty prince, louis is a guard who works in his palace, and niall is the only who's got his life in control.

as someone once said: this is not a love story, but love is in it. that is, love is just outside it, looking for a way to break in.

Fearless by @suspendrs I 97K I Childhood Friends I Famous/Not Famous

��You’re my best friend, Louis,” Harry says, barely above a whisper. Even if he was yelling, Louis wouldn’t be able to believe his ears. “And I know it’s been a while, but you’re still the person I consider my best friend,” Harry says.

Louis blinks, and then blinks again. “I honestly cannot say the same, Harry,” he says.

Or, Harry left home without a word after high school, and a lot can change in ten years.

Kill Me/ Heal Me @millionlittletings I 92K I Royalty I Dystopia

The kingdom of Scotland hasn't been in peace for decades now. In the heart of the country lies the rivalries, hate, and struggle of power. Amidst the chaos, five young men discover the meaning of life, friendship, love, hate, and heartbreak through their journey. Louis, who is struggling to find a place where he belongs. Niall, who will protect what belongs to him with his life. Zayn, who is learning to navigate through life. Liam, who knows when to use his heart and when to use the brain. Harry, who is set to kill anyone who will come into his way of finding the truth about his mother. From dealing with their personal issues to finding out the real culprit who changed the course of their lives, these five men are set to uncover the deepest and the darkest secrets of the kingdom.

adjudication @bottomlinsons I 75K I Royalty I Arranged Marriage

Harry's been engaged to Princess Charlotte of Ryde for as long as he can remember. He's come to know her, to love her, through the letters she's sent him over the past three years.

But when the wedding finally arrives, Harry quickly learns that nothing is as it seems. With his crown and country at stake, Harry must decide who to trust in this strange new land. And the sly Crown Prince of Ryde doesn't seem inclined to make things easy.

The Devil In My Brain by larryshares I 74K I Devil Harry

“Jesus Christ!” Louis yells as he jumps back in reaction to Harry once again popping up out of nowhere.

Harry doesn’t even flinch.

“Quite the opposite.” He jokes, holding out one of the drinks for Louis to take. A freshly sizzling vodka Red Bull; his favorite.

Louis’s initial reaction is the thought you remembered.

His rational brain says, “No thanks.”

“Louis.” Harry says it like a concerned parent, the tone of it matching the way his mum used to say Boo Bear, you have to eat your vegetables to grow up big and strong, and that ignites something feral within him.

“Satan.” He counters, same tone coupled with a glare and a pair of arms crossed over his chest.

Louis used to be good friends with Harry, until he woke up alone and immortal with no one to blame but The Devil himself.

Under your skin, Over the moon by @indiekissy I 35K I Royalty

If there was one thing Harry didn’t expect the day before his uni graduation, it was for his long lost grandmother to show up and tell him he’s actually a prince thats next in line to rule Genovia. He also didn’t expect to fall for his royal advisor, who happens to hate his guts. A Princess Diaries AU.

robbers and cowards @adoredontour I 33K I Enemies with Benefits

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you’re enjoying yourself.”

The familiar voice immediately gets Louis’ blood boiling, shoulders tensing as he calmly spins around, trying not to draw any suspicion to the pair.

“You don’t know me at all,” Louis spits, managing to maintain the polite smile he’s been wearing all evening. “You’re just some asshole who always ruins my nights.”

“If I keep ruining your nights, why do you keep going home with me?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his own wine glass.

“I don’t go home with you by any choice of my own,” Louis says. “I think you’re annoying and I have no idea how I keep ending up in your bed.”

“You end up in my bed because you knock on my apartment door at two in the morning.”

Louis wants to punch the smirk right off of his face. “Maybe you should move,” is what he says instead.

or a modern day robin hood au where louis and harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more

Strong Enough by @jacaranda-bloom I 20K I Exes to Lovers

“So…” Liam starts, and Louis instantly knows where this is going. He’s actually glad it’s Liam that's dragging the subject out from the shadows and into the light. Louis turns to face him, mirroring his position on the couch and nods, ready for him to continue. Liam takes a deep breath. “Have you spoken to Harry recently?”

Five years after Vertigo goes on hiatus, the band comes back together for a benefit concert. Can Louis and Harry work through their complicated past, or are some wounds too deep to be healed?

solid as a stone (when everything is gone) by @onlyforthebravee I 20K I ABO

“Why’d you take me with you?”

Louis startles at the question, the car almost swerving off the road in the process. He holds his breath as he waits for the twins to wake up and start wailing, but they don’t. They keep sleeping on peacefully, covered in the family blanket.

Harry’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

Louis takes a minute, mulling it over. He answers quietly. “I hate to say it, but as much as we hate each other, I can’t bear to leave you alone to deal with this whole thing all by yourself.” and I wouldn’t be able to bear it if you died, he adds in his mind.

or, it's the zombie apocalypse and Louis is stuck with Harry, with whom he shares a complicated relationship.

once bitten and twice shy by @pinkcords I 19K I Christmas Fic

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

Equals by onlythebravekat I 12K I 1970′s AU

Louis and his family work for the Styles and live on their property. Louis has dreams of traveling the world and never having to associate with Harry in any way.

The Boxer by heyidkyay I 4K I Uni AU

At the age of twelve Harry’s life is turned upside down. After a traumatic experience, he leaves school and finds comfort in boxing. Six years later and Harry finds himself facing some of his former demons.

Again, if you read, please remember to leave kudos and/or a comment so we keep motivating our lovely, talented writers and make them feel valued

#hlsource #hljournal #larry fanfiction #fics #larry #enemies to lovers #ficmp

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hlcreators · 4 years

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AUTHOR REC: louistomlinsons / @adoredontour

Be sure to show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

this town’s just an ocean now (31k)

“I have really great friends. Do you remember Louis? You guys were always hanging out when you were growing up.” Harry remembers Louis. Harry remembers Louis. Suddenly, his throat feels way too dry, despite the ice cream he keeps licking at. He chokes a little on a chocolate chip before saying, “I, uh. I remember Louis.” Her face brightens. “We have dinner every Sunday. He owns the house now. His parents moved further north, and he wanted to stay here, so they just gave it over. Now if you want to worry about someone being lonely, that’s who I worry about.” inspired by watermelon sugar, featuring picnics on the beach and boys being dumb

daydream about me (21k)

“Anything else going on for you at the moment?” she asks, leaning forward on her elbows across the table, mindful of the radio equipment in front of her. “What about you and that Louis Tomlinson?” Harry sputters, mouth moving but no words coming out. She can feel her cheeks heat up, darkening with embarrassment. “It’s not, Louis and I, we don’t—” Harry can’t finish the sentence, tongue heavy in her mouth. She takes a deep breath, thankful they’re not being videoed, and tries again, “We’ve never even met, actually.” alternatively titled 'harry styles does not have a crush on louis tomlinson and other lies she tells liam payne'

robbers and cowards (33k)

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you’re enjoying yourself.” The familiar voice immediately gets Louis’ blood boiling, shoulders tensing as he calmly spins around, trying not to draw any suspicion to the pair. “You don’t know me at all,” Louis spits, managing to maintain the polite smile he’s been wearing all evening. “You’re just some asshole who always ruins my nights.” “If I keep ruining your nights, why do you keep going home with me?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his own wine glass. “I don’t go home with you by any choice of my own,” Louis says. “I think you’re annoying and I have no idea how I keep ending up in your bed.” “You end up in my bed because you knock on my apartment door at two in the morning.” Louis wants to punch the smirk right off of his face. “Maybe you should move,” is what he says instead. or a modern day robin hood au where louis and harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more

I’m a Rocket Man (47k)

All he could hear were the faint sounds of Pina Colada coming from the radio and his own heart beating erratically against his chest.

“Oops,” he heard coming from the other side of the front window. He quickly pushed the grey rubber towards the back of the car, the rubber of the thing groaning and squeaking as he did so. Finally, after wrestling the thing away from him, Harry came into view, face pressed against the other side of the window.

“Hi.” Louis smiled, looking towards Harry, eyes curious. He almost got lost in the way Harry’s face was so cutely pinched, green eyes glowing in the sunlight. He was brought back to reality when Harry tried to move, causing the grey whatever it was to push against Louis again. “What the fuck is this?”

“Uhh... it’s Randy?”

or, Niall is an investigative journalist, Liam is his biggest fan, Zayn is just along for the ride, and Harry probably isn’t an alien. A roadtrip au no one asked for.

sip it slowly and pay attention (12k)

“So I’ve got a guy I think you might like,” Louis says. He’s standing in the doorway of Harry’s office, drinking from what is most definitely Harry’s mug. “You’re going to set me up?” Harry asks, rightfully wary. He can’t imagine that this could end well. “Don’t look so afraid.” Louis takes a sip from his mug, wincing as it burns him. Harry rolls his eyes. He’s always warning Louis to be more patient before he loses all his taste buds. “I know you better than anyone else. Who better to set you up on dates than me?” “I guess you’re right,” Harry says, still slightly hesitant. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Louis, but. He doesn’t trust Louis’ taste. Louis has about the same track record with men that Harry does, if not quite as extensive. or, harry is a guidance counselor, louis is an english teacher, and harry just wants to go on one successful date

i hope that you won’t slip away in the night (13k)

He turns back to Maybe Jessica. “Who’s going to be here?” “Harry Styles,” she says. “The one-” “I know who he is,” Louis snaps. “Who invited him?” “Uh, you did, sir.” Louis didn’t think that was serious. When he had responded to Harry’s cheeky tweet about the gala with his own cheeky ‘You should come - I’ll put you on the guest list’ he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Least of all for Harry to show up. or the one where louis is a prince and harry is a popstar

feels like we’re finally free (13k)

louis just wants to write a breakup novel. falling in love was never part of the plan, but the cute barista at his favorite coffeeshop makes him think otherwise.

who’s that girl? (13k)

“So, do you want to tell us a little bit more about why you’re here?” “What do you mean?” Harry asks, furrowing his eyebrows together. “I’m here because I need a place to live and you guys need a roommate.” “I guess let me rephrase that,” Leo (or maybe Liam) says. He taps his pen twice against the notepad, drawing Harry’s attention away from a large hole in one of the walls. “Why do you need a place to live?” “Oh, that’s easy.” Harry sits up straighter in his seat. “I walked in on my boyfriend of four years banging my boss. I couldn’t very well keep living with them, could I?” harry is canadian, louis owns a bar, zayn comes and goes as he pleases, liam's just trying to keep everyone alive, and nobody knows what niall does. a new girl au.

we’re not who we used to be (30k)

“Harry…” Louis’ voice catches in his throat, thick with tears threatening to fall out, so he coughs to clear it before trying again. “Harry is Liam’s best man?” “You didn’t know?” Harry is standing at the entrance of the garage, mouth slightly open and face pulled together. He sets his bag on the ground and puts his hands on his hips. When he does that, he looks just like the Harry that Louis remembers (and loves, he thinks with an aching heart). “I’m sure I mentioned it,” Liam says, but Louis can tell he’s lying by the way he chews on his lower lip and twists his fingers together. “You’re all a bunch of dick heads, I’m getting in the car.” Louis isn’t sure if he’s being unreasonable. He has no idea what the protocol is when your ex-boyfriend shows up after three years and nobody bothered to give you a heads up. He’s pretty sure he’s allowed to be upset about it, even if it’s only for a bit. or an exes to lovers canadian roadtrip au

old macdonald had a farm (5.1k)

Louis is a hedgehog, Harry is a fish, Niall is a parrot, Liam is a golden retriever, and Zayn is Zayn. It’s a crazy twenty-four hours.

or are you giving it to someone else (3.3k)

“Dude, last night I couldn’t tell if he was being murdered or having the best sex of his life,” Louis said, taking a sip of his beer. He tried to say it as quietly as he could in the loud pub, worried about who may overhear him. “Is this your neighbor?” Liam asked. He was newer to the group, and therefore, newer to the situation. He had only heard a handful of the stories about the strange things Louis heard his neighbor doing, as opposed to the book Louis could most definitely write about the man. In the hallways, he seemed perfectly normal. He would smile at Louis and sometimes make polite conversation. He didn’t seem like the type to be having loud, kinky sex every night at the craziest hours of the day. But he was. or, louis hears his neighbor having loud sex through the walls and it's not a problem until it is

The F Word (23k)

When Louis finds himself at a party for the first time after his boyfriend cheated on him, the last person he expects to meet is Harry. They hit it off immediately, conversation flowing all night. Louis finally thinks he’s ready to jump back into the dating scene, when a wrench gets thrown in his plan.

