#I actually forgot the fucking fandom tag there's no way this ends up in the main tag now fkjgkdfjgkfjkgdfjk I'm so dumb

[emile-hides]

Hello Romantic Killer tag I am back I finished the show Riri’s still on Thin Fucking Ice but I will concede it was worth the watch and I am looking forward to a season two if it gets one

[n3ptoonz]

'Anyone But You'

Pairing: Sub!Zero/GN!Reader (see what I did there)

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut, explicit. Rivals to lovers trope, very story and dialogue driven but there is smut at the end, handjob, Bi Han is a good boy, overstimulation, canon typical violence, Bi Han is a complex man in love, reader is a pyromancer, kinda proofread this took so long to write holy fuck

EDIT: I FREAKING FORGOT i was referencing THIS picture. starts wreaking havoc

Word count: 3.4k

Explicit content under the cut

"Just what I needed." Bi Han grumbled, his usual scowl apparent on his face at the sight of you approaching him. He always hated how much you were able to match his skills. Deep down, he might have respected that, but your attitude is what holds him from admitting it.

"Just what you wanted." you said, flashing a shit eating grin at the man in front of you. "Lord Liu Kang sure has his ways of bringing the gang back together."

"Another reason I can't stand him." he said, this time louder and shamelessly. He didn't even care if someone were to hear him nearby.

"What's the assignment for today? He hasn't given us an impossible task in a while-"

"He wants twelve of us to investigate Shang Tsung's laboratory experiments in Outworld and get samples. Problem is, it's heavily guarded by his minion freaks in and outside."

Despite him cutting you off mid-sentence, you just rolled your eyes and looked at the drawing he held up. He didn't make any eye contact with you until you took it from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice filled with growing irritation. "Give it back."

"You weren't holding it right, so instead of asking you to flip it, I just took it. Quit your whining I'll hand it over once I get a good look at them."

He groaned, crossing his arms and waiting for you to finish. You really inspected their faces, impressed with how detailed they were.

"This isn't art class-"

"These are some really well drawn freaks of nature. Whoever did this captured their essence." you said, your tone genuine this time. This took Bi Han aback a bit, but not enough for you to notice. His eyebrows rested from his natural scowl upon hearing your indirect-direct compliment.

It was him who drew those atrocities with the finest ink from his late father's office, but he would never admit that. To be honest, he wasn't too fond of his own work and just passed it off as somebody else's from his clan.

He cleared his throat and took the paper back from your hands, "Yeah, yeah, just be ready to leave by sundown." he said, walking off to talk to the rest of the fighters in the group. When he took the paper, you noticed he had some black ink spots on the tips of his fingers, but you didn't bring it up. He's already constantly on edge so teasing him about something he actually put effort into was out of your forte.

It was nearing sundown and everyone was geared up including you. You grabbed your mask and choice of weapon, quickly putting on the all black uniform given since you all were heading out at night. Heading over to the table with the plans and formatting of the area, you could hear Bi Han discussing what's to come within the next 48 hours.

"This mission is going to be long, so listen closely. When we get there, we are to ambush the entrance to clear it of the guards occupying it. Then we wait to see if any alarms will set off before continuing into the corridor and clearing that too."

You listened to his plan, and to be honest, you didn't quite think going in with an aggressive approach would be effective.

"I feel like we should stakeout the front and sides to see the patrol patterns. If we just go in there setting shit off, surely we'd be fighting off an army of mutations, and who knows how long that would take."

Bi Han slowly raised his head, furrowing his brows. He always hated when you chimed in with something opposing his ideas, even if they almost always made sense.

"It would be easier to take them out when we get there. Plus, look at who we have on the team; our best twelve. I'm sure taking out some mindless freaks won't be hard." he said, glaring at you from the other side of the table. You placed your hands down and leaned forward, refusing to back down simply because he was in "in charge."

"Covering more of the area instead of running in blindly is more effective. We have 48 hours to get this done, what the hell are we storming the place for?"

"Because we have the reinforcements. Are you so incompetent that you question such a basic concept?"

"I think you forget, Bi Han, the last time we attempted to take down a semblance of organized criminals with just a few of us, not twelve--mind you--, a few of our people nearly got rag dolled to death. We had to retreat after taking a beating as soon as we arrived," you said, leaning in closer.

"It's ultimately up to you, but if you so much as get ran at by a gang of lab experiments, I won't be helping you."

Bi Han could only keep glaring at you behind his mask, the cryomancy in his veins creeping up as he gradually gets more aggravated. You were right, and that pissed him off, but he decided to leave that alone so the mission could just start already.

He watched the other members' reaction to you guys' interaction, and it looked like they agreed with you.

"Fine." he grumbled, "We keep watch to catch their patrol patterns, and attack once each group has established such. There's no need to report it since we'll be acting tonight. After that, we meet back here to report what we've found after looking around." he continued, pointing to a section of the laboratory.

"And make sure you take out everything you come across. Let out any prisoners too, but only after the fact so they don't get torn piece by piece by these abominations." you added, seeing Bi Han just nod and fully stand up, finalizing his statements and putting the plans in his pocket.

It didn't take long for you all to surround the general area, getting a closer look where the different parts of the lab would be. Albeit it didn't take forever in a night to get there, you and Bi Han had been bickering the whole time. Sometimes it was playful on your end, other times it was generally just annoying you how mean he was. If not for the rest of your members breaking it up, you'd have been arguing the whole way there.

Everyone else has split up for efficiency purposes...and to get away from you both.

You hid behind a tall bush that was easy to see through, watching for anyone and any thing that came by. Bi Han was nearby doing the same thing. You picked up on a couple of patterns that they patrolled in.

"I wonder if Shang Tsung is in there." you said to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

"He doesn't drop by at night. It's the whole reason we came at this time, don't you remember?" he said turning to you, his voice right back to his tone of irritation.

"Do you have to be an asshole all the time?" you turned to him and met his eyes focused on you behind his mask, "I wasn't even talking to you. Plus, I tune you out at any given opportunity."

He didn't respond immediately. Just slowly turned back without another word.

"You know, I'd be more willing to actually listen to you when you aren't calling me a moron."

"Maybe stop being a moron and I'll be a little more nice to you." he quickly replied, remaining away from your gaze.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, tightening the bandages over your knuckles.

"Why the hell do I even try with you? I too wonder just what Lord Liu Kang was thinking to put us together. Figure this shit out on your own." you said, getting low before moving to a different spot.

As Bi Han was about to respond, he noticed a suspiciously placed patch on the grass that you were approaching. In his mind, he figured you saw it already and wasn't going to say anything. You had gotten on his last nerve once again, so why would he help you?

You heard a faint voice calling out in the distance that was gradually coming closer. You looked in that direction since you recognized the voice; it was one of the guys running towards you and Bi Han and waving his arms.

"Trap! It's a trap!" he yelled, but he was still too far to hear. "Retreat!!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Before you could even process the sound you were hearing, the surrounding area was set off by mini land mines while the building stayed in tact. You were able to dodge the patch that went off, but the aftershock caused everyone to be blown back a long distance from the laboratory, which eventually knocked you out from impact.

-

"Ugh, where am...I...?" you leaned up, wincing from the pain on your back and legs. The air around you was dusty, hazy, and heavily polluted by whatever the hell was in that debris. You looked around and could really only see the ground and the trees as far as your vision went before it looked light gray again.

You got up with the strength left in your body, aiming to find someone, anyone. Wandering around for so long caused you to have to pay attention to a body wound from the adrenaline dying down. You checked it out and realized it wasn't so bad, so you used pyromancy to close it up for the time being. It hurt like a bitch, but it worked.

You made the emergency call sound for anyone on your team to hear, still nothing. You tried again, only to hear heavy breathing and curses following after it.

"God damn it!" you heard, immediately thinking it had to be...

"Bi Han?" you called out, still holding onto your side while you walked towards the voice with high caution. Silence filled the air. This stubborn fucker...

"I know it's you, hard ass." you said, walking just close enough to see Bi Han leaning on a tree while holding onto his side. You'd be more concerned if he didn't not answer you on purpose.

Upon seeing your face, he was clearly not in the mood for your presence, especially at his most vulnerable state. The man was beaten up and in genuine pain, unable to tend to his own wounds, let alone stand.

Once you stopped in front of him he just looked away. He was embarrassed to say the least. Everyone else is usually hurt and he had to watch over/take care of them. But this time his own rival stood before him, just as beat up but still able to walk around.

"Who were you expecting to be here?" you asked.

"Anyone but you." he replied, clenching his jaw.

"That's no way to talk to someone who could help you. The other members are probably scattered somewhere looking for us and each other, but nowhere to be found." You paused in between sentences to see if he'd have anything to say, but he didn't budge not one bit. You noticed a deep gash on his arm and dried blood around where his ribcage would be under the uniform.

"Let's make this simple. We cut the rivalry bullshit so I can help you, or I can leave you to it while you likely just bleed out. Your call, Grandmaster." you watched his face twitch at the sound of his title. His mask not being on his face freaked you out sometimes since you could fully see his face and every expression on it.

"How could you help me?" he asked, putting emphasis on "you" as if it was impossible. You lifted your shirt halfway to show him the wound you patched up.

"I just sealed this with heat. It still hurts but at least it's not bleeding anymore. For yours it would probably take longer and a little more heat to seal but it's the better option." you said. The look on his face stilled in contemplation. He really couldn't stand the idea of being in debt to you.

"You know what, I can go, don't wanna piss you off-"

"No! Please...I need help. I need your help." he groaned out in pain when he leaned forward in desperation. You kneeled in front of him with a half smile.

"Don't utter a word of this." he said, slowly taking his shirt off to reveal the wound that stained his sculpture of a body. Lord have mercy...

"Wouldn't dream of it..." you said, moving closer next to him and getting to work. "I'll do your arm too."

You watched as he wanted to say something, but simply didn't. Like a lump was caught in his throat.

"You're welcome." you mumbled. You were so focused on his wound while simultaneously keeping your composure, you didn't notice the very, very slight blush forming on his cheeks. The feeling of your hot hands on his cold skin, and the look of pure concentration in your eyes had a different feeling coursing through his body.

He cleared his throat and looked off in the distance, a quiet, but genuine "thank you" finally coming from him.

-

It's been a couple weeks since. Everyone found their way back and managed to heal in due time. Since the mission was nowhere near successful, Liu Kang wanted you all to reside at the Lin Kuei temple to continue with altering plans after getting a thorough rest.

After helping out in the infirmary for a while, you realized Bi Han hadn't shown up so much outside of leading his clan in their daily routines. You left the room and looked around for him everywhere asking if anyone saw him recently. One of his clan members overheard you and let you know he mentioned he wasn't feeling well as of lately, so he's been going straight to his room after their sparring sessions.

You took it upon yourself to make a cup of tea, heating it with your own hands before heading over to his bedroom. The closer you got there, you could hear him talking out loud. He seemed to be babbling something over and over again before he realized he was getting loud. You stood outside his door and eavesdropped carefully, wondering just what the hell he was saying.

"Ah, fuck," he kept repeating everytime he exhaled, which just gradually became raspier and more strained.

After knocking two times it didn't take long for the sound of shuffling and him asking who it was outside of his door at this time to fill your ears. You sheepishly answered back, letting him know you brought tea since you heard he wasn't feeling well.

He quickly opened the door and pulled you in without a thought, closing it behind you before looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. This man looked stressed as all hell, but not the work kind; the faint pink on his face let you know it was a different kind of stress.

"Look what you did to me." he said, pointing to his face which was gradually getting hotter at the sight of you. He took the tea out of your hand and placed it on his dresser before grabbing one of your hands. "You need to fix this."

You couldn't help but smile mischievously at him. He was indirectly begging you to fulfill his needs, but you couldn't let him have it that easily.

"I'm confused, what are you asking of me exactly?" your feigned confusion only riled him up more and he was on the verge of being a sputtering mess.

"You-" he paused. "I...need you. Your touch."

"My touch?" you asked, walking closer to him and feeling his grip loosen just a little bit.

"The heat that comes from your hands. It...felt nice. And the way you looked at me that day has been occupying my mind since."

You tried not to show it on your face how in utter shock you were at his confession. He looked away before speaking again.

"Please." he whispered as he briefly closed his eyes. His quiet plea was louder than anything he's ever said to you in all the time you've known him.

With no time wasted, you grabbed his jaw and kissed him, feeling him stiffen from getting startled before melting into your touch (no pun intended).

Pushing him to sit on the bed, you had never seen a man like him just look so...submissive. And the fact that it was Bi Han, because of you, had you thinking your life was complete.

His bun came undone and let his hair flow free. You softly grabbed the back of his head and massaged his hair, letting him feel the heat emitting from your palms. With the other hand you undid his belt and there it was. His bare body before you, and his dick half flaccid.

