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silvfyre-writings · 1 year

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I'm o-fish-ally in love with you (BSD Fanfic)

If you guys couldn't guess, this was inspired by the mayoi ranpoe art we were blessed with (during pride month as well!) and since it is a friends bday soon, I was like "what if I write this date as a gift?" and yeah, the fic was born!

I swear, it was only supposed to be like, 3-4k words, not nearly 6k, but Ranpo and Poe just took the plot and ran away with it!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a kudos or a comment if you did! :D

Ranpo looks… fantastic. That was the thought that crossed Poe’s mind as he opened his door to see Ranpo standing on the other side, the shorter man having forgone his usual detective garb for once—which was certainly different to witness—and was instead wearing a simple brown jacket with just a plain white shirt underneath, and they were complimented by the pants that hugged Ranpo’s legs quite nicely, and sneakers. It also looked that Ranpo had, for once, brushed his hair instead of just running his fingers through it like he usually did, and—well—Poe couldn’t help but appreciate just how good Ranpo looked, even if it made him feel a bit overdressed in comparison.

He'd picked out a simple white sweater for his own outfit, with a new coat—a nice shade of blue that was easy on the eyes—that he’d purchased just for the occasion, and along with his nicest pair of pants and casual shoes, his outfit was perfected. But… now he wasn’t sure. At first he’d loved the coat, had thought it perfect and comfortable, but then he’d laid his eyes on Ranpo, and suddenly he wasn’t sure about it at all.

“Poe, stop thinking so hard, you look fine!” Ranpo whined, stepping forward to wind his arms around Poe’s waist as he gazed up into the writer’s face. Poe’s cheeks flushed red as Ranpo raised a hand to brush his bangs to the side to reveal one of his eyes to the world. “You need to stop worrying so much, ‘kay? I look great, and you look even better! And we’re going to go to the aquarium and have a good time, so focus on that.”

Poe couldn’t help but smile at Ranpo’s words. The other man knew him so well to be able to just shoot down all his insecurities in a few seconds without even being told what they were in the first place, and well, that was just what Poe loved about the other man. He leaned down to place a kiss on Ranpo’s cheek to show his appreciation, the delight growing within him as pink formed on the detective’s cheeks, and Ranpo’s eyes opened just that little bit wider. “Ranpo knows me so well.”

He got a grin in response, and Ranpo threaded one of his arms through Poe’s before he’s being dragged down the footpath towards the main street. “Well, duh, of course I do. You’re a walking ball of anxiety, but there are only a few things that set you off when you are with me, and me, being the great detective that I am, knows all of them!”

“Oh, I see. And what they might be?” Poe said as he took the lead, guiding Ranpo in the other direction when they’d started heading the wrong way, as he tended to do whenever the two of them did something together. Ranpo was kind, and a genius, but his sense of direction was as poor as ever, no matter what Poe did to try and help him. But aside from the few times they’d genuinely landed in trouble because of it, Poe found it adorable, seeing Ranpo pout when he learnt he’d been going the wrong way. The pout, the puffed cheeks, and the furrowed brow, all adorable because it was Ranpo, and easily dealt with, with a few kisses and reassurances.

Ranpo raised his hand, holding up just a few fingers, and folded one down. “Dressing up for starters. You always worry when we go out and you think you look overdressed—which, you don’t by the way—because you feel like it makes it more obvious that you have money and I do not.” Another finger is folded down. “Being sappy out in public, because you fear judgement, not for yourself, but for me, which I kinda get, but also, it’s stupid. If people are going to judge me for dating another man, then they need to find something better to do.” The final finger goes down. “And, you always worry about Karl because—wait, where is Karl? Wasn’t he coming with us today?”

At those words, Poe stopped dead in his tracks, horror on his face as he realized that because he’d gotten caught up in Ranpo’s beauty, he’d forgotten to grab Karl from the couch where his little friend had been taking an early morning nap. “Oh my god, I forgot Karl! Oh, um, wait right here, Ranpo, I’ll be right back!”

“Huh? Wait—Poe!”

He ignored Ranpo’s call for him as he raced back down the path they’d taken, sprinting back up to his door and unlocking it in record speed. Poe threw open the door, and let out a relieved sigh as he saw that Karl was where he’d left him; asleep, on the couch. “Oh, Karl.” Poe whispered as he brushed his fingers through soft fur. “I didn’t mean to forget you, I’m sorry.”

The raccoon’s eyes blinked open, and he lifted his head to stare at Poe sleepily, unaware that he’d even been forgotten in the first place. Karl chattered in the way he always did while he woke up, stretching underneath Poe’s hand before he shook his body and scaled Poe’s arm, taking residence in his usual spot on his shoulders. Poe smiled, and tipped his head to nudge Karl gently. “Now, let’s get back to Ranpo, huh? I kind of left him behind to come and get you. I hope he’s not too mad…”

Karl blinked once, eye’s brightening as he recognized Ranpo’s name.

“Karl!” Any worry that Poe held about Ranpo being mad at him was forgotten, when Ranpo spotted them coming and scrambled to his feet, arms wide open and a grin on his face. The action wasn’t for him, Poe knew that, and he watched as Karl chattered excitedly before leaping off of Poe’s shoulder and landing into Ranpo’s arms. Poe smiled, watching Ranpo spin Karl around a couple of times before holding the raccoon close.

“He was still asleep when I got back.” Poe explained, coming close enough that he could be close to the two most important parts of his life.

“Aww, Karl, your dad was so caught up in seeing me that he forgot to grab you, how about that?” Ranpo teased, his eyes trained on Poe even though he was talking to Karl. “Poe’s a little silly isn’t he?”

Poe’s cheeks burned, but instead of being shy about the teasing, he felt a burst of confidence, and he leaned over to scratch Karl behind the ears, quietly murmuring into Ranpo’s ear. “Well, when Ranpo looks as good as he does, that’s a little easy to do, right Karl?”

It’s the sappiest thing he could ever say, even though he’s said much sappier since he and Ranpo had started dating in the first place, but it was worth it to see Ranpo’s cheeks turn an impressive shade of red. Poe chuckled as Ranpo opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with some sort of retort, only to blush even harder. He pressed his lips to the side of Ranpo’s head. “I’m just teasing, my dear, but I speak the truth.”

Ranpo stepped away to take a moment, hiding his face in his hands. A couple of minutes pass before he dropped them back to his side, his face still pink, but less noticeable now. Poe is given a look before Ranpo links their arms together once again and begins to drag Poe along—thankfully in the right direction, so Poe doesn’t have to do anything but follow—and the silence between them is unusual, but comfortable. At least, for Poe it is; he can see the way that Ranpo’s brow is still furrowed, no doubt thinking hard like he always is. Poe stays silent as well, patiently waiting for Ranpo to find the words he needed.

He's rewarded when, after nearly three minutes, Ranpo speaks. “Thanks though. I… wasn’t sure on my outfit.”

Poe smiled, and moved his hand to link their fingers together instead. “You always look good, Ranpo, but this time, you look amazing.”

The decision to go to the aquarium had been made by Ranpo, who’d busted down his door in his excitement about the new exhibition the aquarium was showing about freshwater fish. Poe had been writing like he usually was on the days that Ranpo wasn’t at his house, when Ranpo had sent him fifty million—okay, not quite fifty million, but close enough—telling Poe that he would be coming around after work to tell him something important.

And apparently, that ‘something important’ was just Ranpo’s way of asking Poe out on a date to the aquarium.

It hadn’t been as simple as that though, for Ranpo had turned up at Poe’s house, remained silent for the first hour before suddenly dropping random fish facts on him—truly, they had been quite random—until Poe had finally caved and asked what it was that Ranpo wanted. Because for some reason, whenever Ranpo wanted something from Poe, he became the most introverted person on earth. Yet with literally anyone else, Ranpo had no problems at all with demanding things, regardless of what they were.

But yes, he had asked, and Ranpo had turned an interesting shade of red as he quietly asked Poe if he would like to go to the aquarium with him on the weekend.

Poe had pretended to muddle over it—even if it was going to be crowded, he was willing to brave the crowds just this once—before agreeing, and that was that; it was a date. Ranpo had gone home smiling the widest of smiles, and Poe had begun to plan what they would do, because he knew that if he didn’t, they would end up zigzagging all over the place and as much as he loved spending time with Ranpo, he wanted it to be enjoyable and not… painful.

So he’d pulled up a map of the aquarium and outlined a simple plan they could follow that would take them from one side of the aquarium to the other, and still allow them to see all the fish and other sea creatures.

It was a plan so perfect, that nothing could possibly go wrong.

“Thank you for coming, and we hope you enjoy your time here.” The young woman at the counter smiled as she handed the two tickets to Poe, who’s heart was pounding after standing in line for twenty minutes with a very impatient Ranpo and disgruntled Karl, who had thankfully, not tried to escape the bag that Poe had shoved him into before they walked through the doors. He’d gotten permission to bring his furry friend, provided that Karl didn’t go wandering off, but still, Poe didn’t want to bring any unwanted attention until they were inside the aquarium.

Ranpo let out a groan and tugged on Poe’s sleeve in an attempt to get him to move faster, even though they still have to wait for the worker at the gate to open it for them anyways—for which they needed the tickets that Poe was currently being handed.

“Ranpo, please be patient.” Poe said, and grabbed the tickets, giving the worker a timid smile and quiet thanks before letting himself be dragged to the gate.

“But, Poe—” Ranpo whined, “—I wanna see the fish already! And so does Karl!”

At the sound of his name, Karl poked his head out of the bag and began to look around, letting off quiet chitters at everything that caught the raccoon’s attention, to which Poe merely rolled his eyes, and grabbed onto Ranpo’s hand to make sure that he didn’t lose sight of the other; the last thing he wanted to do was have to hunt down an excited Ranpo. Poe squeezed Ranpo’s hand, and waited for Ranpo to look at him. “We have all day, Ranpo, so relax a little and take your time. We’ll get a chance to see everything here.”

There was an awed sparkle to Ranpo’s eyes as he opened them, his excitement obvious in the way he bounced on his heels and kept trying to run off despite holding hands with Poe still. “Even the freshwater fish?”

Poe nodded. “Even the freshwater fish.”

Ranpo cheered, throwing his hands into the air, and this time, Poe allowed himself to be dragged, although he allowed their hands to part so that he could go at his own pace. He made sure to keep Ranpo in his sight, which was made easier when Karl finally abandoned the bag he’d been curled up in this entire time, dashing across the floor to scale Ranpo much like a cat would a tree. It was adorable to watch as Karl curled himself around Ranpo’s shoulders, one of Ranpo’s hands coming up to scratch the raccoon between the ears, all while keeping his attention focused on the fish.

He made sure to follow close behind, as Ranpo dashed from one tank to the next, and waited for Poe to come and stand next to him, before telling him a few facts about the fish residing in the tank, and then moving on. For the next few hours, their trip was like that, and honestly, Poe didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was heartwarming to see Ranpo so passionate about the aquarium, and about the fish living there; so much so that he found himself becoming motivated to potentially write a story about fish, one that he was sure that Ranpo would love to read if, and when, it was done.

“Did you know that stingrays belong to the same family as sharks, but despite that, sharks are their biggest predator?” Ranpo suddenly said as he and Poe watched a few stingrays’ glide about the touch tank, their fins gently waving through the water to propel them forwards at quite the impressive speed. Ranpo was leaned against the railing of the tank, staring into the water with wide eyes and a smile on his face.

Poe never wanted to forget that look until the day he died.

“I did not.” He said, coming up to rest his chin on Ranpo’s shoulder as he looked into the tank. Poe didn’t quite know why they were looking into the tank from the top when looking at it from the bottom allowed one to see more, but he wasn’t about to bring it up. Besides, it allowed Karl to sit between their legs and look into the tank himself, the raccoon letting out chirps and chatters as the stingrays and other fish swam by; it really reminded him of those movies he’d once watched, of the parents taking their child to the zoo—or rarely, an aquarium—and just… being a family.

The moment the three of them were sharing was so domestic, that Poe couldn’t stop his cheeks from flushing pink, and he nuzzled the crook of Ranpo’s neck, his breath causing Ranpo to shiver underneath him. “Ranpo should tell me more about the stingrays.”

Ranpo angled his head in a way that green eyes met violet. “Will I get a treat if I tell you more?”

Poe smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of Ranpo’s neck, bringing about another shiver. “Perhaps.”

“Well—” Ranpo turned around in Poe’s arms, bringing his own to wrap around Poe’s neck as he brought his partner closer to eye level. “—did you know that there are over two hundred kinds of stingrays? And that the rarest stingray species is also the largest? It’s called the smalleye stingray, and it grows over two metres wide—well, seven feet for you, Mr American.” There was a pause as Ranpo stood on his toes to rest his forehead against Poe’s. “So, how did I do?”

“Marvelous.” Poe, who normally didn’t engage in affectionate behaviours in public, closed the gap between him and Ranpo, giving a short, but sweet kiss to his partners lips. “I could listen to you talk about fish and other sea creatures all day.”

They shared a few more short kisses with each other, remaining mindful, but also ignorant at the same time to the world and people around them, until Ranpo leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Poe’s mouth, smiling happily. “That’s good, because the sharks are up next, and I have a lot to say about them.”

As it turned out, Poe didn’t get to listen to whatever shark facts that Ranpo knew about, because when they got to the tank with the sharks, it was at the same time as the presentation that he remembered seeing mentioned at the entrance of the aquarium. Already, there was a large group of people that had Poe grabbing Karl and returning him to his bag, just in case any of the children spotted him and tried to get touchy with the raccoon. And because Ranpo insisted on staying for the presentation despite probably already knowing anything and everything about sharks, Poe had to find somewhere for them to sit, grateful when there were a couple of seats at the back still… well, one seat at least. Still, Poe had dragged Ranpo over to that seat with the intention of just sitting on the floor, when Ranpo had forced him into the chair and then sat on his lap; Poe couldn’t stop the blush that adorned his face, made worse when the people next to them kept glancing at the two of them.

It's fine, just ignore it. If it’s not bothering Ranpo, it’s fine. Poe told himself as he did his best to get comfortable, not that that was hard to do, not when this was something that happened frequently in the privacy of Poe’s home; quite often, Ranpo would plonk himself into Poe’s lap when he was writing and just sit there, quietly watching, and on the odd occasion; nap. So really, Poe was used to having his personal space invaded, but this was the first time it had happened in public, and he was doing his best to ignore that fact as much as possible.