Harry has a boyfriend.

Or, a movie AU based on the F word

tonight’s not over (come over and stay) (16k)

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, pausing and worrying at his bottom lip. Finally, he asks, “Have you heard that Cox guy is coming out with a new song?” Louis freezes, fingers hovering over his keyboard where they had been typing his password. “No, I hadn’t,” Louis says truthfully. “Where did you hear that?” “Tell anyone this and I’ll kill you, but I’d consider myself a big fan,” Zayn says. His face doesn’t change in expression, completely serious as he admits this to Louis. “Big fan? Like run a blog and everything?” or, harry is a famous singer and louis is a student who just wants to write his novel

honey, honey (7k)

another sorority au that no one asked for - featuring squirt guns, copious talks of marriage, and more useless lesbians.

fall in love with the moon (and everything beautiful) (10k)

“It’s adorable that you think you can compromise with me on this,” Louis says. He places his hands on his hips and tries his best to look intimidating. “But I am not budging on this. Every book pun you say will result in one quarter in the jar.” “What jar?” Harry asks. He furrows his eyebrows together. Louis rolls his eyes. “Like a swear jar, but now I’m going to make yours ‘Harry’s dumbass pun jar.’ Maybe I’ll have you put a quarter in for every pun you say, not just the ones about books. Niall was right - you tell the worst jokes.” “One time Niall told me I’d never said a funny joke in my life,” Harry says casually. “Funny. He told me that too.” or, louis and harry work in a bookstore together and harry tells dumb jokes and they fall in love

get a little bit nervous (14k)

Liam goes to say something, probably something dumb, but he chokes on his spit, coughing loudly. The man in front of him is one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen in his life; he’s got thick eyelashes that fan out and frame his dark eyes and tanned unblemished skin. Liam forgets all of his previous thoughts. “You okay, mate?” he asks, concern filtering into his voice. “Yeah, yeah,” Liam says, still choking and coughing. “Sorry.” “We all reacted the same way we saw Zayn for the first time,” Niall says from next to him, laughter evident in his tone. “He’s a god, isn’t he?” or, ziam farmer's market au where liam, louis, and niall work at the produce stand, harry and zayn work at the bakery stand, and nobody's straight

i’ve heard it both ways (26k)

“I, uh.” Harry is scrambling, trying to think of something believable on the spot. He remembers the woman from reception and her phone call and says the only thing he can think of. “I’m a psychic.” Everyone stills. Zayn laughs, Detective Edwards looks confused, and the officer holding the door open looks mildly frightened. “A psychic?” Zayn gets out between his laughs. “I’ve heard it all. You’re definitely spending the night in the holding cell now. You’re wasting all of our time here.” an au based on the tv show psych where harry is shawn, louis is jules, liam is gus, niall is mcnabb, and zayn is lassie.

i just know you (got to taste like candy) (3.9k)

Harry seduces the cute cell phone repair girl with her phone's wallpaper.

i just want you to dance with me tonight (7.6k)

The sorority au no one asked for. Featuring a prank war, Lirry friendship, and useless lesbians.

beautiful wreck, colorful mess (4.4k)

Harry's been desperate to try out the toys she bought for her and Louis.

she says she doesn’t love me (don’t believe her) (17k)

Harry is a disaster gay who works in a coffee shop and Louis doesn't want to admit she's in love.

only you know me (4.5k)

“It’s just unfair.” Louis can’t help her complaining. “You always get these opportunities I would die for to throw parties. I’ve got, like, a billion siblings, so I never get the house to myself. You’re home alone at least three times a semester. Your parents wouldn’t even be mad or anything.” “That’s not even the point,” Harry says, calmly and evenly. Sometimes it’s frustrating to Louis just how easily Harry keeps her calm. “And what is?” Louis asks, throwing a goldfish cracker in Harry’s direction. It misses. “That I don’t want to.” - Based on the prompt, "Nothing really specific just a harry/Louis sleepover while Harry's parents are out of town involving sexy lady times? "

#writer appreciation week #hljournal #1dsource #fics #author rec

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

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Business As Usual

Criminal Minds Rockstar AU!

Word Count: ~3890

Warnings: Implications of offscreen shenanigans, Reid and JJ being devious little shits, but nothing too wild.

A/N: Why does this exist? Fuck if I know! Was it a fucking blast to write? Fuck yes it was! The headcanon popped into my brain fully-formed while I was driving home from work one day, @stunudo and @rockhoochie encouraged me, and here I am. This will, at some point, be tied into the SPN rockstar au that I’ve been dicking around with, but for now it’s just the BAU doing their thing!

Business As Usual

Talking Family and Feminism With Rock’s Hottest New Band

There are already fans lining up outside Terminal 5 when I arrive in the afternoon. It’s the first time Business As Usual will be playing in New York since the release of their sophomore album, Wheels Up, which has become the runaway surprise hit of the summer, largely thanks to the success of the first single, “Revelations.” They’ve gone from critically praised indie darlings to the brink of mainstream stardom, seemingly overnight.

Band manager David Rossi, for one, isn’t surprised at the sudden attention.

Rossi is an industry vet with almost four decades of experience under his belt. He’d been retired for a couple years when a friend dragged him out to see B.A.U. playing in a dive bar. He says that within two songs, he knew “the kids,” as he calls them, would be huge. By the end of the show, he was ready to come out of retirement if they’d let him manage them.

With attention comes scrutiny, and for most bands, the rumors would be flying already. However, B.A.U. definitely isn’t most bands; there are no whispers of groupies, crazy parties, or other rockstar antics here. When you meet them face to face, that reputation makes perfect sense. They’re quiet and quirky, and they seem like five of the unlikeliest rock stars in modern music.

“Very nice to meet you, Paul,” Rossi says, turning on the charm. This one’s gonna be a piece of cake. “Now. Before we get any further, just a couple things.”

He gives the reporter his best fuck with my kids and I will fuck you up look and makes sure the guy looks suitably intimidated before he continues.

“First, don’t believe half of what comes out of Penelope’s mouth, at least not until you confirm with somebody else. She likes to see what ridiculous things journalists will print.” This is, obviously, a lie, but they’ve found it’s the best way to deal with Penelope’s inability to keep anything private. “Trust me. You listen to her, you’ll end up with egg on your face.”

“No problem,” Paul says obediently.

“Second, you do not mention Reid’s stalker. Is that clear?”

Paul nods, but Rossi waits for a moment, until he starts wilting slightly under the stare.

“I understand,” he says, nodding emphatically, and Rossi gives him a clap on the shoulder and a big smile.

“Wonderful. Other than that, we’re an open book. Come in, they’re just getting ready for soundcheck. Let’s get you something to drink.”

Officially, the band is made up of Emily Prentiss (vocals), Derek Morgan (guitar), Jennifer “JJ” Jareau (bass), Spencer Reid (keys), and Aaron Hotchner (drums). At first glance, they don’t look like they have anything in common; most bands tend to dress in a similar style and come from similar musical backgrounds, but these five couldn’t be more different. Reid, for example, was a classical piano prodigy who graduated from Berklee at the age of seventeen, and has a tendency to dress like an absentminded professor, while Prentiss, with her Siouxsie Sioux eyeliner, dropped out of prep school to tour with a riot-girl band.

Producer and sound tech Penelope Garcia is the unofficial sixth member of the band, and they all credit her with melding their various eclectic songwriting styles into one distinctive, experimental sound.

Garcia is an anomaly in a male-dominated field, possibly even more so than Prentiss and Jareau, but instead of trying to blend in or prove that she’s tough enough to fit in with the rest of the crew, she makes a point to stand out. During sound check, she’s wearing a wildly colorful dress and pink heels, which match the pink streaks in her hair and her thick pink-framed glasses. When I ask whether she deals with sexism in the music industry, she just laughs.

“Of course there are jerks,” she says, shrugging. “There are always going to be jerks. But I know I’m good at what I do, and my band knows I’m good at what I do, and that’s what matters.”

“And the other women? Do they get heckled or catcalled a lot?”

“The only person who’s allowed to objectify my band is me,” Garcia says cheerfully, and then makes a face. “Kidding! I would never.”

“Nicely done on that solo, hot stuff, you play that guitar almost as well as you fill out those jeans,” Penelope says into the dead mic. It goes directly to the band’s in-ear monitors, so nobody else can hear. Derek laughs and the rest of the band roll their eyes.

When they set up the extra mics and the band-to-booth-only channel, this was not what they had in mind (as Rossi keeps reminding her) but… it’s so much fun. She hasn’t made Derek crack up mid-show yet, but she’ll get there.

“One of these days you’re gonna use the wrong channel and the entire house is gonna hear you,” JJ says into her own second mic, but she’s grinning too.

“Let ‘em listen, they’d just be jealous,” Penelope says breezily. “Another one?”

“Can we run ‘Eviler Twin’ with the new bridge?” Spencer asks.

Penelope adjusts levels on his synths and shoots him a thumbs up. “You got it, Boy Wonder. Hotch, count ‘em in.”

Lead singer Emily Prentiss has a larger-than-life presence from the moment she steps onstage. She’s commanding and confident, and it’s hard to take your eyes off of her, whether she’s crowdsurfing, jumping around the stage, or delivering one of her trademark fiery speeches between songs.

When Prentiss first expressed an interest in singing, her mother hired a private vocal coach who specialized in opera, and was disappointed when her daughter showed interest in less classical genres.

“She was pissed,” Prentiss says, smiling to herself. “I started sneaking out when I was fourteen or so and going to this one little local dive bar that got all the punk and hardcore bands. I’m still not sure how I convinced them to let me in. But seeing the Dead Kennedys made me decide I was going to be in a band. I just looked at Jello Biafra and thought, I want to do that.”

While their music isn’t explicitly political, the band themselves aren’t shy about expressing their opinions, Prentiss in particular.

“...and that’s why I never wear a bra,” Emily finishes. “Does that answer your question?”

“I think so?” Paul says hesitantly. He’s making a noble effort not to look down at her tits.

Emily’s pretty sure it doesn’t answer the question, not even a little bit, but she’s also pretty sure the question was about relationships, so. Fuck that question.

Emily’s not great at press, but she is excellent at rambling about the patriarchy until people tune her out.

Drummer Aaron Hotchner, best known as “Hotch,” has become the unlikely sex symbol of the band, despite being the only one who’s happily married. The attention only seems to embarrass him.