One grab at the base nearly made him fall limp. Your warm hands caressing his hair and shaft was likely the trick to make him cum right here right now. It didn't take long for that feeling to swell up inside of him, making him harden way faster than he expected.

"Look at me." you demanded, watching his eyes flutter open. If his cheeks weren't a deep red before, they sure are now. The pace of your hand quickened, but not too much to watch the friction. "You're going to cum when I tell you to. Not beforehand, understood?"

As he nodded you could feel his breath hitching. You never tore your eyes away from his even upon hearing the sound of slick getting louder with every stroke.

"See? I knew you could be a good boy, Bi Han."

He grunted at his senses heightening to the sound of your voice, his name, and being called a good boy all in one. He couldn't hold out for much longer now.

"Please-" he whispered. Nothing like a cold glass of man begging in the afternoon.

"Please what?" you stopped your hand, squeezing around the tip. You reveled in the way it looked like he was about to cry real tears.

"Please- Ah, I'm so close-"

"What do you want me to do about that?"

"Move your hand, fuck-" he started to lose sense of his surroundings as soon as you lightly pulled on his hair. You finally gave in, the look on his face and the utter desperation on display made you hot all over (no pun intended)

You didn't expect a small cracking in his voice to appear. With this you only egged him on further to express just how good you make him feel.

"Cum."

And that is exactly what he did. The moment he started to get loud you covered his mouth with the hand that was in his hair. Did you ever think you'd hear Bi Han whimper and sniffle just from your warm hand gliding up and down his shaft? No, but it made everything that lead up to this point worth it.

You didn't stop stroking. You couldn't stop. His eyebrows were upturned and he looked like the perfect bottom bitch. If you told anybody about this, albeit you wouldn't dare, nobody would believe you. You had the Grandmaster of the Lin fucking Kuei under your palm, literally.

As he kept cumming from overstimulation, ice crept up to his elbows. It's like he lacked control from the amount of pleasure he received. He definitely needed this to say the least.

He finally calmed down, and you slowed your hand to a stop. Luckily he only got it on his abdomen and not his beloved robe otherwise you wouldn't hear the end of it.

You sat next to his tired form, looking at him from the side and tucking his hair behind his ear.

"You really put the 'sub' in Sub Zero." you said, reaching up to have him face you again. Hesitant at first, you leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips to see his reaction. He just stared at you, but this time his face was relaxed, not a frown line to be found. A smidge of a smile on his face.

"You're cleaning this up."

-

a/n: thanks for reading! my asks are open! <3

[h3llishh0und]

My Hazbin Hotel Redesigns (so far)!! These were made FOR FUN!!! i always do redesigns and such for most fandoms I'm in anyway. Also most likely an AU ?

Info:

Ideas yet but i think i am actually gonna make in my redesign/au whatever the fuck,

Vaggie and Charlie aren't dating yet, AD is her QPR and Cherri Bomb is his bestie.

Vaggie is an Angel thats very slowly seeing the corrupt side of Heaven, and meets Charlie by almost killing her. But obvi doesn't.

ALSO i think I'm gonna rename Vaggie, Cupid bc SUPPOSEDLY it is a mixed mytho anyway and i know Cupid isn't an angel ? But i figured Eros could be the real deal and Cupid is just Vaggie's nickname MAYBE or smth.

Bc i kind of think it would be interesting if Cupid was a fallen Angel .

The spear was her Angel weapon n then the bow n arrow is her later weapon

Ough i forgot to say i just got wrapped up in the sudden Vaggie/Cupid idea but UM

AD is gonna be an Ex overlord bc i said so. Instead of a pornstar.

He's still a SW but pole dancing is for fun more than anything and none of it will be seen as "gross". I'm not taming him down TOO much. Hobby wise etc.

Umm also Charlie is gonna be Grey Bisexual and Aromantic.

Cherri isn't there often bc she still likes the chaos. I like to imagine she used to work for Velvette but then escaped later on bc she wants to do shit her own way.

She loves art, esp like spray paints. Her bombs even have paint inside of them so theres a splatter everywhere she goes.

I think Cherri would also be friends with Sir Pentious in the end tbh. Haters to Besties.

Little details for the characters and their partners:

AD having mint colors + feather for Husk

Vaggie slowly getting blue details as she's in hell, hinting she's gonna be with Charlie

Charlie Having pink make up to hint she's gonna be with Vaggie.

Not shown:

AD and Charlie have matching phone charms

AD and Cherri have matching knives

this is all a WIP but I'll prob do screenshot redraws at some point! I wanna maybe work on making OCs first.

Note: Do not copy (inspiration is fine !!!!), steal, repost, use for NFTs/AI art, Do not trace etc. Okay to tag as kin/ID/fictive/me, okay to make fan art of!! And its 100% okay to have our designs interact and/or our designs interact with ocs !!!!!!

( please click on them, tumblr ruins the quality )

[gleedyke]

Here comes my two cents on anti-Neil Gaiman posting that I hope comes across civilly and that if you choose to interact with you are also polite about.

Everyone has the right to like/dislike a creator and to separately like/dislike their work. I happen to like this particular creator quite a bit, and I do notice that not everyone GOmens posting does, which again, of course, is fine. Disagree with choices made, that's healthy, but the way I keep seeing "us (fandom) vs him" mentality on any type of post feels bad. This isn't a defense of him; I don't fucking know him, nor does he need that. I'm actually quite happy when I hear folks say they simply don't follow/interact with him if they dislike him. That's great energy, but the rest of us seeing it all over is less great. Thought some reminders posted into the void would help lighten up the energy around here, or at least get it off my chest lol.

1. I've been properly queerbaited by media. This is not fucking that. Take a deep breath and heal with me.

2. A lot of vitriol towards Neil, and frankly Michael and David too, seems to be about being straight men creating this. Have we still not learned to mind our business on this front. You don't know them, we don't know them, but everything we've ever seen from them proves they're on our side. You wanna be mad at a straight man for actually fumbling the bag Steven Moffat is right th- sorry I forgot this isn't about him I tried not to bring up Sherlock in point 1 I really did. ANYWAY. I'm not implying anything, but I have learned to mind your business a little when telling someone why they can't create something queer. That's all.

3. This is his story, and it's not over. It took so long for him to get an adaptation made that he actually wanted to do, and he's doing it. I point y'all to Percy Jackson (I know there's some overlap in demographics here) and how much better the new series is just because Rick Riordan is more involved in adapting it. Having an author of the original work handling the adaptation this thoroughly is a gift regardless of how you feel about him. Additionally, he's writing the rest of the story that he and Terry Pratchett didn't tell. In Terry's honor. For himself. For all the people with beat up original copies. For all the people who have just joined because they realized there is something magical here. But above all it's still his. Take a deep breath and remember this is a love story, and if you still are not content in the end there's always AO3 my friends.

TL;DR vent away on your Tumblr if you don't like Neil Gaiman, nobody is gonna like everyone and certainly nobody's perfect. But before spreading negativity against him on every corner of the GOmens tags, I encourage you to remember how essential he is to the work regardless of your opinion. And remember that those who do like him and his work are also doing so with the best of intentions. Aren't we all. Peace and love this new year. Wait and see. Etc.

[teanshan]

jealousy is my toxic trait. i can't get rid of it. the only thing i can do to diffuse these awful feelings is to demote the close relationship that I had, into basically an acquaintance.

a few years ago now, i had a very special mutual on my main blog. we bonded over our common interests, as is the tumblr way, and got quite close. we even met in person a couple of times bc she's from sydney and i'm in melbourne. back then I considered her my best friend.

well, it's a hard pill to swallow when you realise you're not someone elses best friend.

i remember it happening in real time. 'X', another tumblr user from fucking germany, was a mutual of both of us. would join us in reblog chains, comment on my art, and message my friend directly. and i could see them getting closer. my friend would send me screenshots of their messages, showing me how funny X is.

and i couldn't stand it. 'go away, she's my friend!' I wanted to scream.

it got worse and worse. they were talking everyday, tagging each other. my friend and I had less and less fandoms in common. we ended up only talking about our personal lives, and as we're both introverted nerds, personal updates were few and far between.

i couldn't get rid of these stupid, shitty feelings. i couldn't ignore their public friendship all over my dashboard. and i sure wasn't going to tell her to stop being friends with someone, how awful and entitled that would be!

so i had to unfollow her. and at some point she unfollowed me. we still chat sometimes over fb messenger, and she likes my personal ig posts and vice versa. but thats pretty much it. I hadn't felt those awful jealous feelings in years.

and then just ten minutes ago, simple curiosity took over me and I had to search her up on tumblr. its been so long that I actually forgot her username. I had to scroll through my old messages to find it.

and what do i see on her account? that she literally used 3 hours ago? reblog after reblog of X tagging her in posts and vice versa. daily correspondance. their friendship still very much alive and thriving and its making me sick to my stomach.

it sucks. im so fucking jealous.

she was my friend. my person to tag in posts like 'tfw your mutual lives in another state ;_;.' my person to message incoherent words like AKJFLSGKFG. she was my person.

god how fucking toxic is that mindset?! but what am i supposed to do! its a never-ending loop of shitty feelings. i cant fucking do anything. stupid.

[stinkysam]

Peter Parker - First time

Warning : nsfw

Genre : fluff / smut

Synopsis : "tasm!peter's first time with his bf. peter is shy, nervous, [...] and his bf is also kinda nervous but [...] just so sweet about peter being nervous and. just. fluffy smut. thats all it is" - anon

Reader : male (he/him)

A/N: tagging @bigassbisaster since you were interested in it (back in February) // I have no excuses. I forgot about it multiple times, moved fandoms a couple times as well, forgot again and some more 🧍‍♂️… // end is rushed but it that or nothing

Due to both his duty as a hero and your job, spending time together ended up a bit difficult. And when you finally had time, you’d spend it by helping him heal his wounds or with unprompted dates around New York. He prided himself in knowing all the best places around thanks to his daily aerial points of view.

But this time it was different, the kisses and touches feeling a bit more needy than usual. You had been patient, you knew of his previous relationship and how it ended, so you took things slowly.

You tried to keep him focused on your lips as you kissed him again and again. Maybe a bit too much you thought with amusement at Peter’s difficulty in pulling your pants down. You knew he was nervous about going further with you. You’ve never done it together and you both wanted it to be unrealistically perfect.

Whispering “I love you”s against his neck, sending chills down his whole body. He reciprocated all of them, not wanting any of your affection to feel unheard. You pull him down with you, resting on your back with Peter on top of you.

You take your shirt off and laugh gently as you watch him struggle with his, his right arm and head stuck in his dark blue shirt.

“Need help ?”

“No, no. I huh- meant to do that, actually.” He says as he finally frees himself, tossing the shirt away with an awkward smile. You pulled him closer, kissing and cautiously caressing his skin, avoiding the most recent couple of bruises. You could tell he was still a bit nervous as he tried to strike up unnecessary conversations but he slowly eased into it. Relaxed enough to try working on your pants again. And soon you were both naked.

It was the first time you’d been this close, skin to skin. It felt a bit awkward but also so beautiful. You just wanted to stay like this forever, kissing and caressing one another lovingly. So much skin to give love to.

Peter, still anxious about taking the lead, preferred to follow yours.

“Wait, do you have condoms ?”

“Wooden box on top of the drawer, love.”

‘Love’. You didn’t use that nickname much but each time you did it would always give him butterflies. It’s thanks to it that Peter kissed you for the first time and confessed his feelings for you. And once again it gave him enough courage to take the lead, stroking your cock with his.

Fuck, your moans sounded like God’s favorite angels singing in his ears.

Despite not wanting to stop, Peter had to after clumsily reaching for the wooden box and knocking it to the floor, having it roll all the way to the furthest corner of the room. With a sigh Peter planted his face in your chest, earning a chuckle from you while you gently caressed his hair.

You laughed, watching him run bare assed toward the box and come back with his hands full of wrapped condoms, mocking your laugh.

“Easy bunny, one is enough,” you said as he threw them all to where you were “and the lube is on your left”.

Covering his dick out of reflex, Peter awkwardly ran back to you with it, sheepishly smiling. A few shy kisses quickly grew into something more again, your lubed fingers teasing his ass, enjoying a bit too much the surprised sounds escaping his mouth as he still tried to strike up a discussion about your day. Choking on his own words before asking more of you.

You obliged, placing kisses all over his face while you hurriedly put a condom on before pushing inside him, feeding on his delicious moans.

No uncertainty was left.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Why do some people tag a story as complete when it isn't

W H Y

I opened a story marked as finished, 9/9 chapters, I reach the last chapter- and there it is, in the author's notes at the end of it, saying that the story is not done and that they'll add new chapters in the future

Not a new story in a series

New chapters in that same story

Then why the fuck is it marked 9/9 chapters if you're gonna add to it

It makes me so damn mad. The story's not even that bad and normally I would have subscribed to it but now I feel like I'm not gonna do it just out of pure spite

Jfc

The times I've seen incomplete stuff marked as complete and was fine with it include:

An abandoned work

An open-ended type work where any chapter could be the last and the story is still good.