Thankfully, everyone’s attention was soon drawn by the aquarium workers in charge of the presentation when they began to speak, and the room fell silent and still as everyone listened to the two workers talk about the sharks kept at the aquarium; the experience was made all the better by the divers in the tank, lazily swimming about with these sharks, encouraging the underwater creatures to show off for the audience watching them with enraptured eyes.

Even Ranpo, who had so much trouble focusing at times, was transfixed, watching the sharks swim by with childlike wonder—although he was quietly fidgeting with Poe’s fingers as they rested in Ranpo’s lap. Every now and then, Poe would hear Ranpo mutter under his breath, correcting the worker when they left out something important, or said the wrong fact, and Poe was just grateful that for once, Ranpo was keeping his thoughts to himself. He must really like the sharks to do that. Poe let himself think as he listened, intrigued himself about the creatures he’d so often seen in movies portrayed as massive, man-eating monsters.

It certainly was a misconception, for the sharks in these tanks, while small but still deadly, were doing nothing but nudging the divers and swimming around without a care in the world, almost as if they were just… harmless sea puppies. Sea puppies probably wasn’t the right description for such an animal, but it was the one that came to him all the same, and it would be what he used from now on until something more appropriate came along.

The talk went for an hour, although Poe felt it could go for much longer than that if the workers had really wanted to; they’d both sounded so passionate and interested about what they were talking about, excitedly sharing facts and answering questions that the children threw at them—the most shouted one being what their favorite shark was; the whale shark, and the leopard shark they had learnt—and by the time they were saying their farewells, many of the people listening were begging for just a few more minutes.

“I’m sorry, but we really have to get going.” One of the workers said, an apologetic look on their face as they crouched in front of a couple of children. “The sharks need to have some time to themselves as well, otherwise they get a—”

“Are you ready to go, Ranpo?” Poe asked, tuning out the workers as he addressed the man who was still sitting in his lap, despite most of the room having filed out by this point, freeing up plenty of seats.

Ranpo jerked in his lap, like he hadn’t expected Poe to speak to him. “Huh? Oh, yeah, let’s go.”

But he didn’t make an effort to move, other than to shift forward to sit on Poe’s knees rather than his lap. Poe frowned, worried about this sudden change in character, and leaned to the side to get a better look at Ranpo’s face. “Ranpo? Are you alright?

It took a few seconds for Ranpo to answer him. “I’m fine, Poe. See?”

And Ranpo stood, only to suddenly tilt to the side, Poe’s reflexes kicking into overdrive to just in time to catch and support Ranpo before he hit the floor. Ranpo groaned as Poe lowered him to sit back in the chair, bringing his hands up to rest his head against. Poe crouched in front of Ranpo and studied the way his partners hands shook just enough to be noticeable, how his skin had lost almost all colour in just a few seconds, and the exhaustion that threatened to drag him under.

His worry grew, when Ranpo lowered his head to rest on his shoulders. “Ranpo?”

“Dizzy.” Is all Ranpo managed to say, taking deep breaths, and squeezing his eyes shut. Before Poe can say anything, Ranpo continued, “I may have forgotten to eat today.”

Relief flooded Poe, and he felt that he could relax knowing that he didn’t need to rush to get Ranpo help; low blood sugar was something that the two of them had dealt with before, mostly because when they happened to get involved in their respective jobs, food and water were the last things on their minds. Poe just considered it lucky that Ranpo was only dizzy, and hadn’t passed out like the last time this had happened.

They’d been at a crime scene that day, and it had certainly been fun trying to explain to the officers that they did not in fact, need an ambulance.

“Will you be alright here if I go and get you something to drink?” Poe asked as he stood, although one hand remained on Ranpo’s shoulder as reassurance.

Ranpo nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

With a quiet promise of a quick return, Poe dashed off towards the nearest café the aquarium offered, making sure to leave Karl behind to keep an eye on Ranpo while he was gone. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to find a place that sold sugary drinks and snacks, and a few minutes later found him making his way back to where he had left Ranpo; apple juice and jellybeans in hand. Neither were Ranpo’s preferred choice of snack and beverage, but in this case, where it was the difference between remaining conscious or passing out, they would do.

Ranpo was still in the chair, although he’d gone from being hunched over to leaning against the back of the chair, his head tilted back, and eyes still closed. Karl was on Ranpo’s lap, tail flicking idly as the raccoon’s eyes were focused on Ranpo, but the most surprising change was the staff member that was crouched beside Ranpo now, saying something that Poe couldn’t yet hear. He was unable to stop his mind from jumping to the worst possible conclusion, and Poe hurried over, his approach drawing the attention of both Ranpo—a single green eye cracked open to look at him—and the worker, who’s eyes fell towards the purchases in Poe’s arms.

“Ah, you must be the ‘Poe’ he’s been waiting for?”

Poe nodded as he moved to sit in the chair next to Ranpo. “I am. Is everything alright?”

“No, not at all. I had forgotten something here, so I came back to get it and saw your friend looking rather unwell. He told me that he was dizzy, but that someone was helping him, so I decided to sit with him until you came back.” The worker explained and stood, a smile on their face. “Do you need any further assistance?”

“No, we’ll be fine, thanks.” Poe waited for the worker to leave before he nudged Ranpo with his knee, doing so continuously until Ranpo opened his eyes; a weight came to rest against his shoulder as Ranpo slumped against him. “I have some juice for you if you feel up to drinking something.”

Ranpo hummed, and took hold of the juice, drinking a quarter of it in one go before he slowed down to small sips. Poe handed over the jellybeans then, and watched as Ranpo nibbled on a handful of the bright coloured lollies. Slowly, his partner’s face began to regain its colour, and Ranpo looked a little more alive than he had a few minutes ago, although he still continued to rest against Poe’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should go home?” Poe suggested after a few minutes of silence had passed and Ranpo still hadn’t moved.

“No, I’m alright.” Ranpo pushed himself upright. “I’ll be alright. We still haven’t seen everything—we still haven’t seen the freshwater fish and that’s what I want to see the most.”

Poe was hesitant to continue hanging out at the aquarium when Ranpo wasn’t feeling well, but he also couldn’t forcibly prevent Ranpo from continuing if that was what he wanted to do, and Ranpo was looking much better now that he’d eaten and had something to drink. Still… Poe was a natural worrier, especially when it came to those he cared about, and he cared about Ranpo a lot, so excuse him for wanting to prioritise his partner’s health. “I don’t know, Ranpo… I just don’t want you to push yourself too much when you aren’t feeling well.”

Ranpo gave him a look. “If I start to feel unwell again, then we stop, but I won’t, so it’ll be fine.” The detective paused and sighed a few seconds later. “I understand that you are worried, Poe, but you don’t need to be. I’m not sick or anything, I just forgot to eat.”

“Well… alright then.” Poe finally acquiesced and stood from his seat, offering Ranpo a hand that his partner took and a final onceover, they continued on their way, finally leaving the sharks behind them to head for the next section of the aquarium that ironically, was the freshwater one Ranpo had been looking forward to this entire time.

And while his worry diminished the longer Poe watched Ranpo wander around without any further dizzy spells, it never faded completely, and it probably wouldn’t until they were safely back at home. But he did manage to brush it aside in favour of just watching Ranpo as the younger ran around excitedly, hopping from tank to tank to study the fish within them, regardless of how often Poe told him to stop running off. It was no use trying to stop Ranpo when he was like this, all he could really do was try his best to keep the other within his sights while it happened.

Karl had returned to sitting on Poe’s shoulder, attention everywhere at once, and a few children squealed and pointed in his direction when they spotted the raccoon, which set Poe on edge a little bit, but thankfully, the parents of the children were quick to move along and Poe could relax a little. He even managed to find a bench in front of one of the larger tanks that allowed him to still watch Ranpo, but also rest his legs—it was tiring work chasing after Ranpo after all.

Poe didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on that bench, or when exactly he’d dozed off, but the next thing he was aware of was slender fingers touching his cheeks softly, and he raised his head to see green eyes watching him with faint concern.

“You okay?” Ranpo asked.

“Yeah.” Poe stretched out, wincing a little at the way his bones popped and cracked; he must’ve been dozing for at least ten minutes, if not more. “What about you?”

“I’m not the one that fell asleep on a bench.” Ranpo rolled his eyes and dropped his hands to rest by his side. A quiet chatter drew Poe’s attention towards Karl, who at some point, had abandoned him to go to Ranpo. Probably to bring him here now that I think about it. His thoughts were confirmed by Ranpo, “Karl came and chattered at me until I followed him.”

“I suppose I’m just a bit tired is all.”

“Because of me?” It’s faint, but Poe can hear the uncertainty in Ranpo’s voice, and he straightens, determined to squash that anxiety before it even has the chance to form.

“Absolutely not. You may move faster than I can keep up with at times, but that is nothing compared to the joy I feel in watching you enjoy your time here, whether that be seeing all the exhibits several times over, or telling me all the facts about sharks and stingrays that you know.” Poe reached over and gripped Ranpo’s hands gently, using them to pull himself upright so that he can pull Ranpo into a tight hug. He can feel Ranpo relax into the embrace, and doesn’t have to see the others face to know he’s smiling. “But I must admit, that I would like to go home soon.”

Ranpo put on a show of thinking, going as far as to take on the whole thinking pose. But he’s smiling, and that was how Poe knew Ranpo was teasing. “Well, I suppose going home might not be so bad, but not because I’m tired myself, not at all! I’ve simply seen everything I want to see.”

“But?” Poe questioned, sensing that Ranpo has something to ask, but needed a bit of prompting to actually ask.

“But there is the tunnel where they do photos, and… I know you don’t like photos, but, I’d like to take one with you. Only if you want to though!”

Poe smiled and linked hands with Ranpo, tugging the other in the direction of the tunnel he’d been talking about without saying anything. He’d just been thinking about getting a photo himself, since this had been his and Ranpo’s first proper date in a while, and it just seemed right to commemorate it in some way.

And if a photo was that way, then they would get a photo.

“If the two of you want to do something couple-y, then don’t let me stop you!” The worker in charge of the photographs said as they waited for Poe and Ranpo to decide on what it was that they wanted to do for the photo. “I get quite a few same-sex couples asking for photos to commemorate their visit, so you’ll receive no judgement from me. I only ask that you make it cute, because it is cute. And brave.”

“Make it cute?” Poe spluttered, cheeks burning red. While he was grateful that this particular staff member wasn’t judgemental in the slightest, unlike the two families that had glared at them on their way to the tunnel, it was still a little embarrassing to have someone speak so forwardly in regards to displays of affection. But unlike Poe, Ranpo seemed unbothered; hell, he seemed more than enthusiastic towards making their photo romantic now and looked to be thinking hard.

Poe merely rolled his eyes and waited. He didn’t mind what kind of pose they did, really, just so long as it wasn’t awkward.

“We can just do something like this, right Poe?” Ranpo asked as he turned towards Poe, and wrapped his arms around his chest, gazing up into his eyes. Poe nodded and allowed his own arms to rest against Ranpo’s waist as he looked down at Ranpo. This was fine, almost perfect even, and he could hear the sound of the camera go off.

And then Ranpo pulled him down and their lips connected.

It wasn’t a long kiss, not like the ones that Ranpo would share with him after a long day at work, or when they were lying in bed together on a weekend, unwilling to start the day but more than willing to kiss each other senseless. But it wasn’t a short kiss either; those were the kisses that Poe was very familiar with, ones that he or Ranpo snuck to each other at passing moments or in lieu of a greeting. They were also his favorite—not that he was choosing a favorite kind of kiss because kissing Ranpo was one of his favorite things to do in general—only because of how Ranpo would blush whenever it was Poe that one that initiated, and that was always adorable to see.

This kiss though? It was something in between. It only lasted maybe seven seconds, maybe even a little longer, but it was long enough for Poe to be able to feel and understand the love that Ranpo held for him, and as he kissed back, he hoped that Ranpo could feel the same. They broke apart, and Poe smiled when he saw the pink that dusted Ranpo’s cheeks, and knew that that same pink resided on his own as well. Poe couldn’t help himself as Ranpo’s eyes looked at him so softly, and pressed a quick kiss to Ranpo’s forehead. “I love you, Ranpo.”

“I know you do.” Ranpo said, still smiling as he stepped away. “I do too.”

And just when Poe didn’t think the moment between them could be broken, it was. “I hate to butt in, but would you like me to print off the photos or put them on a USB for you?” To their credit, the worker looked apologetic as they spoke.

“Print them please, if that’s alright.” Poe said, his eyes not leaving Ranpo’s, even as they followed the worker back to the kiosk to get the photos. “Time to go home?”

“Yeah. Can we go on another date next week?”

“Of course we can, Ranpo. Just remember to eat next time, will you?” “No promises, Poe.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #ranpoe #edgar allan poe #edogawa ranpo #bsd mayoi #aquarium date #romance #fluff #writing #fanfic

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genesisarclite · 8 months

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Fic ask game: 3, 4, 19, & 20!

3. What is your absolute favorite kind of fic to write? A.: Any fics where character relationships play a pivotal role. This frequently includes romantic relationships (of course - I'm quite famous for this), but friendships and families also matter. A lot of what I currently have posted is primarily romantic, but I'm working on expanding my repertoire. The Definitive Edition of Final Fantasy Suscitatio XIII, for example, will have a much greater focus on non-romantic relationships than the original.

4. Are there any other fic writers you admire? If so, who and why? A.: Honestly, I haven't actively read fanfic in any serious way in a very long time. There are some fics that I reread once in a while, but I don't seek it out much anymore. Part of it is because I tend to absorb everything in some way, shape, or form, so I don't want to end up absorbing someone's unique take on a fandom or character or whatnot - I want to be as original as I can, whenever I can. Part of it is because I'm working on my own original work. And part of it is... adulting is hard, takes a lot of my time, and when I do stare at my phone while trying to fall asleep, it's usually to read scientific articles, tech news, or other interesting facts. I'm exciting, I know.

19. Why did you start writing? A.: I've been writing in some way, shape, or form for my entire life. Almost literally my entire life. I can't remember a time when I didn't do any kind of writing, except perhaps in my wee years when I didn't know how to read yet. I learned to read at an extremely young age (yay, autism!) and began making my own stories soon after. I just enjoy crafting worlds and characters, and always have. Even if all I write is a sentence or two now and then between bouts of extreme creativity and/or inspiration, I imagine I'll be doing it for the rest of my life.

