#I added the punctuation for dramatic effect

[macaulaytwins]

“I’m gay” “I’m straight” ….okay..? I’m flesh and blood but not human. I haven’t been human for two hundred years.

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 08/04/2024

Shiny Smily TALE

Season 8 No Album Release (Read More) Shiny Smily Story (OST Version) - HoloCure

Ripped by Ellie53

Well, would you believe it - its the eighth Season 8 rip being covered, on the eighth of April (half of eight)! And what better way to celebrate this than to cover completely uncharted territory for the blog - an UNDERTALE rip!!

I kid, I kid - though Undertale is definitely quite prominently featured on here, I feel as if it is rightfully earned. It and its psuedo-sequel in Deltarune feel almost like the frontmen of the SiIvaGunner channel in some way, as Season 1 began mere months after Undertale and its music began making waves online in late 2015. Such a hot topic was impossible to ignore, yet SiIvaGunner and Undertale have a fair bit in common that made the game's continued presence on SiIvaGunner feel very natural. There's the lore theming of course, I covered that briefly in Your Best Nightmario, but it also extends to the very core of what Undertale is: A game shamelessly rooted in silliness and absurd, internet-age comedy, yet still able to evoke such real attachments and emotions. The fit was all too perfect, and so the Undertale rips have continued year after year - Hoopache, Outertale, Determination is Magic, BUSTER HAND, and on and on and on. It may seem difficult to imagine that these all manage to stay fresh for so long, but they all find a way - and Shiny Smily TALE, eight years into the channel's life, shows that they're here to stay.

Immediately upon first hearing Shiny Smily TALE, I was reminded of one of the most recent UT/DR rips to have been covered on here, in kris gaming. Its reference was completely lost to me, being an arrangement in the style of stock music popularly used within VTuber circles, of which I'm terminally unfamiliar with - but the sheer vibe, the coziness, comfort of it all just made it such a wonderful listen. I don't mean to say that the VTuber world is one I oppose, moreso that its a part of the internet that still feels so nigh impenetrable to me - althesame, I love admiring it from a distance, just seeing how much passion and endearment is formed within these creators' communities.

And I immediately felt many of those feelings when hearing Shiny Smily TALE for the first time!! Shiny Smily Story has such a wonderful sound to it already, a vibe at once danceable and comforting - "Future Bass", I believe its typically called? - which turns the once-dramatic feel of SAVE The World into something far more pure-hearted in its arrangement here. Its as if all of those emotions still present from SAVE The World are spun into something far sweeter, spun like a legend of something exciting ahead, but with happiness and joy at the forefront. Without too much experience in listening to the original Shiny Smily Story, its hard to assess "accurately" how impressive of an effort this is, but what I DO know is of Ellie53's prowess in ripping - I was practically forced to during the great Raftmageddon incident of April 1st 2024. But even these jokier rafts rides, ones like Raft Ride at Freddy's and TiK ToK, on the clock, but the Raft Ride don't stop, no, show how good she is at merging two songs to such seamless (if, here, comedic) effect. Indeed, I can pick up on a lot of subtler touches done here to make the arrangement work, Shiny Smily TALE utilizes the various ebb-and-flowing sections of intensity and noise within the Shiny Smily Story theme, to punctuate the progression of SAVE The World where it best fits. For instance using a calmer section for the Hopes and Dreams leitmotif, only for it to build in excitement as it progresses, like the very song itself is pulling itself out of isolation and loneliness...allllmost commenting on Asriel's own struggles in Undertale?

Okay, okay, I won't quite go there - but the theme of community and love is one I do want to wrap things up with, adding one last little anecdote. Because it extends beyond the confines of just this rip, extending as far back as 2020, with Sarvéproductions' SAVE the Virtual World. Yes - the inverse joke of Shiny Smily TALE, Shiny Smily Story and SAVE The World, was made four years ago by another long-time excellent ripper: Sarvéproductions, the one behind Bloody Freddy and many more on the channel, across his many years of contributing. It's an equally lovely rip in its own way (likely more, for those attached to HoloLive!), but its the sentiment that Shiny Smily TALE shows that really makes it land for me - that Ellie53 wanted to pay tribute to HoloLive, and at once was able to make it as much of a tribute to a fellow long-time channel contributor, to a partner-in-crime on the channel! It's not a new thing to occur on the channel of course, rips like old town ribbon race and Green Panty Zone (Sequenced Ver​.​) were made in tribute to specific rips or specific rippers respesctively, but I love how interpersonal this exchange between Ellie53 and Sarvéproductions feels in particular, how well it all fits with the feel of HoloLive and VTuber communities in general - and of course, I love how genuinely fantastic Shiny Smily TALE sounds on top of it all.

[pickel182]

~Taking Your Work Home ~

Summary: Dr. Kamilla Silverbough’s patient-turned-lover arrives for his weekly visit to her apartment, away from prying eyes. She may not be his doctor any longer, but this week there was something new he wanted to try.

Rating 18+

Porn with Feelings, Inappropriate Behavior, Dom/sub Undertones, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Strip Tease, Clothed Sex

WC: 2,126

**********************

She knew better than to put all of her eggs in the basket of Astarion Ancunín, but when he dipped her backwards into a dramatic kiss at the door, all of her better judgment must have fallen out of her. That was until he unceremoniously scooped her up and pressed cold hands against her back beneath her blouse.

“Put me down you lout!” She cried in performative outrage, rendered less effective by her squeals and giggles. “I can walk, you know.” She insisted, even as she linked her hands behind his neck.

He turned his sad, garnet eyes on her, knowing good and well she’d never deny him anything. “Oh, but you’re such a little thing- far too easy to lift. I’m afraid I cannot resist.” He silenced any further protests by claiming her mouth with his, relishing in her little hums and sighs as he brought them to her bed.

Kamilla buried her face in the crook of his neck, wallowing in the mingled scents of rosemary, bergamot, and brandy that clung to his skin. “I missed you,” she admitted.

He squeezed her tight against him, burying his nose in her dark hair. “I would have come whenever you called, my sweet. You may remember,” he started, as he tugged her hair gently, tilting her head back, “that it was your idea that we keep to once a week.”

She didn’t want to admit the reason for that decision. If he saw her more often, the novelty might wear off. She was ashamed to admit that very little struck fear into her heart like the thought of the fairy tale coming to an end. So she did what she thought was best to ward off the midnight chimes.

Her silence was enough of a reply for him to follow her train of thought. “If it’s me you’re concerned about, I’ll remind you that this is off the books now, and that’s not what this is anymore.” He sighed as he pressed his forehead against hers. “And if it’s you that you’re trying to protect, then I’ll just have to keep proving it to you. I’m not going anywhere.” He insisted, punctuating his promise with a kiss.

She willed herself back into the moment, not wanting to waste more of their time with her anxieties. “You’re very sweet, you know,” she murmured against his lips as he brushed them across hers.

He let out a shaky breath that betrayed concern under the careful calm he had worn to reshape her. “I am! And beautiful,” he added with a pout. “Not enough people mention that.”

Kamilla felt the rustle of a shopping bag against one of her legs as she straddled him. She must not have noticed it on his arm while he had literally swept her off her feet. “What’s this?” She asked eagerly, grateful to move away from such profound conversations that were doomed to make her even more attached.

“Something new,” he replied, lowering his lashes in a way that made a blush rise up her chest. He set the bag on the floor and brought his hand back to tangle in her hair. “Kiss now, surprise later.”

She was all too happy to comply.

Gods, how could anyone ever get used to this?

His cool hands slid up the back of her shirt, splaying against her back to press her against him. She sighed as his tongue gently prodded against her lips seeking entry. Straddling him like this meant that she was already spread open for him, clenching against nothing as he nipped and sucked at her bottom lip.

It wasn’t fair that he had her already panting by the time that his hands had moved to cup her breasts, teasing her over her font-clasp bra. He expertly alternated between light caresses and quick pinches that stiffened her nipples to the point where the fabric between them was sheer agony. One deft twist of his hand, and the bra fell open, rewarding her with a sinful groan as he palmed her soft flesh.

He canted his hips upward slightly, making her gasp as his rock hard length somehow pressed just right against her swollen clit. “It’s already weeping for you, little love,” he purred into her ear.

Her head fell back as he guided her hips over that bulge, allowing her to just barely grind against him. “Oh, Astarion,” she sighed breathlessly. “Astarion,” she sighed his name once more around a set of whimpers.

The soft color on his cheeks traveled up his pointed ears as a soft moan escaped his lips. “I do rather like that, you know,” he murmured. He planted a soft kiss onto her mouth, and moved to her off of his lap so that she would stand.

Kamilla whined at the loss of friction even as she did just as she was bid, and stood before him.

Fuck. How can anyone be so handsome? She thought. He leaned back on his hands, hair delightfully disheveled, and lips kiss-swollen and flushed. She swore she saw his thick cock twitch in his trousers as he spoke.

“Take off your clothes. All of them. Now.”

She pulled her shirt over her head as slowly as she dared, and let it drop to the floor. He had already done some of the work unclasping her bra, so she lingered a little longer than was necessary over her nipples on the way up to sliding the garment off her shoulders.

His eyes never left her body as he hastily unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and began to work his throbbing length over with his hand as she stripped for him.

She peeled off her leggings to reveal lacy lingerie beneath. The scant lace thong was already soaked, and she shivered as his eyes widened taking in the garters attached to thigh-high stockings. She brought one leg up beside him to slide the garter and stocking down.

He continued to slowly stroke himself as she brought the other leg up to repeat the motion. His brow creased with what looked like great effort not to pick up the pace to chase his own pleasure.

His unfettered desire was a drug like no other, and she wasn’t quite done getting her fix. As she slid her panties down off her hips, the evidence of her arousal stretched in a single translucent string between her outer lips and the fabric.

Astarion’s breath caught at the sight. Before she could let the panties fall, she was tugged on top of him again on the edge of the bed. He fell backward and pulled her with him as he shoved her discarded underwear in his pocket.

He bunched his shirt up over his abdomen to get it out of their way, revealing sculpted muscles and pale skin that made her insides flutter.

She reached for his member below her and marveled at the perfection of the velvety smooth skin over that hardness, and the slip of the precum seeping out of the tip. She stroked down and back up again, and he groaned and thrust up against her palm.

The head of his cock slid along her folds, gathering wetness as she guided him to her entrance.

She couldn’t help but quiver and clench as she slid down inch by inch as he stretched her. She gasped out his name as she withdrew to lower herself onto him, greedy for more of his length.

He gripped at the sheets and whined with the effort it took not to just thrust and bury himself to the hilt right away. His thighs flexed as he felt her juices dripping down his shaft.

A long, desperate moan tumbled out of her on the last few inches, just before he grabbed her hips and pushed into her so hard that she felt his balls throbbing against her.

He pulled her down for a kiss as she squirmed on his cock, and he repositioned her hands so that they were resting on his chest. She’d driven him near mad with want, and now it was time to pay the piper.

Astarion held her in place as he ravaged her mouth, nicking her lips with his fangs in the process. The taste of her blood mingling with their kiss devastated the last reserves of his restraint as he planted his heels on the bed.

Kamilla gasped as he drew back suddenly, and her body protested his retreat, inner walls grasping and clenching in an attempt to keep him in place. She cried out with the force of his next thrust, and as she tried to sit up again for more leverage to ride him, one hand closed around her throat faster than her mortal eyes could have detected his movement.

He narrowed his eyes as he held her

In place, and began a slow rolling of his hips against her. “You’ve had your fun, my dear, but now it’s my turn. You’re going to hold still while I set the pace, is that clear?”

The hand on her neck and his cock stretching her below had scrambled her brain, and stole her reply. He tightened his grip ever so slightly, and got her attention again with a rough thrust.

“Is that clear, Kamilla?” He asked again, his voice dropping to a growl around her name.

“Yes!”

Yes, what?

“Yes, Astarion.” She panted out as his hips began to snap against hers.

“Good girl.”

He tangled his hand in her hair and brought her back down for another kiss. One particularly more particularly delicious thrust, and she buried her face in his chest, muffling a moan.

“Eyes on me, lover,” he chided, as he tugged her hair back to bring her eyes back to his.

The mixture of lust and pure adoration in his eyes made her heart lurch. He changed the angle of his next thrust, hitting just the right spot deep inside her to make her cry out with every jerk of his hips to follow.

Astarion claimed her mouth again, now with a more desperate edge. “You’re so godsdamed perfect,” he gasped out, between kisses. “Every time.”

Kamilla was so close already, but wanted to see him come undone too. She clenched tighter around him, squeezing him as he pounded into her, and was rewarded immediately as his head fell back with a whimpered curse.

He picked up the pace of his thrusting, making her vision blur at the edges as ecstasy hurdled ever closer. His curls had fallen out of place onto his forehead, and sweat broke across out across his brow with the effort of not cumming. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, gasping out her name like a prayer as she met every thrust of his hips.