A fic an author thought was done but went back and decided, fuck it I'll keep going from here and edited the last author note to reflect that but forgot to open up the chapter count.

Fics with newish authors who don't know/understand how AO3 generally works.

I'm sure there's more reasons I'm just blanking at the moment.

Oh and there's the fact that there's this rising trend in fandom where a lot of younger fans won't even click on a fic if it's not completed. So it could be a bait-and-switch tactic to actually get reader engagement.

Can't blame you for being irritated either way though I wouldn't let it ruin the fic overall if you liked it

[faeriekit]

Questions for Fic Writers ✏📝💻

@chromatographic tagged me! ...And then I was at work and forgot about it by the time I got to my laptop! Sorry 😅

How many works do you have on Ao3?

My works tab claims the number to be twenty two, but at least one is a screen-reader-friendly duplicate of a Percy Jackson themed Reskin of Kids on Brooms, so it's more like...twenty one. I'd also take off of Blister Pack one-shots because they're tiny but they are one shots and those are technically valid, so...

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

355,110. Thank you, Blister Pack and Trade of Trickery!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Naruto.

...So I what I usually write and what I actually publish to ao3 are pretty different 😅 I've been doing a bunch of dp x dc fics as of late, and one dc x marvel fic, but if left to my own devices, I go back to Star Wars and Naruto and a lot of Naruto, and I have a surprising word count on a Supernatural fic which is odd considering I've never actually finished an episode of the show before.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

No idea! Lemme look:

#5: Dig Three Graves in Apartment 31C. A spooky and classic contender!

#4: The Firstborn Son. My excuse for writing a almost-canon dp x dc fairy story!

#3: The Haunting of Drake Manor. Nice 😎 You may have noticed, but I'm a sucker for baby fic.

#2: You know 'em, you love 'em, it's The Health and Wellbeing of Hybrid Entities! Who doesn't love a dissection recovery fic?

#1: Which leaves, of course, Blister Pack to reign supreme o'er the ao3 account. Who's shocked? Not me.

5. Do you respond to comments?

...there's 1,900 in my inbox right at this moment.

I want to. I love responding to comments. but it's just not feasible in the way I want it to be, and that blows.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Patchwork Memories! I don't think this counts because it was just a snippet, but, you know. Angst for the sake of angst n' all that.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Blister Pack!! Find joy in packing up and getting the fuck out of there! Who needs 'em?? Hit the bricks!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've received stuff I honestly consider worse than hate, which is people who believe that I should think exactly what they think and write the fic as they believe canon should be interpreted, but here is the funniest exchange I've ever had on any fic ever:

9. Do you write smut fic? If so, what kind?

Once. I will occasionally write stuff for myself, but the reviews on the one posted smut chapter were generally that it was very, very funny. This does not give me much feedback to work off of lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

The answer to both questions are dp x dc and also dp x dc. And that's generally tame as far as crossovers go.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. 👀

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of! 👀 But I'd be way more amenable to that than thievery lmao.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I would never bog someone down with my symptoms disorder. I don't trust me enough to be helpful in any creative endeavor ever

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don't believe in genuine OTPs, but whatever Desiree!Janet and Bruce have going on in Drake Manor is hysterical to me. I hope they get divorced and then break up and then get back together and then break up again.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I want to finish Trade of Trickery. I think it will take time. But I am determined to do it. We're halfway through the Sea of Monsters and I am delusional enough to think I can make it if I just power through in some distant future

16. What are your writing strengths?

I am the recipient of divine visions which keep me going. The hard part is staying consistent when I lose steam.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am the recipient of divine visions which keep me going. The hard part is staying consistent when I lose steam.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Google translate is my friend, and I don't necessarily believe in providing translations. There's no irl subtitles. If the characters are meant to understand, I'll leave stuff around to make the context and content clear, but like, no creo que es necesario en todos situaciónes.

19. First Fandom you wrote for?

...Naruto...maybe...? No I'm wrong. It was Fairy Cube. My first divine visions/early fic thoughts were from Tamora Pierce's Song of the Lioness series and my first fandom I actually wrote/published fic for was Fairy Cube. Don't ask what account it was on. I borrowed my friend's ffn account. I don't remember the username anymore.

20. Favorite Fic you’ve written?

....hoo boy. Tie for Quiet Respite and Trade of Trickery. I love Comets and Drake Manor has a special place in my heart, but QR feels uniquely mine in ways that my dp x dc fics sometimes don't, and Trickery really is a love story about Sally Jackson and forgotten Demigod kids. Nothing else hits. Nothing else is the same. It's about collecting what you can in your hands and taking it with you.

@newgraywolf @cyrwrites @mysterycyclone @songue85 Anyone else want to play?

Thanks for asking, Chroma! It only took...what, a week, two weeks, to finally get to it?

[bouncydragon]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @amidnight--dreary!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

Currently 46. No doubt there will be more to come, once I manage to actually finish any of my WIPs.

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

234.084. I'm a little disappointed in myself right now.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The bulk of my AO3 fics are for the MCU but I have moved on from that and I'm mostly writing for Peaky Blinders right now (and possibly in the future as well). I have two unfinished MCU fics that I will eventually finish, I swear. There's also a few fics written for other fandoms but it's usually single fics.

4. Top five fics by kudos

In order: The King Is Dead, Long Live The King, Winter Butterfly, A Simple Act, Early Bird, and Sleepy Head.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes. Though I'm sure I have missed some...

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh, hm. I think it would be Dead Boy's Poem, which in my not so humble opinion is a great story, it's just that it ends very badly.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm sure there's a few that qualify... At the top of my head I'd pick there goes my mind racing, just because it's a story that's very dear to me and one I actually love to reread. But honestly, there's probably a few fics that qualify, A Simple Act would be one of them for example. Winter Butterfly might fall in that category once it's actually finished...

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I think I remember getting some way back when but I can't remember what it was about, not that it even matters. I do recall having a brief argument with the person, I just deleted the comment thread. Nothing since then I think... I hope it remains that way.

9. Do you write smut?

Ah, well, not really. I have tried my hand at it but it wasn't anything explicit, basically everything but, so right leading up to the steamy stuff. I felt a bit awkward writing that, so I probably stick to hinting at stuff etc. But who knows, perhaps in the future...

10. Craziest crossover?

Well, I don't think I've written crossovers. As far as crazy stories go though, it's definitely the two stories involving the Avengers and resurrected dinosaurs. (Don't ask.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so, which is good. Hopefully it won't ever happen.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Sadly not. I have translated my own shit though. Well, one. I wrote it in my native language and later translated it to English to post it. That's also one of the first fics I ever posted on AO3, way back in 2019.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Winter Butterfly is a project of the wonderful @worstloki and me, which we really have to finish at some point... I recall that we talked about it at the end of last year, and I forgot to check on the fic since then... Sorry.

14. All time favorite ship?

Ah damn. I have to say that it's probably Tofie (Tommy and Alfie from Peaky Blinders). It's the ship I write mostly for now and also the ship that kind of has stolen my heart, so to speak. I just love bisexual disaster gangsters. It used to be Frostiron. It's the one I've written most for and it still is dear to me but unfortunately it has been dethroned.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh. At the top of my head it's a fic called "When Dragons Cry", which I haven't posted and it just sits in my docs and judges me. It's Frostiron and Loki is a dragon and his egg has been stolen. There's convoluted lore to it as well.

But also a fic/series called "here I am alone between the heavens and the embers" which is about Tommy from Peaky and ghosts. Do ask me about that. Maybe if I talk about it, I will actually fucking work on it. It's so ambitious in my opinion, and I don't know if I am confident enough in my abilities to actually write it. I mean, I have started it and I do like what I've written, but damn...

There's probably more... Now I feel awful for all the abandoned projects... Anyway!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I cannot answer this because I don't know. Even if I think longer about it, I probably won't be able to come up with a satisfactory answer. It's probably something others are more capable of answering for me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Honestly, same answer as 16. Though I guess I could say smut because it's just something I haven't practiced as much.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I think it's good. Though my language knowledge is very limited. I have used some in the past but it's usually very simple phrases that even a translator cannot fuck up.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

I've had that question recently and my answer is still not any more definite. It's probably Naruto, NCIS or Warriors. Though the more I think about it, the more I believe it was Warriors. But can't remember honestly.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

There's a bunch but if I have to pick, I'm gonna pick Lest We Forget again because it's a fic I'm very, very proud of and which deserves more attention in my not so humble opinion.

Tagging some writers, hope you don't mind, also no pressure obviously... @poormeowmeowcollector @justhallucinating @rabentochter @whentommymetalfie @justrainandcoffee @andtherewerefireworks

[snowyaika]

pairing: felix x rebel!reader

summary: you and felix became close when he joined the rebellion. when he’s gone from a mission longer than he should be, you set out to find where he really is.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: season 6 chapter 10 spoilers, swearing, symptoms of a panic attack but not actually stated, brief mention of suicide(but not acted upon), pain pain pain!, kind of an open ending, all lowercase, gn!reader, follows plot of show

notes: whew! put a lot of prompts into this one, gotta make it sting a little! keep in mind this is my first work for this fandom and for…well, anything! please please please comment your thoughts on it, hope you all enjoy :)

-

“felix, rendezvous back at the ship, it’s time to let them end their war once and for all.” the radio goes quiet for a moment, the other side contemplating their choice of words.

“tie up your loose ends.”

the line cuts off with static, locus supposedly getting ready for the attack on the federal army.

it’s quiet, until a long sigh breaks through the empty room. “fuck.”

-

it’s no question that felix and you have a… special relationship. ever since he joined the rebellion, it’s as if you two just clicked.

you were one of the best in the rebellion, although you didn’t have much competition. because of your superior skill, or well, the inferior skill of others, you had trouble connecting with the other soldiers.

when felix showed up, everything changed.

like a flipped switch, you were never alone, always by each other’s side. of course, other than when he went on his own missions and when you had your own duties to attend to on base.

you two did everything together. training, dining, hell— even chores (although, he was more so just keeping you company as you were on dish duty).

eventually, things started to take a turn. training sessions and missions suddenly turned into late night walks and deep conversations in your quarters.

of course, this soon led to more… intimate moments between you both.

soon after, everyone could catch on that you two had something going on.

… or maybe it was after felix beat up a new recruit to the brink of death when he found out the poor guy was flirting with you.

nevertheless, things were going fine— perfect even. as fine as things can be during a civil war.

until everything wasn’t.

-

“felix? i thought kimball sent you out to scout the feds?”

you’re in the back of the weaponry, sharpening your knives (gifted by a certain someone) and preparing your other guns for an upcoming mission when you spotted him walking up to you.

“oh god, please tell me she doesn’t want me to tag along. i don’t know how many more bullets i can take for you.”

he let out a soft chuckle as he stood in front of you, staring down at you seated on a crate.

“oh please, it was one time. and you didn’t even get shot, it grazed your leg.” his eyes flicker down to the knife in your hand, his chest puffing up smugly.

he’s weird that way. seeing you use the knives he gifted you gave him a sense of possessiveness, as if he was staking his claim on you. you always called him a creep when he brought it up.

neither of you brought up how you never denied it.

“as much as i’d love to have you on this next mission, no, she didn’t tell me to come get you.” he clears his throat before continuing, “i just… wanted to you to see me off.”

you pause your work, staring up at him with a confused look. of course because of the helmets, he doesn’t see it, so you both stare at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

“...okay, i’ll bite. why?” you set your weapons to the side so you can stand face to face with him. “you don’t plan to die on this one, do you?” your tone has a tint of humor to it, but your body is clearly tense.

“darling, please. look who you’re talking to. you think some weak federals can kill this awesome bod? i’m offended.” he makes a pose of showing off his arm muscles, causing you to just scoff and lightly shove his shoulder.

“right. i forgot i was hanging with the strongest man on the planet,” your tone drips with faux praise, glancing behind him at the lingering soldiers giving you both cautious glances.

“i’m serious though. i just wanted to see you before i left.” he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers brushing against your wrist. your helmet clinks gently against his like a childish kiss. everyone already knew about you two, but it’s nice to keep some professionalism in public.

“how long will you be gone?” you whisper softly, as if raising your voice would shatter the intimate moment between you two.

“not long. intel says it’ll be quick. i should be back in a few days.” he responds just as gently, all humor in his voice gone and replaced with a tone you would never hear him use with anyone else.

“okay, be safe.”

-

it’s been two weeks since your last conversation with him, and it’s safe to say you were… on edge.

you’ve been going around the base non-stop asking the same questions, where is he, what do you know about the mission he was sent on, and at some point during it all kimball summoned you herself after you snapped at one of the rookies.