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of A.: This is from the Definitive Edition of Suscitatio, during the chapter when Lightning confronts Noel in the Warren. I completely rewrote this chapter and referenced Romancing the Stone when I finished it ("That was good. *sniff* So good.") - I'm truly proud of how it turned out, and it was hard to pick only four sentences! So, here goes:

The blade toppled out of its precarious perch and struck the ground with a dull thump. He looked up. Noel stared directly at him, hand still frozen mid-throw, chest heaving – from exertion, and from something else, something that stirred his heart until it became a whirlwind of shadows licking the walls.

Though it took effort, Caius kept his expression perfectly blank.

#asks #my writing #thank you for these!

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xxprettylittletimebombxx · 1 year

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heyyy bestie asking these anon coz im shy but 🛒 🤗 �� love ur writing btw &excited for the big bang fic!

That’s okay! Thank you for asking and thanks for the kind words!! 💕

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

HANDS (lol). No but in all seriousness I think just focusing on smaller moments is something that comes up a lot in my fics. Sometimes that’s the light touch of fingertips accidentally grazing, or sometimes it’s prolonged eye contact. Breathlessness at the expense of another person too is something I tend to play with A LOT!

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Go with the idea that you’re the most excited about— that’s really going to drive you to keep writing even if you don’t see a lot of engagement on your stuff at first. And to that point, high engagement is not indicative of how good or bad your fic is so try not to get too swept up in ao3 stats or comparing your ao3 stats to others.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?In an embarrassing twist of events most of the WIPs I have started are smutty 🫣 I know smut isn’t everyone’s cup of tea though so instead, here’s a coffee shop au that I think I started for Jukebox Appreciation Week but never finished! (Under the cut though because it’s a bit lengthy!)

send me Fanfic Writer Emoji Asks!

(For some added context: I initially envisioned this as a coffee shop au where Julie gets a job at the same shop Luke and the guys work at. Luke ends up being assigned to train Julie on bar so they bond over that but the ball really gets rolling when Julie finds herself without a duet partner for the big winter showcase at school and Luke steps in and volunteers to help. Okay I think that’s all you need to know— please enjoy!!)

“Alex, take over for me,” Luke says impulsively.

Alex looks like he’s about to protest. Luke knows he tends to avoid the register during the late morning rush, but he follows Luke’s line of sight as he tracks Julie’s form as she rushes past the the bar, offering a halfhearted hello to Willie, who’s elbow deep in soap suds at the back sink, before she ducks back into the warehouse.

“‘Yeah, okay, go,” Alex says finally.

“We got you, buddy,” Reggie assures him from his spot at the bar, using his free arm to give Luke’s ribs an encouraging nudge. “You know...there was a chocolate croissant left in the pastry case last I checked,” he adds casually.

“Thanks, man— I owe you,” Luke says gratefully, making quick work of plating up the pastry in question before heading out.

He makes a pitstop at the coffee lab, making use of the toaster oven before he begins his search. It doesn’t take long to find her tucked away on the old couch someone, at some point, had tucked under one of the many steel pallet racks that line the coffee shop warehouse. And despite scuffing his shoe on the smooth concrete floor, she still looks startled when Luke sets the plated croissant on the table in front of her and slides it toward her.

“But...I didn’t order anything,” Julie remarks in confusion.

“On the house,” Luke grins before adding, “And freshly toasted.”

“Thanks,” she whispers, picking the plate up and balancing it on one knee.

“Can I…?” He asks, gesturing toward the opposite end of the couch.

“Sure.”

The silence is thick around them as Luke takes a seat beside her, his right knee bouncing restlessly as he deliberates over how to proceed. What little rationality is still left in his brain is screaming at him to abort, but he knows he’s not going to do that. Especially not after he catches sight of the way Julie’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth while she picks halfheartedly at one corner of the chocolate croissant he’d just brought her.

“You good, Boss?” He asks carefully.

“Yeah. Fine.” Julie answers, with a bit too much lightness to be believable.

Luke doesn't press it, but he quirks an eyebrow up at her when she chances a glance at them and their eyes lock.

“Not really," she concedes through a heavy sigh.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Luke waits with bated breath for Julie to hit back with some sort of quip about respecting boundaries, but by some miracle, he must have played his cards right. Instead, Julie launches into a rant about some tool in her music program named Nick who flaked on their midterm project to work with some other girl.

“And Carrie’s like…well, she’s Carrie Wilson,” Julie rambles on. “And I’m…not.”

“You’re right. You aren’t anything like her,” Luke agrees. “But you’re Julie fucking Molina! You’re like a human wrecking ball, and you’re worth ten Carrie Wilsons any day.”

She turns away, the corners of her lips turn up in the barest hint of a smile.

“That’s sweet of you to say but I’m not sure you’re the best person to pass judgement here. You haven’t even heard me sing— I could be awful—“

“You’re not!” Luke interjects.

It’s quick enough to raise some suspicions in the girl sitting next to him, and when Julie quirks a questioning eyebrow up in his direction, Luke realizes the jig is up.

“I…may or may not have heard you singing in the walk-in while you were putting the milk away?” He confesses. “And— don’t be mad— but I…may or may not have gone home that night and spent a little too much time scrolling through every video you have up of you playing on your Instagram.”

“All that time spent doom scrolling through my profile and you couldn’t even bother to double tap on any of those videos? Luke, I’m hurt.”

“In my defense, I didn’t want you to think I your new co-worker was some crazy internet stalker.”

“Too late now— you’ve outed yourself as my number one fan,” Julie giggles.

She gets lost in her thoughts when her laugh fizzles out, and when a crease of worry materializes between her brows, it takes everything Luke has not to reach over and try to smooth it out in an effort to take that worry away.

He settles for reaching out and giving her wrist a comforting squeeze.

“Hey, I’m serious Julie. Screw that guy— you don’t even need him.”

“Maybe you’re right but…well, it would’ve been nice to have a partner again,” she muses. “I haven’t written with anyone since my mom died. I guess I just thought it might be nice to try again.”

#tysm for the questions nonny!#ask games #fanfic asks #juke fic #ela writes stuff

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thousand-winters · 2 years

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(rolls in) how about 🦋, 🦈, 💌, 👻, 💥 and ❤️ !!!!!!!

Have I told you how dear you are to me, my friend? 🥺 Because I adore you. I'm sorry in advance for the huge amounts of TOH you will suffer through these questions, I have become a TOH fic writer. Stepping a bit carefully here because I don't know if you're up to date tho

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

I really enjoy Hunter! He's great for projection cof. I mean, what. Okay, but I think he's very fun to write because he's an interesting mix, you get to have him being all logical and practical because he was a soldier, but he also has a lot of issues going on that can take you in a very angsty direction AND at the same time he can be just so silly. Silly boy just smiling widely while wearing a bird onesie he picked himself. He has a lot of angles to work with and that's fun.

I have written him like twice, but outside of TOH, Alastair Carstairs is very fun to write because he's very snarky.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

Darius Deamonne, I love you with all my heart, but why must you be so hard to write? I have gotten a little bit used to him because I write so much stuff with him, but I feel like sometimes I tend to forget that he might be kind, but he's not nice, he's very bitchy, and I have to go back and add that. Of course, he also absolutely freaks out over his loved ones, so he needs a balance of loving and bitchy and it can be hard to do.

Eda is also SO hard to write for me, but luckily she's around a lot less in my fanfics asjfhdsg

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Mmmm, does hurt/comfort count? That's not a trope, is it? Adsfjkhgjkfh

Okay, I think it's been established in the Dadrius corner of the fandom that at this point, Darius covering Hunter with his cape counts as a fandom trope, so I'm gonna say that one. I have used it a few times and it will happen again because it's just sweet, fight me.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I come up with headcanons very slowly, so I only have like a handful, but if I have to pick something for this, I'm gonna go with my "Eberwolf is a tech genius" headcanon because I just think it's funny. It's just slightly based on anything other than the Coven Heads being a bit opposite to what you would expect given their magic specialties, but other than that, it's just... I mean, I don't know how funny it is objectively, but I have fun with it askjfhjsdg

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Head in my hands. It's more like the absence of, but it will forever haunt me that we did not get to see Darius and Hunter seeing each other for the first time after Hollow Mind. What happened there? How did Darius get Hunter to not freak out and trust him? HOW DID THAT CONVERSATION GO? So many little moments implied with them, but not shown. I'll take the implied, but I wish we could have seen them.

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

*Stares at fics for 15 minutes* Oh, boy.

I pick the cat line, I pick Hunter saying "Meow-meow" in one of my fics because it's the cringiest, funniest thing I've ever written and I have no regrets, I was laughing so much at the reactions that got.

Oh, but I quite liked this one too, actually: "It takes two decades and a world full of devastation for Darius Deamonne’s own mask to crack and for tears to start sliding down his face until each drop marks its shiny path over the Golden Guard’s dusty signature, forming watery tracks all over its surface. "

#ask

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spartanguard · 3 years

Text

summary: Imagine Killian came over with the first curse. Imagine Belle wasn’t locked away—that she actually had been Lacey that whole time. Imagine if they met. (Imagine if they did whole lot more than that.)

A/N: It’s time for Kaitlyn’s annual self-indulgent birthday fic! It’s not CS—not remotely—but I had a desire to see Killian x Lacey, and realized that I couldn’t do it within canon. So here’s some AU that’s bound to piss people off but I enjoy it so don’t come at me. Hope some of you like it, too!

rated M | 1.3k | AO3

Ian Jones didn’t bother to lock the door of his office as he left it. If anyone really wanted to mess with the harbormaster’s files and ancient PC, they were welcome to it. Besides, this was Storybrooke; he’d be so lucky if something that exciting happened.

(Besides—the real valuables were hidden...offshore, so to speak. His extracurricular activities were not necessarily above board but the only thing that made his mundane existence bearable. Just don’t tell the new sheriff that.)

Anyways. He left the docks, taking the familiar side streets and alleys that led to the Rabbit Hole. It was a Monday, so it’d be quiet there—well, save for the regulars, like himself. He wasn’t sure exactly when it became tradition to end a shift with a celebratory drink, and some might find flaw with the frequency in which he stopped into the watering hole, but those people thankfully kept their opinions to themselves.

No one spared a glance when he entered the dimly-lit dive, and no one ever did. He slid onto his usual stool at the bar and ordered his usual rum, then settled in for a usual night of drinking and casual, empty conversation.

(He never said his nights here were fulfilling; perhaps they were as banal as his days. But he liked it well enough to not seek out a change. He was familiar with the stir of restlessness, but it wasn’t telling him to do anything—yet.)

He glanced around the half-empty bar; billiards tables took up one side of the large space, where a couple dusty miners were making bets that everyone knew they wouldn’t honor; a couple was attempting to have a private rendezvous in one dark corner, oblivious to the fact that they were actually on full display; and a fight was about to break out at the jukebox over whether they should play Van Halen or Guns N Roses, if his hearing was right.

Actually, that caught his attention; bar fights didn’t happen often but were always entertaining. But more importantly, he’d never before seen this dark-haired lass, who was trying to take on a much-larger man.

It wasn’t often strangers showed up in town, so anyone new was a break in the monotony. (That included the new sheriff, though he hadn’t had occasion to meet her yet...and he was rather hoping to hold off on that encounter as long as possible given his less-than-legal side hustle.)

And, though this (rather attractive) woman seemed capable of holding her own in a fight, neither party was the most sober and her foe was easily twice her size. Ian was nothing if not a gentleman (when he felt like it), and it’d be bad form to let her lose this battle, as she was sure to do—she wasn’t as steady on her stilettos as she thought she was.

He strode over as casually as he could and told the man to, “Leave the lady alone.”

The brute was nearly bent over, trying to get into the woman’s face, but rose to his full height at Ian’s arrival. “Or what?” he sneered, then shoved Ian’s shoulder—specifically the left one, the arm of which quite obviously ended in a prosthetic hook.

Ian was well aware of his lack of appendage, and if there was one thing he hated, it was when others tried to use it against him. “Well,” he snarled, but rather than finish his sentence, swung back and clocked the man with his right fist. The asshole fell against the jukebox head-first, then slid to the floor, knocked out cold.

The bar had gone silent at the scene, but a few moments later, the opening strains of “Runin’ With The Devil” began, and the hum of conversation resumed. One of the guy’s friends came to tend to him, but Ian had already turned around, headed back to his stool to finish his drink (and hopefully get some ice for his aching knuckles).

“Wait,” the lass said, reaching out for his forearm. “You’re just gonna walk away without letting me say thank you?”

He turned around and she was grinning up at him—a wide thing, slightly inebriated, but genuine, and he couldn’t help but return it. He even went so far as to bow slightly, replying “At your service, ma’am.”

Adorably, she snickered at him. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me ‘ma’am’ and meant it,” she joked. “It’s usually ‘miss’ or ‘hey you, stop that’.” He couldn’t exactly place her accent—Australian, maybe? There were a handful of foreign ones floating around town, his own included. But he liked it.

He also liked the way her skin-tight skirt clung to her hips, and the way her black bra was visible through the gauzy blue blouse that brought out the color of her eyes. He might have a chivalrous side, but he could just as easily be a scoundrel.

A fact she’d picked up on, if the smirk he found on her lips after his blatant perusal of her form was anything to go by. But he’d noticed her eyes heading south as well, more than once.

“So, does my handsome hero have a name?” she asked, shifting ever so slightly closer.

“Ian,” he replied; he had a feeling that last names weren’t needed for this encounter.

“Lacey,” she said back, and offered her hand. He took hers gently and lifted it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. An apt name, he thought; it matched her bra. “Can I buy you a drink?” she offered.

“If the lady insists,” he shrugged, and they wordlessly headed to the bar.

One drink quickly became a few, the alcohol loosening their tongues—and their inhibitions. Later on, he could hardly remember what was discussed, and was only surprised to discover that they’d both been in town as long as either could remember and just somehow hadn’t had a chance to meet. A pity, that.

Because she was a divine kisser.

He wasn’t even sure how it had started; they were just suddenly too close—her lips looking far too delectable—and he needed to taste them. They were rum-soaked but sweet, whatever drug-store chapstick she wore getting lost in the shuffle of their lips.

When their hands began to wander, someone told them they needed to take their activities elsewhere, so they stumbled out into the chill night—but didn’t go much farther than the side of the building. They weren’t the first to engage in traditionally horizontal activities on the vertical brick surface, and likely wouldn’t be the last.