He sucked his thumb into his mouth for a moment before reaching between them to find her clit.

“Ah! Fuck!” She cried out. It was too much, she was going to cum soon, and even as that clever thumb worked over her bud while he pummeled her cunt from below, there was still something else she needed.

“Cum with me,” she begged, hands scrambling for purchase at the front of his shirt.

He kept rubbing her clit while the other hand closed around her hip, and his eyes rolled back as his thrusts became rougher, more erratic, urgent.

Her orgasm struck savagely, lighting every inch of her on fire and stealing her breath. She clung to him screaming a garbled mess of cries mingled with his name as she convulsed.

Both his hands seized her hips as he thrusted once, twice, and once more, as deep inside her as he could manage before his world ripped apart at the seams. A long, rough groan tore from his lips as he jerked inside her, flooding her with bursts of his cum.

They lay there for a long time after, tangled in a mess of limbs and rapid breath. He lifted her off of him gently, and moaned while she gasped at the flooding rush of wetness that was released once his cock slid out of her.

Her wobbly limbs made her feel boneless as he tucked her into his side. Kamilla drifted toward sleep as he kissed her temple, sighing contentedly, before realizing she had forgotten all about the bag on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“My surprise,” she murmured sleepily into his shoulder.

Astarion chuckled softly as he stroked her hair. “Later, my treasure.” His cheeks warmed at the thought. Even soft, his cock stirred at the thought of the strap on and harness he had brought for her.

His darling was going to need a little rest if she was to peg him properly. He was content to bask in her warm comfort and the afterglow of their coupling.

For now.

[melodygatesauthor]

for the fruit emoji asks (hope it's cool to do send more than one at a time 😜):

🍓🍊🍏

thank youuuuuuuu ❤️

Yay! Alright here we go:

🍓 What’s a fic you’ve written you feel is underrated?

That's a good question and I'm not really sure. My favorites that I've written are Just You (Kylo Ren X Reader)(non-con story read at own risk), and The Recruit and the Hunter (Kapkan X Reader). I love them both for very different reasons, and they seem to be doing well enough in their respective fandoms so I don't know that they're underrated, but they hold a special place in my heart and I love to see them thrive.

🍊 Who’s a character you don’t write for that often, but keep meaning to write for more? (They’re so interesting! But maybe you have trouble pinning them down, or keep getting distracted by another blorbo…)

Jake Lockley is a big one. When I made my February Fluff and Fuck challenge I didn't add him in there because I didn't know anything about him, now I wished I had added him. Thatcher from Rainbow Six Siege is another one I'll be writing about before long, and our baby Benny Miller I hope to give some attention to in the near future.

🍏 Is there something you overuse, whether it’s a certain phrase, trope, or piece of punctuation?

All the FUCKING TIME.

I use ... sometimes too much for dramatic effect.

"Cunt clamping down in waves" when describing an orgasm. Best way for me to describe it but I use it a lot.

Those brows be furrowed constantly, you know what I mean?

That man...yeah that one right there...he's shooting hot white ropes when he comes.

My bigger blorbos are BIG and I mention it frequently...broad shouldered, tall, looming, big hands, strong arms e.t.c.

Oh, and I almost ALWAYS have something happening while people are talking. Like it can't just be:

"Hello." He said.

"Hi." She said.

It has to be:

"Hello." He said, walking over toward her.

"Hi." She said back, clasping her hands together nervously.

[jodigitaldiary]

no. 2

For christmas, one of my cousins got me a copy of Ling Ma’s 2018 novel, Severance. It’d been on my book list for what feels like years, and I don’t quite know why I’d never gotten to it. It’s 7 january 2024 and after a weekish of reading, I’ve finished the book! This is an impressive pace for a habitually slow reader like myself, and I will use this as a testament to how absolutely captivating this story is.

First of all, I love Ling Ma’s style of prose. She’ll write the most dramatic anecdotes, for example, about the protagonist’s relatives in homeland China or some life-altering event back in New York, and then punctuate each paragraph with a sentence so unexpectedly succinct that it emphasizes the emotional effect. It’s like the literary equivalent of trauma-dumping and immediately following-up with, “but idk if that makes sense lol.” There’s something about this stylized irony, this intentional juxtaposition that I find particularly impressive – it’s unpretentious and all the more powerful because of it. ((I’ve subsequently added her collection of short stories, Bliss Montage, to my list!))

And second, Ma writes Severance as if she’d known me for my entire adult life and used her observations of me as firsthand source material for the story of Candace Chen. I read about her romantic endeavors and career cynicism, her untapped creative passions, her loneliness, and all throughout I thought – this is literally me. I’ve been the girl who walks the perimeters of New York City to escape her own feelings. I am the girl who got sucked into a soulless corporate job and now feels trapped in its confines, knowing it’s all bullshit and self-imposed but clinging to its normalcy, nonetheless.

There is one character that, much like Candace was, I’m inexplicably drawn to. Jonathan. He’s a textbook Greenpoint hipster – he quit his office job to write freelance and he has a flip phone. His bedroom floor is decorated with books from philosophers of old and three “neatly stacked” piles of “jeans, underwear, and white t-shirts” (Ling Ma 49). His ideal life is one that is unjaded by the hustle culture that infects every facet of capitalist America. In one chapter, he poignantly says, “If you are an individual employed by a corporation or an institution … then the odds are leveraged against you. The larger party always wins. It can’t see you, but it can crush you. And if that’s the working world, then I don’t want to be a part of it… I work enough to get by… Most of all, I want my time and my efforts to be my own” (Ma 137). Part of Jonathan’s appeal is his delusion – he actually believes there’s a way out of the socioeconomic limitations imposed on us commonfolk by the powers that be. It’s not God sitting in his castle of clouds, controlling his constituents on earth with an altruistic hand. Instead, the oligarchical collection of corporations gathers in a conference room and decides for us our wants and needs. There is no altruism in this realm, only profit-maximization. And so, I envy Jonathan’s ability to avoid reality; he believes in his dream for true independence and individuality so innocently, but with such strength that he actually pursues it. Meanwhile, the likes of Candace and I must accept that we can never follow Jonathan on that road not taken – that isn’t the life for an immigrant couple’s daughter.

Works Cited

Ma, Ling. Severance. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 2018.

[shimzus]

@diutive​​​ sent : 💏 ushi. ushi. ushi - 26 ( a kiss as an apology )

shimizu expects that ushijima-san is aware of how she communicates. she doesn’t mince words , and when she has to contribute , she typically takes the path of least resistance—— which is not using any words at all. that’s not to say that she compensates for her silence with expressive faces or dramatic gestures. instead , a simple nod or shake of her head ... or even a little wave of her hand ... that usually suffices most of the time.

she’s not opposed to speaking , though. it’s just not in her nature to use many words. in this regard , perhaps she and he are very similar. it doesn’t seem like ushijima-san is the type of person who tries to use excessive , flowery language. shimizu appreciates how clear and direct he is , and it hardly bothers her that when he speaks he usually sounds stiff and formal. his directness and solid tone make it easier to absorb what he says and to respond accordingly.

in this situation , maybe he would be likely to speak up when she wouldn’t. shimizu is used to tanaka and nishinoya clamoring for attention—— they ask lots of questions , to the point where sometimes she finds herself falling silent after a few replies in the hopes that they’ll stop asking. there are other times when she interrupts them and makes an excuse to leave , or when she walks away completely without excuse. but she pauses now , with ushijima-san here , and thinks to herself that he might see it as rude for them to disappear without giving any reply to the two who ask about him. he hasn’t spoken in depth with many of her teammates ... especially not the ones who approach him with intimidation in mind , their shoulders raised and their chests puffed out with comedic intensity.

when asked about her relationship with ushijima-san , shimizu only blinks. she doesn’t answer directly. with the way that they stand , appropriately some distance apart and not touching , nor deep in conversation , it might seem like she’d just run into him on the street and exchanged a few cursory words. tanaka and nishinoya are always suspicious , though , and even assuming that was the case they’d probably still press on until they learned something they thought worthwhile. knowing this , shimizu punctuates her blinking by offering a concise reply , and adding fear tactics she knows are sure to be effective in sending them off.  “  sawamura said the last person to come to practice will have to do extra penalties today. will that be one of you , then ? from his text messages this morning , it seems like he’s in a bad mood.  ”  it’s not the answer they want , but it makes them widen their eyes and shudder in discomfort. shimizu’s technique is nothing if not flawless. 

when they consult one another with a shared look of understanding , and turn on their heels to sprint for the gym , she glances up at ushijima-san.

“  ... i didn’t mean to make it seem like we weren’t together ,  ”  she explains after a short pause , moving her eyes from his face to a spot just beside his head while she thinks. they’re both blunt and direct , but shimizu isn’t sure whether or not he would openly share their relationship ... or whether or not she would share it , either. if he is the type of person who values the transparency , shimizu wants to make her apology known—— she’s not trying to hide anything. 

allowing for some time to settle the space between them , shimizu quietly turns her shoulders to face him , tilts her head as if surveying him , and finally decides her course of action. she’s not fond of public affection , but since the route to her school is relatively rural , she doesn’t mind kissing him here as much. still , she minds herself and limits herself to one brief second , and she doesn’t touch his face or shoulders at all. it’s polite and almost childish , even though neither of them look remotely like elementary schoolers. 

but it suffices , she thinks. sorry for not being clear about it , it says.  “  ne ... if they’re still keeping a look out , though ,  ” —— she believes they are , despite the threat of a punishment from their captain looming overhead ,  “  it’s probably clear to them now that we are.  ”

[mrvlbimbo]

Omg, hi, so, if you take requests, can you do something like, eddie with a hyper feminine, super spoiled girl? Like, everyone just being exhausted by the stereotypical girly thing she is, and her just sitting all pretty in his lap in the throne in the hellfire club room?? Pls

(Whoever requested this I got ur 2nd request too dw and I incorporated it <3)

Polar Opposites

18+ contains suggestive material!

When Mike and Dustin walked into the Hellfire room for their final session of this campaign they didn’t expect to see anyone except for their DM. Instead they saw him with some random girl on his lap.

And she was hot but not in the way they would have expected. Her bright pink miniskirt contrasted directly with Eddie’s dark ripped jeans from the way she was sitting straddling his lap

Eddie held a compact mirror up for her as she reapplied lipgloss. Which he then proceeded to kiss off her mouth with a stupid smile on his face. She just huffed and applied another layer.

The freshmen walked in, Eddie greeting them just a little too excitedly. “Guys! Welcome! This is my…” he looked at her and she nodded. “Girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, kissing him quickly to drive the point home.

“Thanks babe,” he whispered against her lips, staring into her eyes thoughtfully as the rest of the group seated themselves.

The rest of his friends stared in wonder as Eddie was occupied with the girl in his lap. Their lips clashed, unconcerned with anyone else in the room as the make out session got hot.

“You did so good for me,” he whispered, referring to what had gone down before everyone else got there.

That being, him shoving his cock down her throat and absolutely ruining her lipgloss by sloppily fucking her face.

Not that she minded, as long as he would hold her makeup mirror for her and let her sit in his lap she was content for him to ruin her lipgloss any time and in any way.

When the campaign started she was happy to just sit there and watch him talk. She absentmindedly chewed her lip, a bad nervous habit she had always had.

His rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip, freeing it from her teeth. “Give those pretty lips a rest babe,” he scolded, slipping two fingers into her mouth to replace it.

She sighed happily, eyes closing in contentment. It was a little embarrassing to be doing something so intimate in front of all his friends but he couldn’t help it.

He’d give her the moon and stars if she asked. So if she needed a few of his fingers to keep her mouth occupied, who was he to argue?

Plus he hated to see her lower lip blushing red from irritation. His other hand smoothed over the exposed skin of her lower back, rubbing little circles with his thumb.

He spoke quietly as she started to drift off, tired from their earlier activities and perfectly comfortable on his lap.

“Dude you’re so whipped,” Mike teased, still in awe that Eddie not only had a girlfriend but she was a sweet pretty girly-girl.

“You shoulda seen her on her knees for me earlier.” He had a smug grin on his face, sliding a hand down to squeeze her ass and causing her to press closer to him.

“Gross dude,” Dustin added, putting a hand over his eyes for dramatic effect.

“It’s not gross it’s love,” Eddie replied, punctuating his words with a soft kiss on the girls forehead.

“Yeah. It’s gross.” The freshmen chuckled and left the room, leaving them to whatever they were going to get up to.

Taglist:

@angelsarecallin @sebby-staan @niviiera @chaoticgurl @evqans

(Lmk if u want to be added)

[wordsnstuff]

The Writing Framework: A Collection of Resources

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

After over 4 years of running this blog and adding new articles and entries on a regular basis, I’ve decided to put together a collection of the articles and questions I’ve answered surrounding each stage of the writing process. I’ve compiled my best original resources in one place for easy access (outside my masterlist). It’s organized by stages of the writing process, from motiving yourself to get started to drafting to editing, etc. I hope that you find this helpful and handy. 