“It’s real fun to read him thirst tweets and watch him turn colors,” Penelope says, with a devilish grin. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

When Hotch goes out to greet fans after the show, the female shrieks reach a deafening pitch. He greets everyone with a charming, dimpled smile and talks to each one as if there’s no one else waiting for his attention. The crowd is sizeable and some of the fans are overfamiliar, to put it mildly, but Hotch spends over an hour there, speaking to everyone individually. He remains unfailingly polite, taking pictures and signing things even after the rest of his bandmates have excused themselves for the night.

“He’s just the sweetest,” one girl sighs to her friend as they finally head home.

Hotch, who is notoriously unenthusiastic about talking to the press, did not want to comment.

“Love you too, Jack. Take care of your mom,” Hotch is saying, as he walks through the green room door. He hangs up, and Emily can see the moment he notices Paul; his smile vanishes and his eyebrows flatten in a scowl.

“Was that your son?” Paul asks politely.

“Yes.”

“How is he?”

“Fine.”

Paul’s smile falters for a second. “Do you talk to them every night, when you’re on the road? Touring must be tough.”

Hotch just gives him a curt nod this time and Emily winces. Paul clears his throat.

“So… you used to play in a grunge band, is that right?” he asks tentatively.

Hotch gives him another stony look. “That is correct.”

JJ opens the door, and Emily can’t help but mutter, “Oh thank fuck.”

JJ looks between Hotch, who is holding eye contact without blinking, and a petrified Paul. Then she quirks an eyebrow at Emily, who gives her a panicked nod.

“Hi there, you must be Paul,” JJ says warmly. She jabs Hotch discreetly in the side as she passes him. “Rossi and Morgan are getting food, Hotch, they said you should join them.”

He looks like he’s about to protest, but Emily shoots him a look and he heads for the door.

JJ sits next to Paul with a dazzlingly bright smile, eyelashes fluttering. “It is so nice to meet you. Reid and Garcia are in the batcave, I’m happy to take you out there, but I’m all yours if there’s anything you’d like to ask me about first.”

Emily shoots her a thumbs-up and escapes before Paul notices.

Jennifer Jareau, better known as “JJ,” has the sort of wholesome, all-American beauty that turns heads wherever she goes; she wouldn’t look out of place on a magazine cover. In fact, modeling was what led her indirectly to the band.

JJ started playing music in her high school marching band, but never intended to pursue it seriously. She was the valedictorian of her small town’s high school and had a full scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh. Between her sophomore and junior years, though, she was spotted by a modeling agency and offered a job; it would just be one week, in Los Angeles. She says she was most excited about the opportunity to fly in an airplane for the first time.

While in L.A., JJ met Prentiss, and the rest is history. The two women seem to work seamlessly together and frequently complete each others’ sentences, but while Prentiss is commanding and confident, JJ is soft-spoken and feminine, almost motherly.

“I always wanted a family,” JJ says, with her most heartfelt Colgate-ad smile. “It ended up looking a little different than I expected, but here we are.”

JJ’s 95% sure that’ll be the pull quote for the article. Men like Paul eat that traditional shit up with a spoon; she should probably rein it in before he jizzes himself.

The “batcave,” as they call it, is so full of gear and recording equipment that I stand in the doorway while I talk to Reid and Garcia. Her desk takes up a third of the room, and it holds two laptops in addition to several sound boards and microphones. She’s putting together a rough demo of a song they started working on a couple days earlier.

Reid, meanwhile, is sitting on the floor, surrounded by the disassembled parts of two amps, and he’s tinkering with something tiny and delicate-looking. When I ask what he’s doing, he rattles off a rapid-fire string of technical jargon, and I have to ask him to repeat himself. He looks to Garcia, who holds up her hands as if to say ‘don’t look at me,’ and Reid turns back to me to say, simply, “I’m making it sound better.”

Reid has a tendency to speak at three times the speed of most humans, and frequently goes off on baffling tangents about everything from obscure composers to beekeeping to the origins of Halloween. It’s hard to follow, sometimes, but his bandmates seem used to it.

When asked if anything has changed with the band’s recent success, he says thoughtfully, “I honestly haven’t noticed. None of it makes a difference to me, as long as I get to play music.” He pauses for a moment, then adds with a smile, “My high school reunion last month was very satisfying, though.”

“... William Onyeabor, of course! Lately, also, a lot of Philip Glass and Gil Scott-Heron.”

Spencer realizes he’s been staring up at the ceiling instead of talking to the reporter. He blinks and refocuses. Paul looks slightly shell-shocked.

“So to answer your question, yes, we do spend a lot of time writing when we’re on the road,” Garcia interjects. Spencer winces. “We’ll probably have almost an album’s worth of demos by the time the tour is over. We could stay in here all day, the trick is getting Reid to remember to eat.”

Spencer rolls his eyes.

“So is that how you guys spend most of your spare time? Writing and playing music?” Paul asks.

“Well, it’s not like we’re total shut-ins,” Garcia says. “We go out and have fun too. Admittedly, JJ and Emily’s idea of fun is starting bar fights, but -”

“Really?” Paul asks, looking at Spencer curiously.

He scoffs. “No, she’s kidding.”

Garcia, absorbed in whatever she’s doing on her laptop, continues absent-mindedly: “Well, it’s not that they start fights, but they both do Krav Maga and also attract a lot of idiots, so… idiots start bar fights and then the girls finish them. Let me tell you, you do not want to mess with JJ.”

Paul looks at Spencer again. He shakes his head quickly.

“I mean, can you really picture JJ in a bar fight?” he asks, forcing a laugh.

Garcia’s still rambling. “Honestly though you really gotta watch out for this one right here. Reid’s our resident wild child.”

He gives Paul a disarming, wide-eyed, ‘who, me?’ smile and shakes his head again.

“Oh, man, one time in Boston he -”

“Garcia,” Spencer interrupts. She looks up, glances at the tape recorder in Paul’s hand, and shuts her mouth hastily. Paul is starting to look suspicious.

“Ha! Just kidding,” Garcia says shrilly. “He’s a big ol’ dork, really.”

Spencer nods earnestly, doing his best puppy eyes. “I spend most of my time reading, honestly. She’s just trying to make me seem cooler.”

Paul’s expression clears slightly. “That… makes sense.”

He doesn’t press for details, which is good. The legendary Boston Incident is not something Spencer needs in print.

Derek Morgan learned guitar from his father, a Chicago blues artist, but says that when he began to write his own music, he immediately gravitated to classic rock. He cites Hendrix, the Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin as influences, and it’s easy to see that onstage; Morgan has the rakish charm and suggestive swagger to rival the moves of any of his idols. If anyone out of the group were to fit the mold of the traditional rockstar, I’d expect it to be him.

The truth is much more innocuous. Offstage, he’s a perfect gentleman, respectful and chivalrous to a fault. He doesn’t drink, and he somehow finds time to work out almost every day, even when they’re on the road.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m dead boring,” he says, with a wide grin. “Truth is, none of us really fit into any of the usual boxes. That’s why we get along so well.”

He says Garcia is his best friend in the group, and I can tell he’s fiercely protective of the band, especially the women. When asked if he’s usually the one looking out for the girls, he laughs.

“Honestly, they’re not the ones I worry about,” he says. “But sure. We all look out for each other, really.”

The bartender shows up, finally, and slides two glasses over to JJ. She knocks back the shot first. If this dumb hipster keeps slurring at her about how much artistry there is in dubstep, she’s going to need another one very soon.

“People just don’t get it,” he says, sidling a little closer. JJ steps back.

“Ben - Ken?” she asks, and the guy pauses, affronted. “I’m sure that’s very interesting, but you should probably know that I’m gay.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Like, gay gay?”

“Gayer by the second,” JJ says coolly.

“How do you know, though?” Ken says, which is a level of douchebag she didn’t actually expect from him. He must be even drunker than he looks.

JJ gives him a polite smile. “I’m going to go find my friends now.”

“Hey, hang on.”

He grabs her arm as she turns away. Behind his back she can see Derek heading in their direction. She gives him a little “stand down” wave.

“Bad idea,” she warns Ken.

“Oh yeah? What -”

“Back off,” Emily snaps, appearing at her side.

Ken looks at them mutinously, and as they turn away, he mutters something that sounds like (but probably isn’t) “Duckin’ bikes.”

“Say it to my face,” JJ tells him sweetly. “Let’s see how that goes for you.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” he asks belligerently.

Emily grabs one of his wrists and twists hard, while JJ gets the other. Ken yelps.

“Everything okay here?” Derek says from behind him. He’s doing what can only be described as looming in a distinctly menacing way. “I think it’s time for you to head home, buddy.”

“Shoo,” Emily adds. “Go on. Skedaddle.”

Ken skedaddles. JJ can’t help but laugh.

“We had it under control,” Emily reassures Derek.

He frowns. ��You sure?”

“Just another one who thought he could cure me with his magic dick,” JJ says with a shrug. “More shots?”

“No way, uh-uh,” Derek interrupts sternly. “Emily. Come on. You remember what happened last time you tried to outdrink JJ?”

“It was so much fun until then, though,” JJ chirps. He knows them too well. She exchanges a look with Emily.

“Hey, have you seen Reid lately?” Emily asks innocently, and while Derek is scanning the crowd and scowling, JJ gestures to the bartender.

Only time will tell whether Business As Usual will continue to grow in popularity, but Rossi seems confident that they’re here to stay. To hear him tell it, he’s met everyone from the Stones to the Strokes (“And I have the scars to prove it!”) and he has an eye for which bands are in it for the long haul.

He says, “Long-term success isn’t about who’s the most talented musicians or the best performers, although these guys are both. So many bands crash and burn early.”

“Why is that? What makes you so sure these guys will be different?”

“You hear people blame it on the lifestyle, the drugs, the parties, but truth is, those don’t matter all that much as long as the band is taking care of each other.” He smiles proudly. “These guys, they’ll always have each others’ backs. They’re a team.”

“You about ready to head back to the hotel?” Hotch asks quietly, lining up his shot. “This isn’t going to last much longer.” Sure enough, he sinks the ball neatly and straightens up, giving the table a calculating look.

“Let me round ‘em up,” Derek says. “Meet you outside in five.”

“When has it ever taken five minutes to round up this bunch?” Hotch asks wryly. “You have fifteen and then I’m leaving. Shout if you need help.”

He spots Penelope first. She’s in the middle of the dancefloor, dancing with a guy who might as well have cartoon hearts popping out of his eyes. She’s not drunk to the point where she’s doing her signature Shitfaced Shimmy, so she won’t be too hard to wrangle. He catches her eye and taps his wrist, then points to the door, and she shoots him a thumbs up.

Piece of cake.

He looks around for Reid next, hoping against hope that the kid hasn’t attracted any crazy tonight. He’s not sure why or how, but Reid has proven more prone to disaster than the rest of the crew combined. If you asked Derek who in the band was most likely to get slapped, get kidnapped, get stabbed (accidentally), lose his shoes on the way back from the bathroom, get fully lost on the way to the bathroom, get hit on by a prostitute, puncture his own foot with a dart, snort something sketchy and end up wired til dawn, or befriend a mob boss, the answer would be Spencer Reid, every damn time.

He knows this because Reid’s already done most of those things.

Emily pops up at his side. Her level of sobriety is surprising until Derek notices the smug smile on her face and the phone number Sharpied on her arm. He gives her a fist-bump.

“Meet you outside,” she says cheerfully.