“what the hell were you thinking, pulling a gun on a fucking rookie? have you lost your goddamn mind?!”

kimballs voice is loud enough to echo throughout the whole base, yet you remain unphased as she throws words towards you that are intended to hurt. you tune her out, completely uninterested in what she has to say.

your mind hasn’t been the same since he left. you can handle when he goes off on his usual missions, but when he doesn’t come back two weeks after he said he should’ve?

it’s logical for you to get a little high strung.

you let her hurl a few more insults towards you before interrupting. “it won’t happen again. am i dismissed?”

she grinds her jaw to restrain the next string of curses about to be let out, and huffs. “look, i know you’re stressed that felix is gone. shit, i don’t know where he is either, okay? but you need to get your shit together. i don’t want to see another fuck up like this again, understand?”

you only nod, turning on your heel and walking out of the building. as you make your way towards your quarters, you overhear the galaxy's greatest heroes (a bunch of lazy idiots if anyone were to ask you) talking about some sort of rescue mission to save the rest of their team.

you tense up. maybe felix was sent to go after them and got captured himself? you were willing to take the chance to find out.

pausing, you contemplate the risk of asking to join them. not because it would be betraying your alliance to the rebellion, but because hanging around with them will surely lower your chance of survival.

waving away your doubts, you walk into the building they were in. they notice you immediately, instantly becoming tense. “oh… hey there,” the yellow (orange, he always corrects you) one says.

“i want in on your little rescue mission. it’ll be wise for you to bring me along.”

they all share a look, before the teal one speaks up, “uh… sure. but why?”

-

oh my god, they’re fucking idiots.

there is absolutely no possible explanation as to how the five of you have made it this far, and you don’t plan on questioning it, instead thanking whatever god is up there that you haven’t blown your own brains out from the frustration of having to deal with their idiotic antics.

you don’t think about it any longer once they reunite with their team, your disappointment evident when you don’t see felix being one of the people among them.

for fucks sake, where could he have gone?

your question gets answered shortly after.

“...felix?”

you stand amongst the other soldiers, staring at him with a confused expression. your heart stutters in what you thought was relief, but you should’ve known better.

once the fight broke out, you were so confused. you had no idea what to do. do you shoot at him? what if it was just a huge misunderstanding? why was he with locus? there was too much going on. before you even knew it, one of the soldiers, you’re assuming one of the heroes allies, teleports your team away.

you were left behind.

following your instincts, you fucking book it and run, away from whatever the hell just happened and whoever the hell was chasing you.

not long after, because your training wasn’t that good, you’re worn out from running away, deciding to take cover behind one of the many rocky pikes surrounding the base.

you drop your gun, your hands shaking too much to hold it steady. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” you hear footsteps running past you, and you try your best to hold your breath. you didn’t know what to do, you weren’t cut out for this, you weren’t cut out for this war.

your breath is shallow as you rip off your helmet, taking large gasps of air and clutching your chest tightly to help ease the pain forming there. you couldn’t feel anything, your chest was hurting so much it numbed the pain in your legs from running.

trying to steady yourself, you count your breaths, praying that you can just calm down and keep running.

“i knew i’d find you here.”

your heart drops, and you raise your head to look up at the person approaching you. you take a deep breath to try and focus.

“felix, i thought you- what the hell is going on?” you stand up straight, starting to walk towards him. you’re so confused and you need to know if it's really him.

before you can even take a step, his gun is aimed straight at your face. “stay where you are.”

your body instantly freezes, a sudden chill shooting down your spine. “felix.. what are you doing? we can leave before they find us, stop messing with me and put the gun down!”

he doesn’t seem to listen, his gun following your head as you try to move slightly out of its range.

“you know, from the day we met, i knew i’d hurt you eventually,” he lowered his gun, starting to pace slowly in front of you.

the radio in his suit buzzes, most likely containing orders to the soldiers nearby to eliminate you immediately, but all he does is switch it off.

“i was surprised, really, how easily you opened up to me. i mean, come on, trusting a mercenary? i thought i taught you better,” he keeps the gun lowered, but you know the threat is still prominent, “and then you had to go and fall for me. you sure gave me trouble finding ways to report to command without you being on my back all the time.”

your brain lags, trying to piece together what he’s saying but you’re so deep in denial. “felix i- what are you even saying?”

“do you remember the first time we met?” he cuts you off, taking a step closer. “the first conversation we had?”

when you don’t respond, he takes pride in answering his own question, “i told you not to get too close to me. kimball said it herself– i was hired to help you guys, what makes you think you and your little crush on me could ever change that?”

it’s like a wave of ice water washes over you, and you finally come to your senses. it really is felix, and he really is betraying you.

your gaze slides down to your previously dropped gun, and as if reading your mind, he lifts his gun again towards you, “i don’t think so, darling.”

what once was a nickname that made you smile giddily, now makes your body tingle in a new feeling of discomfort.

“what is this, a lesson in not trusting people? god, spare me the act,” your words leak with newfound hatred, glaring at him as if looks could kill. “just get it over with and say you never loved me.”

your brain yells at you to not be so hostile, to start begging for your life, but you’re stubborn.

just how he taught you.

your comment takes him by surprise, the grip on his gun faltering slightly. he quickly recovers, tightening his grip and aiming it at you with a new sense of justification. “don’t make me kill you.”

you let out a scoff, “what, going to shoot me? go on, do it.”

after a moment of silence between you both, and still no sound of a trigger, your eyes narrow at him, “don’t have the balls to do it? you don’t need me to call locus over, do you?”

he lets out a low growl, but still makes no move to pull the trigger. letting out a sigh, you lean back on your heels. if you were going to die now, you’d at least like one of your questions answered.

“what was going through your head when i told you i loved you?” you try to sound like you don’t care, like him betraying you didn’t feel like a fucking train wreck, but you can’t help the unsteadiness in your voice.

“that i wish you never had trusted me.”

you see his finger twitch on the trigger, and you look up to the sky.

as much as you hated the feds, they had a pretty damn good view.

[rmd-writes]

dialogue day

share a section of dialogue that we like from our own work! It can be funny, sad, ridiculous, mysterious, plot-centric or just characters shooting the breeze…anything! And it can be from a WIP or a posted fic! It can be short or long! Let’s celebrate our beloveds having a chat.

thanks for the tags @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @strandnreyes @goodways @lovesgalores @heartstringsduet @jesuisici33 @mammameesh @reyesstrand @freneticfloetry @apothecarose

this was really hard for me, I write a lot of dialogue in many different ways across three fandoms, and as soon as I tried to remember any of it, I forgot every conversation I’ve ever written. In the end, I decided to limit myself to just dialogue in the form of food-related banter:

Lonestar - from the (Un)professional Services wip that @welcometololaland and I are writing

“Falafel?” Carlos asks, panic rising in his throat. “You’re not vegetarian are you? Oh my god, I should have checked first, I’m so sorry. Here, I can take it back,” he says, reaching for the container and inadvertently placing his hands on TK’s. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts him, laughter in his voice, but it isn’t unkind. “I’m not vegetarian.”

“You’re not?” Carlos winces at the way his voice goes a little pitchy. 

“No, I’m not.”

Relief washes over Carlos and his breaths come a little easier. 

“I am vegan though,” TK deadpans. 

Carlos stops breathing. 

“Oh my god, your face. I’m kidding!” TK laughs. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist but the panic on your face was too much to keep it up. Thank you, though. You really didn’t need to do this.”

I think I’ve shared this snippet before

RWRB - from What, like it’s hard?

“There you are! I’ve been fucking waiting for you so we can finish this thing.” Henry’s mid-bite when Alex finds him, so Alex watches him take a bite of his peach, chew carefully and swallow, licking his lips to catch some peach juice. “Is that a peach? I’m waiting for you so we can finish the stupid contract and go home and you’re in here eating a peach?”

“Is it the peach you find offensive, Alex? Or is it the fact that I’m not at my desk?” Henry says, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t get me started on peaches, they’re not right. But the latter. Are you done with the terms?”

Henry laughs softly. “What exactly is wrong with peaches? I happen to think they’re delicious.”

“It’s the skin!” Alex says, waving at Henry’s hand. “Peaches are all fuzzy so when you bite into them it’s like biting a person.” He sees the look of amusement on Henry’s face and inexplicably keeps speaking. “And the fuzz feels weird on your tongue and it’s just wrong! Eating food shouldn’t feel like biting someone and I mean—”

He cuts himself off, suddenly remembering the flash of chest hair he’d seen the other night as Henry had taken his tie off and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt when they were working late.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with a person having a bit of fuzz or hair or whatever. Or biting, if you’re into that I guess or, fuck—” Alex wants to die. He needs a fucking filter.

sidenote: if you haven’t read this fic and decide to read it, please read the first fic in the series first, this is very important for Reasons

Schitt’s Creek - from it’s just for snow

“One large melted ice cream for David?”

“You think you’re funny.”

“I am funny.”

“Sounds fake.”

--

“The usual?”

“God, please.”

“My name is Patrick actually. Large caramel mac, skim, two sweeteners, sprinkle of cocoa coming right up.”

I feel like everyone else has already done this but let’s try @liminalmemories21 @basilsunrise @sunshinestrand @maxbegone @cha-melodius @everwitch-magiks @clottedcreamfudge @treluna4 @hippolotamus @blackandwhiteandrose

[emilykaldwen]

thanks so much for the tag @theladyelizabeth!

tagging: @acrossthesestars, @stannisfactions, @arrthurpendragon, @mercurygray, @alicentive, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @themaradwrites, @lya-dustin, @dragonsoftheeast

1. How many works do you have on AO3?: I have 9 so far! I ended up deleting some old works that were abandoned and didn't have a lot of interaction that were over a decade old (and they didn't have bookmarks either so I wasn't worried)

3. What fandoms do you write for?: Currently, House of the Dragon is the hyperfixation

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy - HotD Canon Divergent

Soulmates Never Die - The Borgias (my oldest fic)

Fight For Me (If It's Not Too Late) - Teen Wolf

Boy With a Broken Soul (Heart With a Gaping Hole) - HotD Fae AU

You're the Lighting of the Blaze - Hotd Canon Divergent

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! (and if I don't it's legit cause I forgot/thought I did and AO3 ate the comment). I love the community aspect of fic writing so if you take the time to leave me a comment, I love to engage. I especially love it when commenters ask questions and look for discussion.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably one of the old Prequel Star Wars Fics I wrote way back in the day.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Right now, it's a tie between You're the Lighting of the Blaze and Bright Star

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not on my fics directly but I have gotten some rancid hate in my inbox re: Abby (And then that escalated to telling me to end myself so). This is why I now have anons turned off. Sorry guys.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do write smut! I'm not sure what it means by 'what kind'? I've done a few solo smut-shots, and Maiden will have a few explicit scenes when this arc is completed. I'm definitely someone who loves Plot with a side of Porn, and as long as the smut flows well and isn't overly repetitive, I'm here for it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have written a crossover! I had a mini-series of Whedon-verse/Supernatural called It Must Be Tuesday back on LiveJournal. Sam and Dean meet River Tam in a bar and the apocalypse happen. Dean and Buffy hooked up. I was acutally very proud of that LOL

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not stolen but I did have some concepts lifted from a Once Upon a Time fic

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I'm aware of!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! Soulmates Never Die was co-written with a friend at the time (we've lost touch since then), and then when I was in the Charmed fandom, I adopted out an abandoned fic of mine and was the beta/co-writer on a big future Fic series with Wyatt, Chris, and Chris' friends. Those were some fantastic stories.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? Oh man. I really love me Jacelaena and Helaemond still has a soft place in my heart (but the trajectory of a lot of the fics has just been... a turn off). Harry/Luna will always be warm and fuzzy for me (I used to be the ship captain back in the Fiction Alley days). Buffy/Angel was my first real Fandom OTP.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Hmmm... I don't have anything right now that fits that. I did have Isabelle Martin's Life is Totally Over which was a Derek/Lydia future Kid fic that I was actually enjoying but the fandom was such an utter turn off by that point.

16. What are your writing strengths? God fuck if I know. I think I'm really good at tying things together/call backs and really emphasizing those themes. I like to think I'm thoughtful at cause/effect of character action and consequences. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I feel like my descriptions are lacking and I get lost in the weeds. I struggle with finding the stakes in a story. Conflict is difficult. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? me crying with dote on doing some appropriately translated high valyrian for Maiden instead of just copy/pasting from one of the online translators. Only very, very, VERY few people will know that they're grammatically correct and honoring the original development of HV, but it was important to ME.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Wars back in the late 90s.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Maiden obviously holds my heart and soul, and it's always going to be everything for me, but I'm actually incredibly proud of Fight For Me (If It's Not Too Late). It was a two parter, and I wrote it in the span of a week? Maybe two weeks? and it was the last thing I wrote for a very long time.