The Act of Writing

Dear Writers Who Are Hesitant To Start Writing

How To Motivate Yourself To Write

Beginning A Story & Sticking With It

How To Actually Get Writing Done

Writing On A Schedule

Powering Through The Zero-Draft Phase

Coming Back To A Story After A Break

Maintaining Writing Momentum

Coming Back To A Story You’ve Grown Since

How To Prevent Getting Stuck

Getting Words on The Page

Sticking To A Story (Working on Multiple Projects)

Writing Your Way Through The Plot Fog

Finding Time To Write

Beating Self Doubt

Getting Burnt Out Near The Finish Line

Getting Back To Writing After A Long Hiatus

Why “Burnout” Is Oay - The Creative Cycle

Writing Through Mental Health Struggles

How To Have A Productive Mindset

How To Fall In Love With Writing

Tips & Advice for Aspiring Authors, Writers, and Poets

Ideas & Research

Guide to Story Researching

20 Sentence Story Prompt

Coming Up With Scene Ideas

Coming Up With “Original” Ideas

Building Upon A Good Premise

Writing Stories About Your Own Experiences

Challenges For Different Types of Writers | Part II

Angst Prompts

Dramatic Prompts

Suspenseful Prompts

Sad Prompts

Romantic Prompts

Horror Prompts 

Fantasy Prompts

Dark Quotes & Prompts

Outlining

Novel Planning 101

Things A Reader Needs From A Story

How To Turn A Good Idea Into A Good Story

Planning A Scene

When To Stop Planning

 Tips on Mapping Out A Series

How To Outline Effectively

Plot Structures

Planning A Scene In A Story

Tips on Planning A Series

How To Write A Story Timeline

Character Development

31 Days of Character Development : May 2018 Writing Challenge

Guide to Character Development

Resources For Describing Characters

Resources For Describing Emotion

Alternative Method of Character Creation

Resources For Creating Characters

How To Fit Character Development Into Your Story

Interview As Your Characters

Giving Characters Flaws

Creating Villains

Tips on Character Motivations

Tips on Character Consistency

Tips on Introducing Backstory

Balancing Multiple Main Characters

Making characters for your world

Introducing Secondary Characters

Calculating Emotional Reactions

Designing A Character From Scratch

Writing Dialects/Accents (Resources)

Keeping Characters Consistent

Flipping Character Traits On Their Head 

Gradually Revealing Character’s Past

Making Characters More Unique

Giving Your Protagonists Negative Traits

Connecting To Your Own Characters

Making Characters Unpredictable

Creating Distance Between Reader and Character

World Building

31 Days of World Building : August 2018 Writing Challenge

Describing Setting

Resources For Worldbuilding

Resources For Describing Physical Things

Things To Know About Your Real-Life Setting

Guide To Political World Building

Tips on Creating Magic Systems

Tips on Introducing Political Backstory

Plot Development

31 Days of Plot Development : January 2019 Writing Challenge

Resources For Plot Development

Guide To Plot Development

How To Write A Good Plot Twist

How To Foreshadow

Tackling Subplots

Characters First, Story Second Method

Pacing Appropriately

Character Driven vs. Plot Driven Stories

Showing Vulnerability Without Death

Drafting & Technique

A Writer’s Thesaurus

Words To Describe Body Types and How They Move

Words To Describe…

Chapter Length

How To Develop A Distinct Voice In Your Writing

Tips On Dialogue

Writing Arguments

Showing VS Telling in First Person POV

Using Vocabulary

Writing Intense Scenes

Writing The First Chapter

Balancing Detail & Development

When To Use “Felt”

Showing Vs Telling

Writing The Middle of Your Story

Writing The Last Chapter

Writing In Third Person POV

Breaking The Fourth Wall

Tips on Writing Flashbacks

Tips on Writing Time Skips

Guide To Writing From Multiple Points of View

Describing emotion through action

Clarity in complex dialogue

Tips On Starting A Scene

Editing

How To Engage The Reader

Step-By-Step : Editing Your Own Writing

Improving Flow In Writing

Filtering Out Cliches

Picking A Great Title

Adding Description

Cutting Subplots

What To Cut Out of Your Story

Constructive Criticism : How To Give & Receive

How To Make A Scene More Heartfelt

How To Perfect The Tone

Editing & Proofreading Cheat Sheet

A Guide To Tension & Suspense

What To Change Draft-By-Draft

Dialogue Punctuation

Finding And Fixing Plot Holes

On Underwriting

Denoting Flashbacks

General Tips on Foreshadowing

Finding Courage To Edit Your Drafts

Ultimate Guide To Symbolism

Expanding Scenes

Naming Stories

Tips on Descriptions

Giving Characters Stage Business

Too Much Symbolism? Too Much Foreshadowing?

Foreshadowing The Villain

Tips on Connecting Chapters

Starting new chapters

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

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[neon-vocalist]

get what you deserve- c.4

tw graphic/major depictions of abuse, descriptions of injuries i guess?

taglist: @dreams-your-smp @sweetlyminiaturesublime

reply, send an ask, or DM if you want to be added to the taglist!

While Veronica won't go to the hospital, she certainly will use Google. I mean, it's practically a portable hospital anyway. She's learned to sit so that she doesn't antagonise her burn, so she's awkwardly cross-legged-ish on the guest bed, typing with a set jaw and dead eyes. And if there's one thing anyone can tell you, it's that you definitely do not Google your symptoms or injuries. WebMD has deduced that she's going to get infected and die within a week. Judging by the fact that she hasn't done that yet, she's pretty sure she can discount that theory. However, she did find one helpful chart on Pinterest after giving up on Google, and it's told her that while her burn is large, it's just first or second degree, so it wouldn't actually need hospital treatment. And she's discovered that her leg should be almost healed by now. Poking at it, she's not quite sure. It still looks angry red.

Next Google search: Why isn't my burn healing?

What she finds makes her drop her phone. She doesn't know why she didn't look this up before. She doesn't know why she trusted Heather blindly with no skepticism- that's never her style. She doesn't know why she thought that taking so long to heal was normal. She's never been one to just follow rules without justifying them. Still, she's been dutifully soaking her leg in alcohol or hydrogen peroxide every day, sometimes twice a day, as long as she can stand it. Why would Heather do that to her? She must have known that it would be counterintuitive.

She doesn't want me to heal.

She wants me to rely on her forever.

She's just like Jason.

They both like to see her suffer.

"It's like nobody's safe anymore," she sighs to the wall. "You know what? I'm done crying. I'm done being their little dolls. I'm done caring about them." Ignoring the pain both emotional and physical, she rummages around in her closet until she finds a little drawstring bag. She dumps out the contents of it- a bunch of old ribbon that nobody's ever gonna use, but they keep it around just in case- and starts haphazardly shoving stuff inside.

She's doing it more for dramatic effect than with actual purpose, as is clear by the fact that she's packed an empty TicTac box and an ink cartridge. It's more about the action than the intent; angrily slamming things inside a bag, hearing them clank together as it fills, and murmuring her monologue under her breath.

"I'm done. I'm done. I am done." She's not sure if she's saying it to punctuate each clink or to convince herself that she won't come crawling back like she knows she will. "No. No. I'll be strong. I'll keep myself safe. I'll-"

"Funny, I didn't know you needed a rubber duck on your trip."

Veronica drops the bag with a clatter, not wanting to turn around. She knows what she'll see. She knows what she'll have to say- excuses running into and over each other, words coming in doubletime to stop the tears, frantic apologies. But more than that, she knows what he'll do. And suddenly the pain in her leg seems insignificant in comparison to what's to come.

"Jason," she murmurs.

"Turn around," he says, matching her light tone. They don't need to talk any louder. The room is silent, save for the pounding of her heart.

"Jason," she pleads again.

"Where's your strength now, my pet? Where's your safety? Your determination? Where's your bravery? All gone now, I guess." He takes a step closer. Veronica tries not to flinch. "I don't think you're as powerful as you let on."

Veronica knows she should turn around and stand up for herself. She knows she should look Jason in the eye and tell him no, tell him he can't walk over her anymore. But she can't. She can't break her eyes from the floor. She can't move. She can't think. She can't hear over the panicked scream in her head.

"Come on," he sing-songs, moving closer. Veronica tries to move forward without him noticing, gnawing on her bottom lip. "We can't do this forever." He takes another step. She forces her feet forward. Jason sighs. "Hurry it up, Ronnie." He extends his hand to her. It might almost look romantic.

The last time Veronica was offered his hand, he was pulling her up off the couch and wrapped her into a kiss, warm and safe and comforting inside his arms. They danced around the living room to the music of their beating hearts, smiling and twirling. He picked her up like it was nothing, taking the breath straight out of her lungs as she laughed, tossed her up in the air, kissed her nose and called her 'his little kitten.' She used to think being his pet was something they both enjoyed, something fun and silly and affectionate. She used to think hearing him call her 'kitten' was adorable. Now it makes her blood turn to ice.

"Come on, baby," he says, beckoning her with his fingers. "You can't keep this up for much longer." He moves closer. Veronica can't make herself move anymore. A grin spreads across his face as he takes another step. He can almost touch her now. She can feel his fingers centimetres away from her back. She takes a deep breath in and bites down on her tongue as he takes her by the shoulder and picks her up in one fluid motion. You can't scream, she tells herself. He'll know you're scared if you scream.

But something tells her it's already clear to him how terrified she is. And something tells her he likes it.

Jason almost throws her down onto a towel on the floor and starts to trace his fingers along her arms, legs, sides. Every place he touches, the nerves go electric, like they're just warning her of the incoming pain. Even her own skin knew he was hurting her before she did.

"What shall we do with you this time, pet?" he asks, taking her hand in his. The room is quiet as he thinks. Veronica doesn't dare make a sound. "Oh," he says, smiling. "I know."

He takes her head in his hands. He's not going to snap my neck, right? He's not going to kill me? She's about to open her mouth and ask, make sure she's not going to die here, but what if that gives him the idea? What if asking would be effectively digging her own grave? Her eyes fill with tears as she thinks about what she's going to leave behind if he kills her. My niece. My dad. My cousins. Martha. Heather.

"Heather," she whispers, and all of a sudden she hears her voice in her head.

Stay calm, Vera. We're gonna get you through this.

"Okay."

Don't let him know I'm here.

Veronica nods. There's a part of her that knows Heather isn't actually there with her. There's no way. It's impossible. But if it'll help her survive this, that's all she needs.

"I know you've been going to see her," Jason says lightly, moving his hands down to her neck. He's gonna do it. He's gonna kill me.

"See who?" Veronica asks, trying to keep her voice from shaking. This is the opposite of what she wanted. This is bad. This is bad. This is bad.

"Heather," he says in the same light tone, the one that tells her he's trying his best to hold it together, hiding behind the peppiness of his voice. His fingers trace slow circles on her skin.

"Oh, Heather McNamara? Yeah, I told you I was going to her house, remember?" If her hands weren't in full view, Veronica would cross her fingers, hoping she's convincing enough. Lying isn't very easy when you're terrified, though, and not very convincing when your whole body is shaking beneath his hands.

When Jason laughs at that, there's no humour in it. In a way, he's letting her know that he knows she's lying. He wants to make her aware that she's about to be called on her BS in the worst way. "Not McNamara," he murmurs, trailing his fingers down to her shoulders. "You know, love. You thought you'd get away with it." Veronica's hope of not getting caught is gone. And Heather's voice has disappeared with it. It's just her and Jason now. And she's... helpless.

"I don't like being lied to," JD says. "Did you know that? I think you did."

"How did you know?" There's no use in fighting him. He'll just get more mad if she tries to feign innocence. But she thought she'd covered all the bases. She thought she made sure to hide her evidence, provide an alibi. Apparently not.

"You cried her name during the night," he says with a tiny smile. "It was actually really cute... you only got louder when I tried to touch you. You two really have something going, don't you?" Veronica's skin prickles as JD's cold fingertips trace around her chest and down to her sides. "Hmm, do you like that?" Veronica instantly shakes her head. "Yeah. You do, don't you?"

"Just get on with it," Veronica mumbles. Her eyes go wide as she realises she's said it out loud.

"What was that, pet?" Jason's hands stop moving.

"Never mind."

"No, no." JD moves one hand to stroke underneath her chin. "If I'm not satisfying you, I'd like to know. You know, so I can do better."

Something tells her he does not plan to do better. Still, she's dug herself into this grave. "I know you're going to hurt me," she says quietly. "Just do it already."

"So you do know why you're here," JD says, nodding, satisfied. "Good. That means you're not gonna be surprised when I do this."