This might be even easier than he thought.

“Hey, Emily,” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Have you seen Reid or JJ?”

“JJ found me a while ago to borrow my swiss army knife,” she says thoughtfully, and then her eyes widen in realization. “She never came back and I haven’t seen Reid. Shit.”

“Alright, you check outside, look in the alley, I’ll do a sweep around here. If Garcia’s not already outside, call Hotch.” Emily nods curtly and turns toward the door.

Derek elbows his way around the fringes of the dance floor, scanning the crowd for JJ’s blonde hair, but no luck. He checks a couple of the out-of-the-way nooks and crannies where Reid likes to curl up to pass out, even glances under a couple tables, but there’s no sign of him. He heads for the door that leads to the hallway with the bathrooms.

He almost runs right into JJ and Reid, who are arm-in-arm as they burst through the door.

“Oh good,” he says, mildly surprised to see them both upright. Then Reid looks up with big, innocent eyes, sniffing and twitching his nose like a goddamn rabbit, and JJ flaps her hand urgently toward the front of the bar, stepping around Derek without breaking stride.

“We should go,” she says quickly. “Now.”

“What did you do?” he groans, shepherding them through the crowd. He can see them exchange a glance. JJ wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve, Emily’s multi-tool still clutched in her fist.

“We may have rearranged some things,” Spencer mutters.

“There might be some physics magic brewing,” JJ adds.

Just as Derek half-shoves them through the front door, he hears a shout from the direction of the bathrooms.

Amazingly, everyone is standing on the sidewalk waiting for them.

“Double time,” Derek says hurriedly, and they all fall into step.

“Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Hotch says, looking at his watch. He holds a hand out to Penelope. “Pay up.”

“Thing One and Thing Two over there were just stirring up some chaos,” Morgan explains.

“Do I want to know?” Penelope asks, fishing a twenty out of her purse. “Is this a plausible deniability situation?”

Emily shakes her head. “I swear, Reid, one of these days I’m going to put a leash on you, and not in a fun sexy way.”

JJ and Reid are already half a block ahead of the rest of them, arms linked, heads together like they’re plotting again. JJ lets out one of her weird little coke-giggles and Derek can hear Reid chattering about… the Wizard of Oz, for some reason? Whatever.

Just another day for this weird-ass bunch he calls family.

#criminal minds fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #cm fic

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mrsbhandari · 4 years

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Shutter - Part 1

a/n: HI penny here!! so i’ve been writing a lil sumn sumn for @lxdy-starfury‘s wonderful modern blades au, and as i am nearing 7000 words (and am not nearly finished, whew), my lovely best friend told me that it would be good to start posting it piece by piece. so i hereby present part 1 of this au!! it’s not exactly like her manyyyyy AMAZING detailed hc for modern!tyril, this fic is heavily inspired by her hc and GORGEOUS artworks. i hope you enjoy it!!

warnings: none!!

word count: 2k.

summary: It begins with a photo shoot and an interview.

Tagging @anotherbeingsworld ❤❤

“You shouldn’t be excited for this.”

“You have a shoot with a hot billionaire, and I have the privilege of going along and meeting him?!” Nia squealed, nearly spilling her coffee onto the sidewalk.

“He’s going to end up being a pompous ass.” Naexi took a sip of her own coffee, savoring the bitterness of it and cradling it close to her body to ward away the cold. “They always are.”

“You’re too cynical. I mean listen to how he sounds in this interview!” From her bag, Nia whips out a recent copy of Forbes, flipping it open to a page marked with a pastel post-it note.

“You have his interview tabbed?” she asked, but Nia had already begun reading.

“‘I believe there is no secret to success. Everything needed for success is provided given you use the tools to your advantage. I would not have gotten as far as I have today without my drive to help those in need-’”

Naexi straightened her back and deepened her voice, mocking the billionaire. “However, my daddy’s money also definitely helped. ‘Tis unfortunate that no one is born with my trust fund, hm?” Nia let loose a few giggles and turned her attention to the next page, which featured Tyril standing in gray slacks and a black sweater, hands in his pockets in an effortlessly casual pose. He had long hair that was tied back, some front pieces falling over the frames of his glasses. Barely sparing a glance at the page, Naexi rolled her eyes. “You’re too obsessed with him.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Me.” They finally reached the small New York townhouse being used for the shoot. Letting Nia walk first through the doors, Naexi drank the rest of her coffee and tossed it into a bin outside the building before following her friend inside.

Tyril shifted in his fancy shoes, nervously taking his hands out of his pockets and putting them back in. It was early in the morning, around six, but he felt wide awake. He was always nervous for these sorts of things; getting his picture taken, people prying into his private life. Yet, he still had to put on an air of normalcy and professionalism. He couldn’t help but feel like he was in the way, since he arrived thirty minutes before he was supposed to.

“The photographer’s here, so we’re close to starting.” Tyril jumped as a makeup artist gently led him to a chair and began breaking out her tools.

“You ready, Ty?”

“Only if you stop calling me that, Immy.” Tyril locked eyes with Imtura, his security detail, in the mirror. She was scowling, but he knew there was no real malice behind it. “I’m...ready as I’ll ever be for these things.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and checked his emails for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning. He was so engrossed that he didn’t hear the frantic whispers of two girls close by to the chair until Imtura spoke.

“Sorry, ladies, but who are you?”

“The photographer, and this is my assistant for the shoot.” A tall girl approached the chair and gestured to her friend, who was bright red and looking at Tyril with wide eyes. Putting on a polite smile, he gave a nod to Imtura and focused on them both.

“Hello.”

“Wow, it’s really you! I mean, of course it’s you, I just didn’t expect you to be so...real! Do you know what I mean?” The assistant rambled, looking expectantly at Tyril.

“I...can’t say I do. I apologize.” He glanced towards the photographer, who seemed to be studying him with a bored expression. She didn’t stop when he locked eyes with her, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. “It’s nice meeting you both.” He leaned forward slightly in his chair, hoping they understood his hint.

“Oh! I’m Nia, Nia Ellarious. This is Naexi Carsys.” The photographer gave a small wave before walking away to the large sheet of paper he was supposed to be photographed in front of. “She’s...mysterious,” Nia explained.

“It’s quite alright, you can say she doesn’t like me.” Tyril’s lips turned up ever so slightly, his eyes following Naexi’s form as she set up her camera and helped move the chair into the frame. She was pretty in an effortless way, as cliche as it sounds. Her eyebrows furrowed as she fiddled with her camera, mouth set in a tight line as she took a few trial shots and messed with the settings after each one. Nia silently watched how the gears in his head seemed to turn as he looked at her, akin to someone looking for a specific piece to a puzzle.

“For starters, just sit normally in the chair, to make sure the settings and lights are right for you,” Naexi instructed, looking through the viewfinder and humming at what she saw. Tyril sat stiffly, unsure of what to do with his hands or his face.

“Like this?” He placed his hands on his knees and offered a boring face to the camera.

“Yeah…” she replied, distracted by turning and pressing little knobs and buttons on her instrument. He found himself watching her fingers and a fleeting thought of how soft her hands looked was pushed out of his brain as quickly as it had come. “Okay, loosen up a little.” Tyril glanced down at his body in confusion.

“How so?” His shoulders were tense and his lips were pursed, the exact opposite of what she wanted from him.

“What do you mean, just…” She let the camera fall against her chest and made a show of holding her arm up and dropping it. “Loose.”

“I--” He peered at everyone watching him and then back at Naexi, who cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. Without a word, she pulled up another chair and sat next to him.

“I know you’ve done photoshoots before, but did Forbes not tell you to loosen up a little?” He shook his head. “Okay, guess it’s up to me then.” He tried not to flush at her obvious exasperation with him.

“I apologize, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having my picture taken. I much prefer to be behind the scenes.”

“Too bad you’re the face of the company. Now, look at how you’re sitting.” She gestured to his shoulders and posture, tense and rigid. “Don’t slouch, but let out some of that tension. Lean back in the chair.” She copied him, then laid back onto the chair, draping her hands in her lap. He imitated her, earning a small nod of approval. “There you go. Now, as I take pictures, make small adjustments to where your hands are, where your feet are, things like that. Don’t be afraid to move around.”

“Yes, thank you.” She stood and removed the chair and Tyril found himself at an odd loss. He suddenly noticed that there was an absence in the air next to him, no longer occupied by the smell of her lotion or the gentle swishing of her baggy pants. His heart had soared when she had given him that little ounce of praise and now, he found himself desperate for her to repeat that for him, but he didn’t know why. It bothered him to no end.

“Lean forward and clasp your hands for me.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands. “Good.” The corners of his mouth turned up.

“Mr. Starfury, you’ve certainly been making waves for yourself in many spheres.”

“Please, call me Tyril. And...I suppose. My family certainly does have their dealings in many different games, to put it lightly.”

“Yes, your family has a range spanning across so many different industries. Where exactly do you fit in?"

"Well, I run most of my family's research facilities, focusing on scientific research into soil acidity and agriculture."

"Don't worry, we didn't only bring you here to talk business. A lot of people know you as somewhat of a fashion icon. To what do you attribute your style?"

Tyril let out a laugh, polite and respectful and just the right volume. "I like to look professional, but I would have to shine a spotlight on the numerous stylists my father has employed, ever intent on ensuring I uphold my air of authority through my attire. I'd be an utter mess without them."

"What's an embarrassing moment for you?"

Tyril blinked at the sudden switch of subjects. "Well, one time during a presentation, I tripped on a wire onstage in front of hundreds of people. I fell flat on my face, and even broke my glasses. It was the most humiliating moment of my life."

"Wow, that's so….human."

"It happens to all of us, I believe. People like to forget that those they put on a pedestal can still fall."

"You're a very private person, as well."

"I am."

"Have you heard some of the rumors surrounding you?"

"I've heard that I grew up in a cult, that I'm secretly a vampire… Each one I've heard is more interesting than the last." He waved his hand dismissively and laughed again. “My favorite is that I’m secretly an elf.”

“Do you just let them roll off your back?”

“What else can I do, really? Plus, they’re not particularly harmful. It’s better for me to focus on running the company rather than any publicity I have.”

“Let’s switch gears a little bit. You’re a man of high education, correct?”

“I suppose...I went to Oxford and have a PhD in physics.”

“And you’re twenty-five?”

Tyril smiles, knowing where this was going. “Yes, I am.”

“If you don’t mind me being so vague, how exactly do you do it? Getting such a high degree so young and then running a company on top of it...must’ve been difficult.”

Tyril stopped for a second. “Coffee. Lots of coffee. I also have many helpers who the company would fall apart without.” He stopped again, seemingly to carefully craft his next words on his tongue. “I won’t lie and say that it was easy, however I also won’t say that it was as difficult as it could’ve been. I had the best tutors and a lot of money from my family to help open doors that others couldn’t find the key for, which is why I try and give back as much as I can to those less fortunate than I.”

“Is that the main focus of your research facilities?”

“Yes, we focus on testing soil in areas hit by devastation across the world. Our main goal is to provide relief for those unable to rely on the very ground on which they stand. Many of these areas use farming as their main source of food, water, and money, so when disasters, natural or otherwise, occur, it can be truly catastrophic to these small communities. We call it the Undermount Project.”

“How philanthropic of you.”

Tyril waved a hand again. “I could always be doing more, and I try to as much as I can.”

“And for the final question that everyone is dying to know...are you single?”