He pressed her against the edifice, quickly finding her lips again and cupping her pert rear with his hand, settling his hook at her waist. Her hands slipped under his leather jacket to grip his hips, though one eventually drifted up to his chest; her palm felt like fire through the thin cotton of his tshirt.

She started to wobble—no thanks to her impractical footwear—so he slid his hand down her thigh and pulled her leg around him, letting her feel the evidence of his arousal. She groaned into his mouth and arched her hips against his, making him bite back his own cry of want.

“Can I?” she breathed, one hand on the button of his jeans.

“Please,” he practically begged.

She made quick work of the fly, and her own situation was easy to deal with. It wasn’t elegant—one might even call it quick and dirty—but they soon found release then and there, under the flickering streetlight outside the bar.

As quickly as they’d come undone, they righted themselves—but he was enjoying himself too much to leave it at that.

“Y’know, my place is just a block away,” she said softly, but desire was dripping from the simple statement.

“Lead the way, love,” he replied—and oh, he loved to watch her lead.

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

Months later—after the curse was broken, after Killian had finally met and inevitably fallen head over heels for the blonde sheriff who absolutely upended everything in his life—did he finally realize that his lover-turned-friend (with benefits) was actually in love with his mortal enemy.

Yet another thing he could hold over the Crocodile’s head, he supposed: he knew how to make Belle come.

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

yeah, I stand by that last line.

no idea who to tag but some of you that might like it: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @thesschesthair @laschatzi @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @word-bug @pirateherokillian @scientificapricot @stubblesandwich @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @phiralovesloki @profdanglaisstuff @initiala @idoltina @thejollyroger-writer @let-it-raines @donteattheappleshook. Feel free to ignore; I have no idea who is into this.

#captain beauty #captain beauty ff #my ff #kaitlyn turns 33 #and writes smut for her crack ships

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eleven-times-lively · 4 years

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Why Not Me?

i know this is weirdly specific but i had this concept come to my mind and since you’re one of my favorite tumblr writers i wanted to see you give it a try. okay so usually there’s fics of reader fake dating the person they like for the other’s benefit, what if instead reader fake dates james because she wanted to skip a run in with an ex and he was the first boy or something she saw but sirius is jealous because he liked her. angsty but with happy ending? thanks! 💓

Yessss!!!! I love some angst with a good ending! Enjoy, love. 💕

Summary: You are fake-dating James Potter, much to the dismay of Sirius Black Word Count: 1227 Note: I actually really liked this idea and vomited this out in like thirty minutes. Sorry I didn’t include a lot of reader and James, it’s just that I see a lot of fake dating and that’s always there. I wanted to focus on the ending and Sirius.

“Shit,” you hissed as you rounded the corner in the hallway. You and your best friends James and Sirius were heading to the common room after quidditch, and that was when you saw him. You’re ex-boyfriend. The personification of evil. The most sardonic and arrogant person you’d ever met. Interestingly enough, that’s why you liked him so much. Funny how the reasons we fall in love tend to be the same reasons we fall out of it. The relationship had ended badly… very bad. He’d started becoming aloof and distant, and not in the hot, mysterious way. You saw him less and less, and rarely heard from him. A near miracle considering you were in the same house, played quidditch together, and had nearly every class together. You eventually found out - from some catty girls in your house - that he had been seeing your best friend behind your back. Wrong fucking move. Ever since yourself, as well as your true best friends have absolutely hated the wanker. He came sauntering around the corner with your former best friend clinging to him.

“Well hello there, y/l/n, and… company,” he spat at you, disgust woven into his words.

“Hey back off!” James spat back, already squared off to fight. Sirius remained slightly behind, though hand on his wand at the ready.

“Oh yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it, Potter?”

“You’re going to regret this if you try something stupid,” James fired back. You remained steadily watching on the side, not wanting to confront your ex on your own and quite impressed with James.

“For real? What’re you, her bodyguard?” He smirked, the mockery in his disposition apparent.

“Not exactly, something much better in fact,” you spoke up, nearing James “he’s my boyfriend.” You had earned a small gasp from Sirius behind you, as well as an absolutely priceless reaction from your ex. James only remained stoic next to you. He finally looked over to you at his side.

“Uh… yeah. Y/n and I have been dating for some time now,” he spoke up, gripping your hand with his free one. The other boy only remained silent, and absolutely bewildered by the looks of it.

“Precisely,” you eyed your ex up and down with your newfound confidence, “now if you don’t mind, we have other matters to attend to.” You perched up on your toes and gave James a kiss on his cheek, leaving all three boys--and your former best friend--speechless. Yourself, James, and Sirius all made your way away from your ex, quite pleased with yourselves.You and James waited until you reached the common room to break hands.

“What in the bloody hell was that about, y/n?” James questioned, a smile behind his tone.

“Sorry, Prongs. Just thinking on the fly.” He shot you a wink before heading through the threshold.

“You okay, Pads?” You questioned Sirius, who had been uncharacteristically silent since the encounter.

“Yeah, y/n, of course, I- I um… I’m fine,” he was--once again uncharacteristically--at a loss for words. You shrugged and headed into the common room.

You dropped your quidditch bag and leapt over the back of the couch, landing on an unsuspecting Remus.

“Bloody hell!” he screamed from below you.

“Oh! Sorry, Moony, didn’t realise you were there!”

“All good, y/n. Perhaps it was my own fault… how dare I unsuspectingly and unassumingly read on the common room couch,” he smirked as he spoke. You removed yourself from him and went to the couch across the room.

The hours passed as the sun slowly set over the valley below the castle. Fellow students had gradually gone up to the dorms, suppressing yawns and dragging heavy feet. All that was left was yourself reading by the fire with Sirius, in dog form, curled next to you. You stroked his fur slowly as you read. You had been thinking of the earlier events when you spoke up.

“Paddy?” The dog next to you lifted its head. “Can we talk?” You could’ve sworn the dog rolled its eyes as it stood up. Seconds later a groggy Sirius was standing next to you.

“This’d better be good, y/n. I woke up and turned back for you.”

“So about earlier,” you shakily began, “you know why I had to do that, right?”

“What? Grope James to avoid your slimy git of an ex-boyfriend?” you cocked an eyebrow as he returned to his spot next to you, but he turned and faced you.

“I didn’t grope James, you prat,” you chuckled, “and yes. You were awkward and quiet after. I know you, Sirius, you’re never quiet unless you’re asleep--and even that’s uncertain.”

“Why not me?” he muttered, eyes cast downward at the carpet.

“Pardon?”

“Why not me, y/n?” he was staring directly at you, tears pricking at his eyes. “Why wasn’t it me who’s hand you grabbed? Who’s cheek you kissed? Who you laughed and walked all the way to the common room with? Why wasn’t it me? Am I not good enough? Is it because I didn’t stand up like James did?”

“Sirius, I-”

“No. Clearly I don’t mean as much to you as I thought.” His words died to a near-whisper, “I should go to bed… it’s late.” He stood up and began to walk away.

“Sirius, no.” You were stern, compelling him to stay. “Please, talk to me.”

“Bloody hell, y/n. You can’t see it!” The tears were falling from his eyes now, he looked at you as if he was trying to decide to hug you or get angry and yell. “I wanted to defend you, I wanted to be in James’ place! The bloody blockhead is too dense and jumped in my place. And he knows how I feel!”

“How you… feel?”

“Yeah, y/n!” He took a step forward and grabbed your hands in his own. “I love you, y/n. And I have since the moment I saw you first year. Absolutely everything about you; from the way you walk and talk to your intelligence and humour. You are the most amazing person in this whole place and I’ve wanted to call you mine for six years now! Do you understand?”

“Sirius…” a smirk played at your lips, fighting to show. “I love you, too.” He looked up from the floor, clearly not expecting that answer. You flashed a bright, wide smile at him as you inched closer. “Since first year when you helped Remus pick up his notebooks outside of the charms classroom. I bloody love you so much, Pads. I only did that with James because he was right there. He was the first person I saw and I wasn’t thinking. I would choose you over anyone, every time. I promise.” The tears staining his cheeks were replaced by a blush and a growing grin.

“Can I kiss you, y/n?”

“Of course.”

He leaned down as his hands moved to your hips. He pressed his lips to yours like he’d been waiting his whole life, which he practically had. You hummed into the kiss, deeping it like you were going to die if you didn’t. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, where they remained when he finally pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you, y/n.” He whispered.

“I love you, too, Sirius.”

#hp marauders #HP #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black #harry potter angst #angst #request

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ethvn-torchio · 3 years

Text

Walls Could Talk | Chapter Two

a/n: sorry this chapter took so long! writer’s block is a bitch 😩✌

Summary: Steve and Peggy's search brings them to Paris - where they happen to meet up with an old friend.

Warnings: an intense makeout session/implied sexual content (it’s not smut, i haven’t decided if I’m putting actual smut in this fic)

Wordcount: 1.5k (unedited, also I'm sorry it's so short 🙃)

AO3 | prev chapter | next chapter (coming soon!)

ᴏᴄᴛ 𝟸𝟿, 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟿

ᴏxғᴏʀᴅ, ᴇɴɢʟᴀɴᴅ

Steve wakes up in a cold sweat, bolting upright in bed. Was he still dreaming? Was this...was this real?

He gazes at Peggy - to make sure she was there, that all of this wasn't a mere fantasy, who begins to stir.

So, not a dream then, at least. His heart is racing, his mind buzzing and yet still confused and his breathing erratic. She's speaking to him, saying something, and he isn't quite listening, his heart thundering his ears. Adrenaline surges through his veins.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Peg. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispers. His pulse was still racing.

Lightning illuminates the room for a split second and he can see the sympathy in her eyes.

"It's quite alright, Darling. Will you tell me what's wrong?" She asks, trailing her fingers through his hair.

"I...I don't- I don't remember much," he admits. "It was just...some stuff from the past...or, future..." he could almost laugh at that if he was in a better mood.

She nods sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He drinks in her appearance, nodding slightly. He presses his lips against hers softly.

He kisses her, gently and imploringly at first.

His one hand softly trails down her back, and he notices her sharp intake of breath when his hand ghosts over her lower back.

"This hurt?" he asks.

She nods stiffly. "I do believe I forgot to tell you with everything that happened tonight. I had a bit of a scuffle in the restroom with a Hydra agent. She slammed me against the sink," Peggy explains.

An idea forms in Steve's head; a single minded goal to make her forget.

He would make the only thing on her mind be him.

Wordlessly, he smiles and dips his head towards her neck, brushing his lips against it. His teeth graze against a sensitive spot on her neck and she makes a soft "Oh,"

His hands go to rest against either of her thighs. He pulls back, pupils blown.

“Steve,” she whispers. She lifts her hips in a silent invitation.

He leans down to kiss her, his lips against hers, and she's already breathless. He doesn't want to rush things, but he can't resist her.

Her hand slides down his back, and she lets out a soft moan against his mouth. His hands trail up her shirt, he can feel the goosebumps on her skin. He kisses her neck, and she can feel his hot breath against her skin.

"God, you're so beautiful. I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," she replies.

He pulls her in for a desperate kiss once again, pulling her close.

—

The rain came and went, and with it sunshine followed.

“Peggy. Peggy, wake up,” is the first thing Peggy is greeted with in the morning.

Peggy groans, rolling over in an effort to ignore him. “No, not now,” she mutters, burying her face in the pillow.

Peggy feels weight on the bed as Steve sits down next to her. She tries in vain to ignore him.

"Oh, c'mon now, Peg. It's a new day, it's time to get up," he says.

“You are far too cheerful considering how early it is,” Peggy complains, shielding her eyes from the light pouring in from the blinds.

“...Peggy, it’s eleven in the morning.”

Peggy groans, glancing at the clock as if to make sure he’s right. “Point withstanding, you’re still too cheerful.”

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Steve teases, narrowly missing a pillow flung haphazardly at him.

“Do shut up, Steve.”

He snickers.

Peggy yawns, stretching her sleep-infused joints. "Where are we going, again?"

"Word is our target's in Paris,” Steve replies. “Or at the very least, someone important is.”

Peggy hums, sitting up. The blanket wrapped around her falls off, revealing her bruised back.

"Jesus, Peg. Have you seen your back? That looks like it hurts," Steve notes.

"Yes, thank you for that insightful observation."

"I just mean- do you want ice or something?"

Peggy shrugs nonchalantly. "It doesn’t quite hurt. I can deal with it, I’ve faced worse."

“To be fair, you are the woman who fell asleep standing up in a trench.”

“Exactly,” Peggy winks. She stands up, beginning to sift through her suitcase. “So tell me, Steve. When’s our train leaving?”

—

ᴘᴀʀɪs, ғʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

A few hours later, they arrive at their dingy, rundown hotel just outside of Paris. The lobby smells like bleach and old carpet, and a radio plays a somber, mellow jazz tune.

Peggy clears her throat, waiting for the receptionist to acknowledge them.

The receptionist does not, however, care to notice.

“Can we have a room, please?” Peggy asks the woman at the front desk.

The woman hardly looks up from her magazine. “Name?”

“Carver,” Peggy answers automatically before Steve can.

The receptionist takes a long, seemingly never ending sip of her tea. Finally, she says. “Take the elevator to the third room, first one on the left. Here’s your key,” the woman says, sounding as disinterested as she possibly can. “Enjoy your stay,” she adds dryly.

Peggy eyes her warily. There was something a bit...off, about that woman.

Perhaps it was just her imagination.

They make their way to the elevator, and Steve finally breaks the silence. “So...is it just me or was there something weird about her? I mean, she could’ve just been a disgruntled employee, but…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck.

Peggy hums. “No, I happen to agree. Though, perhaps we were just inconveniencing her by making her do her job.”

The smile fades from her face. “Stop,” Peggy whispers. She tilts her head toward the door, which was ajar. She clutches her gun in her purse.

Steve snorts. “Maybe,”

She laughs right along with him, but she pauses abruptly outside their door.

It could be the maid...but they haven’t even gotten into the room once.

Silently, the two stalk toward the door. The smell of smoke escapes from the room when Steve nudges the door open.

Which, in both of their experiences, usually did not happen to be a good thing.

In the chair in the corner, there sat...

Howard Stark.

A collective groan escapes the couple.

“Howard, must you break into our hotel room?” Peggy scolds, turning on the light.

“We thought you were an intruder.” Steve adds.

Howard smirks, taking a long drag of his cigar. “Technically, I am. But don’t you kids worry - I bring a peace offering. By peace offering, I mean I’m inviting you to stay in my Paris apartment instead of this dump,” Howard gestures loosely. “I mean, I don’t think this building even has heat.”