He pulls out a knife and Veronica is instantly paralysed in terror. She wishes she could take back everything she said, from asking him to get on with it to speaking up in the first place. If she was better, he wouldn't hurt her. If she was tamer, she wouldn't need to be subdued.

"What are you gonna do with that?" she breathes, her eyes tracking every reflection of the light as Jason tilts it back and forth. Suddenly the fear that he'll kill her is back with a vengeance. What he can do with a blade... it's worse than what he could do with his hands a million times over. He could do anything to her: make it quick and painless, or draw it out, leaving her in agony for hours until the end. He could do whatever he wanted. She thought she was helpless before, but she's really in it now. There's no escaping it. But the most painful part is that Heather won't be there to help her this time. She truly has nobody. Nowhere to turn. No safe place to go. Just him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he asks. "Well, let's start with a little of this."

He takes one of her hands in his, gently turns it over, and begins taking his knife in slow, methodical cuts across her skin. "Nobody's going to believe your big, bad boyfriend did this to you, are they? No." He smiles as Veronica flexes her fingers, gasping in pain every time the blade touches her. "As far as they'll see, this is all you, sweetheart. And nobody wants to get too close to a cutter." He catches a drop of blood with his fingertip and swipes it across her cheek. "They're going to think you're the bad guy."

"Stop it," Veronica whispers, the words practically dying on her lips.

"You don't mean that," he says with a smile. "You like this. Otherwise you wouldn't have misbehaved. You asked for it. I wouldn't be doing this if you didn't want it."

Even as Veronica wishes she could rebel, she knows it's true. This is her fault. And she does enjoy it... sort of. She likes knowing that Heather will take care of her later. She likes looking forward to the cleaning of her wounds and the soft, comforting whispers. She loves looking into Heather's eyes and knowing she is deeply and truly loved.

But this time, that won't be happening afterward. She'll go to her own room and clean out her own cuts. She'll let the chirping of the crickets sing her to sleep. She'll wake up knowing they'll do the same thing tomorrow. Her life has dissolved into monotony. Painful monotony.

"Are we done yet?" he asks her, turning over her other arm.

"Is that a trick question?" Veronica keeps her eyes focused on the ceiling, knowing if she meets his eyes, she may as well be admitting defeat.

"You know me too well. Now, let's go for something a little more... mm, daring, shall we?" He leaves her right arm alone and she lets out a tiny sigh of relief before his words register.

"Daring?" she asks, dreading the answer.

"Yes," he hums. "Turn over." When she doesn't immediately move, he prods at her side with the tip of his blade- not enough to hurt her through her shirt, but enough to scare her. She scrambles to roll over, not even caring if anything agitates her cuts or her leg. Blood smears on the towel, on her clothes, on her skin. It's dried and dripping at the same time. It's everywhere, like bugs crawling up her body, soaking through sheets and soaking through skin. The pain doesn't matter anymore. It's become a steady constant, pulsing with the beat of her heart, and at this point she doesn't feel it underneath her fear.

He's never done anything like this. Out of everything he's done to her, he's never gotten a weapon involved, never ordered her around to do his bidding, never spent so long playing with her. Dehumanising her. She became his toy the moment his blade touched her skin, and there's no going back.

[buckys-black-dress]

✄ chapter three: losin' grip on my doin'

a/n: okay, let's goooo! chapter 3 :) things are buildin up... get ready ;) chapter 4 will be posed tonight or tomorrow :)

wc: 4.1k

[fratboy!bucky barnes x fem!reader]

series masterlist

-

To say the least, waking up the next morning in the most coveted after playboy's bed was a shock. You wake up nestled into Bucky Barnes' side, and you wonder if this is what it felt like.

If this is what every conquest that's been brought to his room feels like when they wake up.

You're very much aware of a metal arm slung over your waist, and you feel panic rise up in your throat. Once you recognize you're fully clothed, you release a breath and feel the tension disintegrating from your body.

You can feel Bucky Barnes' heavy breaths under your head from where you're situated on his chest, and you take a moment and pause.

You would never think you'd find yourself in this situation; sidled up in bed with your university's most notorious fratboy. Someone girls and guys coveted after, and who would do anything to get in bed with him.

Yet, here you are. You don't want to admit to yourself that you quite like it here. You feel comfortable, safe. Fitted perfectly right under his arm, listening to his even breaths as you replay the night before's events in your mind like a film reel.

You meet him.

You play pong with him.

You talk to him.

You go up to his room with him.

And now you're awake in his bed. Fully clothed.

How?

Before you could ask too many questions and drown into a spiral, you hear Bucky draw in a sharp breath, signaling his awakening. You look up at him, wondering how he's going to react to you being here. Not only you being here, but also how you two woke up.

"Mornin', doll." He smiles down at you, and his morning voice sends a shiver down your spine at the raspiness.

"H-Hi." You simply say. You can't quite draw any coherent thoughts at the moment, as Bucky's arm tightens around you and draws you closer to his body.

"Sleep well?" He asks, still looking down at you fond look that makes your heart swell in your chest.

"Hm," you hum, "better than I expected, honestly." You laugh.

"Good, spent way too much on this mattress for it to not please my guests." Bucky smirks, and you get lost in his blue eyes for a moment.

But then, you think about his word choice. Guests. Plural. And although you know nothing happened between you two, you still feel a wave of shame wash over you at the notion.

Bucky's had guests in this bed before. You aren't the first girl to sleep in this bed, and you probably weren't the last.

You feel Bucky shift underneath you, seeing his expression turn to worry at the way you're clearly lost in thought.

"Everythin' alright?" He asks, and you nod quickly.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just peachy." You give a quick smile, trying to not show how your stomach was churning at the thought of all the girls who've been here before you.

"Wanna go grab some breakfast?" Bucky asks, and you pause.

He wants to stay with me? He's not kicking me out, asking me to leave?

“Sure, uh, where did you wanna go?” You ask gently, worrying that you might scare him off, that he’s delusional right now and he doesn’t really want to spend time with you. You’re beyond confused right now.

“We can head to the diner if you’re good with that? My treat.” He says as he stands up, pulling on a shirt to avoid the chill of the room.

It’s a red henley, and the way you see his muscles straining in the sleeves of the shirt has a blush crawling up your neck.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You croak, getting out of the bed.

-

By the time you get up and get dressed, sweatpants courtesy of Bucky, and head to the diner, it’s already noon. It’s a Saturday morning, so most people are still in bed while recovering from their hangovers.

“So, how come I haven’t seen you at one of our parties before last night?” Bucky asks while you seat yourselves at a booth in the back of the diner.

“I uhm, I don’t really go out too much. Natasha basically begged me to come out, and I only did it to get her off my case and stop asking me.” You reply while taking a sip of the scalding coffee in front of you that a nice waitress poured for the two of you.

“Really? Well, I’d say you should come more often,” he gives you this smile, and your brain is short-circuiting at how handsome he looks. “You were a great pong partner.”

The emphasis on the word and his tone indicate that he was very much so being sarcastic, and you give a bashful chuckle at his words.

“Oh yeah, definitely. I have nothing on Natasha and Sam.” You laugh, and the same waitress comes by to take your orders.

Once she flutters back behind the counter to put the orders in, you’re reading a text on your phone that you felt vibrate while it was in the pocket of Bucky’s sweater you were sporting.

Natasha:

(12:08 PM) Hey, did you end up getting back safe last night? Sorry I kind of bailed, I just ended up crashing when I got to Sam’s room.

She punctuates her sentence with a face palm emoji in embarrassment, and you smile at the text.

Y/N:

(12:10 PM) Hi, I just crashed in Bucky’s room last night. No funny business tho, so don’t get any ideas in your head.

As you send off the message, you turn off your phone and place is face-down on the table, deciding you’ll deal with Nat’s freak out about you spending the night with Bucky later.

“Everythin’ okay?” Bucky’s voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you snap your eyes up to his.

“Yeah, Nat was just making sure I didn’t end up dead in a ditch last night.” You laugh, shaking your head at how dramatic your roommate could be at times.

“Hey, it’s good to know she cares about you.” He responds, and you nod at his words.

“I mean, yeah. No matter how much she might bug me about going out or getting a boyfriend, she’s still like my sister. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” A sigh leaves your mouth, thinking about Nat. She’s been there for you through everything in your life, and it was true. She was your biggest supporter, and you’re glad you have someone who cares so much for you.

“She seems like a great friend. Sam and Steve are the same for me. I mean, although I grew up with Steve, Sam was like the third brother we never even knew we needed.” He stares off into the distance with a soft look in his eyes, and you smile fondly at his words.

In that moment, you feel like you’re seeing a side of Bucky that not many people get to see. This is Bucky, a guy from Brooklyn who’s just trying to get by in college. Not a man-whore, or a guy who just wants to ge his dick wet like everyone says.

Before you could come up with a response to what he’s said, the same lady comes and places your hot food in front of the both of you, leaving with a ‘enjoy!’ before she whirls away again.

You eat while making small talk, just about life, school, and hobbies. Before you know it, Bucky asks for the check, and even though you know he said he’d pick it up earlier, you still fight him on paying for half the bill.

In the end, Bucky becomes so frustrated with your antics that he simply gets up and hands the waitress his card, and you simply watch with a dropped jaw at his actions.

“You didn’t have to do that!” You exclaim, albeit quietly, but enough to show your frustration.

“Doll, I’m treating you to brunch. Just let me.” Is all Bucky says, effectively shutting you up.

-

On your walk back to campus, Bucky asks what you’re doing for the rest of the day, asking if you wanted to come back to his room.

“I should head back, Natasha’s probably waiting for me with a million questions.” You bashfully look up to your window from the bottom of your dorm building.

“Oh, okay doll.” Bucky wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an unexpected hug. You feel your body tense at the action, but once you realize what’s happening, you relax again, letting yourself melt into his body.

“See ya later?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know what I’ll be doing later, but we can talk later.” You smile up at him, slowly moving out of his grip and towards the door.

Before you could fully open the door, you hear Bucky’s voice call out to you one more time.

“Y/N, wait!” He yells, jogging over to you at the door. “Can I uh, get your number? So I can text you later?” He asks, his metal hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“O-Oh, sure! Yeah!” You reply a bit louder than you had intended, just out of pure shock at his question.

You open a new message on your phone, allowing Bucky to type in his number and save his contact. Once he hands the device back to you, you see his name saved as Bucky Barnes <3.

Before you can say anything about the heart he added himself, he pecks your cheek and runs off, with a distant ‘I’ll see ya later, doll!’

You essentially float up to your room, not feeling like you were on the planet right now. You felt like you were up in the clouds, unaware of your own actions. You unlock the door to your room, and Natasha is perched upon her bed, looking down at two outfits she has held up against her form.

“Hey! You didn’t answer my messages, you little bitch! Tell me everything!” She turns around at the sound of you entering, already berating you.

But it all sounds muffled in your ears, not fully comprehending what she was saying to you.

“Hey, you okay? Earth to Y/N?” The redhead says again, waving a hand in front of your face at your spacey expression.

“I-I, yeah, I’m fine. Just… shocked.” You breathe out.

“So? Tell me what happened!”

At first, you could barely get the words out of your mouth, trying to explain everything that occurred in the past 24 hours. You get through the story, a little bit challenged at trying to organize your thoughts, but eventually you get Natasha up to speed.

“So… you didn’t have sex with him?” Your roommate says, and you shake your head no.

“Nat, you know how I feel about having sex. I don’t want to rush into it, and I don’t want my first time to be with some… random guy from a frat. I want it to be with someone I trust, someone I’m comfortable with.” You tell her like a broken record, because over the course of the time that you’ve been friends with Natasha, you’ve had this conversation with her several times. Sometimes, you wondered why she was so hellbent on you losing your virginity.

As much as you loved her and understood her intentions with the question, you were getting tired of having to defend yourself every time.

“I- I know! I just… I want you to be happy, with whoever you want. I never want you to think I’m rushing you though, Y/N. I love you.” Natasha explains, putting her hand on your arm in consolation.

“I know, Nat. But trust me, you’ll be the first to know when I do… do it. Don’t worry.” You laugh at how ridiculous you sounded.

She’s looking back down at her bed now, looking between the outfits she was holding earlier.

“Okay… now, help me pick an outfit! Sam wants to go on a date tonight!” She says, showing you the different options.

As you two banter and talk about last night, you interrupt Natasha’s tirade about Sam and ‘what a gentleman he is!’

“Bucky gave me his number earlier.” Saying it out loud makes it sound all the more ridiculous. You feel like a high-schooler at your words, and the way Natasha stops all movement makes you feel all the more insane.

“His number?” She asks, like she couldn’t figure out what to really say.

“Yeah. He even saved a heart next to his name in my phone. What does that even mean?” You wonder out loud, and now you’re sure you’ve gone crazy.