Tyril froze. “I...unfortunately don’t have time for love. So, yes, I am, uh, single.”

“Well, that concludes it! Naexi, did you get some good shots?” The interviewer stood and clapped his hands, retrieving the microphone from Tyril’s shirt.

“When he wasn’t nervously glancing at the camera, yeah.” She flipped through the camera, missing the flush that entered Tyril’s cheeks. He never considered himself a person to impress others, yet…

Why does he feel the need to impress her?

#choices tyril #tyril starfury #tyril #blades of light and shadow #blades au #choices blades #blades #fanfic #choices fanfiction

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fanfictionaries · 4 years

Text

Where the Green Grass Grows - Part 1. A Real Fine Place to Start

@imanuglywombat credit for the moodboard/art!

Summary: After leaving town in 2001, Marianne Grace Barnes swore she’d never step foot in Texas again. She was happy with her life in San Francisco. She had great friends, a great job, and a loving boyfriend. But when her mother insists she come home after six long years away, Marianne comes face to face with someone she vowed to never lay eyes on again. Now the questions arise: Is he so different from the man who broke her heart? Is she so different from the girl she used to be?

And most importantly, is she as happy as she really thinks she is?

A story of love, heartache, and that special feeling of being home.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: AU Cowboy!Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s note: This is my entry for @arrowsandmixtapes ‘s RomCom Writing Challenge! So sorry for the late entry, Covid has been a whirlwind of a time.

Prompt: Sweet Home Alabama (2002)

***

The streets of San Francisco were their normal, misty grey as Marianne Barnes rushed down the sidewalk. Scrubbing at the technicolor specks of paint that covered her arms, she wondered why that day of all days she had decided to introduce the splatter paint portion of her student’s curriculum. The current semester was focused on abstract and modern art. Slowly she’d been introducing them to all of the history and techniques behind the different styles before allowing them to try it out for themselves. While initially it seemed like a fantastic idea, she soon realized that allowing a group of middle schoolers the freedom to literally throw paint was a recipe for disaster. Luckily, she had her art smock to cover the entirety of her clothes, but that had not saved her arms and legs from the ricochet of paint as the over enthusiastic kids hurled globs of color as hard as they could at blank canvases. Continuing to rake her nails against the skin of her arms, she sighed in frustration. She really should have taken a few more minutes to wash up one more time.

It was important that she look nice tonight. Tony, her boyfriend, had invited her to dinner stating he had some “big news”. Marianne assumed that it probably had to do with the big business deal he’d been working on for his company. Tony was a visionary of sorts. Having come from family money, his future was always to be well off. However, he had taken the extra steps to truly make something of himself and slowly over the years of his career he had come to own the single leading company in clean energy technology. She was proud of him – even if his job did take up a large amount of his life. However, without his job she probably wouldn’t have met him. She thought back to the embarrassing moment in which they had met nearly a year ago.

Marianne pulled at the neckline of her dress, the Peter Pan collar currently feeling as though it was going to choke her as she shifted uncomfortably by the food and drink table. As much as she liked being there for her best friend, she really wished Natasha would stop inviting her to these kinds of events. While Nat insisted that she’d stay right by Marianne’s side, she always ended up alone at some point in the night, twiddling her thumbs in a room filled with strangers. Having met in art school, Marianne always found it incredibly interesting how drastically different her and Natasha’s careers were. While Marianne had opted for teaching the youths of America about Monet, Dali, van Gogh, and Matisse, Natasha had settled on the curation of art, a field that suited her much more appropriately. The rubbing of elbows with the hoity toity rich was a perfect fit for Nat’s easy, sophisticated, and, for lack of a better word, sexy personality. With her naturally fire-red hair, knockout curves, and perfect smile, Natasha was the type of woman that when she walked into a room, every person either wanted to be her or to fuck her. There was no in-between. Even for Marianne, who supposed in some ways, she’d like to be a bit more like Natasha.

That’s why she was so surprised to be approached as she clung to her glass of champagne and pretended to stare contemplatively at the same painting of a flat tire for the fifth time that night.

“What do you think?” asked a smooth and timbred voice from beside her.

Marianne chuckled slightly to herself continued to trace the thick brushstrokes of the painting with her eyes. “Well, considering the artist’s theme of stagnation, I think they’ve gone a bit too on the nose with this one. It’s…unimaginative,” she commented, before turning to see the handsome man beside her. If she’d actually been drinking the champagne in her hand, she might have choked on it. Luckily for her, she hadn’t.

The man continued to stare at the painting in front of them, a contemplative expression that brought his thick, dark brows together, before he turned his gaze to her, “So you don’t think it will sell tonight then?”

“Oh no, it will definitely sell. I’ve been to enough of these things to know that it’s not really about taste, so much as it is status. If the artist seems important enough, then so is their art,” smirked Marianne, this time actually taking a sip from her champagne flute to avoid focusing on the intriguing way in which the stranger was staring at her.

“Ah, yes. The snobbish elites’ inability to see past their own social status,” he commented dryly, taking a sip from his own flute.

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Marianne laughed, feeling as though she might have made a connection with a reasonable person just yet.

“And who do I have the pleasure of giving me all the inside critique?”

She extended her free hand out to the man, “Marianne Barnes—art teacher, friend of the curator, and overall critic of the snobbish elite.”

He took her hand in his own, his grasp soft, yet strong as he shook her hand and stared her directly in the eye, “Tony Stark – member of the snobbish elite.”

Marianne blanched at the words, the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment taking over her as she realized her mistake. She was just beginning to open her mouth to apologize when Tony held up a hand.

“No need to apologize—” he inhaled deeply, looking around the room and the people that inhabited it “—Truth be told, I don’t think I can stand a single person in here. You excluded of course, but who knows that may change.”

Marianne wrestled with the smile that fought to match Tony’s own wry grin. He was too charming for his own good. Taking a second to look over his expensive suit, Italian leather shoes, and $200 haircut, she reckoned he was much too handsome and successful for her own good. Still, she figured there was no harm in a little conversation.

“Say, I like your accent. Where’s that from? Georgia? Alabama?” asked Tony, stepping in to close the distance between them and making the interaction feel so much more intimate than it should.

Marianne gasped in mock offense, “Excuse you sir, but I am Texas born through and through.”

“My apologies ma’am,” Tony said, holding a hand to his heart in sincerity. “It’s never my intention to offend beautiful women. But for some reason, it just, well, happens.”

That comment made Marianne pause, “You think I’m beautiful?”

He took a moment to assess her, raking his eyes over her from head to toe. Not in a predatory way, but more like he was assessing another painting on the wall. Then he answered, voice heavy in sincerity, “Most beautiful piece of art I’ve seen tonight.”

The sharp tone of Marianne’s ringtone brought her out of her musing and back to the present as she waited at a crosswalk for the light to change. Digging into the deep contents of her purse, she cursed under her breath, pushing aside pens, pencils, scrunchies, lotions, and general clutter before her fingers closed around the buzzing device.

“Hello?”

“I just really don’t understand why Serena and Nate just don’t get together! I mean, he basically broke up with Blair for her, the least she could do is date him,” groaned Natasha from the other end, before Marianne heard the distinct crunch of popcorn being chewed.

“Hey! Spoilers, I haven’t watched last night’s episode yet! Besides, I really don’t have time to talk about Gossip Girl right now,” she huffed, glancing at the time on her watch and realizing she was even later than she thought.

“Well hurry up and watch it! I want to talk about what Chuck did. You’ll never believe it—”

“Seriously Nat, no spoilers!” Marianne exclaimed, now picking up her speed as she crossed the street, trying not to catch the heel of her stilettos on the cracks in the pavement. “And I meant it, I’m running late for my dinner with Tony. He’s taking me to my favorite restaurant to celebrate the contract with Pym Technologies.”

“Wow. I never would have expected Tony to slum it all the way to the Mission District,” Natasha snorted.

“What? No, I’m in SoMa right now. We’re going to Omakase,” Marianne said, jumping back when a bicyclist zoomed past her, nearly knocking her into a dirty puddle.

“Oh…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that I have a distinct memory of you saying you’d rather lick an L.A. sidewalk than eat raw fish, but I have seen you scarf down more burritos from Taqueria Cancun than I can count.”

Marianne bristled at the comment; she always did this. “My tastes are allowed to change Nat,” she bit back, seeing the sign for the sushi restaurant her and Tony frequented in sight.

Natasha was quiet for a moment on the other end of the line before she responded, “Yea, yea, you’re right. I’m sorry. Well, have fun at dinner and tell Tony I say congratulation.”

Sighing, Marianne immediately felt guilty for the harsh way in which she spoke, “Thanks Nat, I’ll tell him. And don’t worry, I’ve got the episode queued up first on Tony’s TiVo. I’ll watch it tonight and then I’ll call you tomorrow and we can gab all about why Serena needs to pull her head out.”

The comment earned Marianne a small laugh from Natasha, alleviating some of her guilt, “I’m holding you to that. Talk to you later hun, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Marianne closed her phone just as she was approaching the front doors to Omakase. Throwing her phone back into her purse she pushed the glass door open, knowing that Tony was probably already waiting for her at their favorite table. The first thing she noticed upon entering the restaurant was the distinct lack of the normal bustling sounds of other people, the second thing was the presence of orchestral music, and the third were roses. Hundreds and hundreds of red roses. Stacked on every available surface, the flowers littered the restaurant in large arrangements placed in beautiful crystal vases.

Silently, her heeled feet padded across the rose petal covered floor as she tentatively stepped further into the building, wondering for a just a second if she was in the right place. However, as she rounded the corner to see Tony dressed impeccably, string quartet situation behind him as he stood next to the only table in the dining room, she knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Tony…” she approached him cautiously, unable to stop from looking around the room and all its grandeur.

“There she is. For a second, I thought you found something better to do,” joked Tony, closing the distance between them and kissing her lightly on the lips.

“Sorry, I got out of class a bit late and then Nat called. What’s going on?” Marianne asked, still unsure what the big romantic gesture was for.

“What? A man can’t treat his girlfriend to a romantic night?”

“Well yes, but I thought we were celebrating your deal.”

“Well, I mean that’s part of it, but we’ll get to that later. Here, why don’t you set your things down? I have something I want to ask you.” Tony slipped Marianne’s purse from her shoulder and placed it gently down onto her chair before turning to her and taking both of her hands in his. “So, a little precursor, I closed the deal with Pym Technologies.”

“Oh my god, Tony that’s amazing! I knew you were going to get it,” Marianne exclaimed, smiling widely at her boyfriend. She moved in to give him a congratulatory hug, but Tony stopped her, holding her away from him at arm’s length.

“Oh, hold on, let’s not celebrate too soon. At least let me finish my little speech and then we can jump up and down like teenage girls,” responded Tony. His tone, while its usual joking manner, held a tense and clipped edge to it that Marianne didn’t hear often. Nervously she shifted her weight, wondering what he could possibly have to ask her. Then slowly things started to click into place. Secluded restaurant. Red roses. String quartet. Tony’s favorite red wine on the table. Big important question. Oh.

“Well, once this deal goes through, I’m going to be spending a lot of time traveling internationally. Things are going to pick up at Stark Industries and I realized that life is about to get a lot more hectic and messier. Then of course, this brought on a whirlwind of existential questions about life and its meaning and purpose and what I really want out of it and…and I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“Yea, just a bit,” Marianne answered with a small smile.

“I had a point—”

“Did you?”