[kitnita]

oooh just saw your tags on the stucky post - do u have any good stucky fics to rec?? im talking like looong fics. shit that like changes ur life. i was never into stucky when the fandom was super active but now im like !!! theres a goldmine of good fics out there i just know it

yeah absolutely!!!! but okay so. a lot of the stucky fic i read, i read back in high school before i started obsessively bookmarking things on ao3. i'm almost positive there are some blind spots on this list because i'm just going off the things i do have bookmarked rn. like i also want to dive back into the tag at some point & see what stuff i've missed / forgotten.

THAT SAID pretty much all the big stucky fics i do remember were in my bookmarks so i'm working off those! also thank you so much for sending this because i queued that post & didn't actually end up going back to read any stucky fics. i want to reread everything now.

actual recs under the cut!!

sincerely, your pal by lettered (rated m, 65,620)

i will always be obsessed with an epistolary fic. 10/10

to memory now I can't recall by etharei (rated e, 102,600)

uses time travel in a really interesting way, with it almost acting as a bodyswap scenario between the past and present. really interesting device in a fic with bucky pov.

building from the ground up by emilianadarling (series, various ratings & various lengths w a total wordcount of 68,687)

soooo good. i remember the (chronologically) first & the (writing order) first in the series better than the other two, but they're all good!! spans time from during the war to after the events of the winter soldier.

you know i dreamed about you by napricot (rated e, 59,311)

dreamsharing!! underutilized fanfic trope!!!

between everything, yourself, and home by napricot (rated e, 24,396)

i reread this one more recently than a lot of the others on the list & it hit so good, definitely recommend it.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) by fallingvoices & radialarch (rated t, 20,605)

the formatting & framing & storytelling devices in this one go hard, like, i'm pretty sure it was one of the fics mentioned on that post. it'd be worth checking out for that alone except that the fic is just Also good.

the way to a man's heart by niitza & whatthefoucault (rated t, 43,837)

this is one of the stucky fics i think about all the time. food as a healing device hits every time and it's SO good in this one.

the size of perfection by phoenike (e, 31,193)

if you want a lot of 1940's angsting about what the supersoldier serum does to a guy's dick, this is the fic for you.

all the angels and the saints by speranza (rated e, 48,740)

in the authors note of this one it's described as "a motherfucking 95 year epic love story of socialism! science fiction! and hard core gay fucking!" so. worth a read for sure.

roll on by jaxington (rated m, 89,113)

the historical queer themes in this were so good!! the supporting characters & world built up Hit. also i forgot/never knew it was part of a three fic series that is 306,592 words long. definitely read those too.

steve rogers at 100: celebrating captain america on film by eleveninches, hellotailor, M_Leigh, neenya, saintsideways, & tigrrmilk (rated e, 10,228)

exactly what it sounds like. from what i remember this probably barely counts as a stucky fic but it's so fun.

tin soldiers by idrilka (rated t, 19,743)

another one where the formatting & framing & storytelling devices go hard!!

a line that goes all the way by napricot (rated e, 45,218)

realizing now this is the third napricot fic on the list so probably anything else you find by them will also hit!! this one's more recent than a lot of the other fics here but i remember really enjoying it.

tezeta (nostalgia) by vowelinthug (rated e, 20,140)

another more recent fic set in wakanda!! it's steve's turn to be a total maladjusted disaster <3

sparked up like a book of matches by sena (rated m, 26,734)

didn't remember a lot of this one from my bookmarks so i started reading it to jog the memory & now am going to continue reading it. the vibes are vibing.

always stay near me, for tomorrow i will have much to do by roguewrld (rated e, 39,990)

this one's framing isn't as wild as some of the others i've rec'ed but it's still a little noticeable. a great non-linear bucky centric fic.

there's nothing left of you by notallbees (rated e, 22,346)

a fic set during the war!! those are always fun!!! and by fun, i mean. you know. it's good though, very in bucky's head.

i can feel the cold changing us inside by tesselated (rated m, 24,140)

a really good post-winter soldier recovery fic.

might never be normal again (but who cares) by napricot (rated e, 51,540)

okay one last napricot rec from my bookmarks. tagged 'Steve's Slow Motion Midlife Crisis' so you know it's good.

[cambria-writes]

i did it. it's finally done. it's over, and i finished it.

thank you so much to everyone who's followed me and this story, who's commented, liked and reblogged. you've all helped give me back something i had lost a long time ago: the ability to write.

i'm so thankful to have found this fandom and the people in it, and i wouldn't change a single thing about the journey that was writing Ravenloft.

some things to know about this chapter:

i only discovered literally two days ago that july 1st is not, in fact, universal moving day. that's apparently something very unique to my part of canada lol, so that's why i had the moving take place that day. might not have even registered for anyone else but me but i felt like i should explain that just in case.

additionally, i don't know fuckall about indiana, never been. the market place arena is no longer there, either, so it took a bit of guesswork to figure out what to do. thank you to @bramblequill for answering my very strange questions. ♥

lastly, i have no idea how school works in the states. i just went with september 2nd as back to school since it was the tuesday right after labour day, and the internet told me that 8:30am as a starting time for classes was reasonable so there we go.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader rating: E, 18+ warnings: SMUT, female anatomy used but otherwise no real physical description, fingering, masturbation (m and f), cum swallowing, so much swearing, Wayne calls Eddie son and reader calls Wayne his father, smoking (cigarettes and weed), alcohol consumption, vague reference to choking, mention of flagging/the hanky code, Eddie doesn't whip out the sadism though, mention of using handcuffs, i guess this is semi-public sex actually, Eddie's a gentleman though, mention of an alternate timeline where Eddie does die, mention of death broadly, reader has anxious responses to shit sometimes, Good Girl is said a few times, god I'm running out of brain RAM please let me know if I should tag anything else! word count: 7,512

thank you again!!

Previous Masterlist

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨

July 2nd, 19863:27AM

You don’t know where you are when you first wake up. There are no lights on, there’s a familiar but distant sound, and it’s too fucking warm. After a few seconds of tensely paying attention, you realize that the familiar sound is the compressor in the fridge.

Right. You moved yesterday.

When you bother to open your eyes and look around, you realize why it’s so dark. You never bothered to plug in your alarm clock and you can’t see the time on the stove from here, but it’s definitely still night. Quiet enough that it’s probably not even 4am yet.

You roll to turn around, but promptly end up yelping and falling right on your ass. The vague but bitter thought crosses your mind that you’ve somehow developed a habit of falling and injuring yourself in whatever bedroom you occupy.

Said bedroom door cracks open slowly. From your spot on the floor, you get to see a very tired Eddie—is he even actually awake?—slowly emerge from the opening door.

“Fuck was that,” he mutters, right before unhinging his jaw to yawn. You sigh and let yourself fall back on the floor, limp, staring up at a ceiling fan that refuses to work.

“Forgot where I was,” you say quietly, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Go back to bed dude.”

Eddie grunts, but you don’t hear the tell-tale squeaking and creaking of floorboards. Instead, when you move your arm out of the way just enough to see, you catch Eddie scratching the back of his head and looking back to the hallway. He clears his throat, and you cover your eyes again before he catches you staring.

He probably caught you staring way too much yesterday, so you’re not sure why it matters. It’s not like he’d make a big deal out of it anyways—not the way Steve and Robin did when they were helping you carry the sectional couch Mrs Henderson insisted you take from her basement.

(It’s fine, she had said, I can’t really look at that old thing anymore, she said. You didn’t ask, but you’d assumed that it was the same as everyone in Hawkins; just trying to get rid of all the leftovers from The Earthquake and what had preceded it.)

You’re jostled out of your thoughts when you feel Eddie’s shoulder—bare, from the cut-out Black Sabbath shirt he’s warning—against yours. He feels cool and clammy, like he’d been tossing and turning around in the heat, too.

“Ahh,” he sighs, folding his hands over his chest. “You had the right idea. Floor’s cold. Fuck this heat.”

You hum in agreement, and turn your head to properly look at Eddie.

“You could go back home,” you say quietly. When you don’t get an answer after a few seconds, you scoff lightly and turn to stare back at the ceiling. “At least he wouldn’t be boiling alive.”

You nearly squawk when you feel a hand taping on your hip. When you turn to look at Eddie again, his eyes are closed, still, but he’s very clearly frowning.

“Y’r being stupid,” he mutters, taking a deep breath before forcing himself to sit up, leaning back on his hands. He rotates his shoulders and—and he’s saying something else, you know he is. But there’s... there’s something about his shoulders.

Have they always been that wide?

You know your mouth is hanging open when Eddie turns to look back at you, and you only snap it shut with a click when you see him grinning.

“Didn’t catch a word I just said, huh.”

You try to speak a first time, but your voice cracks on the first syllable. Clear your throat and cough once or twice before trying again. This time you get yourself up on your feet and head for the door.

“Not a word. Too tired. Want a beer?”

Eddie blinks at you owlishly for a second before letting himself fall back to the floor. You’re about to take that as a silent refusal when he grumbles.

“Do you even know what time it is? Beer?”

You scoff again and cross your arms from your place at the door.

“What, like you do?”

Eddie simply raises an arm in response. You frown, open your mouth to ask why the fuck he’s raising his hand in your damn house, when you notice the watch still on his wrist.

(You try not to remember a very different, broken watch keeping time for the dead.)

“Right, well,” you dither, clearing your throat again. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Do you want a beer or not?”

Eddie sighs, putting on a show about being put out and disappointed and too tired, but the hand he rests low on your back to herd you out of the room is gentle. The quiet ‘sure’ he whispers also sounds far too caring and indulgent.

You practically inhale half of the first beer you pull from the fridge. If Eddie’s got any thoughts about that, he keeps them to himself. You sit down at the table—square, angular, nothing like the one that was in your hideout—and lean back in a chair that still smells like sawdust and campfire.

Leaning back in his own chair across from you, Eddie takes a slow look around. You see him pause to look at what you’ve already put up on the fridge. There’s a character sheet, a small pebble that’s been glued to a magnet, a note from your parents and a small magnetic photo frame. You can already feel your face heat up when Eddie points at it.

“That wasn’t there when we had pizza,” he says, slowly and a bit incredulously. You can only hold his gaze for a second or two when he turns to you for answers.

“I, uh,” you stutter, biting your lip and picking at the label of the bottle in your hands. “That’s—my mom, uh.”

It’s a polaroid.

By any other metric, completely unremarkable. Unnoticeable, probably, to anyone whose face isn’t actually on the damn thing. And if your mother hadn’t taken you aside yesterday morning to hand you a small, old and beaten-up looking shoebox, you probably wouldn’t ever have remembered that photo exists.

It’s Eddie, surrounded by trees, and wearing a cloak that had definitely been about twelve sizes too big. The hood swallows most of his head; the only thing that’s really visible is his smile. Honestly, most people probably wouldn’t even be able to tell that that’s Eddie Munson, in that photo.

But you remember taking that. Remember flapping the polaroid around madly while running away.

You shake your head against the memory. Those times are long gone, now. So why...

“Yeah,” you end up whispering, before taking a deep breath and letting out a deeper sigh. “I’unno. When my mom gave me an old box of pictures from middle school, I kind of...” You look over at the fridge and take another, albeit significantly more moderate, drag of your beer. “Dunno. Felt like it.”

Eddie slowly stands and walks over to the fridge. Takes a sip of his beer while he looks at the photo. Takes a quick look at you before taking a step back from the fridge to look at what all else you’ve put up there so far.

“You still got that box?” And bless him, you know he’s trying to be nonchalant about it, but there’s an anxious tone undercutting his voice clear as day. You chuckle and make your way back to your room and to your closet.

It’s only when you pull the small shoebox out and you’ve got it cradled in your arms do you realize the significance of this.

Almost everything that was in the trailer was lost; it’s honestly a miracle anything survived at all. But among the losses, you remember Wayne bemoaning the loss of the few pictures that he’d been able to take of Eddie over the years.

You look down at the box a bit more misty-eyed. You hope that there’s something helpful in here. Something nicer.

When you make it back to the living room, Eddie’s still standing in front of the fridge. His brows are pulled together and the sip he takes of his beer nearly dribbles down his chin. You hold the box a bit closer to your stomach when you move to stand next to him.

“What are we looking at?” you ask, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. You put a hand on his arm and laugh. “Hey there, have a nice time up in the clouds?”

Eddie laughs a bit thinly, points up at the fridge. “I was just. You kept the—the lyrics. From middle school?”

You stare up at the piece of turns, crumpled up ruled paper. You remember carrying that everywhere with you, in middle school and high school. Carried it in your wallet for a while, too, though...

You turn back to the table to gently put the shoebox down. “I didn’t think you’d remember writing that,” you say quietly, pulling up one small stack of photos neatly held together with a rubber band.

Eddie scoffs. “Are you kidding me? You basically whined at me for weeks to come up with a love song for... what was—”

“Shanon,” you add quickly, blindly reaching for your beer bottle while sorting through photos. “Blonde, grey eyes. You were infatuated.”