“I… I’m not sure. I think he likes you.” She says nonchalantly, and you scoff.

“Yeah, because Bucky Barnes is very interested in a girl he met last night who didn’t want to sleep with him. He must be going crazy over a girl like me.” You finish with an incredulous laugh, like it never even crossed your mind that he could like you.

“Well… he acted very different from you’ve been telling me. He usually just fucks a girl and she leaves the next morning, nothing more, nothing less. The fact that he didn’t fuck you and took you out to brunch says a lot about this whole situation.” She explains, and you’re still having a hard time grasping this information.

Just as you’re about to find a rationale as to why her explanation isn’t plausible, you feel your phone buzz.

With furrowed brows, you open your texts.

Bucky Barnes <3:

(2:01 PM) Hey doll, do you wanna come by to another party we’re having tonight? Could use my trusty pong champ ;)

Your mouth dries at the message, words lodged in your throat.

“Look what he just texted me.” You flip your screen to Nat and she reads with an unreadable expression, which quickly turns into her brows shooting up.

“A winky face! Y/N/N, he fucking likes you! He wants to see you again!” She exclaims, and you don’t even know what to say.

“How do I respond?” You feel so unexperienced, asking your roommate for advice on how to text a guy.

“Here, gimme,” she snatches the phone out of your grasp, quickly typing something and handing the phone back to you.

You read what she sent with wide eyes.

Y/N Y/L/N:

(2:11 PM) I’ll be there ;) Should I bring clothes to change into for tonight?

“Nat! Why would you say that? You’re making it sound like I wanna have sex with him tonight!” You rise up from your spot on her bed in a panic, pacing the area of your small room.

“Y/N, relax! He-” Before she could finish, your phone buzzed again.

Bucky Barnes <3

(2:13 PM) Hilarious, doll. You don’t have to, but if you wanna crash here again tonight, you can definitely bring your own stuff if that makes you more comfy :)

“Oh my God. He’s so sweet!” Nat giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “You have to go now!”

“Nat… doesn’t this look a little… suspicious? From what I’ve heard, this isn’t how he usually acts.” You say wearily, the worry clear in your tone.

“Y/N, look at me.” Natasha's hands come to the sides of your head, urging your gaze to meet hers. “You’re a great girl. You deserve someone who treats you well and gets excited to see you, like Bucky is right now. Don’t push him away. You deserve something good.”

At her words, your eyes soften and you feel the distant sting of tears behind your eyes. You give her a nod, not knowing how to express your gratitude to her in words at the moment. She pulls you into a hug and you hold her tight against you, like she might disappear if you let go.

“Now, we need to get you ready for tonight. You’re gonna make Bucky wish he fucked you.” Natasha smirks an evil one.

“Nat!”

-

The party was in full swing upon your arrival. You were all alone when you walked through the doors of the fraternity house, as Natasha had gone on her dinner date with Sam. She’d promised she’d come by after dinner, and you were practically shaking while searching for Bucky in the packed house.

There were people everywhere, and the longer it took for you to find Bucky, the more anxious you were becoming about being here.

“Y/N!” You hear distantly, and your head whips around in search of the owner of the voice.

You feel a hand slide around your waist, and you smell Bucky before you see him. If it weren’t for the distinct smell of his cologne and mint, you would’ve slapped the hand away long ago.

“Hey! Been wonderin’ when you’d show up.” Bucky has a smile on his face, showing off his pearly whites.

“Sorry, I got held up at home with Natasha.” You tell him, looking around at the crowd. You could feel your breathing shorten at the sheer amount of people around you, and your stomach churns in anxiety.

As if Bucky senses your discomfort, he rubs the hand on your waist along the expanse of your back.

“You okay?” He asks, visibly concerned at your demeanor.

You nod wordlessly, trying to make it seem like you weren’t extremely stressed right now. You would’ve loved to let loose tonight, but yesterday was already pushing it in terms of going out.

“Do you wanna head upstairs?” Bucky asks in clear concern at your demeanor right now. He feels a wave of guilt wash over him. If he knew just how much you were going to become uncomfortable by just being here tonight, he wouldn’t have asked you to come. He would’ve simply asked you on a date, or done a night in with you.

You nod again, not allowing the words to leave your throat. You feel as though your mouth is full of cotton, not even being able to form any coherent thoughts at the moment.

Bucky’s cool metal arm guides you by your lower back to the stairs, and you’re once again reminded of the previous night. His cool metal hand is the only thing grounding you at the moment, and you think you would’ve ended up on the dirty bathroom floor downstairs in a puddle of tears if Bucky had taken any longer to find you.

You pass through his doorway, and Bucky’s arm is holding you against him as the door shuts behind you two.

He wordlessly caresses you, running a soothing hand up and down your back, which is partially open because of your outfit. You’re wearing a dress from Natasha’s closet, which she claimed made you look ‘hotter than the motherfucking sun, Y/N’, and you were basically forced into.

“For what it’s worth, honey, you look stunning tonight.” You feel Bucky’s chest rumble from his speaking from where you’re placed against him, and you give a light laugh.

“Thanks,” you return quietly, unable to really come up with anything witty to say. “I’m sorry I’m ruining tonight for you.” Your voice comes after a few moments of silence, but suddenly you’re pulled away from his body.

“Hey,” his hands are on your shoulders, “you are not ruining anything, doll. Parties ’ll come and go, but I don’t want to do it if it isn’t with you.” He tells you in earnest, and you feel an indistinguishable ache in your chest at his words.

Where did this man come from? It seems as though the perfect guy, one who respects you, one who doesn’t force you into anything, one who seems to care too much about you has just... fallen into your lap.

It almost seems too good to be true.

“Bucky…” You trail off, unable to find any words of gratitude at the moment.

“Yeah, doll?”

“Can we just… lay down? Maybe watch a movie?” You ask.

“Of course we can, honey. Anythin’ you want.” He smiles brightly again as your mood seems to lighten a bit. “Do you need a change of clothes?”

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.” You can’t really bring yourself to look at him. You feel embarrassed that you’ve pulled him away from his own party. Although he constantly reassures you that he doesn’t mind, you’re still bashful.

“Here, honey,” he hands you the same garments from last night, “you look good in these.” He laughs, and you feel your cheeks turn bright red.

“I- I’ll be right back.” You give a tight smile and retreat to the bathroom.

While Bucky waits outside, he begins to get lost in his thoughts. He liked you. A lot. How did he get himself into this mess? He’s not stupid. He knows what he did to get here. And now it was looking really, really, stupid.

Unfortunately, there was no getting it out of it now, though. He could try and reason with the person he’d made a promise to, but he was stubborn. There was little to no chance he would be able to get out of this one.

But he thinks of it on the flip side. He’s been seen bringing you up to his room two nights in a row, and he knows how it makes both of you look.

For him, he looks like he’s keeping up with reputation.

Take a girl home.

Fuck her.

Leave it at that.

No one quite knew you on campus except for your friends, so they weren’t worried about you or who you were.

All that mattered was that Bucky Barnes was keeping up with his usual antics that were expected of him. There was nothing out of the ordinary for him, other than the fact that he wasn’t actually fucking you.

Bucky snaps out of his train of thought when he hears the bathroom door click open, his eyes meeting yours once again.

But his eyes quickly divert to your body, once again covered by his baggy clothing. You were watching his stare move down your body and felt a wave of insecurity wash over you.

You probably weren’t half as gorgeous as the girls he’s brought back here before. You knew what kind of girls guys like him preferred. Long, cascading hair, big, bright eyes, thin waists, legs that went on for what seemed like miles.

You just weren’t that.

It made you come back to the thoughts that had plagued your mind previously.

Where did Bucky’s interest in you come from?

Why was he suddenly feel the need to coddle you, take care of you, to reassure you?

Your concern was quickly washed away when Bucky settled in his bed, patting his spot next to him under the covers.

“You comin’?” He asks in a raspy, quiet voice that makes your knees wobble.

You don’t say anything while you situate yourself beside him.

“Bucky, can I ask you something?” You begin meekly, not making eye contact with him.

“Anythin’, doll. Somethin’ wrong?” He looks down at you in a worried gaze, and you shake your head.

“I just… what made you want to approach me? I- I know I’m not like those other girls you’ve been with before, and I can’t help but think that you… you want something else from me?” You explain with little ease. You feel bile rising in your throat as you speak because you can’t bear to think that Bucky really ulterior motives for all this time you’ve spent together.

You’ve only just met him, yet you feel like you’ve known him forever. You’re comfortable with him, more than you usually would be with a stranger, and it freaks you out.

“Y/N… can you look at me?” Bucky tilts his head down to try and meet your eyes, which is something you can barely do at the moment. “I want you to know, before this goes anywhere else; you are an amazing girl. I don’t know why it took me so long to talk to you, but I think you’re one the most genuine, kind, beautiful girls I’ve ever met. I… I know I have a reputation that precedes me, but you… you’re different.” He speaks so genuinely to you that you feel a slight sting behind your eyes.

“I… I never want you to doubt yourself ever again, doll. You’re perfect, just as you are. I’m sorry it looked like I was after anything else before.” Bucky finishes, and you can’t seem to find any words at the moment.

You just nod fervently, and then you feel yourself being pulled into Bucky’s large arms.

“Please, don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself again. You’re worth it.”

That night, you fall into the most comfortable and deep sleep of your life, wrapped safely in Bucky’s arms.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

I looove misusing punctuation for style points and dramatic effect.

I love putting commas where grammatically they shouldn’t be to force the reader to pause mid-sentence and give the next part subtly more emphasis. I love not putting commas where grammatically they should be, to indicate a single, continuous thought, or a lack of pause in dialogue.

I love hyphenating unhyphenated phrases and making compound words when they should be separate words, and adding apostrophes and removing apostrophes just because of how they look.

I love punctuating questions with periods and statements with question marks. I love using exclamation points wrong. I love using emdashes instead of colons, and comma splices instead of semi-colons, and semi-colons instead of periods.

I love single quotes and overusing italics.

I love not. punctuating. single. line. paragraphs.

I love over punctuating single line paragraphs

I love ironic punctuation (in case you couldn’t tell), and parentheticals that have nothing to do with anything, but add something nonetheless.

I love punctuation as an actual writing device instead of a hard structure with immutable rules. I love punctuating prose like poetry, and I love punctuating poetry like prose too, because it’s all about the Impact.

I love turning my writing and storytelling into visual art in whatever ways the written word allows.

[snowstark]

are you taking prompts baby? i need some widdle peter sweetness to pull through this bachelor bs🥺🥺 oh please jae goddess provide your miracles - raf🐇

rafni babie !!!! i hope you don’t mind if i write a little something that we discussed in DMs rn for this ask, even if it's not little peter! 👀

Summary: Peter begs for more, more, more, always more, and Tony's had enough. Maybe a visit to the Doctor will help with that. AKA Dom Doctor Steve milks Peter's prostate while he sits on Tony's lap.

"Peter, baby, you can't keep hiding your face like that," Tony reprimanded, but the hand he soothed down Peter's spine took away any real heat behind his words. Tony flashed a grin at the doctor, who chuckled.

"That's alright, Tony. He's a shy one." Steve smiled, and crooked his fingers.

Peter gasped, jerking, because Steve's fingers were thick, almost as big as Daddy's. They filled him up so good, just the way he needed, and his thighs were trembling from the strain of the position he was in.

He was sitting on Tony's lap, their chests pressed flush against each other, while the doctor had three fingers in Peter, twisting and pumping them in and out briskly.

Peter gasped when Steve brushed over his prostate again. He was hard to pound nails despite the fact that he'd already come that morning, and he was leaking droplets of pre-come onto Tony's suit.

Tony noticed, of course, and sighed. "Makin' a mess," he muttered, and Peter flushed.

"D-Daddy—" he stuttered. "S-So—"

"No, no, you're not sorry." Tony gave him a look, and his eyes never left Peter's face as he reached down to thumb at the slit of Peter's cock, making him let out a high-pitched moan. "Daddy doesn't like when you apologize and don't mean it."

Peter whimpered, turning his head, cheeks pink in embarrassment as Steve hummed nonchalantly behind him.

"And look at you, the Doctor's working so hard to help me teach you a lesson and you can't even look him in the face. I thought you were more polite, sweetheart." Tony sighed again.

Peter shook his head, eyes wide, and stammered, "Please, Daddy, 'm—I am polite, 'm—"

"Yeah? Then show us." Tony gave him an unimpressed look, and it made Peter's knees weak. When Peter just let out small, punctuated gasps at Steve's fingers instead of speaking, Tony cracked a hand down on his hip, drawing a surprised yelp out of him. "Now."

"Um—t-thank you, Stevie!" Peter squeaked out in between stuttered moans and whines.