“I did—” Tony released his hold on her hands to dig into the pocket of his suit pants “—and I think it sounded a bit like this.” Marianne gasped lightly as Tony dropped to one knee. “Basically, to make a long, drawn-out story short, I realized that no matter how messy and crazy the future scenarios of my life, one thing remained a constant. You. You by my side as my wife. So…” Producing a small, black box from within his hands, he opened it slowly to reveal a large, sparkling engagement ring. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Marianne stood speechless for a moment, consumed by the surprise turn of events. For a second the musing thought that she would have definitely forgone splatter paint today if she had known she was getting proposed to, flashed through her mind before she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes I will marry you.”

That’s how one month later Marianne found herself entering Natasha’s apartment, arms completely stuffed with nothing but wedding magazines, samples, and binders. Dropping her things into a large pile on the carpet of Natasha’s living room floor, Marianne breathed in deep before turning her attention to an open portfolio on the coffee table. The bright splashes of reds and blues of oversized poppies amidst a large, open sky caught her attention, drawing her in.

“Hey Nat, are you looking to take in a new collection at the gallery?” she called towards the kitchen, unable to pull her eyes away from the beautiful and almost impressionistic take on the flowers.

“Yea, one of my boss’s associates is crazy about these giant oil paintings of poppies. He wants us to consider doing a whole show of them. We’re equally as enthusiastic, but I guess the artist is hesitant about selling their work,” answered Natasha from across the apartment.

“Don’t most artists want to sell their art?”

“You’d think, but judging from the California poppies, they’re probably some west coast artist that doesn’t want to ‘sell out’ and ruin the integrity of their work.” Marianne could almost hear Natasha rolling her eyes through the walls.

Staring even harder at the small collection of paintings as she flipped through the portfolio, Marianne asked, “Are you sure they’re California poppies?”

Just as she asked the question, Natasha came around the corner, two large glasses of prosecco in hand. “Of course. We’re in California. They’re poppies. California poppies,” Natasha shrugged, placing the glasses on the coffee table.

“Yea, I guess you’re right,” Marianne said, sharply closing the portfolio and shaking off the strange sense of melancholy that the paintings evoked.

“Jesus, when you said you wanted to come over and talk about wedding stuff while we watched Gossip Girl, I thought you meant something like looking at a couple of magazines, not planning the whole thing in one night!” Natasha said, eyes growing wide as she took in the sheer amount of materials Marianne had arrived with.

“Yea, well that’s pretty much all the time I actually have to plan this thing. Tony wants to get married soon so that we can go on our honeymoon before he has to start traveling for work. Once things pick up, we’re not really sure when he’ll get another free moment,” sighed Marianne, sitting down on the floor and beginning to organize her mess.

“I’m surprised he’s letting you plan this and it’s not him making all the decisions,” remarked Natasha, sitting down across from her, and picking up a magazine.

“What do you mean?” asked Marianne, looking up quizzically at her best friend.

“Well…” began Natasha, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “I just mean that Tony tends to have a habit of making decisions for you.”

“What? No, he doesn’t,” Marianne scoffed.

“Uhuh…okay. Well then, who decided shortly after meeting you that your car, your first car, your baby, wasn’t good enough and that you needed a new one?” Natasha asked challengingly.

“It was old Natasha. People get new cars every day. Tony was just kind enough to buy me a new one,” Marianne reasoned with her, picking up her glass of prosecco from the coffee table.

“Okay, what about your job? You were working at that cute little public, elementary school that you always said you loved so much. Next thing I know, you’ve got this new job at a private middle school.”

“Tony had some connections and there’s nothing wrong with moving up in your career. I’m pretty sure that’s the whole point of a career, Nat.”

“Your apartment then? A week after he saw your apartment for the first time, he insisted that you move in with him.”

“That apartment was a rat-infested shit-hole and you know it. Things were going well, and he had the space. I took a leap of faith and moved in with him. I think it went alright considering the fact that I’m marrying the man. Just- what are you getting at Nat?”

“I guess I’m just worried that these major life decisions aren’t what you want, but instead what Tony wants. I mean, you’ve been together barely a year and already you’re more like him than you are you. You dress posher, you act posher, your accent’s fading…I want you to be happy Marianne, but I don’t want you to lose yourself along the way,” Natasha ended her small rant by taking a large gulp of her drink.

Marianne placed a hand on her friends arm reassuringly, “Hey. It’s alright. I’m happy, I promise. And it’s still me! I’m still the same Marianne Barnes you met in art school – just a little fancier is all.” She laid her southern accent on thick near the end of her sentence, lifting up her left hand to waggle the large engagement ring in her friend’s face. Natasha laughed, knocking her hand out of the way, and rolling her eyes at Marianne’s blatant bragging.

“Shut up, now let’s work on your guest list and invitations first while we let the drama of Manhattan’s Upper East Side consume us,” said Natasha, exchanging the magazine for a binder as she turned her TV on with the press of a button.

Taglist:

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

@caffiend-queen

@grincheveryday

#RomComWC #RCWC #steve x ofc #au!steve #cowboy!steve #steve rogers #sweet home alabama #romantic comedy #fanfiction #fanfic #tony stark x ofc #enemies to lovers

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aqvarius · 4 years

Note

For the writer asks 1, 3, 4, 7, 8, 49 ❤️❤️❤️ sorry it’s lot but i’m curioussss

omg thanks for the numbers boo! i love talking about myself so feel free so send as many numbers as you want lmao

1. things that inspire you

usually the sky and scenery/settings! different variants of the sky give me different moods for writing usually, like sunsets will make me want to write really pensive pieces, or bright neon-lit city skies at night want me want to write something where two people are sitting in an empty basketball court drinking and being nostalgic lol. i’m also inspired by random pieces of dialogue and i’ll file them in my notes app or a new word doc and literally think of a plot and write a fic just so i can use that one line of dialogue. and i’m often inspired too by just scenes that i want to see myself - fanfic is great bc you have the base characters and contexts already written out for you and you can just fill in the gaps with whatever you want. pretty much all of my fics that aren’t requests are just self-indulgent pieces because i want to see a character react in a certain situation lol.

3. name three favorite writers

ahh it was so hard to pick just 3 but i’m going to name some of my fav fanfic writers since the next question is about authors! i’ll keep it to people who have written for voltage since that’s the main focus/fandom of this blog.

@effloresensemn writes the best hue i’ve ever read. this is my absolute favourite hue fic of all time - i actually reread it recently and left a comment, forgetting that i already left a comment 4 years ago. i love her characterisation in everything she writes so much and the tone of her first person povs.

@zacroix gorgeous, gorgeous writing. she writes smut that’s not just hot but also delicate and sensual and intimate. i love all the little details that just add so much depth and her lovely, sultry dialogue.

@drawthecurtainstarttheplay it’s been so long but her work is still some of the best in the fandom imo. the amount of time i spent reading her bmp fics when i was an undergrad is insane - i’m surprised i even graduated. they’re creative and sophisticated and delicious.

anyway as i was writing this i realised i couldn’t choose just 3 so here’s some more

@spyoflove (another classic!) for not just great smut and meltingly cute fluff but also some really fun and silly pieces.

@heartofsnark i don’t even care that much about kbtbb but i read her fics just bc they’re so well written. i found her through her hue fic and i was like shook that she’d never written him before bc it was so good lol.

@duchessmimrose for being not only a prolific but absolutely quality writer, and for reblogging and promoting so many great fics on her blog.

4. name three authors that were influential to your work and tell why

banana yoshimoto is probably my favourite author. i love the pensive tone of her writing, where it’s both detached but incredibly sensitive at the same time. every time i read one of her books i try to emulate the tone to practice but i can never get it. she makes me want to be really experimental and find my own voice. the soft endings of her books make you feel so satisfied but yearning for more at the same time.

i adore michelle moran’s historical fiction. nefertiti, the heretic queen and cleopatra’s daughter? incredible. i love the way she writes clever, bold and charming women without making them mary sues. her worlds are so vibrant and immersive and i love the way she describes the grandeur of places and clothing in particular.

i’m a sucker for historical romance novels (and also modern tbh) so i love lisa kleypas. the chemistry between her characters is always so palpable and i love her heroes (who doesn’t lol). i love the way she writes sex scenes too, they’re super sexy and so intimate and loving and passionate but not explicit? i often try to emulate that style of writing when i have to write nsfw scenes because i don’t always love a super brash/explicit tone.

7. early influences on your writing

that mates dates series of books? and also the truth, dare, kiss or promise series. also jacqueline wilson lol. and then fictionpress stories, ff.net, and fanfic i read on livejournal communities for sure (the latter being probably the reason why i (1) put my stories behind cuts and (2) have all my titles lower case.)

8. what time are you most productive?

4-7am after not having slept lol. also literally right as im falling asleep

49. writing advice

for me, characterisation is #1! i think esp in a fandom like voltage where there are hundreds of characters, it’s so important to have the specific traits of the character you’re choosing to write for/about down to a T and think about how they specifically would react even in an AU or a situation where they wouldn’t normally find themselves. if you need to stretch beyond a situation in which they would reasonably be, make sure you provide enough context/exposition to make it believable and still recognisably that character.

i like to go back and reread substories, epilogues and povs to refresh myself on the character’s dialogue patterns, how they react to certain situations, how that differs from other characters, how they express affection (what sorts of love languages do they gravitate towards), etc.

also write down phrases you like whenever they pop into your head! sometimes it’s a good way to come up with new ideas, or you can always keep them in the bank for future use.

and don’t be afraid to experiment with tone. sometimes it’ll be successful (in terms of audience reception), sometimes it won’t, but it’s always fun to stretch beyond how you’re used to articulating certain ideas.

also make sure to double check for tense inconsistencies. something that peeves me is when pieces swap back and forth between past and present tense by accident! (unless it’s deliberate, like a flashback or something)

#Anonymous #why do i talk so much #snow answers #snow irl

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helenarasmussen87 · 4 years

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Writing Asks

This the post where I know no one is going to ask me anyway.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Something that is like a “Oh hey, what happens if we do THIS!” and go from there. Usually ends up having loads of emotions, comfort, angst, introspection, loads of kitchen sink dialogues, not too much action. Families, happy endings.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Fluffy stuff and humourous stuff. I am a little too serious for either one and my humour is drier than the desert and very odd. So no.

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Teacher and Student relationships. Necrophilia, abuse of all sorts, underage. Just not my thing. I’ve gotten unable to stomach a lot of grimdark and super dark stuff as I get older so I won’t write it. But go ahead if that’s your thing.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Two, since I can’t have more than two on the burner. Learned THAT early on and they’re Terror AU’s One is a fixit, but with health complications and angst. The other is a Modern Day AU which has two professors falling in love after one gets injured and the other worked as an EMT and helps to take care of him and they fall in love.

5. Share one of your strengths.

I can offer insights on what flows and what doesn’t. I can also happily shred my own drafts if they don’t work.

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

Action. I work at it, but it’s not my favourite. Or war writing.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Danny had to turn his head away to hide his smile, because he knew that it was a legitimate concern for Jose. Most of the time, he had jumped into bed with his partners first and then did the mating dance.

Although extremely smart in other aspects, dating and social interactions were always a bit skewed, because he was always second-guessing himself and nervous as hell.

“That’s actually how things work out in these situations. At least it did for me and my ex and for me and Claude.” Danny explained calmly, making Jose nod and take another pull of his slurpee.

“So what do I do? Like is there a time when I bring up the possibility of us sleeping together?” Jose asked, the words slightly mumbled as he chewed on the straw.