You don’t see the sad, self-deprecating grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shanon... yeah, no, didn’t write that for her.”

You take a second to bring the bottle down from your mouth. Turn around to look at Eddie, but he’s still resolutely looking at the paper haphazardly stuck to the fridge. It’s at an angle. It’s starting to drive you crazy. Eddie chugs the rest of his beer, puts the empty bottle on the counter by the fridge, and turns around.

“Woah there pal,” you start, chugging your own beer with a wince. You put the bottle back on the table behind you. “What’s that look for?”

You feel like your heart’s beating a frenzy in your throat. You’re pretty sure you just felt a heart palpitation. The look on Eddie’s face is intense in a way you don’t recognize. Not like when he's DMing and he’s about to throw a real wrench in everyone’s plans, and not like in the Upside Down.

No, it feels a lot like how he looks at you out in the fields by the junkyard.

You would take a step back when Eddie starts walking toward you, but you’re already leaning against the table behind you. You try to straighten up to maybe attempt to look less frazzled than you feel.

The beer’s already making your head feel fuzzy and your lips feel numb.

Eddie stops about a foot away from you, and you’re not sure how to feel about the fact that you have to crane your neck up to actually look at him. He opens his mouth, looking down at your with a frown. He tries a few times like this, before sighing and just.

Letting himself slump over to rest his head on your right shoulder.

You stay like that for a bit. You can hear the hitch in Eddie’s breath when he tries, again, to say something. After the third or fourth time, it feels like something’s squeezing your chest. He’s clearly got something on his chest he wants to get off—something heavy—and you know how that feels. How that goes.

Your left hand comes up to brace the back of his head before you can think of the implications.

Whatever. Fuck the implications.

“You can take your time, y’know,” you whisper, slowly slumping back to lean against the table behind you, forcing Eddie to take a step forward if he wants to stay in his spot.

“I can’t, I really can’t.” His voice sounds strained, and you flounder. You’ve never really had to struggle to get people to talk to you—not the people who actually give a fuck about you, anyways. And you can’t think of a single time, barring the obvious fuckery of the Upside Down, when Eddie was hesitant to talk to you.

He gently grabs the hand in his hair and pulls it away to straight himself out again. His eyes are closed when you can see his face again. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand.

“Listen—“

The phone rings.

You haven’t even put it up on the wall by the doorway yet. It’s still on the counter, where you’ve left it, right by the fridge.

The shock of it in the quiet of the dining room makes you trip over yourself. Eddie catches you and, practically in the same motion, spins to direct you to the phone. Out of breath, you pick up.

“Ye—hello?”

“Hey, hon,” comes Wayne’s tired greeting. “Sorry if I woke you up, but is Eddie still with you?”

You blink a few times, staring out into nothing. You only wonder for a second why he’d call so late when you’d likely be out cold, but when you turn to face Eddie—now leaning back against the table—the realization comes all at once.

“Ed—yes, oh my god, Wayne, I’m so sorry,” you rush to say, turning back to the counter and cradling the receiver. “Yeah, he helped me unpack and we kind of crashed, I should have had him call—”

“Hey, hey,” Wayne chuckles, and the lightness of the tone helps you breathe a bit easier. “It’s fine. Sorry I woke ya up.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” you reply quickly. “We’ve been up for a bit going through some stuff.”

“I won’t keep you then. Just tell that idiot son of mine to call next time.”

You let out a quiet bark of laughter and promise you will. You don’t think you’ve ever referred to Eddie as his son before. Guess the whole town going to shit changed a few things. Said idiot son has the decency to look a bit ashamed when you turn around and lean back against the counter.

“Probably shoulda called before we called it a night, huh,” Eddie says with a wince.

There’s a beat of silence that’s almost awkward before you clear your throat to speak.

“You uh, you were going to tell me something?”

Eddie stands there, expression not unlike shock on his face. He opens his mouth two or three times but eventually settles on a shrug.

“Don’t worry about it, I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” The end of his sentence almost trails off its so quiet. It’s clearly a lie, but you’re too fuzzy from the beer and fatigue from moving to push the issue any further.

You push yourself off the kitchen counter and brush your hands off on your thighs.

“Well,” you start, feeling a bit awkward while you amble toward the hallway. “I need to go back to bed. Let me know if...” It’s your turn to trail off, because you’re not sure how to end that sentence. Let you know if what, a demodog comes bursting in through the window?

You look anxiously over your shoulder at the window over the sink. It’s fine. It’s nothing, nothing’s there, you’re good. You clear your throat.

“Right, so. I’ll just.”

Eddie nods but doesn’t look at you. Your room is bright with birdsong and the rising sun by the time you fall asleep.

17 July 19861:37AM

You’re not entirely sure what motivated you to get out of bed, climb into your car, and make it to the Munsons’. It’s not like you couldn’t have just grabbed the phone and dialed Eddie’s shiny separate number. (You’re beginning to think the hush money bit was real.) You’ve called each other at the worst times of night and day for dumber shit.

This time, though, the nightmare felt a little too real to ignore and sleep off. Like you usually would have done.

It was like you had never existed; like everyone had gone into the Upside Down without you, without an extraction team, without a backup plan. And you had to watch while Eddie sliced the blanket rope. Horrified, you watched Dustin sprain his ankle in his rush to get back.

Eddie, gasping and choking on his own blood, saying he hadn’t run away this time. Eddie, glassy-eyed and gone, torn to shreds by bats left motionless by what you now know to have been Chief Hopper’s own attack all the way in Russia.

You take a second to control your breathing once you’re at the squat triplex. Eventually you uncurl your stiff and sore fingers from the steering wheel and force yourself out of the car. Your legs feel like jello and your head like lead.

You consider trying to climb up to the third floor, somehow, if only for a second. You know Wayne’s likely to be up so you shouldn’t worry too much about either ringing or knocking but... Shake your head and hit the button for the third floor before you can think more about it and chicken out.

You’re let in surprisingly quickly. When you make it up to door number 3, Wayne’s leaning against the doorway.

“Bit early,” he says, uncrossing his arms once you’re near. Puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “Everything okay?”

“Nightmares,” you answer quietly. You curl and uncurl your fists at your sides.

“Come on,” Wayne says after a beat of silence. “He’s in his room. Coffee?”

You shake your head. With one last squeeze of your shoulder. Wayne wanders back inside, and you aim straight for Eddie’s bedroom door. Your fist is up to knock when Eddie opens the door, looking disheveled but extremely awake.

“Hey,” he says airily, out of breath as he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail. “I was about to head out—you weren’t answering your phone so.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything or explain before pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. He throws his jacket—leather only, sans denim, as it has been for a few months now—over the back of the chair as his desk.

Nothing much else is said, which is how these nights usually go. Neither of you need to be rehashing what happened in the Upside Down, the earthquake, your constant passing out. Tonight, though, there is one thing that eats at you. Eddie has to nudge you, sitting next to him on his bed beneath the window, to pass the joint over. When you take it, he makes a point to lean forward to try and get a good look at your face.

“Did... did something happen? Before you got here?” he asks, and the concern in his voice twists your gut unpleasantly.

“It’s just—it’s nightmares. You know how it is.” You make a point not to take too deep of a toke of the joint before passing it back over, turning your head to blow the smoke out through the open window.

You can just barely see Eddie narrowing his eyes at you in your periphery. For a second, when he straightens up and leans back against the wall next to you, you think he’s dropped it.

“If it was just nightmares, you would’ve called.”

You snort and look the other way. Again, though, Eddie nudges you to turn around and take the joint. Carefully and, thankfully, not too quickly, he grabs your wrist as you grab the joint.

“Hey. Come on. Talk to me, please.”

Your eyes burn and you can already feel your nose getting red and itchy. Your whole face feels warm. Either to spare you the embarrassment of it or a second, secret reason, Eddie pulls you into his chest and you just start crying.

You’ve dreamt of people dying before. Tons of times. Even before El tore a massive hole through reality in Hawkins. But that—feeling powerless in a situation you know could’ve happened if you hadn’t just been around and stuck your nose where it arguably shouldn’t have been—and seeing Eddie die in a way you just couldn’t help?

That was brutal.

17 July 19869:12AM

You have no idea when you fell asleep. Your eyes feel sore and dry, your throat feels strange and your neck hurts. You’re cursorily aware that you’re in Eddie’s room—the smell of weed, incense and whatever cologne he wears usually gives it away.

Very quickly, you realize that you’ve fallen asleep on Eddie’s chest at an awkward angle. You’re both barely sitting up, still leaning back against the wall underneath the window. God, you drool on him. Fuck.

Okay, this is fine. You’ve literally had worse.

You take a deep breath and, as smoothly and quickly as you can, roll off the bed and onto your knees. It’s not graceful, but when you look back, Eddie still seems to be sound asleep. You pray to whatever’s out there that he stays that way until his shirt’s dry.

You tiptoe out of the room and turn the knob before shutting the door behind you. The rest of the apartment is empty, and with how late you heard Wayne ambling about, you’re sure he’s not ready to get up any time soon, either.

By the time you leave, there’s breakfast ready to be reheated in the oven and you’ve left a note on the coffee maker saying to just turn it on.

When you walk outside to your car, though the sun’s been up for a while, the fog still clings to the ground. You sit in your car for a few minutes, staring at the water droplets slowly evaporating on the windshield. When your heart rate has gone back down to something human and manageable, you start the car and head home.

13 August 198612:07AM

If you were bubbling with excitement before the concert, now you feel like soda that’s been left out for a few hours. Flat, maybe, but still just as sweet as it was before, if not moreso. You still feel all the enthrallment that you did before and during the concert, but now you feel...

Well, post-concert blues. That satisfied feeling of having witnessed something amazing, but the accompanying sadness and mourning knowing that you’ll never be able to relive this same experience again. It’s come and gone and now all you can do is remember it.

You slap your thighs to bring you out of your own head. This is going to be a good fucking night. Eddie literally bought you tickets to see Judas Priest and drove you both all the way out here. Refused to let you drive for a singular second, too.

“You still that hyped?” Eddie asks, laughing, holding his lighter out to you. You light up your own smoke and laugh.

“Nah, just trying to get my head back in the game. Too much shit rattling around in here.” You tap your head with the lighter before handing it back.  Eddie takes a second before grabbing it, though, and you have to wave your other hand in front of him to snap him out of it.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s out of it,” you laugh, bumping his shoulder with yours when he finally takes the damn lighter back.

Quietly, from inside the van, you can hear the opening bars for Wild Nights.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie grunts, crouching down to tie the messy laces of his right shoe. “I’m the one who drove three hours to get here, and had to convince your parents that I wouldn’t murder you and dump your body in the river.”

You can’t help but cackle. You know for a fact that neither of your parents called the Munson household, but you also know that it’s something that they very easily could have done. Looking out at the White river from your little spot at the state park, you open your mouth to say something about how overprotective Wayne can be, but then something catches your eye.

“They literally,” you start, reaching over to pluck the scarf from Eddie’s back pocket. “Did not do that.” You twist the scarf around in your hands a bit before trying to whip it at his ass. You miss horribly and end up snapping the tip of the scarf on his thigh.

You burst out in laughter, full bellied and unrestrained, when Eddie yelps and topples over to the right. You try to apologize and ask if he’s okay, but you doubt that anything intelligible makes it past you wheezing, squeaking laughter.

“Alright, that’s it,” Eddie grumbles, tossing his half-smoke cigarette into the gravel before stalking towards you. He’s clearly not upset, but you make a mad dash for the riverbank anyways.

The toes of your shoes have just barely touched water before Eddie’s arms wrap around your torso and pull you back. You shriek and kick once or twice before letting yourself go limp.

Half an hour later finds you in some park along the 36, hair and clothes still damp and cheeks sore. You’re both sitting in the back of the van, doors open, passing a joint between you and looking out onto the park.

“I like what you’ve done with this old bitch,” you comment, tapping the plush—carpeting? blanket?—that Eddie’s laid down in the back. “Is there a camping mat under this or something?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, been going out in the woods after work sometimes just to like... relax, y’know?” You nod; you ran to the woods a lot as a kid, too. “Right, so I kinda made it more comfy to get high in. That’s it.”

When he passes you the joint, you look back at the front where you’d left the scarf. Handkerchief? You’ve had the question in mind ever since March: is he the S or is he the M?

“Seriously?” Eddie balks. “That’s what’s been on your mind this whole time?”

You turn to look at him and blink owlishly.

“Oh. Oh god, please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

Eddie laughs, and it almost sounds a little mean. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and making its way to your face. Your cheeks itch with it.

“Right, you’re too baked and tired for this,” Eddie declares, and even to your ears he sounds way too composed and, frankly, sober. Though you guess he’s maybe had a bit more time to get used to smoking weed than you have.