Steve shrugs. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay somewhere inconspicuous?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Peggy agrees, her arms crossed.

Howard sniffs. “Okay, fine, don’t accept my extremely generous offer to let you stay at my apartment. I know when I’m not wanted. Just know I’ll remember that in the summer when you want to come over because I have air conditioning and you don’t.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Quit the melodramatics, Howard. We’ll stay with you,”

Steve wraps an arm around her. “Yeah, we- wait, we will?”

“...What? This building doesn’t have heat, and quite frankly I enjoy summer visits to Howard’s house.”

“Attagirl, Peg.” Howard beams. “I’ll meet you two in the lobby,”

—

Later, the trio eats lunch at Howard’s apartment.

"-you are not funny, Howard." Peggy informs him, pointing at him with her fork. "You could've at least feigned innocence."

"Innocent? If you looked up "innocent' in the dictionary, you'd see my picture on it," Howard says defensively.

Peggy snorts at that. "Oh, please, Howard. With your history you could easily father a small country,"

Howard grimaces. "Eugh, kids hate me. Plus, who has time to tend to a baby all the time? I mean sure, kids probably aren't annoying when they're...late teenagers? But for most of their lives, kids just seem so clingy and needy."

Steve picks at his plate absentmindedly, reminded of a conversation he had with Tony.

"Clearly, you must've met a different version of my father. He was cold. He was calculating. He never told me he loved me, he never even told me he liked me."

The sound of Peggy’s voice brings him back to reality. "...That's because they're children, Howard. Babies aren't self-sufficient from birth. Do you expect them to come out of the womb ready for rocket science?"

"Well, thank you for absolutely shattering my argument, Agent Carter." Howard mutters, downing his coffee. Deciding to change the subject in order to deflect attention off of himself, he says, "Steve, you still with us?"

Steve snaps to attention. "I, uh, yeah. I was just daydreaming, I guess."

Peggy makes a mental note to ask Steve about that later.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Howard asks.

Steve shrugs noncommittally, continuing to eat with much less gusto than before. "Just thinking about our mission,”

Peggy eyes him carefully, choosing to say nothing but clearly knowing something was wrong. In due time, she would ask.

In due time hopefully meant whenever Howard left the room.

—

lmao so like i was listening to a bunch of james bond songs bc they’re dramatic and spy-ey right (cough cough tho a song that fits the general tone of the fic would be "the world is not enough" by garbage)?? and then there’s absolutely none of that in this chapter lmao. sorry if this chapter was boring compared to last one but i mean we can’t have constant action in the fic, silly goose.

also can we talk about how it took me like 8 DAYS TO WRITE THIS and it’s this short i’m sorry ajsjdfkgjjklk 😶✌

taglist (dm me if you’d like to be added!):

everything taglist: @return-of-the-simp @thereblogcrusader @stillmourningtonystark

walls could talk taglist: @deedepee @rizwritesfandom (extra thanks to riz for helping me when i was struggling with being descriptive u a real one) @mcu-academy

If you enjoyed, please rb/leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

#steggy fanfiction #jo's writing #steggy #steve rogers #peggy carter #fanfiction #fanfic #mcu fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #peggy carter fanfiction #walls could talk #I'm sorry like this chapter lowkey kinda sucked and akdhdkhdjsj

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fiddlepickdouglas · 4 years

Text

To The Wick - Bobby’s Birthday

Disclaimer: I’m not usually a fic writer, I tend to stick to original stuff, but I just felt like I had to write this for Bobby today. I definitely wrote this in one go and did no proofreading, so I’m very sorry for that.

Summary: 2.3k wd. Bobby celebrates with Rose and Ray while still dealing with survivors guilt. Lots of fire imagery and comparisons.

WARNINGS: deals with death, symptoms similar to anxiety or PTSD, funeral mentions, survivor’s guilt

Staring at the flame, he fought every impulse to snuff it out with his fingers. For a moment, he contemplated on its gentle flickering, not unlike himself at this time. Every moment of its existence a fight against very strong currents, against all but one element surrounding it. All it knew was heat and the need to grow outward, but not being able to without the permission of exterior forces.

The words to the Beatles’ birthday song drummed on his ears, but his mind was in the back of the cavern where the music could only echo at a distance. Shaking his head and pulling his mind out of the depths of the cave, Bobby let a small smile loose for Rose and Ray and blew out the candle on the cupcake before him.

His friends cheered and they all bit into their own homemade cupcakes. Rose had been perfecting her recipe, and so far these were the best.

“You’re going to open a bakery,” Bobby told her through a mouthful. “And I’m going to be your most faithful customer.”

“But I get to do all the taste-testing, right amor?” Ray teased, earning a hand messing up his hair from Rose.

“Mi abuela didn’t pass this down and I didn’t tweak it so you could eat it for free all the time,” she said in a sassy tone, kissing his cheek.

Ray raised his eyebrows. “Noted,” he replied with a smirk.

Bobby finished his cupcake, entertained by the two lovebirds.

“So,” Rose started saying. “Now it’s time to open gifts!” She leaned away from her seat and grabbed an object from the counter a few feet away, then handed it to Bobby.

Tearing apart the purple wrapping and blue ribbon, he looked down at the small stack of CDs. Meditation Sunrise, The 7th Chakra, and Celtic Wind sat in his hands like rectangular dumbbells, each weighing heavier on his heart than he cared to admit. Suddenly, Ray was draping something over his head, and as he looked down he found himself wearing a necklace of prayer beads.

“You guys!” he chuckled, trying to sound genuine. It was his birthday, he was supposed to enjoy all of this. The gifts were actually great, too. “Thanks, this is awesome. You’ll both have to join me in a session, you know.”

“We were thinking we could do it with you today, if you wanted to,” Rose told him.

Bobby sat back in surprise.

“O-okay,” he stammered. He caught the look in her eyes that was hoping this wasn’t too much, to which he gave her a small smile of assurance. It was impossible to blame them for anything he felt today, especially when she and Ray were putting in so much effort to make it full of the joy and happiness it was meant for. It didn’t mean he hadn’t subconsciously stuck his hand in his pocket to where he kept a lighter. Just to feel that it was there, of course.

“Is it okay if we do it later tonight?” he asked. “I just have a quick meeting with my producer and a couple other things afterward to do. And I can pick up some incense while I’m out.”

“Great plan!” Ray exclaimed. He didn’t elaborate, but Bobby could guess that all the eye contact with Rose meant something he needed no part in. He got up from the table and grabbed another cupcake for the road.

“Say we meet back at, like, eight or nine?” he asked, grabbing his leather jacket and keys.

Rose looked up from being halfway embraced with Ray, barely paying attention. “Sounds perfect!”

********

“So, after talking with Jedd we decided we wanna cut out the second repeat of the chorus in Long Weekend. It makes it easier to put into radio time.”

Bobby stared at Callum, his producer, in disbelief.

“But we can just do a radio edit, then, why cut it off the album track?”

Callum blinked condescendingly.

“You think you’re just going to get radio edits out like that before you have an album out, kid?”

“Have you listened to it?” Bobby challenged. “That album is gonna shoot through the charts and I know you know that.”

“Tch,” Callum acted like he’d been shot by a Nerf gun. “That’s a bold statement from a guy who didn’t write these songs.”

A fireball seemed to form inside his chest, and Bobby wished he could open his mouth and shoot it toward the man. He clenched his teeth.

“You signed the deal, you recorded these songs, and you are getting this opportunity from us. We - need I say this - are professionals. Trust me, I’ve dealt with music written by dead people before. You’ll thank me in a few years.”

He was trembling to keep the fireball from burning down the entire room, and clenched his fists. Focusing on a stupid paisley design on the carpet, he avoided eye contact with Callum. There was no way he was letting Luke’s songs go any different than what they had played together for so many years. He had read the contract well enough, hadn’t he? It was hard enough not crediting the rest of them, but it was honor Luke with letting his music connect to people or honor Luke by letting him keep his songs to the few who heard them from the source. Not to mention Alex and Reggie being equal parts in that equation.

“Fine,” he forced out. “Make the cut. See how it does. I’ll bet you that when I make a remaster in twenty years with greater freedoms because I’m a respected artist, fans will ask why you cut it to begin with. I’ve got better people to see than you right now.”

He only saw Callum shaking his head out of the corner of his eye as he pushed through the door of the studio, flipping the bird behind him. It would’ve been nice to simply say over my dead body, but he was already bulldozing over his three best friends and it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he could walk along the street, get into his car, and drive off in a huff. Not fair that he could go to the abandoned grocery store parking lot and yell until his lungs were sore. It was absolutely inadequate that he remained on this earth, soul inside his body, light in his eyes, breath and blood and bones and all. He screamed in that parking lot until he was dizzy.

Bobby laid in his seat, exhausted, until twilight approached, and then started the engine again. The route was so well-known now that he knew exactly when the lights turned so he never had to make a stop. He came to the right stop and parked on the shoulder, looking wistfully out the window.

So far, he hadn’t managed to set foot on the grounds again after the funerals had passed. Still, he came and made sure his line of sight at the closest angle to get a proper look at them. They were all in a row, even though only two stood vertically. Reggie’s parents had cremated him and only gotten a stone plaque that acted as a placeholder while they kept his urn with them at home. It was nice of them to at least contribute to keep the three together.

Today still wasn’t the day he was going to venture closer to them. Bobby wasn’t going to handle it well after the conversation he’d just left. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket and flicked it off and on. It hadn’t really been a habit he had before, but there was something weirdly comforting about it. For something that couldn’t think, it really understood him. He didn’t want to use it on anything, he just wanted to watch it exist before disappearing. The fire was them. But he could control it.

Taking in a deep breath, he went to get some incense.

********

Mats were spread in the backyard with tiki torches and a camping lantern in the center, more paper lanterns hanging from the tree above. Bobby had gotten a nice incense burner a few weeks back and was excited to put it on display. Ray was in his swim shorts, already seated with his legs crossed and repeatedly going “oommmm” and breaking it with giggles when Rose swatted at him playfully.

“We’re not doing that kind, tontoroso,” she teased.

“Pero me quiero - ah!” Ray cried as she accidentally thumped him with the boombox she’d been carrying out.

“Oh, lo siento mi amor, me desculpes!” she cried, setting it down to address the minor bump now forming on his head.

Bobby sat patiently as they babbled for a moment ensuring that Ray wasn’t harmed too much, smirking a little. He didn’t really mind being the third wheel on his own birthday - it helped take away from some of the guilt.

“Okay!” Rose said finally, standing and adjusting the bottom of her tank top. “I think we should try the Meditation Sunrise, so it will guide us through every motion and we don’t have to think.”

“Agreed,” Bobby nodded, with Ray doing the same. “The less thinking the better.”

Rose pressed play on the first track as all three of them sat in their assumed meditative positions with their eyes shut. Calm, synthesized music floated out of the speakers of the boombox, with light chimes twinkling here and there.

“Welcome to Meditation Sunrise. This first exercise is to help you free yourself from resentments and embrace forgiveness. Listen to my words. Focus on my voice and soon you will be free of anything that stirs up anger. This can be anger toward another person, anger toward a higher being, or even anger toward yourself…”

Bobby felt his heartbeat increasing and strained to keep his eyes closed. He tried to sit up straighter so that he could breathe in even deeper. He could hear Ray and Rose exhaling, sounding so calm and relaxed, and let out his own breath hoping it came out the same way.

“Forgive faults. Resentment comes from Latin, meaning ‘to feel again’. We all have these feelings, and they all visit us from time to time. Sometimes we hold onto things in the past that have caused harm. These things were painful. Letting these feelings continually visit us repeats that pain. In this exercise we are here to let it go…”

Taking a careful peek through his eyelashes, Bobby checked to see what Rose and Ray looked like. They sat close together, holding hands with the remaining ones shaped in circles. Rose had her head tilted back, so free and open to the sky, so light from the weight that wasn’t sitting on her chest. The flames from the tiki torches flickered and Bobby squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t focus on them instead.

“Now we are going to envision that we have a shovel in our hands. We’re going to dig. Get that shovel deep into the rich soil and lift it up. Set the soil to the side. Smell the fresh, upturned earth. If you want to, you can kneel down and take some into your hands. Let the soft, rich earth be cool to the touch. Let it calm you.

“Imagine you are digging in a garden and planting a seed. It’s a seed of happiness. It’s small right now, but will grow as we continue through our meditation. We just need to go a little deeper into the ground…”

Bobby’s mind was transported back to the cemetery he’d visited earlier. It travelled all the way to the funerals - open ground, lowering cheap wooden boxes. His hand filled with a small amount of dirt.

“Stop,” he muttered, eyes remaining closed. Rose and Ray were still entranced.

“Stop, stop, turn it off, I can’t -” He felt his breathing get uneven, and Rose was already in front of him, cradling his face and wiping away tears that he didn’t realize had escaped. He jerked away from her touch. Ray rushed to stop the playback on the CD.

All he felt was heat rising everywhere. In his veins, all over his skin, the fireball growing like a small sun in his chest, and apparently tears could be hot, too. There was too much rage building up inside. Bobby let out a frustrated cry and kicked over the incense burner, the camping lantern doing down with it. Turning, he almost hit a paper lantern and he whacked it off the tree as he headed back inside the house.

Rose caught up to him and frantically tried to block his path.

“Bobby, I sincerely apologize, I did not know it was going to be like that,” she placated. He paused as she stood before him, pleading. “If you need me to, I can get you a different present, I just wanted to do this because you had seemed interested and thought we would have a fun night together - Bobby, I am so sorry!”

Looking back at her, he sighed heavily and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to get me anything else,” he told her solemnly.

Ray had joined them and put an arm around each of them. A twinge of reminder came to Bobby as he recalled Luke doing the same thing for him. But coming from Ray, it still had the warmth and love connected to it that he needed. He looked between the two of them.

“That was a bust,” he said. They all chuckled a little, albeit with heavy hearts. “But having you guys still made it a good birthday.”

His friends both muttered an “aw” and they came together in a group hug. Bobby sighed as they both squeezed him so tightly before breaking away.

“So what do we wanna do, then?” he asked.

“We could watch Wayne’s World,” Ray suggested.

“Baby,” Rose objected, giving him a look.

“What?” he lifted his hands defensively. “I could make a dip, we could grab some tortilla chips, you know I love dips.”