Tony tsked before Steve could say anything in response. "Oh, sweetheart, no, no, no," he tutted. "It's Dr. Steve, isn't it? Dr. Steve, who's making sure you're healthy. Dr. Steve, who's making your face all red like this. Dr. Steve, who has his fingers up your needy ass because you want more, you always want more."

"D-Daddy—" Peter choked on a small sob.

"And if you were a good boy and hadn't begged for more than you could take, then we wouldn't be here, now would we?" Tony murmured, tone scathingly patronizing. "Could've been having movie night. Could've been playing with Bucky. But where are we, instead? At the doctor's office, because you begged so much to the point where Daddy got worried if you were okay, honey."

That was bullshit, and they all knew that, because Tony and Steve had planned this, but the words still had the desired effect on Peter. Peter let out a small, distressed noise, and shoved his face into the crook of Tony's neck again.

"Ah-ah." Tony snaked a hand up and threaded it through the boy's damp curls, tightening his grip and pulling his head back. "You look Dr. Steve in the eye and apologize for making him do this when he's already a busy man."

"S-Sorry!" Peter gasped. "'m so sorry, Dr. Steve, p-please—"

"That's alright, Peter." Steve's tone was brisk and professional, though not cold, as he added yet another finger to rub against Peter's prostate repeatedly. "You can't help it, I know, poor thing. Had to teach Buck the same lesson yesterday."

Tony sighed dramatically at his words. "You hear that, Petey? Now you're making Dr. Steve repeat a lesson he's already taught to someone else. What do you have to say to that?"

"'m sorry!" Peter sobbed, fingers flexing as he gripped Tony's shoulders hard, quivering. "'m so sorry!"

"There you go." Tony soothed a hand down Peter's spine and gave Steve a small nod. "There you go, honey, you're learning, I know you are."

Peter nodded, dazed, and gasped out, "I am! Please, Daddy—"

"You do please your Daddy," Tony murmured, giving Steve another look.

And Steve. Nailed. His. Prostate. Hard.

Peter let out a wail, back arching, and his cock splattered strings of white on Tony's suit. He fell forward, forehead on Tony's shoulder, shuddering through the afterglow of his high until it was too much, too much—

But Steve kept going.

Dr. Steve didn't stop; his thick fingers were still pumping in and out of Peter's hole. Tony didn't stop him, either.

Eventually, Peter choked out, "P-Please—D-Doct—Daddyyy—"

"What's wrong, baby?" Tony crooned. "You hurtin'?"

Peter sniffled, clinging to Tony desperately.

"Well, you're always telling me you want more, so I really do want to give you more this time..." Tony trailed off thoughtfully, ignoring Peter's wide-eyed look. "Well, Dr. Steve? What's the diagnosis?"

Steve was quiet for a few moments, even as his fingers worked relentlessly. "I think," he finally said, "that if he's told you he wants more, then he should get more."

Tony grinned, delighted. "You hear that, honey?" He kissed Peter's cheek, brushing a hand over his jaw. "Doctor's orders."

[bringmoreknives]

HOW TO RECOGNIZE REPOSTED GIFS/EDITS

lately, i’ve been seeing a huge rise in reposts of gifs and edits, and of spreading those reposts. i don’t think it’s a malicious thing at all from people who reblog them, but it’s important to be able to spot them in the future so that we can stop perpetuating this kind of behavior. so without any further ado, here are a few ways to recognize reposted gifs and edits. please keep in mind that it’s usually a combination of a few of these factors, and that one of them being present doesn’t necessarily mean the post is DEFINITELY a repost. be smart, but also be vigilant!

1. non-matching watermarks a watermark is a (usually) small/unobtrusive placing of the gifmaker/editor’s url or username somewhere on the gif. for example, here’s a gif i made; you can see my tumblr url, bringmoreknives, very lightly in the upper left corner.

now, just because you see a post from a blog with a different url than the one in the watermark doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a repost. editors and gifmakers change their urls, just like everyone else does. however, the watermark is a good place to start. you can always go to that original url and see if you can trace them to the blog that posted the post in question. and if you’re an editor, make sure you watermark your shit and leave a clear trail to your new blog -- i have redirect pages set up on all my old urls, all the way back to when i first made this blog in 2013. 

2. mismatched gifs or edits being posted together, or media being posted in an awkward way in my opinion, this is the best indicator of reposts. oftentimes, because they don’t make the content themselves, reposters don’t understand the logic of making a cohesive gif or edit set, and so will cram a bunch of random gifs/edits of different sizes, video qualities, and psds/effects together into one post. they also might post gifs that were meant to be side by side on top of each other or vice versa, resulting in a reduction of quality and everything looking super pixel-y. 

in a post, this will look like:

dramatically different colorings on gifs being posted side by side (not just, like, one or two black and white gifs in a clear color scheme, but one sepia-toned, one original colored, one extremely lightened, etc)

parts of some images being cut off due to different image dimensions

media from a bunch of different events, appearances, episodes, etc. that isn’t tied together by a common theme

3. use of tumblr mobile “fonts” in the caption this is a super obvious one, imo. again, on its own it’s not necessarily a giveaway, but i don’t know any editor who posts original gifs from their phone, simply because you need photoshop to make them, and therefore the files will be on your computer.

4. captions that comment on the content, or a lack of caption at all lack of a caption is less indicative of a repost than an odd caption is. but reposters often caption their reposted comment with something relatively irrelevant, like “omg he’s so cute” or something. additionally, many original posts will have a link to the video source in the caption -- so if everything else checks out AND there’s a source linked, it’s probably fine. (again, lack of a linked video source is not a marker of a repost: tumblr recently changed the rules where any post with an external link won’t show up in tags, so many creators leave off source links now.) also, worth mentioning that people DO often repost with the caption “not my gif/edit/pic,” and this is a great reminder that that is not an acceptable alternative to simply REBLOGGING  POST FROM THE ORIGINAL SOURCE.

5. lack of a tag to indicate that the work is the poster’s own creators will often have tags for all of their original content. this can be anything from “mine,” “my stuff,” etc. to a series of asterisks or other punctuation marks that aren’t likely to be used for anything else. additionally, many creators will prominently display a link to this somewhere on their blog, if they have a custom theme. if a post doesn’t have some kind of tag indicating ownership that you can click on and browse to see more original content, that can be a major red flag.

6. crosstagging/adding irrelevant tags reposters want to get their posts seen, reblogged, and liked by as many people as possible. they thrive off clout for stuff they didn’t make. therefore, they have a tendency to add a SHITLOAD of tags that don’t really have anything to do with the actual subject matter. for example, if it’s mcr reposts, they might tag all of the band members, even if they’re not all featured, all of the album names, a ton of bands in the same musical circles, and even instagram-esque hashtags like “cute,” “emo,” “scenecore,” etc.

and there you have it -- here are some of the ways i know to spot reposts from seven years as a creator on this site. you get better at it the more time you spend in a fandom, because you’ll recognize content that popularly gets reposted, and also just learn to have a trained eye for this sort of thing. but until you reach that stage, i hope that this helps. please reblog to spread the word, and don’t be afraid to call out reposters, with links to the original post if you can find it, because creators on this site have a hard enough time as it is. and feel free to add anything else you use to spot reposts!

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks {Omegaverse AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Fantastical visions of the future were few and far between - the hectic nature of professional heroism always managed to choke the life out of other, more selfish pursuits. Romance is considered within this category, for it seems to benefit none but those whose involvement is direct. Finding a mate under such conditions becomes an endeavour worthy of Hercules himself. The pain and fatigue were discouraging, and no-one kindled his interest - not even remotely.

Yet, instincts and unbearable yearning dictated his Omega's flight pattern. Although his heat wasn't in-bound, his heart refused to beat alone. To the contrary, its canary-song extended both encouragement and guidance to the love-lost and wandering Keigo: "In aeternum, find your forever."

Forever, huh? Who'd be willing to spend the rest of their life with me? Bet I seem a tad too cocky for an Omega, being the Number Two and all that. What does 'forever' even mean? I could do forever, without a doubt, but...who'd do it with me?

Naivety glimmered behind his eyes, as he contemplated 'forever'. What were his requirements for an Alpha? How could an equipoise be bridged between work and domestic life? Which mask would he choose if...if 'forever' remained elusive? Keigo's prior method of coping was simple, but effective: KFC and cry. While ultimately refreshing, in the moment, death always seemed sweeter. It never advanced into a viable option, but a dramatic flair was par for the course.

"-and that's the courting process of a Red-Tailed Hawk!"

Keigo's over-investment in daydreams and quandaries had apparently immunised him from any outside force, until that very moment. Sparing a glance toward the ground, he recognised the familiar figures of humans and...hawks?? Wait...there were falcons, too.

So many birds of prey...and they're all so well behaved. That woman...is she a Falconer? The Omega nestled within Keigo's soul soared at the mere thought. ...Is she an Alpha?

Little cooperation could be plucked from his mind, which knew wisdom from folly. However, despite its best adjudication, Keigo and his Omega (at this point, almost assumed to be two separate entities) decided against rhyme or reason. After all, if a bird squawks at you for submission, squawk louder to assert dominance. That tactic was flawless. Keigo puffed out his wings, swooping ever-lower, praying for even an ounce of attention. He received far more. At the instant of his descent from the heavens, the birds alerted you. Every syllable rolling from your tongue became jumbled, a crimson hue paining the canvas of your cheeks. This man...celestial, god-born...he was no stranger to your heart.

"Is that Hawks??" One of your students yelled, excitably. "What's he doing here?? We're nowhere near Fukuoka!"

"He does have wings, idiot." The venom-laced retort went unchecked - you were busy ogling those symbols of beauty and strength.

Subtlety wasn't an art you had perfected, but where was the consequence? Keigo certainly relished the experience, finding comfort in every sweep of your eyes, every compliment and feather-light touch. Had you asked permission? No. Did he care? Did he fuck. The opportunity for a congenial introduction had passed, and if honesty took the reins, How in the Fresh Prince of Hell do I approach this? KFC won't solve every dilemma. Think, Keigo! What would the Colonel do? How would he weasel his Kentucky fried ass out of this? Not like...I need her to like me, obviously, but I need to say something! She could be my forever...

Unfortunately, your avian protectors (whom Keigo had ignored and then forgot existed) deliberated among themselves for all of two seconds, settling on a guilty verdict and sentencing him to death. His crime? Fuck knows, who cares? Their shrill cries and fiercely-beating wings sliced through the mirage of tranquillity.

You sighed. "Hestia, Rhea, inside voices please. Juno, Asmodeus, you aren't menacing, so stop pretending to be. Why don't you greet him, rather than saying all that nasty stuff, hmm?"

"You can understand them?" Incredulity punctuated his words - how fortune must finally be favouring him.

The birds were indignant, but eventually resigned. Just one of hopefully many triumphs for Keigo.

"Yes, that's my quirk. It's confined to birds though, so not particularly useful." You smiled, failing to notice your students silently slipping away. "Oh, and eh...sorry. I didn't ask before touching you. Your wings are just gorgeous."

"Haha, nothing wrong with that. You've got good instincts." He mused, feeling his cleverly-constructed character melt away, bit by bit.

Strident melodies and the giggling of tiny cherubs played games with his ears. "About that...are you an Omega, by any chance? The news always says you're a Beta, but you don't have that scent."

"I am." He was too eager and willing to provide such information.

"You're an Alpha?"

Do you wanna get married? No...I can't ask that. That's beyond stupid.

You nodded. "Yeah, both my parents are Alphas, so it was practically a guarantee. Don't mind the birds," You added, after noting a sudden stare-down between Keigo and Asmodeus. "they're...flighty."

"That one hates me, for sure." He huffed.

"He hates everyone, especially the people who get my attention. And...most male birds. He doesn't get to decide how I spend my time though, despite his best efforts." The gentle caress you afforded Asmodeus sent envious, yet calming whispers to his heart.

She'd be good with kids. Can I...can I make this work? Am I allowed to...? She's looking at me the same way I'm looking at her...

Was he a hostage, or a voluntary captive? What did it even matter? If this happiness, so pure and unbridled, was a vice, then hurry and cast him to the depths of Hell.

In aeternum...I think I've found forever.

[Word Count: 946]

[daveyjacobss]

skeletons in the bathroom

racetrack higgins x reader

summary: it’s spooky season, and is there anything scarier than having to confront and admit your feelings for one of your closest friends? (or, in which y/n is helping race get ready for a halloween party and desperately trying not to think about how much she wants to kiss him.)

a/n: i did it!! a halloween fic out for october 2020!! sorry it’s so late in the month, life has been very hectic with an overload of assignments and plenty of politics induced stress. anyway this is unedited so sorry in advance but i hope you like it :)

masterlist

__________

This had been such a bad idea. Why on earth had she agreed to this? What kind of astounding lack of brain cells had led to her saying yes to attending her own goddamn funeral?