“What, no!” You whine, trying to reach across him to snag the joint out of his left hand. Unfortunately, the best that’s done for you is get you splayed across Eddie’s lap once you inevitably lose your balance.  “Fuck you.”

Eddie’s almost unnaturally still beneath you. And you’d look up at him, if you could, but even fucking cooked, you’re very aware that you’re laid across a man’s lap.

Your throat feels too tight when you swallow. You move to brace an arm on Eddie’s thigh to prop yourself up, but his hand on the back of your head has you freezing in place. When the hand starts petting down your head, your neck and your spine, only to start again at the top, you start to go limp. This isn’t so bad.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs, and you get the feeling you’ve spoken out loud again. “You would think that.” The embarrassment is enough to make your eyes sting. There’s a beat of silence, and then Eddie leans over to whisper in your ear, “Good girl.”

You swallow thickly. You had intended to follow-up by asking whether or not Eddie was even interested in the opposite gender. But you suppose that answers that.

There’s a tension in your gut and shoulders that makes you second guess yourself. You get the words out before you can think too much about it.

“What do I have to do for you to say that again?”

The hand petting you takes its time reaching the bottom of your spine, and then stays there. Warm against your lower back, and just high enough to say he’s not actually touching your ass. Awfully cordial.

“Depends,” Eddie hums, and you hear him take another toke of the joint before crushing the tip of it between his fingers and chucking the extinguished butt somewhere you can’t see. “Why?”

This time, you do prop yourself up, both hands on Eddie’s thigh. If it had been anyone else, the distance between your faces would have been the epitome of discomfort.

“I want you to say it again,” you answer quietly. It’s getting harder to keep your eyes on his and not let them drift down.

“Say what again?” Eddie asks, and you don’t know if you love or hate the shit eating grin on his face. You should have expected this, though; putting you on the spot was part of the whole point, wasn’t it?

“I-I want you to...” you start, but your throat feels too small for the words that are trying to come out. Eddie’s hand at your lower back comes up to rub comforting circles between your shoulder blades. Your face and neck are on fire and everything feels itchy.

“Come on,” Eddie whispers. You realize that you’ve been staring at his mouth, and when you look, he is very much looking down at your mouth. “Won’t laugh. Promise.”

The sigh that leaves you almost surprises you.

“I-I want you to—I want you to call me a good girl. Again. Please.”

The hand between your shoulders makes its way forward to cup your jaw.

“Good girl,” Eddie breathes, and it’s like your whole body vibrates, shudders with the satisfaction of it. “Fuck,” he chuckles, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone. “You’re really into that.”

You want to say that you shrugged, but the reality is that the sound that comes out of your mouth couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a whimper.

“Can I—” Eddie starts asking, but you cut him off nearly right away.

“Yes.”

You would think kissing your childhood best friend, whom you’d lost touch with for several years and had recently gone through several traumatic events with, would be somewhat awkward and clumsy. But, unlike when you were teenagers, you and Eddie both, clearly, had the advantage of some gained experience in the meanwhile.

There’s no chastity in the kiss; from the moment his mouth locks with yours, it’s open-mouthed and breathless. Eddie pulls you closer, helps you sit across his lap properly, and you fist your hands in his shirt. In his brand new Judas Priest shirt. You know he doesn’t even particularly like Turbo, as an album. Almost none of it is his preferred style.

You whine into the kiss, and you chase Eddie’s lips when he pulls away. He helps shift you off his lap and quickly instructs you to move back and lie down. The van is plunged into near pitch-black. You move back until you feel what you think is the back of the driver’s seat. You don’t lie back yet, instead reaching out for Eddie.

Your hand knocks into what’s apparently his arm. His mouth finds your again in the dark as your fingers find their way into his hair. You gasp when Eddie roughly pulls you down, firmly gripping your hips one second and cradling your head to make sure you don’t hit it the next.

“You sure this is fine?” Eddie asks, though his lips are moving down to your neck, teeth nipping at the skin.

“It’s fine, this is fine,” you rush to say, letting your hands wander up under Eddie’s shirt. You’re  sure to keep your touch light when you come across the scars. “This is so fucking fine,” you breathe.

Eddie’s shirt rises with your wandering hands, and he gives you a second to pull it over his head. You have no idea where you toss it and you honestly couldn’t care less. His hands, in return, take the opportunity to make their way under your shirt, and you want to scream. Your entire body feels like a coil being wound tighter.

It’s unfamiliar, how intense it is. You don’t think you mind.

Eddie knocks your knees open to settle between your legs rather than straddling you, though you’re more preoccupied by your shirt—identical to Eddie’s, because you couldn’t help yourself—being peeled off and thrown into an equally unknowable direction. His hands on your ribs feel like irons smoothing out the trembling wrinkles of them, and the shuddering sigh that you let out makes Eddie chuckle.

“Poor thing,” he laments, one hand at your waist prompting you to arch your back, the other sliding up your back to somehow expertly undo the clasp of your bra. “Been holding out for a while, huh.”

It’s not a question. You twitch, about to bring your hands up to hide your face, but—there’s no real point, is there? In this kind of darkness, it’s not like he’d be able to see how red your face is. You have a feeling he’d reprimand you for trying to hide, anyways.

“Didn’t think you’d wanna look at me,” you breathe into his mouth. Saying it out loud makes it feel silly, especially here and now. You don’t hold it against him when Eddie laughs. You can hear the shock in it.

“We’re both idiots,” he mutters, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth, down your neck, nipping at the collarbone on the way. He presses his lips to your sternum, hands gliding up your sides to palm at your breasts. Nothing like the fumbling messes of your first adult years; Eddie’s hands are slow and deliberate. He’s not feeling you up for his own sake—though you don’t doubt that it in no small way contributes to the hardening length you feel growing at the junction of your thigh—but for yours. This feels entirely like a massage for your benefit.

To his credit, it’s working. Whatever tension you were holding in your shoulders is slowly melting away under his hands.

His mouth continues its trail down, licking a stripe up your navel before he stops at the button of your shorts. You don’t let him ask, you just unbutton them for him. He doesn’t move until he hears you start to pull at the zipper. He doesn’t leave you time to pull it down all the way before he’s tugging your shorts off like they’ve personally offended him.

The cold air makes you realize he’s taken your underwear with them. He lightly rests his forehead on your stomach and breathes in. It almost makes you choke.

“God you smell good,” he growls against your skin. While his mouth trails kisses back up your torso, you feel one hand sliding gently up your chest to rest at the base of your throat. The other slides two fingers through your slit.

Eddie groans like he’s in pain.

“I won’t—not here, fuck,” Eddie mutters, nuzzling between your breasts, and you buck your hips into his hands when one of his slicked fingers finds your clit. “First time we gotta do it right but this, we can—I can give you this,” he whispers, so low you figure he must be talking to himself more than he is to you.

One finger prods at your entrance, and then he’s got two fingers inside of you. The first few pumps, though heaven, don’t do much. But then Eddie curls his fingers, and it’s like he’s a puppeteer who’s pulled on all of your strings all at once. He exhales sharply and sounds entirely too pleased with himself when he speaks.

“There she is,” he whispers, mouthing at the spot on your neck just below your ear. The warmth  makes you shiver and clamp down on his finger. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Eddie’s hand practically turns into a machine. You don’t think you’ve ever been able to get yourself so close to cumming in less than a minute. The hand at the base of your neck creeps just a little bit higher. When you gasp at the pressure his fingers apply, you have to grab at Eddie’s wrist to keep his hand there.

“You’re perfect,” Eddie sighs, and you can feel more than see him toss his head back. “Fuck, wish I could see your face right now.”

“Next time,” you reply quickly. “Please, fuck, I’m so close, please please please,” you whine, reaching your other hand down to rub at your clit.

“Holy shit that’s so fucking hot,” Eddie groans, and bites down on your neck, just above where his hand collars it nicely.

The sting is what sends you careening over the edge, cumming with a drawn-out moan. Your hips jerk erratically in spite of yourself, chasing Eddie’s fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm. When your arms go limp, you distantly register the sound of his belt coming undone and the distinct sound of him spitting. There’s a slick sound and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that.

That Eddie Munson is jerking off over your naked body.

“Fucking christ,” you whisper, out of breath, and force yourself to sit up.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans, and you blindly reach out for him. He grabs one of your hands on his chest, laces his fingers tightly through yours. Your other hand, however, makes it down to his, wrapped around and pump his cock.

You shimmy back just enough to be able to lean down to lick the tip.

“Jesus f—I’m gonna,” Eddie chokes out. He doesn’t finish his sentence when you bat his hand away and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and suck.

You swallow more of him down as he cums, swallowing around him once or twice before he brushes a hand up your forehead and lightly pushes you back and away. You kiss his navel, instead, then his sternum, until he pulls you up with two hands cupping your face, and makes you kiss him, instead.

You didn’t think you’d be turned on by a guy kissing you after you’ve just swallowed his load, but there are apparently a lot of things you’ve yet to discover about yourself.

Carefully, mouths still touching but not quite kissing, Eddie maneuvers you both so that he can lie down on his back, and you can lay your head on his chest.

You throw a leg over his for good measure.

“I’m not moving anymore,” you groan, burrowing your face into his chest.

“Can’t blame ya,” Eddie says, breathless, and you can’t help but laugh.

There’s a moment of silence, and then both of you start laughing. The bouncing of his chest makes it hard to stop laughing. Your gut hurts, your cheeks hurt, and you are entirely too sweaty. You could not care less.

“So,” Eddie starts, once you’ve both been able to calm down and breathe like normal people again. “You mentioned a next time?”

You hum and close your eyes against the darkness in the back of the van.

“Mm, it did not escape my notice that the handcuffs were something you managed to rescue from the trailer,” you mumble, throwing an arm over Eddie’s chest and squeezing.

“...I don’t think I hate the idea of you in chains, actually.”

September 2nd, 19867:58AM

You’re woken up entirely too early by your phone ringing. You don’t need to look at the time to know it’s too early; if you can’t hear cars driving around yet, it’s too fucking early.

“Mmn, gmorning, what,” you slur, wedging the phone between your chin and shoulder and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Morning to you too, sunshine,” Eddie greets you brightly, and the warmth that bubbles up in your chest at the sound of his voice feels almost euphoric.

“You’re a weapon,” you say fondly, moving from where you’ve finally wall-mounted the phone to the wall by the fridge and making your way to the kitchen counter, which you promptly hop up on. “Wait,” you whisper, leaning forward to look at the calendar you’ve stuck to the fridge. “It’s September 2nd.”

“Mhm, congratulations, you can correctly identify the date.”

You ignore the snark.

You have entirely forgotten to ask Eddie whether or not he’d been made to repeat his senior year—again—despite everything that had happened over spring break. It felt awkward to ask now, though.

“You, uh,” you stutter instead, trying to find the least offensive way to go about finding out. “You’re calling, uh, early. Special occasion?”

“Of course,” Eddie says haughtily, and you can almost imagine the expression on his face. The kind that says ‘I know something you don’t and I know you’re too much of a coward to ask about it’.

“Come on just say it man,” you plead, letting your head fall back and reaching up to keep the receiver in place.

“My lady, I’m sure I don’t know what you speak of.”

“Fucking dick,” you say under your breath. Take a deep breath, bring your head back up and square your shoulder. “Edward Munson, did they or did they not let you graduate?”

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter so loud you have to pull the receiver away from your ear for a second. His tone and demeanor make you want to believe that he’s finally been cut some slack, but...

You manage to get a single sound out before there’s a knock at your door. You hold the phone away from yourself again, narrow your eyes at it like it’s Eddie in your hands instead of the receiver, and put it back to your ear. You cut off whatever he was saying when you speak again.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why there’s someone knocking on my door at,” you pause, turning to look at the time on the stove. “One past eight in the fucking morning?”

“Dunno, sounds important if it’s this early though,” Eddie replies, a bit too easily, and you sigh.

“Whatever, I’m putting the phone down. Don’t hang up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huff and put the phone down on the counter, making sure it won’t fall off. By the time you make it to your front door, whoever’s there has decided that knocking nonstop is clearly the best way to get your attention.

You honestly should have expected Dustin Henderson at your doorstep at eight in the morning on back to school day. He’s suspiciously got an arm behind his back. You sigh, again, and unlock the deadbolt and undo the latch before opening the door.

“Alright,” you say, one hand on your hip and the other hand held out. “Fork it over.”

“I have no idea—” Dustin starts to say, but the deadpan stare you level at him makes him clear his throat instead. “Right! Here you go.”

“Thank you kindly, now hold up,” you say, holding a finger up and quickly walking over to your fridge to pull a bottle of water out. When you’re halfway back to the door, you call out, “Heads up!” and toss the bottle over.

Dustin barely manages to catch the thing, but doesn’t do so without a comical amount of fumbling.

“Awesome, now that you’ve done your Dungeon Master’s bidding, go the fuck to school, nerd,” you chastise, flicking the bill of Dustin’s cap.