“But Bob -”

“No, I like that idea,” Bobby interrupted. “Ray makes some good dip, I’ll give him that. I think we can hold off on the meditation for now. Wayne’s World it is.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #bobby #bobby wilson #fanfic #happy birthday bobby #birthday celebration #tw: death #tw: anxiety #tw: ptsd #tw: funeral #tw: survivor's guilt

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brooklynboysficrecs · 4 years

Text

Ria’s Top 10 Shrinkyclinks Fics

I will admit this isn’t my preferred AU -- I won’t immediately jump on a fic just because it’s pre-serum Steve and WS Bucky. I gotta like the plot, or the premise, or be really, really intrigued by the tags, but to be fair, that’s how I am with everything that isn’t Modern Bucky and Cap Steve, so. That being said, I have read some truly fantastic shrinkyclinks stories, and I do very much love Steven “Fight Me” Rogers at his scrappiest. And these fics also tend to feature protective!Bucky which is another personal favorite of mine. Oh, but also: shrinkyclinks generally refers to pre-serum Steve with actual Winter Soldier Bucky, but a lot of people use the tag just to imply body types, and when they say WS Bucky they mean he’s all huge and muscled and sometimes has a metal arm, though that isn’t required. That’s the definition I’m going with as well, so hopefully nothing’s confusing!

1. If Wishing Made It So by leveragehunters. Before I get into anything about the actual fic, let me say this: leveragehunters is probably my favorite stucky writer. Like, hands-down, I read almost everything they write, and they’re big into fantasy stories, which is a great bonus for me personally. So, so, so many good shrinkyclinks fics by them (Even Underneath the Waves, a mermaid AU that features equal amounts of pre- and post-serum Steve, and A-mage-ing Grace with mage Steve are two of my other favorites, and they would’ve been on the list, but I try not to put more than one story per author, ya know? And IWMIS kinda wins out above the others for me, so). This story features jinn!Bucky who finds himself in the baffled hands of Steve Rogers, who is perfectly prickly and stubborn and good. Bucky’s got a terrible past with humans in general (and Hydra in particular, what a shocker) that he and Steve have to overcome as their relationship progresses, but that progression is frankly beautiful to watch unfold. I come back to this story time and time again because of how much I love these versions of Steve and Bucky getting to know one another, learning to trust each other, supporting each other through the worst the world has to throw at them. Plus, there’s a few more stories in this series if you get as hooked as I am, which is always great!!

2. Roots Have Grown by AustinB. I remember reading this and just... completely feeling what Bucky is going through. Not everything -- he’s an agoraphobic veteran, and I can’t relate to either of those, really, but he’s so... awkward about his crush on Steve. And that’s -- that’s relatable to me. But it’s precious, really, how he tries to help Steve even though he’s afraid to actually meet him initially; he becomes Steve’s sort of... anonymous benefactor? Guardian angel with money? Like, it’s definitely a sugar daddy type deal originally but I doubt Bucky would describe it like that. I don’t know, it’s cute, though, and I loved seeing Bucky opening up to Steve as they became closer.

3. Through The Woods by VenusMonstrosa, alby_mangroves. Okay, hear me out: werewolves. I fucking love werewolves in fiction; I mean, not really the romance novels you’ll see in the grocery store, but. Werewolf mythology is one of my favorite things, so seeing it in fanfiction almost always manages to lure me in. And I was so not disappointed with this story! Steve’s living alone in a cabin in the woods, which of course sounds like the opening to a horror movie, but here it leads to love. Werewolf Bucky is both charming and terrifying, to a degree, he’s a wolf, but he and Steve are fantastic together. This is another story that goes in on the trust aspect of their relationship and I for one am a big fan of that. There’s some violence, minor character death and the like, but it’s definitely not undeserved so. If you can handle that (and the sex, because there is sex in this) then I highly recommend this one!

4. The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat. And so we move from werewolves to dragons. Yup. Dragons. Another of my beloved mythical creatures that I obsessed over when I was kid. Bucky’s capable of shifting into a human in this, but primarily he’s a big ol’ dragon that surprisingly doesn’t want to eat the scrawny sacrifice from the local village. Steve ends up working for Bucky, instead, and from there hilarity ensues. Steve’s obviously wary of Bucky, but Bucky isn’t at all what he’d been expecting, and they grow closer the longer Steve’s staying in Bucky’s caves. There are a couple of stories with Dragon!Bucky, but this is my personal favorite; it’s cute and heart-warming and, well. I just really like it.

5. I Just Want to Love You in My Own Language by agetwellcard, inediblesushi. So this one has Cap!Bucky (Bucky!Cap?) but again, sometimes it’s more about how Bucky looks rather than his role as the Winter Soldier. Anyway, I remember my biggest take away from this story was how adorable Bucky was in his quest to win the affections of sassy Nurse Steve, who patches him up after missions and is probably playing hard to get. Bucky uses terrible pick-up lines, absolutely awful, and he is completely unashamed of that fact. Which is, as I said, adorable. Steve, initially, does not agree with my assessment, but he gets there eventually. After some requisite drama, of course.

6. Tint & Shade by forestofbabel. Oh, god, this one hurt me, I remember that pretty clearly. Bucky is the Winter Soldier in this, and Steve is a 21st century art therapist who just so happens to resemble his late grandfather, Captain Joseph Rogers, who fought in -- you guessed it -- WWII. Like I said in the intro, if I really like the premise of something I’ll usually read it regardless of the configuration of pre-/post-serum Steve and pre-serum/WS Bucky, and this was definitely one of the fics I got into for that reason. Having actual WS Bucky interact with a modern pre-serum Steve is always interesting, given how much they don’t have in common, generally (there isn’t even really the veteran status that modern Bucky sometimes has in fics), and it’s a journey to see how and why they connect. Having Steve resemble his WWII era grandfather caught my attention, and the fic itself made me grateful that I decided to go for it in the first place. This is another one where is trust is key to their relationship, considering the mental/emotional state Bucky is in at the beginning. Very good story overall!

7. Fourth Floor by dirtybinary, mithborien, picoalloe. So dirtybinary has written some amazing stucky fics, which is why I was so excited when I saw this being posted initially (a few years ago, but still). There’s magic! Mystery! Suspense! Some NatSharon! Looking this over, I’m wondering if I should’ve saved it for the Urban Fantasy list I wanna do (and If Wishing Made It So, if I’m being honest) but I do like it for the shrinkyclinks list. The writing is great, the characterization of Steve and Bucky is great, and like, they live in what is essentially a magical apartment complex, so what’s better than that?

8. my heart tells me you are lonely, too by FanGirling. Alright, so I read this one as it was being published, and the slow burn about killed me. You know, in a good way, though. Bucky lives in Steve and his mother’s apartment building, trying to figure out where to go with his life now that he’s broken free of Hydra and gotten his autonomy back. He’s obviously wary, skittish, but he takes a liking to Sarah Rogers when she reaches out to befriend him, surprised anyone wants to be near him let alone take the time to get to know him. Steve... is not so easily sold on Bucky. And I’m not gonna spoil anything here, but the shit these two go through is intense, and I cried a lot during this fic, sometimes out of frustration because they’re both ridiculous about their feelings (of course Bucky’s fears are valid, the man has been through literal hell, but also I was internally screaming a little as Bucky continually talked himself out of getting closer to Steve.) I wanted to wrap the both of them in about thirty blankets for pretty much the entire length of the fic. God. They’re just -- they’re so incredibly sweet in this one, once they work past their issues (Bucky and Steve are both more than a little messed up from their respective circumstances, but they make it work). Mind the tags on this one, also, especially because there is a chapter that deals with attempted sexual assault against Steve (obviously not with Bucky!), but Bucky handles the situation before anything truly nasty happens, that I can promise.

9. Local Raccoon Befriends Angry Chihuahua by charlesdk. This is yet another author I really love; they have a fantastic farmer!Steve/Modern!WS!Bucky story that I love to bits, as well as other great fics. But anyway, this one. The title sold me the second I saw it, honestly, I can’t even pretend that wasn’t the deciding factor in me reading this. I don’t think I can really do any better than the summary in explaining why I recommend it; feisty tiny Steve and lovestruck grumpy Bucky are a winning combination in my book. This one does feature the boys dealing with homophobia and ableism, though I can’t recall how severe it is. So I’d just mind the tags, and if you’re alright with them, thoroughly enjoy this story.

10. The Road to Hell is Paved with Tony’s Good Intentions by pinlilli. Bucky as a mail-order Russian bride. That’s the detail that pretty much demanded I click on this fic, and oh my god, it was even better than I ever could’ve expected. Tony, in a bid to help Steve get over his awful ex-boyfriend (fuck Brock Rumlow in every universe, honestly), literally orders him a husband -- in the form of beefy James Barnes, who is a fucking gem and I will not hear one bad word against him. He does chores, it’s lovely and adorable, and you will definitely fall just as hard as Steve does. There’s some canon-typical violence in this one that relates to James’ past, but nothing super graphic as far as I remember. Again, Rumlow is a dick and should be treated as such, but he’s hardly the most important part of this fic and I urge everyone to take a look at it if they’re as intrigued by Bucky being a mail-order husband as I was.

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #chris evans #sebastian stan #fic rec #shrinkyclinks #top 10

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soberyinragingyang · 4 years

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s m i t h e r s (for the ask thing)

favorite thing about them

I guess the fact that he’s just... refreshing. You don’t see many characters like him, you know? Everything about him is opposable. Evil but still incredibly sincere, an everyman but with a rich, emotional personality. Submissive and syncophantic, but... by choice!

Even his sexuality, like it’s very clear that he’s gay, yet at the same time it’s pretty easy to forget about it. And I like that he’s closeted, too, I think writers tend to forget how relatable that is to queer people and not something to be glossed over (like a certain episode did... *bitter*)

least favorite thing about them

Disregarding his flanderization, I would say my least favorite thing about him is

Uhm... well there’s nothing about him I don’t like, but I do wish he wasn’t... idk, it’s not wasted potential, because this character is a legend, but I wish they’d done even more with him. I wish we’d get a spin-off by the old writers (or a new team of people who care) of him and Burns. It’d be a romcom adventure with elements of mystery ✨ I take no criticism

favorite line

Literally everything he says is gold... “No, sir. Who would you like killed?” being one of my favorites just bc it’s so absurd and his face when he says it.

Pictured ^, the face of a man ready to kill/get someone to kill.

But my all-time favorite has to be “I’ll show you how to use a phone, you boob!” because A: I’m sure he picked up ‘boob’ as an insult from Burns’ vocabulary, which is hilarious. B: He then proceeds to bang the phone into Homer’s head C: this is then followed by “It’s for you.”

brOTP

Him and Marge ❤️ I’m glad some writer had the vision to point out they’d make a good pair of friends and I really like to think about their relationship evolving, especially considering Marge has a bit of a crush on him (which is like... good taste). I also think it makes his dynamic with the other characters really interesting.

i.e he hates Homer but that’s his best friend’s wife, I can imagine him saddling Homer up with the worst duties just bc Marge told Smits about a fight they had, during tea the day before, haha.

And then there’s the fact that Burns is attracted to Marge (again, good taste) I feel like he’d be impressed by Smithers’ capability of forming a relationship with her, although he’d completely miss the point of it being purely platonic. I feel like to him, a man and a woman can be friends as much as two men can be lovers: not!

OTP

Burnsmithers!! (duh) I thought it was the best when I watched the show as kid and that opinion’s only been revived today haha. Don’t really have much more to say about this I haven’t already said except that there’s so. much. to. draw. and the amount of fics I have in the works, goshdang. I’m so in love. I apologize once more to everyone for being so bad at finishing things and putting them out there :<

nOTP

Uhm... none? I’m not really a nOTP kinda person except for the stuff that creeps me out, but I can’t really think of a pairing with Smits that makes me does that. So yeah, nah, shipping galore.

random headcanon

He got his first Malibu Stacy at the age of 15 with money from a parttime job (aka his own money, not his allowance) just to say ‘fuck you’ to his parents for not letting him have one as a kid. He wasn’t even interested in playing with it anymore, but it still made him feel like he was taking pride in an aspect of himself that others have condemned him for. A fascination commences...

unpopular opinion

I feel like I have many unpopular opinions about Waylon lol... the one that’s most important to me, I guess, is that he’s not a cinnamon roll!! I know he’s friendly and cute and sweet but... he’s not a good guy haha.

And what matters is that he enjoys not being a good guy. I know that’s less apparent in the newer seasons where it seems he’s only along for the ride on Burnsie’s schemes, but I really feel like he’s the kind of guy to actually take pleasure in corruption, malcontent and stepping on others from time to time.

And this relates to his dynamic with Monty as well. He doesn’t like Monty despite him being evil, he likes him because he’s evil. He doesn’t want to ‘fix’ him or whatever, I’m sure he sees some humanity and warmth in him but goodness? Benevolence? Nah.

He’s clearly been shown to try and gently steer Burns away from carrrying out any plans that are borderline twisting-mustache-villain evil (i.e taking candy from a baby, stuff that’s just not attractive anymore), but that’s it.

song i associate with them

‘Two’ by Sleeping at Last. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory but man, do I love a song that fits with the kind of character that would throw themselves into peril if it meant anything at all to their loved one, no matter what.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrDzd4ufypE

favorite picture of them

That’s a hard one cause he’s always my favorite thing in every frame ever, especially when he’s wearing that incredible dress shirt + sweater combo

Like boye does he look good in casual wear...

HOWEVER I’m afraid I’ll have to go with The Classic on this one

Bc malicious Smithers is best Smithers

#Anonymous #answered #WOW this turned into an essay and also answered like... 2 weeks later?#thanks for asking about my boy I could go on about him for days #abt

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Something Just Like This, Chapter One (Trixya) - Calliope

a/n: hello hello hello, this is cal, the writer of cirque d'amour and I'm back back back again! (with a slightly different pseudonym)

this fic will be the slowest of slow burns if y'all can handle that, with the beloved friends to lovers trope; however, that friendship will always be a little blurred...

I'm actually quite nervous to post this! I do hope you enjoy it.

*TW: MILD MENTIONS OF UNDEREATING/OVEREXERCISING

---

Trixie is sweating.

Trixie isn't quite used to the sensation - the fire on her skin, the rush of blood throughout her veins, the protest of every single sinew - and to be beetroot red in front of a wealth of fit strangers.