"Albert, you would leave flowers at my grave, wouldn't you?" She turned to look at him just in time to see him roll his eyes. Jojo and Finch, sitting across from them at their table in the library, both stared at her with equally confused and amused expressions.

"Y/N if you tell me you're gonna die one more time, I'll literally kill you myself." Albert fixed her with a halfhearted glare, brushing his hair out of his face. She groaned and dropped her head down on top of her arms, resting lazily in the tabletop. Jojo laughed quietly at her, but she didn't have the heart to give him a death stare in return.

"Out of curiosity," Finch started, effectively abandoning his work, "what kind of flowers would you want?" She lifted her head, pursing her lips in concentration as she thought the question over.

"I don't know, either something really pretty or something ridiculously dramatic." Albert sighed beside her, finally putting his pencil down. Jojo had stopped actually trying to get work done a half hour prior. "Like, some pretty marigolds or daisies would be cool, ya know? But, also, a single red rose would have a very nice effect." Jojo nodded along with her.

"What about black dahlias?" He asked. Y/N perked up at that.

"Oh, yes! Definitely achieving that she-was-probably-murdered-and-the-killer-is-leaving-flowers vibe." She high fived Jojo while Finch shook his head at them. Albert hit her from her right side—lightly, but she let out a loud "ow!" anyway.

"Can you stop moping and acting like you're gonna die? You're the one who got yourself into this mess." She went back to being miserable immediately, groaning again for effect.

"Will someone please explain why she's dying?" Finch asked, directed more at the other two boys than at Y/N. Albert rolled his eyes again.

"Race asked her to do his makeup for his skeleton costume before the party tonight and she said yes, but now she thinks she's gonna die when she does it." He punctuated his words with a pointed look at her which effectively communicated all of his exasperation as well as the sentiment he had been expressing to her for almost two years, that she should just go for it and ask Race out. She ignored it completely.

"I am going to die!" She threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect, giving Finch and Jojo her best 'I'm in despair' look. "I'm gonna have to be ridiculously close to his face—and his lips—for way too long! I'm gonna either go insane and launch myself out the fucking window or die of embarrassment."

All three boys laughed at her. Insulted, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at them.

"Y/N, it'll be fine," Finch said, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. "Anyway, why can't you just ask him out already and not have to deal with the funeral arrangements?" She offered him her best deadpan stare.

"C'mon, Y/N," Jojo chimed in. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Oh no, don't get her started," Albert groaned.

"The worst that could happen? Are you kidding?" She looked at them incredulously. "Well, for starters, I could tell him I like him and then he could be disgusted because why would he ever like me back when he's him and I'm me, and then, because he was your friend first and things are super awkward between me and him, we drift apart, and then I lose all of my friends and I die alone with no one to leave black dahlias on my grave in order to entertain my dramatics." Finch blinked, staring at her with wide eyes as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard.

"Hold on," Jojo spoke up again, face contorted with anger. "He would not be disgusted. Even if he didn't like you back, which he does—"

"Does not," she grumbled.

"Does too," they all answered in unison.

"He wouldn't be mean about it," Jojo continued.

"And we wouldn't stop being your friends," Albert added.

"Plus, even if we suddenly become arch enemies I'm totally still leaving black dahlias on your grave for dramatics," Finch grinned, winking at her. That got her to laugh a little, smiling back at him.

"I just..." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don't want to ruin anything, and I don't want everything to change between us. I'm fine being his friend, that's enough for me. It's just hard to keep my feelings in check when he gets too close to me." Her eyebrows furrowed while she fidgeted with her fingers, not liking how vulnerable she felt while telling all of them that. Albert's arm slid around her shoulders, bringing her into his side. It was awkward and uncomfortable leaning across the gap between their chairs, but she enjoyed the comfort anyway.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said gently. "You have our support either way." Jojo and Finch nodded, both smiling encouragingly at her. She smiled back at them, moving to gather up all of her papers. The boys followed suit, shoving everything back in their backpacks.

"Thank you," she said quietly just as they were all pushing their chairs in.

"Anytime," Albert grinned brightly, throwing his arm around her again and leading them out of the building. A wind blew as they walked out into the October sun, sending a chill through her body and causing her to lean into Albert's body for warmth. They all started walking in the direction of their on-campus apartments, pointing out the most colorful trees and joking about the upcoming party with easy smiles.

"Speak of the devil," Jojo muttered from behind her. She went to turn back to look at him and ask what he meant, but Albert pulled her more securely against him and she laughed.

"Hey guys!" Finch called out, waving wildly. She looked in the direction he was facing and saw Race walking in the opposite direction with Romeo across the street from them. She felt heat rush to her face automatically, lifting her hand in a small wave while sporting a shy smile. Albert and Jojo waved enthusiastically with Finch, receiving an equally energetic wave from Romeo and a small wave from Race. Y/N tilted her head in confusion, frowning. Race never missed the chance to make an ordeal out something as small as seeing his friends across the street, was something wrong? No one else seemed concerned, though, and their small group kept moving. If anything, Finch and Jojo seemed amused, snickering quietly behind her and Albert.

They parted to go to their respective apartments, all three boys giving Y/N a hug goodbye. She took full advantage of their attempts at comfort, holding them tightly and burying her head in their chests. Once she was back in her apartment, her roommates thankfully back home for the weekend, she dropped her bag on the floor and took a deep breath. Race was set to come over a little while later to get ready for the party, that left her some time to clean up a little. He wouldn't care if the apartment was dirty, but she couldn't get rid of the urge to make sure the counters were decluttered and the bathroom where she would be doing his makeup smelled nice. Plus, at least it would give her something to do to distract herself from her ever growing anxiety.

She was definitely going to die.

__________

Race was ten minutes late, but Y/N had already figured he would be when his "omw" text didn't come until a minute after he was supposed to be at her apartment. He grinned at her when she opened the door, arms (adorably) holding the straps of his backpack that she assumed was carrying his costume.

"I wasn't sure if you would want me to put on the costume before or after the makeup," he said as he walked in. "So I just brought it to change into." She liked the way he looked so comfortable in her apartment, facing her casually with his hair messy from the wind. She smiled softly at him, unable to contain her ever present joy at seeing him.

"Before, definitely. If you put it on after you might mess your face up." He nodded, already shrugging his bag off his shoulder.

"Your room okay?" He asked, gesturing in the direction of her bedroom.

"'Course. Just don't mess with anything in there." She playfully pointed a finger at his chest and he laughed as he moved into her room and closed the door behind him. She walked into the bathroom, taking deep breaths and trying to tell herself everything would be okay. Her and Race were friends, and she was perfectly capable of helping him with his Halloween makeup like a normal person. Maybe. Hopefully. Kinda. Probably not. God, she was hopeless.

He found her in the bathroom obsessively reorganizing the makeup, dressed in his full skeleton getup. She smiled when she saw him in it, happy that he hadn't picked something with a good that would have concealed his beautiful curls. With his lanky stature and gangly limbs, the costume worked perfectly for him. He grinned back at her, doing a little shimmy that made her laugh.

"You like?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she shook her head in a amusement.

"It looks good," she confirmed, their usual joking banter hindered by her nerves. "We should get started so we have enough time, I still need to get changed and finish my makeup, too." She patted the bathroom counter and he followed her hand, hoisting himself up so he was sitting on the counter facing her, swinging his legs.

She tried not to think too hard as she started on his face, going in with a layer of white before anything else. She could feel his breath on her wrist, but she tried not to think about it. Thinking about it meant her own breath would hitch and then, because their faces were so close, he would notice. She brought a hand up to his jaw to steady his face and resolutely did not think about how easy it would be to pull him to her and kiss him.

Part of her wanted to listen to the boys. She wanted to say fuck it and tell him how she felt about him. She wanted to flirt with him while she had him at her mercy like this, wanted to lean in and put a hand on his thigh for balance just to see how he would react. She wanted to know if his breathing would change, if his heart would skip a beat, if he would look at her with wide eyes or if he would simply smirk and carry on. Or maybe he wouldn't do anything, because it would nothing but a meaningless gesture to him. But, god, she wanted to try. And she wanted to kiss him so badly.

Still, the other part of her triumphed. The part that told her he didn't feel the same way about her, that to him she was just a good friend and if she went and did something stupid she would ruin that.

She asked him to close his eyes and he did so obediently. She took the chance to look at his lips while he wouldn't be able to notice, realizing how quiet he'd been the whole time so far. Once his face was fully covered with white he opened his eyes and she took a small break, giving herself some time to calm down her erratic heart beat. He kicked his legs out again without her standing in front of him to block them.

"So," he started, staring down at his feet instead of looking at her. She tilted her head slightly, waiting for him to continue. "You and Albert, huh?" Her eyebrows furrowed and she stopped short as she went to grab a brush, paused in confusion. "What's going on there?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, trying to laugh to diffuse whatever tension had just overtaken the room but only managing a nervous chuckle.

"You two looked pretty cozy earlier, outside. Do I gotta start preparing myself for you to be acting all gross and couple-y whenever we go out now?" His voice sounded strained, like he was trying to force the question to be casual. She figured it was because he was upset Albert and her wouldn't tell him something like—which, they totally would if that was at all a possibility. Which it wasn't. The whole idea was so ridiculous a strangled laugh bubbled out of her throat.

"Oh, god no. There is nothing romantic happening between me and Albert." She looked down at her hands, avoiding having to look at his face. "No, it was just cold, you know? And he was trying to comfort me because I was upset." Suddenly he was there, standing in front of her. He gently tilted her chin up to look at him and used his other hand to grab hers.

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

She was going to cry. She was going to burst into tears, standing in her own bathroom with Race's touch overwhelming her senses. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome and funny and kind and loving. It wasn't fair that whenever he looked at her she felt like no one else existed. It wasn't fair that she couldn't breathe with his hand still resting just under her chin. And the universe was just playing dirty having him call her babe like it was nothing, like it didn't make her heart swell in her chest. Like it didn't absolutely break her. She was definitely gonna cry, her eyes already watery.

His concern only seemed to increase when he saw the distraught look on her face. He tried to take another step toward her but she moved backward, detaching herself from his hands. She breathed deeply, running her hands through her hair as she tried to keep herself from sobbing. He looked so worried—so sad—and it just wasn't fair.

"I'm—" Her words got caught on the lump in her throat. "It's nothing, really. I'm just being dumb." He looked at her disbelievingly.

"Y/N c'mon, you're clearly upset, let me—" He cut himself off at the way she back away from him again while he reached out, hurt flashing across his face. "Here, why don't we just skip out on the party? I'll stay here with you and we can watch old Disney Halloween movies or something." She wanted that so bad, she wanted that more than anything she had ever wanted. But she couldn't, it would only hurt her more.

"No," she sniffled, regaining her composure. "No, you should go. I might stay back, I dunno. But I don't wanna keep you from having fun."

"Hey." His voice was soft, the corners of his lips turning upwards just slightly. He was so beautiful she could have died over it. "I always have fun with you, party or not. If you don't go, I don't go."

"God, Race. You can't just—you can't say things like that." She huffed while he blanched in confusion. "It's not fair."

"What? I don't—"

"Listen, I'll finish your makeup, yeah? And then we'll go to the party and we can pretend like this never happened. Okay?" He nodded mutely, slowly positioning himself back on the counter. The concern wasn't gone from his eyes and his mouth was set in a frown, but he complied.

Not crying was a constant effort the entire time she finished his skeleton makeup. She felt her lip quiver at more than one point and Race's eyes kept darting down toward it. She did her best to keep it steady, not wanting him to see her cry. He had seen her cry before, of course, over classes and movies and the like, but there was a special kind of shame associated with him seeing her cry over him.

It wasn't until after she was done that he spoke up again. "Do you not want to be alone with me?" He asked it so quietly she was sure it must not have come from him, used to his loud, boisterous voice. Her heart broke all over again.

"That's not it, Race. You know that, right? It's not your fault I'm upset." It wasn't, really. If she was going to blame anyone it would all be on herself.

"What, then?" The joking tone was back in his voice, clearly trying to diffuse the tension and brighten the mood. "Too afraid you won't be able to control yourself around me?" Yes. "I know you'd love to jump these bones." She laughed despite herself, playfully hitting his arm. Her reaction made him smile again, and she was glad. He always knew how to cheer her up.

It only took a little while longer for her to change into her costume (just a regular witch in shades of black and purple) and put on her makeup. Race watched her as she put on her dark lipstick, making her nervous and subsequently causing her hands to shake, but she made it through alright.

They left just a bit before the party was supposed to start, Y/N shivering in the cold air as they walked. Race glanced at her a few times, seemingly conflicted, before cautiously wrapping an arm around her. She leaned into his touch and he gripped shoulder more firmly, pulling her into his side. When they stopped to let a car go by she turned to him and wrapped both her arms around him, basking in his warmth. Race was like a heater, generating warmth from the day she met him. He returned her embrace, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He mumbled into her ear. A shiver went down her spine at his voice so close to her ear, but she nodded, holding him tighter. They were later to the party then they should've been, having spent a good amount of time in that embrace. It had made her heart all fluttery, not to mention the way it did somersaults every time Race looked at her for the rest of the walk (which was a lot, he must have been really worried).