“Man, you’re mean, you know that?”

“Sure, that’s why I’m making sure you’re staying hydrated on that damn bike,” you retort, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Go on now, shoo. Go get an education.”

You wait until you can’t see Dustin down the road anymore before closing and locking the door, and wandering back over to the phone.

“Alright,” you say, wedging the receiver under your chin again and tearing open the envelope you’d been handed. “This better be worth it. I was up until 3am and I’m fucking beat.”

Eddie stays quiet, but you can practically feel the frantic energy of him through the phone. You pull the paper—papers, it’s a whole damn stack of them—and then promptly drop them all on the kitchen floor when you catch the title on the first page.

“Edward,” you start, tone harsh.

“Hey, woah, okay,” Eddie  rushes to start. “Okay, I graduated, right? Like, everyone was let through because of all the bullshit. That’s not really important right now though?”

“Ed,” you start again, lower and calmer. “That thing said ‘Thrasher Records’. I don’t fucking know who they are but there’s fucking record in the name, babe.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. You can hear the face-splitting smile. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, and you know he can hear the smile splitting your face, too.

You don’t change out of your sleep shorts and Judas Priest shirt. You’re at the Munsons’ in just under five minutes—which, yes, is probably a little bit criminally fast, but it’s not like Hopper’s gonna care—only to find out that Edward fucking Munson hadn’t even told his own damn father.

You give your boyfriend just enough shit for him to want to make up for it.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@bramblequill @storiesbyrhi @averagestudent03 @alovesongtheywrote @doratheignora @fnlyroe

[hidingoutbackstage]

Hello! I’m back to talk about Resident Evil fandom misogyny! Are y’all sick of me yet? Too bad!

I know my source for this fucking sucks (it’s ao3) but since I’ve bitched about the horrible way RE fics on ao3 are somewhat reflective of the fandom before, and bc what I saw pissed me off, I’m gonna talk about it.

And unlike some people, if y’all don’t care about it, I’m gonna put it under a cut, and NOT post my annoying ramblings in the main tag as if they’re facts and not just my interpretations and criticism of fandom wide expression

So I was thinking about making a post saying “merry yaoimas (chreon) and a happy new yuri (femslash re ship)” with the latter parantheses actually holding an re ship. But that did make me pause and think, what was the most popular femslash re ship? I know I have my favorites (claida, chamberfield, and ashuela being most prominent), but I’m also aware that those are rarepairs and probably not indicative of the fandom as a whole.

The first thing I did was go to ao3, which, again, while not indicative of the fandom as a whole, is still large and worth looking at. These three under filters should’ve been my first clue that this was going to be abysmal

8.4k m/m fics. f/f isn’t even half of that. Now, when I saw this, I was disappointed but not surprised, and I stupidly saw the F/M being more popular and thinking “Oh right cuz Leon x female reader people are annoying” (keep this in mind for like two paragraphs later)

Anyway, I filtered it to only contain f/f pairings, so I could see which pairings were the most popular, and I genuinely had no idea. After all, most of the games in the series barely have women interact at all, so like, were people shipping Claire Redfield and Jill Valentine in 2000 because they were the only two female protagonists (who had also appeared in two games), even though they’d never interacted? Did the remakes and recent movies instill people with a love for Claire x Rebecca like I enjoyed? Or did we circle back to the late 90s due to the remakes of 2 and 3 where Claire and Jill were protagonists of big re games and thus people wanted to ship them?

In my foolish decision to think about, you know the main characters of the series that spawn multiple games and are iconic staples of the series’ existence as a whole, I forgot one thing: people on the internet are horny first, and human beings second

(gonna use that pic of my dog for image compression, even though this is under a read more)

Ngl, considering that I’d made multiple posts bitching about this very phenomenon, I was more than a little peeved, and also felt dumb for having forgotten about this. So first I decided to filter out the character tag “reader” and-

Um. I mean. What I meant to say, was that I then filtered out all of the relationships that just came from re8 “fans” being horny. Then I was left with this

So out of THAT list of ten ships, only six of them were actually f/f, the most popular having 120 fics and the least popular having 38. If you don’t feel like scrolling back up, there were 3913 fics in the re tag which were tagged with f/f

So I think, generally, that Claire/Jill is the most popular re f/f ship, at least in the ao3 community. Case closed, right?

Wrong. Now I had to see if that was actually true. Because if I know one thing about re writers, it’s that they include f/f as an afterthought or some background bs to a fic focused on a m/m ship

So I counted, and I did my best to split all fics where Claire/Jill were tagged into three types: background, focused, and given equal focus between them and one or more pairings. Some didn’t really fit, like fics that were just a collection of one shots (or more commonly, collection of short smuts) but those I also left out of the Claire/Jill focused count, because they weren’t focused on them. So after going through all 141 (yup that’s really all the Claire/Jill ships there are) fics, here’s the number I ended up with

82 fics where they were the focus ship

14 fics where they were given equal focus between one or more pairings

The rest (45) were neither

Not gonna lie, I was pretty relieved to see that fics where they were the focus was more than half of the total. And as I went further back, more fics focused on Claire/Jill as opposed to having them be a background ship. Also, for fun, I checked the ratings for Claire/Jill fics

And although I didn’t cross reference, I did generally notice a lot more of the fics focused on Claire/Jill were smut first, and fluff secondarily. Most of them too were also either one chapter (complete or incomplete) or generally just short. If a fic had many chapters/high word count, Claire/Jill almost always wasn’t the main ship, and sometimes shared the spotlight with another ship.

So is this reflective of the whole fandom? No, of course not. Is this indicative of a major problem with the fandom not caring about female characters? Yeah, literally all social media is indicative of it.

It’s not like the media itself is incredibly feminist, or full of meaningful character interactions between anyone, regardless of genders, it’s just not good at it and not really trying to be. But I will say that at large, the fandom does seem to prioritize m/m relationships, platonic or romantic, over female characters existences, their relationships to men, and fuck off if you think they care about relationships between women.

I do have a separate post coming about the lack of interactions between women in the media itself, but that’s for another day

[jessybarnes]

Eight Legged Enemy

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Other Characters: Chris Evans and @madashatters18

Rating: Mature

Tags: Spiders, angst, fluff, language, pining, crying, panic, and I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,361

Beta: Just Grammarly and me

Reblog Divider by: @cafekitsune

"So, who's turn is it to pick the movie?" 

Chris looks up from his phone and gazes between you and Ang. Both of you shrug in unison.

"Honestly? I forgot," you laugh as you answer him.

"Same…," Ang adds. 

Chris rolls his eyes playfully and shakes his head, "I swear… What am I gonna do with you two? Alright. I'm gonna go make popcorn for us. You two pick something while I'm gone, okay?" 

He gets up and slides his phone in his pocket before disappearing down the hall with Dodger hot on his heels. 

Ang stands and walks over to one of the bookshelves full of Blu-ray movies.

"I'll take this one and you take the other. Then we'll compare our top three. Sound good?"

You nod and start looking through the other one. 

After a few minutes, you decide on your choices and turn to show them to Ang when something catches your eye. There, crawling down the wall is a quarter-sized spider and it makes your eyes go wide.

"Ang! Oh, my fucking god! Ew! Oh, fuck! A spider!" 

You both scream, drop the movies, and jump on top of Chris’s pool table just as he comes running back into the room with a butcher knife.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck is goi- wait… what are you doing on my pool table? What's going on?!" 

Ang points a shaking hand to the spider that's now crawling towards Chris’s feet.

"SPIDER!"

He looks down and jumps backward, dropping the knife in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Dodger! C'mon, buddy! Get it!"

Instead of getting up to help, his furbaby yawns and grunts before laying back down in his spot on the couch.

Chris glares at him before quickly looking back down at the eight-legged threat at his feet. It gets within an inch of his toes before he leaps over it and scrambles up on the pool table in between the girls.

"Okay, I am NOT killing that thing if I can help it, so… rock paper scissors?" 

You shake your head, "Listen, Evans… you may be my best friend, but honey, there is NO WAY I'm smashing that thing. Sebastian could come in here sayin' he'd kiss me and I'd still say no." 

Chris abandons the thought of being bit by one of his biggest fears and snaps his head towards you.

"I'm sorry...you what now?"

Ang snorts, "Umm you mean to tell me you didn't know she had a thing for Seabass?" 

Chris turns to his other best friend and narrows his eyes. "Uhh no...no I didn't."

Your eyes scan the room, "guys?"

It falls on deaf ears though. Clearly, your love life is more important than actually living.

"Chris, c'mon seriously. She looks at him like I look at Tom…and we've been together for four years now. It's obvious how she feels about him." 

You peek over the side of the pool table and glance at the floor, desperately looking for the spider, but it's no use, it's gone. "Guys?!"

Once again you're ignored as Chris rolls his eyes for the second time that night.

"Ang, you know I'm always the last one to find things out! You could've told me, ya know! Is Seb aware of how she feels?" 

You smack Chris’s shoulder, but he brushes you off as he waits for Ang to answer.

She bites her lip, "Actually, no, I don't think he does. She's too nervous to tell him and thinks he's way out of her league. I keep trying to tell her to nut up and make a move, but th-" 

Chris and Ang jump as you practically scream, "GUYS!!"

There are tears in your eyes as you look at them nervously. "It's gone...I don't...it…"

Ang immediately begins to look over her end of the table while Chris pulls out his phone to turn on the flashlight.

"Shh, hey, it's okay. We'll find it. Just breathe for me." 

Five minutes later you're all sitting back to back in a sort of triangle on high alert.

"I'm not sleeping until that thing is dead!" Ang says as she turns to Chris. "I mean it. I will sit here all night if I have to."

He unlocks his phone and groans, "So much for movie night. It's after eleven." 

You sigh and lean your head back, your eyes closed as you try not to panic. A few seconds go by before you suddenly feel the strong urge to open them, and the moment you do you nearly pass out. The spider is dangling above all of your heads spinning a web on the ceiling light. 

"CHRIS!"

You leap off the table and scramble backward toward the wall behind you. He and Ang both look up at the same time and scream before joining you against the hard surface.

"Okay, motherfucker...time to call in the big guns." Chris taps on his phone screen a few times before holding it to his ear. 

"Hello? Hey man, it's me...Yeah, can you come over? We have a problem… No, no, they're fine… we just uhh...we need you. Just...please?...Fifteen mins? Awesome, just walk on in when you get here. Thank you!" 

Ang raises an eyebrow, "Uhh who was that?"

Chris nods toward you and smirks, "I called Romanian Romeo. He has no issues killing spiders and I figured I'd play matchmaker too. Ya know, kill two birds with one stone." 

You sigh, "I'm literally right here guys… Plus, he doesn't like me like that so can we just focus on staying alive and making sure that thing doesn't move?" 

The next fifteen minutes are the slowest they've ever experienced, but finally, they hear Sebastian’s voice call out to them.

"Hello? Where is everyone?" 

"Down here!" Chris shouts up to him and gets up to greet him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Umm… okay, someone needs to fill me in here. Aren't you guys supposed to be watching movies? Ang looks like she is about to pass out and has Y/N been crying? Chris, what is all this? What's going on?" 

He feels embarrassed all of a sudden. He's Captain fucking America for fuck's sake and he can't even kill a spider?

"Well, we were going too but uh...I...we need...fuck, man there's a spider dangling from the fucking ceiling light. Can you just kill it for us? Please?" 

Sebastian turns around and looks up at the arachnid for a moment.

"That tiny little guy? Seriously? You called me here to kill that?"

He takes his shoe off and grabs one of the Blu-rays off the floor.

"Fine, but I'm staying...and we're playing truth or dare." 

He coaxes it onto the case and brings it down to the floor. The moment it crawls off he smashes it with his shoe making the girls scream.

"He's dead. You're all saved. Now, who's making popcorn? We need snacks and drinks to get this party started." 

Once everyone is settled on the floor in a circle Sebastian takes a sip of his drink and looks at Ang.

"Alright sweetheart, you go first. Ask someone to pick truth or dare."

She smiles and looks at Chris as he finishes a bite of popcorn. "Truth or dare?"

He considers his options as he opens a beer. "Truth."

She thinks for a moment before smiling, "Is it true you've used your Captain America shield during sexy time?"

He nearly chokes on his drink before going beet red, "Um I...maybe?" 

Sebastian cackles as the girls squeal with delight.

"Oh, my god you totally have! Christopher! Who knew you were so kinky? Ang teases. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up…alright my turn. Sebastian, truth or dare?"

He bites his lip and Chris sees you hone in on the movement.

"Dare! Gotta go with the dare." 

Chris rubs his hands together and cracks his knuckles. He knows his next move could go very wrong if he isn't careful. So he can only pray this goes well. 

"I dare you," he looks between the two of you for a moment before he continues, "to kiss Y/N on the lips."