“You don’t bring it up. You’ll just know when the time is right for it to happen. Sex isn’t what a relationship should be built on. Yes, it’s nice and it’s part of it, but it’s not the end all to be all. Trust me on this. It will happen if it’s meant to happen.” Danny explained, hoping that he had put it all in the plainest and simplest terms he could for his friend.

I am proud of this because it was majorly borrowing from life and I can see the difference from earlier writing.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Sergio laughed shortly. “I’ve already done enough of that, and look at where it’s gotten you. Yeah, legally I hold claim over you. I could make the club buy out your contract and sit at home all day, having litter after litter.”

Iker’s blood froze at that and he turned to look at Sergio to see if he really meant it, but Sergio’s face gave nothing away.

“Or I could sign your rights to the club and let them sell you wherever or to whomever. Take you out of Spain, or sell you to Getafe or Malaga. All of these things I could do. The club actually did bring it up at that meeting you didn’t show up for.”

Iker blinked, his hands going numb as Sergio’s wickedly honed words hit home.

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you. Or make you feel indebted. I’m telling this to you because you’re this close to losing your spot and that’s the last thing I want for you. But there’s only so much I can do for you.”

He sighed and looked at Iker dead in the eyes.

“I miss him too, Iker. I miss Antonio every fucking day. And I miss you.”

Iker swallowed hard as Sergio abruptly turned and left, slamming the front door and freeing him from the command so suddenly that Iker fell onto the couch and curled up in it.

He had no energy to do anything else. Not when he was all too aware he’d fucked up and fucked up big and needed to fix it.

Borrowed from life again and it was more of a dialogue that needed to be had when you finally realize how much you fucked up and how much you need to stop coasting and make it right.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

ALL OF THEM! Kidding. I want to say the one I’m working on right now. I was lucky enough I got a ton of help fleshing it out. I can see the end of the 1st chapter and I am having a hell of a time writing Goodsir’s chunk. He’s turned out more emo and romantic than I was expecting.

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

The QuiObi prompts for the prompt week. Took me like two hours to knock them off and post.

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Its a passion and a hobby. It helped me through a lot of rough patches and keeps me sane.

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Mostly music or a change in life. I tend to write when everything is in flux with me.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Just write. Worry about editing later. Once you have something on the paper, fixing it up becomes easier.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Edit as you write. You don’t get anything done.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oooh. I think it’s a toss up between my Qui-Gon/Jango fic in a pastoral setting where they have put their pasts behind and are farmers on Concord Dawn. Or the Werewolf fic I wrote during my RPF phase.

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Bloody hard. I would have to say Fitzier (Commander Fitzjames/Captain Crozier)

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Depends. Sometimes I go straight from beginning to end and sometimes I end up writing the middle and not figuring it out until later.

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

Outlines. I have notebooks I jot down point form notes about the characters and the plot.

18. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

Mine is a librarian or an alchemist trying to figure out answers and how things fit in.

19. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

A good playlist. Alone, in my room.

20. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

I revise it along the way when I sit down to write. Then before I post, I give it a once over to make sure it flows and makes sense.

21. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

All my old fics are honestly gone so I’m skipping this one.

22. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Honestly? The Duo and Heero one I wrote about them being in an abusive relationship where they split up, then got back together again. I was again writing from life, and I have seen couples who did overcome it, but looking back, I think I should have written it that they separated and went their own ways.

Keep in mind I was very young when I wrote this, and I was in an abusive relationship myself and didn’t realise it at the time. He hit me once, apologised and never did it again. But he did end up manipulating me, gaslighting me, and emotionally abusing me until I finally had enough and left.

23. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Yes. Loads of them due to me not wanting to finish them. Or the hosting sites going under.

24. What do you look for in a beta?

Someone who is honest, someone who knows the way I write, and has suggestions to fix those said things. But someone who is themselves is the best. Because they know what they want. Same here.

25. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I do, simply due to lack of steady betas. Flow and story telling, but I also look for syntax and formatting as well as grammar. I will miss typos, so I run spell-check too. I mostly use a mental rubric. Teacher training.

26. How do you feel about collaborations?

I haven’t had a successful one due to the second person always deciding that they can’t follow through or up and disappearing. So I don’t do them.

27. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Oh my God! I read so much and so many different people that I can’t pinpoint three. I usually end up reading a fic or two, so I can’t say why I read the author.

28. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I haven’t done that. I do admit to having inspired by fics. I wouldn’t ever presume to do that. It just feels like a snub.

29. Do you accept prompts?

Not really. I can’t tailor write stuff consistently.

30. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Oh always! I end up liking the characters that somehow never make it until the end. And in the Terror, unless you want to write angst all the time, you HAVE to ignore canon. And I mean BOTH the book and the show, since the book is nasty. The show is amazing, but oh my god is it depressing.

31. How do you feel about smut?

Yes damned please!

32. How do you feel about crack?

Depends on how well it’s done. Sometimes it is needed. Sometimes it’s like “Why?”

33. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

A bit tricky. I don’t mind non-con, but it has to be handled well. Dub-con, especially in A/B/O happens within context and it is usually dealt with. So I can tolerate that more than the first. Outright abuse, no.

34. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Yes. Not often thought. But yes. I usually try and keep as many alive as I can though.

35. Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3, its a wild place and I love it for that reason.

36. Talk about your current wips.

It’s an AU where two professors that live in the same building and work in different faculties get thrown together and start to get to know each other. Due to circumstance, one gets injured and the other kind of volunteers to help take care of him, where they fall in love. The others in the vicinity do also. There’s Canadian shenanigans and baking.

37. Talk about a review that made your day.

That they really liked how I wrote Frank Randall and would like to see more with his son, an OC I created for the story.

38. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I either delete, or give a generic reply and leave it. I’ve got stuff to do.

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

Nope. It just doesn’t work for me.

*somewhere I fucked up on the number but here you are*

Whoever wants to do this.

#about the author #asks #memes

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pickalilywrites · 5 years

Note

Can you write a Rivetra Arranged Marriage AU if you want please? I would really love to see how they will warm up to each other. Thank you in advance! Your work for the Snk fandom is truly amazing.

thank you for your kind words! sorry it took me so long to write. i’m kind of in a funk ^^” i wanted to do a modern arranged marriage since i think most arranged marriage aus are in a historical setting and a modern au would be a nice change of pace~ so kind of a political/arranged marriage type of deal? it’s partially inspired by the kdrama search: www which features one of the cutest ones :O but other than the arranged marriage deal, it’s very different ^^” i hope you like it!

ps if you’re looking for a kdrama w/ a rivetra dynamic, i highly recommend watching because this is my first life! you can watch it for free on viki :)

A Love That is Sown

Rivetra. K-Drama AU.

A Love That Blooms series: Part i

3673 words.

Buy me a ko-fi!

Petra sits at the back of the limousine, playing with the wedding band around her ring finger as she gazes out the window. It’s a beautiful band, two golden ribbons looped around each other infinitely as a symbol of eternity. At first glance, the ring is simplistic in style, but a closer look would allow one to see the intricately cut diamonds - fashioned in a way that the precious stones sparkled at every angle - studded in one of the single golden bands that made up the ring and the ornate design cast onto the other band. The rose gold of the band, too, was something Petra had been unsure about at first. The metal had never appealed to her before, but she soon grew to like the look of it on her finger. Its subtle pink hue has a warmth to it that its white and yellow gold counterparts lack, and it contrasts well against the glittering diamonds. Truly, it’s a wedding ring that’s fit for a modern-day princess, and yet Petra still cannot help but feel the need to remove it from her finger.

She slides the ring from her finger and marvels at how easily it leaves. Not even a mark remains to show where it had been. She wonders if the ring will be as easy to take off in a year or five years after that. She wonders if she’ll be able to leave this all behind unscathed.

There is no doubt that there are many who would gladly take her place. Despite her deep unhappiness, her circumstances are not unpleasant. However, they are not ideal either. Upon graduating university with a business degree, Petra had been determined to help her father with his business, a floundering publishing house that had once been popular back in the day, but no amount of grit and determination could save the company from going under. In a last attempt to save her father’s business, she had sought a meeting with Levi Ackerman, head of Ackerman Enterprises, with an absolutely insane proposal - the wealthy businessman would be able to acquire the small but prestigious publishing house as long as he kept her as the publisher. As an added bonus, she would connect him with any and all business partners that the publishing house was associated with and strengthen the already strong hold that Ackerman Enterprises had over the city. She had thought that he would refuse her outright, but to her surprise, the man had signed her contract without much coaxing. The next day, Petra became the wife of one of the richest men in the world. Had Petra been a simpler woman, one that could easily be satiated with fame and fortune, perhaps she would not be brooding at the back of the limousine with a pensive expression on her face. Were she that type of woman, she would no doubt be happily on her way to her husband’s charity dinner, eager to greet him in a white gown that was worth a small fortune. However, Petra Ral is no such woman and so she sits in the back of the vehicle wondering if her husband would even be happy to see her.

Petra’s not sure whether or not she dislikes her husband, but she supposes that’s fairly normal in a contract marriage. Perhaps she should like him a little bit for his willingness to get married to her so quickly - all it took was for him to glance down at the contract she had written down the night before complete with the businesses and connections he would acquire through the marriage for him to agree. When she had watched him sign the contract, she thought for half a second that this man was her savior, but she quickly realized that this was purely a business decision of his - not one that was made from altruism or the goodness in his heart - and she quietly accepted the fact that she would be spending the rest of her life married to a man who cared more about his money than his own happiness. In a way, though, she was the same for marrying a man just to save her father’s failing business, so she couldn’t hate this man either.

To be fair, it’s possible that her husband dislikes her. Although they’ve been married for a good month, he had never made any attempts to sleep with her. The first night of their marriage, she had crawled into bed wondering if he would soon follow her only to have her husband open the door and inform her that he would be sleeping in another room for the time being. He hasn’t visited her sleeping quarters since. A part of her wonders if it’s because he doesn’t like women or if it’s because he dislikes her in particular. Then again, it’s not as if she’s made any attempt to sleep with him either. Perhaps he’s wondering the same thing about her.

She still wonders why he accepted that deal. It’s not as if she’s particularly pretty, and her father’s hadn’t been worth much by the time she had come to Levi with her proposal. Then again, perhaps he had seen value in it where she could not because the business began to flourish as soon as it was in his hands. Petra can’t even say what changed after the publishing house became a part of Ackerman Enterprises. As promised, she still holds the title of publisher and is responsible for many of the key operations necessary for the business to function. However, she had never managed to find success in her business before it had become associated with Ackerman Enterprises. Suddenly, the publishing house was flooded with calls from other businesses that wanted to collaborate or request the services of the company. That must be the power of connections.

When City Hall comes into view, Petra slips her wedding ring back onto her finger. Although she’s unhappy in her marriage, it’s not entirely unbearable. She can at least pretend to be happy in the eye of the public. Besides, it’s not as if she’s trapped in this marriage forever. Although she’s bound to him by a contract, contracts can be broken. Time will pass and Levi may come across someone more beautiful or more advantageous to wed. Or maybe her business will flounder once more and he’ll see no need to tie himself to her any longer. She’s sure that he’s unlikely to object. It’s just a contract. Love can’t bloom from pen and paper. She expects it’ll be at least five years before she finds the perfect opportunity to strike, although she might be a bit optimistic with her time frame.