Trixie could hardly care, though; her mind was in a thick fog. She'd force-fed her thick thighs into some loose leggings, had pulled a baggy t-shirt over her head, and lost herself in arguably the healthiest form of self-punishment. Trixie was by no stretch interested in becoming a gym bunny - but today, she needed the release.

Trixie cranked the height of her treadmill up higher, feeling her muscles screaming in protest. She ignored their pleas, puffing out laboured breaths as she increased her speed. Her neighbours, all buff and beautiful, paid her no attention, and that is exactly what Trixie needed - to be ignored, whilst she punished herself.

Her music was cranked up as loud as her broken iPhone would allow, and she pitifully replayed Ed Sheeran on a loop as she climbed. Every time her mind dare wander to the forbidden fruit she had just tasted, she would stubbornly shut her thoughts down.

Trixie was not a home-wrecker. Not, of course, on purpose, anyway.

But despite telling herself on a loop that this was the truth, Trixie couldn't help but feel like she was, at the very least, being white-lied to.

A bead of sweat trickled from Trixie's pounding temple, which she quickly dashed away with a feeble hand. Her insides felt weak, and she couldn't quite decide whether that was from lack of food and forced exercise, or because she couldn't help but think about what happened only two days before.

***

4 years earlier

K: hi :)

Oh for the love of all things, what am I doing?

Trixie rubbed a weary hand across her face, pressing sharply into the cheeks that poked out from under her skin. Her phone vibrated a second time, a new message waking her phone from its momentary sleep.

Trixie glared at it as though it was betraying her, and she silently turned her phone face-down against her desk.

Trixie had joined a dating site. A dating site named Brenda, no less. She uploaded her cutest photos; where her tiny cat Kim were pressed against her cheeks, or the one where she were her skinniest; make-up painted and hair in perfect ringlets.

This was not her current reality, though: Kim had stubbornly ignored her all night, probably judging her every move, and Trixie had gained a little weight. It was okay, though, because who wanted to date someone who had their spine on show? Damn, fuck. Be friends with . Not date.

The thing is, Trixie wasn't looking for love.

A third buzz from her dormant phone jumped Trixie from her fervent haze, and she snatched it into clawed hands.

Pearl: I can't come this weekend - gotta work. sorry

Trixie's baited breath shuddered from her lips, the familiar feeling of upset creeping at her insides. This was the very first message she'd received from her long-distance girlfriend all day, and hardly a pleasant one at that.

Trixie lay her phone flat against the desk where she was perched, and drew her legs up onto her computer chair. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, her chin resting somberly against the soft fabric of her Disney pj's that were littered with tiny grey thumpers.

No, Trixie wasn't looking for love. Her heart was occupied; occupied by someone far away, someone who had stolen her heart at a time she thought she needn't have one. Someone who was now so distant, not only in a physical sense, but miles apart emotionally.

Trixie couldn't understand it. Her and Pearl were a match made in heaven; even their astrological signs had aligned, making Trixie think that the very stars wrote out their love in ageless constellations. Pearl would smoke a short blunt, her arm wrapped tentatively around Trixie's small shoulders, and they'd play old runs of GTA on her dusty PlayStation 2. Pearl would cook beautiful dinners for her, vegetarian of course, and let her watch reruns of Barbie's Dream House, despite her disdain for its childish backdrop. Pearl would fuck Trixie into oblivion, tending carefully to all of her kinks and indulging full-heartedly into every single fantasy that Trixie had ever had.

Would. Pearl would do these things. But not anymore.

Trixie carefully plucked her phone back up, turning it over in her hands for a few hesitant moments before finally unlocking it.

T: hey :)

Trixie felt a prickle of guilt gnaw away at her bones as she pressed a thumb to the "send" button on the Brenda messenger. No, she thought. I am doing nothing wrong. I'm just making friends.

She turned her attention to the pitiful thread of texts from Pearl.

Trixie: okay… I could come to you? I don't mind hanging out at your flat while you work.

Trixie knew that Pearl's reply may not come for hours, days even. She heaved a shuddering sigh, forcing herself to her slippered feet in search of her grumpy cat.

Her phone buzzed against the thick of her thigh from her pocket, and she snatched it up immediately, hoping desperately for Pearl's response.

No, it was the girl from Brenda.

K: how are you doing? I'm not very good at this malarkey, but you seem cute, so… here I am

Trixie snickered slightly, deciding to inspect this person further.

She thumbed at her profile picture to get a closer look - she was butch, but softly so, with dirty blonde hair that was religiously scraped back throughout all of her profile photos. She seemed cute, though, Trixie thought. She had piercing green eyes and Trixie swore she could spy a chiselled abdomen beneath her plain t-shirts.

T: thank you, that's sweet! you seem cute too, is that a guitar I spy in one of your photos?

Trixie knew this game she was playing was inherently dangerous. She knew that she was projecting dissatisfaction from her current relationship, and seeking some form of, well, anything , from anyone . Still, she couldn't help but feel a thrill when a second message - from a different girl, no less - brightened her dormant screen. Another butch, with thick, jet-black hair, and piercings on her lip, offending her with the opening line of "hey there ;)".

Still, this fruitless back and forth with cute, eager bachelors certainly beat her usual evenings of misery; overeating, overthinking, and waiting for a call from Pearl that would never come.

"What's up?"

Trixie nearly flung her phone from her palms with fright, her hair whipping her pink cheeks as she spun on her heels to greet the intruder, fist raised with a warning.

Of course, it was only her roommate, Blair - a boy who, despite creeping past the age of 20, looked like he belonged in a primary school. His deer-like legs stretched below him, and in his tiny arms lay a bag of what could only be Chinese takeout.

His sculpted eyebrows raised in wonderment at his roommate's defensive stance. "Trix, hun - - - are you alright?"

Slowly, deliberately, Trixie lowered her raised fist, choking back a fit of laughter. "Jesus, fuck, Blair. You scared the living daylights out of me."

Blair carefully laid the takeaway bag onto the dining room table. "I was singing as I came in. How did you not hear that?"

Trixie audibly groaned. "Show tunes?"

Blair grinned, all teeth. "What else?"

"What did you bring me?" Trixie asked, trotting excitedly over to the dining room table towards the source of the delicious smell.

"Sweet and sour tofu," he shrugged, heading for the kitchen to retrieve some cutlery. "I figured you could use some cheering up."

Trixie could've kissed him right there and then. "You are the best housemate ever."

"I know!" Blair sing-songed in response from the kitchen, the tell-tale sound of clattering telling Trixie he was picking out plates. Trixie thought for a moment.

"Wanna watch Chicago?" she called out, already knowing the answer.

Blair's boyish face appeared in the doorway at once, his cheeks flushed red and his bright blue eyes wide. "Of fucking course! "

Trixie chuckled. Blair was the pinnacle of the gay stereotype, she thought, listening to her friend hum along to an 80's power ballad she had forgotten the name of.

Trixie was in such high spirits that she almost forgot the back-and-forth she was having on Brenda, and the reason for it. That was, until part-way through the film, and a mouthful of crispy tofu, her phone buzzed angrily against the countertop.

Both Blair and Trixie startled, and Blair's carton of seaweed went flying across the room, littering the hardwood floor with tiny, crispy sprigs.

"Fuck sake!" Blair exclaimed, throwing his hands up and staring with dismay at the mess.

Trixie shot him an apologetic glance, before throwing herself at the vibrating phone.

Pearl.

"H-hey, baby!" Trixie babbled into the mouthpiece, clutching the phone as if it were a precious gemstone. Blair rolled his eyes to the heavens with great exaggeration, and Trixie promptly gave him the finger.

"Hey," Pearl's voice, deep and soft and laced with sleepiness, was like music to Trixie's ears. The mounting unread messages from Brenda now evaporated into nothingness.

"How are you doing, I---" Trixie stumbled around the coffee table in her haste to reach her bedroom, the spilled seawood crunching beneath her bare feet. Mouthing another "I'm sorry" at Blair, Trixie managed to reach her bedroom, and collapsed onto her bed, clinging the phone to her ear with desperation. A smile crept against her dainty lips. "How are you?"

"Tired," Pearl muttered, though Trixie could hear the smile in her voice. Trixie's heart fluttered.

"All done in the studio?"

"Just about," Pearl mumbled boredly. Trixie's heart sank at the pause that followed; hollow and vast.

"Listen," Pearl's voice was slightly muffled, and Trixie knew immediately that she was rolling a cigarette between her perfect teeth. "I got your message, and I appreciate the offer, but I'm doing overtime at the bar. There'd be no point in you coming down this weekend. By the time I get back home, it's late, and then I'm back in at 10 in the morning."

Trixie nodded somberly, feeling utterly stupid for allowing herself to feel a flicker of hope that she might see Pearl this week. Or this month.

"Trixie? You there?"

"O-oh! Y-yes, I'm here…"

"Oh, come on, Blondie," Pearl's words were blown out in exasperation, and Trixie could visualise the tendrils of smoke rising from her nostrils like a dragon as she smoked. Trixie wasn't sure why Pearl had christened her with the nickname "blondie", when she herself was also a pale, silver-blonde. "Don't give me that sad, sad voice. You know I have to work."

Trixie could feel pricks of upset choking up her throat at the bemused tone from her girlfriend. She shook herself slightly, forcing a shaky smile despite it not being visable. "No, no, of course. I get it, it's fine. What about a call? A video chat?"

Pearl hummed against the cigarette in her mouth, and Trixie knew at once that she was to be further let down. "Probably not, babe. I'll be tired. I have music to make."

Trixie nodded again against the handset. At least, she thought with a tiny glup, at least Pearl had called tonight.

"Well---" Pearl blew out smoke again, and Trixie swore she could taste it. "I need to go… love ya."

The call went dead in her hands, but Trixie still cradled the phone to her ear, as if in doing so would bring Pearl's voice back. She thought bitterly about how they used to spend hours on that very phone, talking about everything and nothing at all. Trixie continued to listen to the tone of the terminated call, and she couldn't help but think it sounded like a flatlining heart.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #pearl liaison #blair st clair #slow burn #fluff #angst #pining #friends to lovers #cheating #eventual smut #something just like this #calliope #tw mention of under-eating/over-exercising

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Director’s Cut 1: Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody

“I find it difficult to find any redeeming qualities in this character. He is a person with spot on DSM antisocial personality disorder, with sociopathic traits and without the charming facade. But the mental health professional in me also sees him as neurodiverse, on the spectrum. At any rate, I can’t find any allure or menacing sexuality in him. How did you find redeeming qualities within Pope? And how the heck did you come up with a female OC who can interpret his cues and find warmth and attraction from him? I enjoy your fics about him, others I’ve read have basically torture porn.”

Wow, okay, Andrew. You’ve picked a really interesting one here. So, lets start with some background... Which I will try to condense as much as possible.

Also, for ease of talking, I’m going to give our Reader back her OC name and therefore when I refer to ‘Elaiyna’ that’s your reader character! 😁 Background I was never meant to write for Andrew Cody from the movie. My first watch of the movie left me cold and, to be honest I still find it very difficult to watch even now. (The movie is great for sure, but it’s not one I rewatch often.) Without a long explanation as to ‘why’, I watched the movie so that I could watch the US TV show version of Animal Kingdom. Which I highly recommend!

Where as Movie!Andrew I couldn’t get into at all, Show!Andrew I fell in love with. It took me one episode to come up with my OC and a decent story line. Although I never actually wrote it out I had many plot points saved on a document for how Andrew/Elaiyna’s relationship would play out. So really, you have Shawn Hatosy to thank-!

Who, super side note, deserves an Emmy for this. And also can someone please get him and Ben in an interview to talk about Andrew - I will beg!

When I decided to start writing and posting for Andrew here (considering I had the plot points and we were taking the Mendos as far as we could) - I essentially wrote a mix of Show!Andrew and Movie!Andrew. Honestly tipped in favour of the show. But very recently I’ve tried to write much more for Movie!Andrew as I’m 99.9% sure that’s who everyone reading my work is reading for anyway!

How did you find redeeming qualities within Pope?

The only real answer is Show!Andrew. I love him so much, and they explore a lot with his character - as they of course have time to, that a 1hr30 movie doesn’t - so it’s very easy to find redeeming qualities in a character that’s at a very different stage to his movie counterpart (and yet is still the same character and recognisable as the same character... Show!Andrew is the build up to the man we get in the movie, if you will.). Show!Andrew has that same... creepy/awkward vibe, but also has a lot of sweet, decent human being moments that give you his more redeeming qualities (without spoiling anything major his relationship with Lena, Baz’s daughter, is a good example).

But also I view Andrew in the movie very differently to the way that I believe most people do. Movie Andrew doesn’t scare me. Sure, he does scary things, but to me he just comes across as very awkward. Like, he knows what a situation calls for and kinda adapts to that - or he says things because he’s like “That’s what people say in this situation right?” at least that’s how I interpret him. No matter how incorrect that is. Like there’s no social queues in his character, he doesn’t really fit into those kinds of situations (or function well!) but he observes everything. So he knows that “If X happens, say/do Y. Because that’s what people do.” regardless of his own “feelings” etc. I don’t think he has emotional intelligence and there’s a definite disconnect between think and feel and... I guess instinct? That ‘primal brain’ thing.

I mean I know it’s interpretation but that scene where he carries Nicky to bed and then like strokes her hair back and then tells Jay “She’s beautiful.” Doesn’t give me any other vibe other than Andrew having observed this and his brain going ‘Oh, yeah, Andrew - then compliment her to her boyfriend. That’s a thing people do.’ Just the way my brain works I guess.

The obvious follow up question would be “Okay, so you love him in the show. But you write for him in the movie. So... you gotta have something redeeming there right? Now you’re leaving Show!Andrew on a shelf? Correct - I kinda feel like Andrew has at least some ‘relationships’ to which he actually feels something. Which is why I’m reluctant to place the “Psychopath” tag on him. Look at his relationship with Baz for instance (honestly, that supermarket scene is my very favourite.) - I just get this “friends” vibe. Like real friends, maybe even best friends. Andrew cares enough about him to want vengeance (I’m not down for thinking this is just him wanting to be a criminal I genuinely think this is a reaction to losing his best friend - and arguably his stability.) And I mean, he cares about his family. Even if not in the traditional ‘sense’ of caring.

I also want to give a quick shout out to @mandy23b - as Andrew is her favourite, and conversations with her on how she views him really help me shape Andrew in my head. For example she has a lot of headcanons about how he grew up (eg: potential physical abuse) that I am happy to adopt. So, my own personal headcanons / adopted head canons about him also help to make him redeemable.

And how the heck did you come up with a female OC who can interpret his cues and find warmth and attraction from him?

Oh my gosh, Elaiyna. Okay, well aside from again her starting with Show!Andrew and me basically lifting their entire relationship and giving it to Movie!Andrew there’s a lot about her that I guess ‘prepares’ her for him.

First - they meet because the Cody’s case her car (...Ready For It?), assume she has a lot of money and try to rob her. She knows who he is before they form a relationship - the barrier of “oh by the way I’m a career criminal” is broken instantly. Second - Although she’s an only child her parents have fostered a lot of children over the years (More details in ‘Flaws’) and so she’s used to a lot of siblings and the bonds between siblings. Added to this it’s not hard to imagine that some of these foster children might have had neurodivergancies of their own and therefore she’s also used to people that act like Andrew does. Third - David ( ‘Flaws’ and ‘Last Habit’) her eldest foster sibling is a Police officer, and they have a close relationship. Figure she could learn a lot from him. Both on crime/criminals and then maybe neurodivergant criminals too. He’s bound to have at least some stories that might help her. Fourth - Not to make some kind of robot comparison for our Boi here but, she works in IT. She’s the CIO for her firm. Draw your own conclusions on relationships with something/one with basically zero emotional output.

I find your comments on other fics you’ve read very interesting. Because to me Andrew just isn’t sexual. (I might be in the minority, because other fic writers I’ve talked to tend to put him in ‘physical only’ / highly sexually charged relationships) He’s never read that way to me. ‘4 In the Morning’ is the first time I’ve thought to write something that is sexy for him. Although I have alluded to sexual elements of their relationship in other fics. Their relationship to me has always been on a quiet understanding level. He observes and learns about her and is fairly quiet about it. Elaiyna is more extroverted, but also observes and learns about him very quickly. So instead of PDA and verbal “I love you’s” they have this non-verbal communication that isn’t always physical either. Although touch sometimes plays into it. Because that just the kind of relationship that I see him in - sex is rare, and when it happens it’s not because of this big “I love you” romantic build up - it’s spontaneous. That part of his primal brain is kicked in and it’s like “Okay. We’re doing this now.” For his character I understand the “draw” to write something like that (even though, like I say, I don’t see him being interested.) but I’m just very much a romantic... 😅 So I want to write something Romantic even for a Mendo who you wouldn’t necessarily fit into a romantic role. Their story still has “romantic” tenancies. Like it’s a loving relationship it’s just a different kind of love. I don’t feel like he would necessarily know that he loves her, or even comprehend what ‘love’ is. But he knows he feels something for her that’s very different to how he feels about other people. Which is why when Elaiyna does say ‘I love you’ it’s not reciprocated with words - and rarely with actions. She knows he loves her, even if he doesn’t know it. Their relationship is very ‘quiet’ but she knows that’s just how he is - and he will show “affection” as he deems fit and appropriate to show it. Even if - again - it’s not a “typical” way of showing it. And when he wants affection himself it’s more, “I am hugging you now on MY terms. But in 5 seconds I will walk away as if nothing happened.” He is more often enough the one to initiate anything PDA and Elaiyna will wait for him to come to her. If her read on him is *just* right then she’ll initiate, but then there’s the consequences of getting it wrong and Andrew pushing her away... I definitely base a lot of the beginning of their relationship on them just finding each other fascinating. He’s completely different to any other man she’s ever met, and he’s never met someone so interested in him that doesn’t try to change him and/or however he treats her is met more with understanding than conflict.

I say I love all my OCs, of course I do. But Elaiyna is one I really had to think about building because of Andrew’s own personality. It had to make sense for her to be with someone like him - their relationship had to make sense and keep him (mostly) in character. So she needed to be able to interpret his cues, as you so nicely put it 😊 But I think I gave her the right tools to do this, and, with Show!Andrew she got the right base to jump from.

I know this is super long, but I hope it helps in your understanding of how I’ve built Andrew’s relationship with his S/O! 🙏 And more importantly answers the questions you have!

---

Thank you SO much for asking! If anyone else wants a Fanfic directors cut for any of my fics please ask! I would love to answer any questions! 🥰😘

#Andrew Cody #Andrew Pope Cody #Pope Cody #Animal Kingdom #Long Post #HOLY SHIIIIT L O N G post #Ask me more questions guys please!!!#I mean you're gonna get some super in depth Answers!#(Ralph Anderson to come!)

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ghoste-catte · 4 years

Note

Hi! For the meta asks, how about 4, 7, 22 and 24?

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

This was a hard one! Often when I go back to things I’ve written, I just pick them apart and can see where they’re weak. But anyway, here’s a bit from the (very short) fic about Gaara having to make the decision to send his sons off on a deadly mission, let me go.

“Please, just let me go with them,” Lee begs. His knuckles are white against the smooth sandstone of Gaara’s desk. He rarely begs for anything, anymore, accustomed to his tenure and status.

Gaara collapses a stack of papers in front of him. Each page clatters to the desk, bones being thrown for augury.

“Your squad is needed on the Eastern Front,” Gaara says coolly, but he won’t meet Lee’s eyes. “It would be a waste of resources to send two of our best close-range fighters to the same area.”

“Don’t talk to me about strategy right now!” Lee shouts, banging his fist on the desk. The surface rattles. The terra cotta pot of a cactus cracks, soil spilling across the forms. Gaara’s crowded office fills with the freshly dug grave scent of raw earth.

This is one of those few scenes that I feel still stands up to scrutiny after a long time away from it. I really like the imagery that’s in here, the looming death that sort of colors their whole conversation. I feel like there’s a lot of backstory that gets crammed into these few sentences, which is something I sometimes struggle with, going on long tangents about the lead-up to the fic rather than the current plot.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Hmm. I think I write a lot of visual description and do a fair amount of scene setting. I’m hard-of-hearing, so the visual description of places always resonates more with me. I often have to go back and deliberately add descriptions of background noises, because they’re not part of my general milieu. I forget, sometimes, that other people can hear (and hear well!) I think most of my stories are character-driven rather than plot-driven, so you get a lot of character movement and emotions without necessarily much happening. And I think my characterizations are a little unique, maybe slightly left of canon, especially for Lee because I feel like in Shippuden he didn’t get enough depth and became sort of a caricature of himself ... so I like to dive back into the depth of development we got about him in the original series. I have a fair few headcanons that always tend to sneak in, too. Like there being different ninja dialects and languages in the various villages, Lee’s first language not being the Shinobi common language (which is why he struggles with formality registers), Lee having very extensive residual scarring and chronic pain, and Gaara being a manlet (lol).

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

I do! I reread a lot, both my own fics and other people’s fics. It’s sort of a comfort thing, like I know exactly how this story goes and I know I enjoy it. I often re-read when I’m trying to fall asleep, it’s sort of a mental lullaby. I do also reread to catch typos and little nitpicky editing things, so I make minor edits to fics even months later. Plus, like, for the most part I write the stuff I want to read. I really got into writing GaaLee because I felt like a lot of the stories I wanted to read just ... didn’t exist for them, and I wanted to fill that void. That’s much less of a problem now with all the active fans, but I still remember back in the day where you had to basically pan for gold to find good content for them.

24. Would you say your writing has changed over time?

I think so? I haven’t really been actively writing for that long. I wrote some in middle school (my horrible, cringey self-insert LOTR fic is still up on ff.n), and a bit here and there in high school. I’ve gone back and read some of the stuff I wrote then and some of it is ... decent, but clearly really amateurish. Since I got back into actually really focusing on writing in 2019, though, I do think I’ve made some strides. I’ve definitely gotten a lot faster (it took me literal months to write the 18k of Hanakotoba, but I banged out the 33k of The Stolen Child in like 2 or 3 weeks), and a lot more confident ... I can write in more places than in my bedroom with the door closed, and I don’t blush and wince when I write out character names! I think I’ve been able to improve some of my pacing and phrasing, and I’ve been able to build more internal monologue into the characters, which enriches the character development. And I’ve gotten a lot more confident writing smut with my smut prompt fill project this year, which is a big plus for me! Hopefully next I’ll be able to start integrating the smut into fics with actual plot, instead of having my long plot fics completely separate from the PWPs.

Fun Meta Asks for Writers!

#ask meme #answered #lilac-writes

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whetstonefires · 4 years

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Same anon as Seph anon, thanks for answering my ask! Ahahaha I really did go a little wild with the chance to ask one of my favorite authors about one of my favorite characters... so, here's a more restrained version of that for another one of my faves I guess cause it's just a pleasure reading your responses. Tifa Lockhart. 4 (because i see her as kind of a person who'd be into the idea of romance?), 5, 14, 18, and 20.

Oh well hey again! Glad you liked the last one. Aww, thank you. 💗 Enthusiasm is always nice. More opinions by me, then! ^^

4. Best places to kiss on their body

Haha I agree Tifa’s a romantic in both the general and narrow senses but ooh, spicy. 😆 Hm.

I think Tifa would like kissed...just below the corner of her mouth, and on the insides of her forearms, and in her palms and knuckles because her hands are so much of her, and would be so easy to see as things that don’t need or deserve tenderness because of their power. And on her hip, at the outside hinge, just below where her belt rests in her main outfit.

5. Guilty pleasures

Unlike Sephiroth, Tifa does guilt a lot. She’s also a lot better than he ever was at pleasure. Both are highly contextual. They change.

More than once, it’s been Cloud. When she was fifteen and sick with feeling trapped in this dead-end town, her promise with that awkward boy next door who’d acquired a certain mystique through his standoffishness and big dream was a vehicle for fantasy that she’d have been mortified if anyone suspected.

When they were traveling the world and she knew something was wrong with him, with what he remembered, and she wasn’t saying anything because she was too afraid to find out what was wrong with who--she was still happy to have him there. Her person. Hers. Leaned into enjoying it more than she would have, if she hadn’t felt like it was going to be snatched away, somehow.

When she first lived in Midgar, it was pain, and blood on her knuckles. She went looking for fights, in those first months after she healed up from Masamune, and the slums had plenty on offer. She knew it was a waste of herself and her training, a stupid risk and a cruel choice, but it was the only thing that felt real.

That was how she first came to the Heaven--not as terrorist, or potential owner, or interviewing for a position as a barmaid. She was looking for a brawl.

In the days after Meteor, it was sweets. She’s always been active enough that indulging her sweet tooth only twinged her a little on an internalized-weight-bullshit scale, but when the main engine of industry had just been crushed and there were refugees on every side and she was spending most of her waking hours trying to mitigate the suffering in the aftermath...spending outsized chunks of her share of the enormous heap of gil the team had accrued traveling the world on getting A Whole Ice Cream all to herself felt more like a crime than half the people she’d beaten to death in her time, but it was one she went ahead and committed.

14. Ingrained habits/forces of habit

Tifa has many good and responsible habits. She does dishes promptly, without thinking twice. She does her kata every morning. She’s good at forming habits, and keeping them up.

She’s also good, of course, at habits she doesn’t want. Patterns of rumination that aren’t good for her. Habits of avoiding a subject or a problem that bothers her, until it’s a bigger problem than it started as simply for her habituated inability to confront it.

And if she doesn’t change contexts after she loses someone, it takes a long time for the habit of expecting them there to go away. She never quite stopped expecting to see Cloud when she was leading the team after the Northern Crater, and it took until after she’d spent a few days with him in Mideel to stop looking for Aerith.

18. Things they’ll never admit

They’re mostly silly or obvious, or both. She thought Sephiroth was cool and Zack was hot, when she was sixteen. She really did believe Cloud wasn’t real, for long enough to matter, even though it was Sephiroth who said it.

There’s one that isn’t. She tries to be sorry, for everyone and everything that was lost and broken in the road to ending the old world, and she can’t. It’s sad, and she wishes it hadn’t had to happen, and she’d never have done it, but she wouldn’t wish any of it undone, if it put Shinra back in power.

Even the people she loved. Her town, her Midgar friends, Aerith. She’s given her heart to the future, and she’ll let go of everything from the past if that’s what it takes to build something new. Nibelheim was a cage for her anyway, dear as it was and dearly as it loved her. It’s easier to leave behind than she thinks it should be, now that she isn’t alone in the emptiness of its destruction, or strangled with a hopeless need for vengeance.

She has Cloud left, from those days, and that’s enough to live on.

But she thinks even Barret would give it all up, everything they have now, just to have the massacre of Corel unmade. And maybe Cid or Reeve would agree with her, but she doesn’t want them to. So she’d never tell anybody.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

There’s a lot you could do with alternate-timeline Tifa but only three things that I’m persistently interested in.

First, she realizes she can leave town, too. Like...she clearly more than a little wanted to, and felt that she had to stay. Leaving town to seek your fortune and become a hero or whatever is only for boys. So she was living vicariously through Cloud, in canon.

The natural thing as a fic writer is for her to also try for SOLDIER, which I’ve seen done, though in character terms it’s a little less likely, assuming it’s even an option. I tend to assume Shinra only recruits men for active combat roles (which Turks technically are not even tho they actually are) because that’s what we’re shown, and while you can headcanon around that because of helmets and so on, I’ve never felt that ‘pretending the fascists aren’t as sexist as they seem’ was really a strike for women’s lib in transformative fandom? Shinra is not a positive environment. That’s a fact I’m happy to let stand.

They might make an exception if you were good enough, tho, and Tifa is very good.

Second scenario, Zangan doesn’t turn up at just the right moment to get her out of the reactor before Hojo swoops in, and she gets picked up with the rest of the survivors for the Sephiroth Copy Reunion Project. I started writing this one. It’s uh. Dark.

Third, she doesn’t wind up in Midgar. There’s suggestion in the game that Zangan brought her there to get treatment for her stab wound but it’s literally the other side of the Planet so I mostly ignore that on the basis that it’s absurd and adds nothing of value to the story, and assume she made it there on her own.

But in this AU he left her with one of his 127 other students and they bonded while she was healing up, and got into contact with some of the others who knew how to contact some of the others, and all these people knew people of their own, and Zangan-Ryu became a Mass Movement without actual Zangan’s direct involvement or support, at least not until later on.

Because I think it’s wild that this man wanders the world dropping in on his scattered collection of disciples one at a time, meaning Tifa is part of a fairly large community with whom she is not at all acquainted, and there’s potential there that I’ve never seen built into.

Tifa fomenting provincial insurrection potential. :D

#ask #ask meme #tifa lockhart #ffvii #hoc est meum #a nonny mouse

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