The limousine slows down at the front entrance, stopping at the red carpet. Petra takes out her pocket mirror to check her reflection one last time. It’s her third time attending a high-society event, but she’s still unaccustomed to the glitz and the glamor necessary to attend such events. Her hair is tied elegantly into a bun at the base of her neck, a few tendrils falling from her temple to give off a romantic look, but all she can think about are the many pins holding up her hair that are sure to hurt when she lets her hair down. She turns her head, inspecting her makeup. It’s not a lot - just a bit of blush and mascara, a faint pink stain of lipstick on her lips - and yet it still feels as if it’s caked on, although it certainly doesn’t look that way. She’s sure that she’s never looked more beautiful, but she doesn’t feel that way at all. She just feels stiff, uncomfortable, and completely out of place.

The door opens, and Petra snaps her hand mirror shut, dropping it into her purse. She climbs out of the limousine, careful not to stop on the tulle skirt of her floor-length gown. As soon as she steps out onto the crimson carpet, she’s blinded by the camera flashes from paparazzi and news media outlets. Although she wishes nothing more than to raise her hand to cover the bright lights, Petra smiles graciously at all the spectators as she makes her way down the carpet. Really, she despises events such as these. It surprises her that someone like Levi, who she has never seen as particularly sociable, attends and even plans these types of charities, but she supposes he has an image to uphold. Then again, she does too. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have bothered coming.

The carpet seems to stretch infinitely, and Petra grits her teeth to keep from frowning at the celebrities and politicians ahead of her that she no doubt must greet before entering the building. Even further, she sees her husband standing at the doors to City Hall, greeting everyone wealthy enough to come to the event. Even though she can’t see him, Petra knows he’s wearing that smile he reserves for these types of occasions - the corners of his lips slightly upturned but his eyes unsmiling. She’s never seen him smiling at any other time, and she’s almost confident that isn’t his real smile. Maybe he doesn’t know how to smile, she quietly muses.

The people behind the velvet ropes call to Petra, screaming out her name and asking about her marriage to one of the world’s richest men. She turns to them and flashes a gracious smile, trying to appear humble even though she’s dressed in a gown that’s worth more than her entire wardrobe. She always finds these charity dinners to be incredibly hypocritical - rich people dressing up to show off their wealth and giving only a small portion of their money to charities they can’t even remember the names of. It’s clear that this hypocrisy doesn’t bother the press, though. They flock to the carpet, leaning over the red ropes and trying to get as close to the elite guests as possible. Although there’s quite a distance between them, Petra still finds herself feeling stifled and claustrophobic.

“What are you doing here?”

When Petra turns, she sees Levi walking towards her, the tails of his white tuxedo flying behind him. His hair is slicked back the way it usually is for these overly extravagant parties, and his smile is gone, replaced with that perpetual frown he usually wears when he’s out of the view of cameras. When he reaches her, she slips her arm around his, flashing a smile at him but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s good to see you too,” Petra says, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. A faint pink lipstick stain is left on his cheek, but Levi makes no effort to wipe it away. She allows him to lead her across the red carpet. She wonders if it’s because of embarrassment that he walks so quickly, unintentionally ruining the view of photographers and other excited bystanders watching from the sidelines. “I almost didn’t come. You should have told me about it. I had to find it this morning after running into your secretary.”

Levi gives her a sideways glance. “I was under the impression that you didn’t enjoy these types of events.”

“It’s important to uphold our image,” she replies. She slows down to give a photographer a wave and a smile. “After all, I am your wife.”

He doesn’t reply. At a glance, it’s difficult to tell whether or not he’s angry that she arrived without any announcement. His mouth is set in that same thin line that it always is as he leads her towards the doors to City Hall. “If you had told me earlier, I would have arranged a more comfortable arrival for you so that you needn’t be under the scrutiny of all these reporters.”

“It’s fine. I can handle it,” Petra assures him. Although she’s attended these events before, this is only the second time she’s walked the red carpet. The first time, she attended an awards ceremony with Levi, but the constant hounding of reporters at the sidelines had worn her out and she ended up taking a taxi home early. The second time was the premiere of a movie with an actor Levi was acquainted with; Levi had her avoid the carpet entirely and the two had slipped in late after most of the other guests arrived. She has a feeling that he would have had her slip in through the back this time too, but she dislikes being coddled. “Don’t worry about whether or not these things make me uncomfortable. Appearing as your wife … isn’t it part of the contract?”

He looks over at her for a moment before returning his gaze ahead. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the contract,” he tells her. As they walk up the steps, he carefully lifts her train so that it doesn’t drag across the stairs.

She thinks that’s a strange thing for him to say. For a moment, Petra thinks he’s being kind, which she finds uncharacteristic of him. She’s about to open her mouth and tell him that he should worry about other things, but a sudden commotion behind them distracts her.

Someone screams behind the velvet rope, and Petra and Levi turn to look. It’s difficult to make out what’s happening because of the crowd, but the shrieks grow louder and people begin to fall. Confused, Petra purses her lips as she tries to see what the uproar is about. Levi, too, stands beside her, his eyes narrowed as he watches people shoving each other as if running away from something. Only when Petra sees a man emerge from the crowd, a crazed look in his eye and a knife gleaming in his hand, that she finally realizes the cause for alarm.

“Levi,” she says, her eyes wide with fear. Her hands flail about as she reaches for her husband. “That man-!”

The man stumbles across the velvet rope, knocking it down and looking around madly. His eyes glaze over the guests that line the carpet while the knife still gleams threateningly in his hand. Nobody dares to stop him, or perhaps they’re too shocked at his appearance - the tangled mass of hair atop his head that hasn’t been washed or brushed in days, the disheveled clothing hanging from his thin frame, and the sunken face. He looks around hungrily, searching, and his gaze finally stops on Levi.

“Levi,” Petra whispers. Her fingers reach for him, but she can’t hold onto him.

The man has a wicked snarl on his face. “You bastard!” he yells, his voice loud enough to be heard by the panicked screaming of everyone around them. He waves the knife around, slashing it through the air. “This is all your fault!” The man stumbles towards Levi, his knife pointed straight at him. He breaks into a run and all Petra can hear is the sound of herself shrieking as the man comes towards them.

What happens next is a blur to her. She remembers trying to pull Levi back, only to be shoved aside so that she was out of the man’s line of sight. With one hand, Levi had protected her. With the other, he had reached out, perhaps in an attempt to grab the knife from the man’s grasp. She remembers another scream, but she can’t recall if it was her own. All she remembers is stumbling backward and staring at a stain of bright red that was so much more vibrant than the crimson carpet. There was more screaming and shouting and the sound of others rushing forward to help pull the man away from Levi. Petra recalls her vision blurring and her head spinning. As her knees began to buckle, she reached out to hold onto something, although she doesn’t know what. When she finally fell, she remembers thinking that it didn’t hurt when she hit the floor.

The next time Petra opens her eyes, she’s sitting in the hospital bed. Her uncomfortable evening gown had been exchanged for an equally uncomfortable hospital gown, and her hair had been let out of its bun. When she looks beside her, she sees Levi dozing off as he sits in a stiff chair meant for hospital guests. The view from her bedroom window tells her that it’s late now - the sun had probably set hours ago. It makes her wonder how long Levi had been sitting beside her and why.

She tries to sit up, only to stop when she realizes that someone’s holding her hand. When she looks down, she sees Levi’s bandaged hand wrapped around hers. The sight of the bandages fills her with guilt. She stares at his wounded hand for a moment before trying to slip her hand out from under his, but the small movement has already awakened him.

“Are you okay?” he mumbles sleepily before Petra even has the chance to sit up. He’s still half asleep, his eyes barely open.

“I … What happened?” she asks, trying to remember what had transpired earlier that night. There was the charity dinner tonight, and she had just arrived. And there was that man, his knife swinging madly around him. She remembers blood on the floor. She looks again at Levi’s bandaged hand and grabs at it suddenly before looking back up at him, examining the rest of him to see if there were any other wounds. “Your hand! He cut you! Is there anywhere else…?”

Levi pulls his hand away from hers. “I’m fine. You’re the one in the hospital. You fainted.” He pauses before asking again, “Are you okay?”

“What about the man?” Petra asks, deliberately ignoring his question.

“He’s in police custody. A disgruntled man who was recently released from his job at Ackerman Electrics. His attack was aimed at me,” Levi replies. He doesn’t seem very shaken by the experience, but it may be because his attention is focused elsewhere. Once more, he asks Petra, “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer, instead fiddling with the wedding band on her ring finger as her bottom lip trembles and her eyes are fixed on the bandage wrapped around Levi’s hand. After a moment, she says, “You pushed me out of the way, didn’t you?” When he doesn’t reply, she says bitterly, “You didn’t have to do that. Any of it. Pushing me out of the way, taking me to the hospital, staying here overnight with me - none of this is in the contract.”

There’s a flash of what looks like anger across his face for just one second. Just as quickly, it vanishes. “Isn’t this what I should do?” he asks. “What else should I have done?”

“It’s reckless to risk your life for someone over a piece of paper,” Petra tells him. She should feel grateful to him, but his recklessness only makes her feel even more indebted to him and she has nothing with which to pay him back. “Is it because you have an image to uphold?”

“Because I’m your husband,” he replies. The words are similar to the ones she had uttered earlier that night, but somehow they sound so different leaving his lips.

Looking at him is too difficult, so Petra turns her gaze towards the window. If she looks closely, she can see their reflections on the window pane. The way that Levi is sitting is strange to her, the way he’s leaning forward with his face turned toward her. The expression on his face is even stranger - a mixture of hurt, sadness, and concern. Why would he wear such an expression on his face? He doesn’t need to be so concerned about her. He could just make up a story to the press about how she’s recovering and then check up on her in the morning. There’s no reason for him to go this far. It’s as if he really cares about her, but she knows that’s impossible.

She turns back to him, her eyes settling back on his bandaged hand. “Is it going to leave a scar?”

“It might. It was only a few stitches,” he says. “Are you worried it will scar?”

Stitches. It will leave a scar. And just earlier she had been thinking that none of them would have to leave this marriage unscathed. Would it have been better if she had gotten the scar instead?

“It’s just that it was bleeding a lot,” she tells him.

“It’s fine.” He tucks his hand into his pocket so that it’s no longer in her sight. “You should go to sleep. You need a lot of rest.”

“I’m not tired,” she says, fighting off the drowsiness that is slowly overtaking her. Petra tries to sit up in her hospital bed, but her pillows are so satisfyingly soft. “What about you? Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“I don’t need a lot of sleep.” He reaches out to her with his left hand this time, holding hers and rubbing soft circles against her skin. “Don’t worry about me. It’s not in the contract. Just go to sleep.”

She wants to argue with him, but she’s too tired. She yawns instead, not bothering to stifle it with her hand. For a moment, she wonders if Levi does truly care for her, but she waves the thought away. She’s mistaking the concern in his eyes for something else, and her drowsiness is making her imagine the tenderness of his touch. He’s only concerned about his business and how he’ll manage the publishing house if she’s ill. He shouldn’t worry about that anymore, though, Petra thinks as she lowers herself back into bed, feeling the plush pillows behind her head. She’ll get a good night’s rest and get discharged in the morning, returning to work just as he wishes. Everything will be back to normal.

Petra drifts off to sleep, oblivious to the seed of love that had been planted between them that night.

#rivetra #petra ral #levi ackerman #snk #a love that blooms series #kdrama au #requests #asks #answered #anon #anonymous #any future installments for this series is gonna include #hella fluff hella angst and hella feels

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