She expected him to split off once they entered, going to look for some of his other friends, but he stuck by her side. It made her smile, the butterflies in her stomach going wild. They went to grab drinks together and ran into Finch.

"Hey!" He smiled dopily, clearly a little tipsy already. "The makeup looks great," he gestured at Race's face. "And you two look so cute together." Heat rushed to Y/N's face as she quickly took a sip of her drink in order to avoid having to respond. Race simply laughed.

"Yeah, Y/N did an awesome job, right? I knew she would, though. I could feel it in my bones." Y/N groaned and Finch cringed.

"That was awful, dude." Race grinned proudly anyway, waving as Finch left to go back to the friends he was with.

"Did you pick this costume just so you could make bad jokes?" Y/N turned to face Race, raising an eyebrow. He winked, which was all the answer she needed. She wanted to give some sort of sarcastic remark in return, but the wink made her giggle nervously. He seemed content with her response all the same.

About three thousand skeleton jokes later (he had literally greeted Davey by saying "bonejour." Davey had promptly turned around and left the two of them without saying a word), Y/N and Race were sat on the couch together, chatting amicably. She felt better with a bit of alcohol in her veins and a few buckets of false hope from the fact that Race hadn't tried to leave her side once the whole time they'd been there.

"You're such an idiot," she laughed uncontrollably as he relayed a story about him following a squirrel across campus the week prior.

"What can I say?" He grinned cheekily. Her smile dropped.

"Don't you dare—"

"I'm a bonehead." He knocked on his head for good measure.

"Okay that's it, I'm leaving." She moved as if to get up before Race reached out to grab her arm.

"Y/N, no!" He managed to get out through his laughter. "Don't leave me bonely!" She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're the worst," she groaned as she let him pull her back into her seat next to him.

"But you love me anyway." He poked her side and she looked at his face. The makeup looked good, she had to admit, but she wished it had been able to mask his face better. Because looking at his face was still looking at his face, makeup or no makeup, and she had a bad habit of getting caught up in looking at his face. His features seemed to tense, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly. "Drinks!" He said suddenly, breaking their staring contest and practically jumping out of his seat. "I'm gonna go get us more drinks." She nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she watched him scurry off. That had certainly been strange.

"Fancy seeing you here." She turned to see Albert falling into Race's spot beside her, grinning around his own drink.

"Hey," she smiled, adjusting her witch hat.

"You and lover boy work things out yet?" She punched his arm and he gaped at her.

"Shut up," she hissed. "It's not gonna happen, let it go." He rolled his eyes.

"You sure? Because, from what I've seen, he hasn't stopped staring at you all night." She glared at the redhead, pouting.

"Stop giving me hope, asshole. It just makes this worse."

"Makes what worse?" She looked up to find Race standing in front of them, two drinks in hand. She took one from him with a smile.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Albert's just being annoying."

"Isn't he always?" Race asked with a smirk the same time that Albert said "hey!" Deciding this would be her best chance at payback for teasing her about her crush on Race, she pushed Albert off the couch. Race laughed loudly, stepping over his friend to return to his seat. She smiled brightly at him and he grinned back, bumping her shoulder with his. She had to take a drink to stop the flustered laughter from escaping her throat.

"You two suck," Albert groaned from their feet. It only made them laugh more, still giggling even as Albert stood up grumpily and walked away without saying goodbye.

"Your costume looks really good, by the way." She turned to Race, her smile faltering. "I didn't tell you earlier, but I like it." He said it so earnestly, looking right into her eyes. The only thing she could think of was hoping the boys were ready with those black dahlias, because she was a total goner.

"Thank you," she said softly, lost in his gaze. She thought about them in the bathroom, how she had wanted to put her hand on his thigh just to see how he would react. Thinking of what Albert had said and taking another gulp of her drink, she did just that. She leaned forward and put her hand on his thigh to steady herself. He froze. It was hard to tell over the noise of the party, but she thought she might have heard his breath hitch. She couldn't look away from him, her eyes once again finding his lips.

"You spent so long on this makeup," he muttered. "And it looks really cool." She tilted her head in confusion.

"Huh?"

"I really don't wanna ruin it. I'm sorry."

"Why would you—"

But then he kissed her, so no question she could have asked mattered anyway. He was kissing her. Oh, Albert was gonna laugh so hard when he heard about this.

She kissed him back fervently, one of her hands tangling in the curls at the back of his head while the other remained on his thigh to keep herself steady. One of his hands rested lightly on her waist, squeezing just slightly, while the other caressed her jaw. It felt like in the bathroom earlier that night when he had tilted her chin to look at him, but so much better.

He pulled back before she was ready, eyes still closed as she unconsciously chased his lips. She opened her eyes to see his makeup smudged and definitely some her lipstick on his lips, a warm feeling settling in her chest. But his mouth was pulled into a frown and it sobered her quickly. He was pulling at his hair, his eyes wide with panic and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "You're upset, I shouldn't have done that. I've been trying to cheer you up and now I've, like, totally taken advantage of you when you're vulnerable and—"

"Race." He looked at her, face practically begging for forgiveness. She reached for his hands with a small smile. "You're not taking advantage of me. I was only upset because I thought I didn't have a chance with you." She shrugged slightly, averting her eyes. He gaped at her.

"You didn't have a chance with me? Are you kidding?" He tightened his grip on her hands, pulling himself closer to her. "Y/N, I've been pining after you since, like, the day we met. You're ridiculously out of my league." She looked at him with wide eyes, meeting his gaze. They both broke out into grins at the same time before she was leaning in again and he was following.

He tasted like candy and alcohol and she couldn't have asked for anything better. They slid closer to each other on the couch until her hands were clasped together behind his neck, playing with his curls, and his were holding her waist. She couldn't get enough of him. She didn't think she would ever get enough of him. They were both breathing heavily when they pulled away again, foreheads resting against each other.

"You know," Y/N breathed. "If that whole 'just the two of us spending the night at my apartment and watching old halloween movies' offer is still on the table...." He laughed quietly, his head falling to the crook in her neck.

"Definitely still on the table." He pressed a light kiss to her neck and she was dragging him into a standing position immediately, fully ready to get away from all the other partygoers. She wouldn't be able to handle it if his hands wandered any further than they had already gone, she needed time to breathe and process—preferably away from the crowd.

He held her hand and lead her through the sea of people to the front door. Jojo caught sight of them as they made their way out and, presumably seeing their joint hands and messed up makeup, whooped at them. Y/N laughed and Race stuck his tongue out at his friend.

"Which movie do you wanna watch first?" She asked as they walked back, holding onto his arm and leaning into his side.

"Oh, definitely Halloweentown." She smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. He chuckled when they pulled apart. "You know, I would say a skeleton pun right now, but I don't have the guts to ruin this moment."

"Oh my god, Race."

__________

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[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Ours

Extremely late and I’m EXTREMELY sorry!😭 @bluboothalassophile happy belated EVERYTHING! And just thank you so much for being the incredible friend that you are!!!! 🥰You know what this is 😏and I hope you enjoy because this is the first of three parts. Three just seemed to fit... I had a ton of fun writing it and hopefully it’s not rubbish.

-----------

It took time and patience with an unpracticed key guided by an unsteady grip. A petite, pale girl caught her lip between her teeth, a tiny grunt escaping as she finagled with the door.

"Raven, is that you?"

But she was starting to get used to this.

There was a concluding click as the key's metal ridge caught the groove in the last lock of the six panel apartment door. When it opened, in wandered a wearied Raven Roth.

And Raven would have liked to think she wandered in gracefully, but she knew she was dragging. It was impossible not to while wearing shoes so abhorrently impractical they should have been illegal. So violent was the aching in her heels, that by the final stretch of half-block, they were nearly numbed. Gods and her back—it was practically killing her.

If she was being honest, Raven felt like something one of those city sweeping trucks scraped off the sidewalk at four-thirty in the morning. One could only hope she didn't look like it.

"Roy," Raven winced, eyelids squeezing shut as she spoke. "I'm alive—but barely."

"Jay?" Roy called out from somewhere in the foreground. "Where are you?"

As expected a low, disembodied grunt ushered out in lieu of a response.

"Didn't you hear—Raven's back!"

The door slid closed and a gust of air entered the foyer behind her, carrying with it the heady notes of brown sugar, nutmeg, and melted butter. And like a Pavlovian response, she forgot the discomfort and led herself up by the nose. Spine straightening, legs lifting, then posture rising. It was like her whole being had been revitalized in an instant. Who knew the promise of a home-cooked meal could do that? A wistful smile steered into her face as Raven thought about how evenings after work used to transpire.

Weeks ago, one foot in the door usually meant bra optional. And flattening into a decompression on the couch was a non-negotiable.

Needless to say, a welcome like this one would never not catch her off guard.

"Something smells like you've outdone yourself again," Raven spoke loudly over the faint sounds of sizzling, curiously craning her neck and sniffing the air distractedly.

And then Roy appeared. He was peering out into the foyer, red hair bleeding out against the backdrop of a white walled interior. "Dinner will be ready soon," he supplied and beamed at her. The brightness faded in increments as his deep pine eyes floated downward and he took what she was holding.

"Again?"

"Yep." Raven gave a single solemn nod and Roy let out a dramatic sigh.

"But it's Friday. Those bastards..." he muttered in disbelief and Raven smirked. Suddenly, he inclined his head toward the other room and inhaled suspiciously. "Do you...smell that?" Roy went rigid in realization. "It smells like I forgot the flip."

"It smells like...that one's Jason's," Raven corrected.

Red eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. "Right." He marched back briskly toward the kitchen, only pausing to point at the heavy bag full of file folders teetering on her shoulder. "You'll have to tell me and Jaybird all about...that."

"Yes, please." Raven let out a huff, lower lip quivering. "You're an angel..." Roy winked at the pout topped by pleading purple and disappeared.

"The irony," a low drawl called from just around the corner. "Are you always such a sight for sore eyes?"

It was Jason walking over with arms out as wide as his grin. Even without the sarcasm, his aura and footsteps were distinct—a dead giveaway. They were oddly as heavy as they were silent.

"Whoa…" he looked as concerned as Roy had moments ago. "Or are you just sore?" Strong, steady hands removed her bag from her shoulder. "That's better." Raven rolled her stiff arm muscles.

It was a relief, to hand off her burden for a moment, to no longer be dragged down by the weight of her work—and the world.

"How was our day?" he pressed like a man who knew the answer.

"Rough—and long..."

Quickly Jason knelt down, hand reaching out for her calf. "I've got you, Princess." And Raven placed a balancing hand on his shoulder while he undid her shoes, a grateful half-smile stitching across her face.

"Come, come."

He took her hand, twirling her around past the living room to deposit her right onto a stool next to the island. "Sit. Harper's making crepes." Jason pulled her stool close and spun it around, so he was faced with the back of her.

"Take it from me, they'll help with the tension. Of course... I also believe in a hands-on approach." Jason then cracked his knuckles—mostly for effect, because boy did he know what he was doing. His hands slid up her arms, to her shoulders and worked them over, then dug into the surrounding muscles with his fingers and kneaded hard with his thumbs.

"Mmm..." Raven's tension began to ebb and wane. "Well, that helps a little..." Jason turned up the pressure a few more degrees while his breath grew heated on her neck.

Aroma clouds were wafting around their heads, while Roy flipped another crepe in slow motion. And in an instant, Raven was transported to some sort variant of a Jason and Roy spa she didn't know she needed.

"Okay, that helps a lot." And she moaned in spite of herself. All her stress was melting away, turning into liquid and evaporating off of her, faster than the French butter Roy was melting on the stove. He tilted the bright red crepe pan in all directions, getting an even gloss of sweet, golden goodness in every crevice. And Jason's hands continued to manipulate each one of hers, until all the tightness in her upper body unknotted itself.

"Hmm, where else—where else? Ah." Jason's rough hands took hold of the chevron patterned lace covering her ankles and he began to massage away. "Did I tell you, how much I like these stockings?"

Raven seemed not to hear him. "Harder," she whispered. His knuckle pounded gently down her arches, then ground fixedly into her heel and, painstakingly along the sides. By the time he took her other foot into his lap, she was practically cooing. "Did I tell you how good you are at that?" The tip of Jason's tongue edged over the corner of his smile.

Gods.

"That really is a shame..." he said and Raven lifted her head towards him in question. "About your day? How rough and hard it was..." His hand was lowering, slowing, but lingering. "Normally when you put those two adjectives together... It could be a good thing."

"Okay...!" Roy had come over suddenly with his spatula proffering a piece of crepe, still steaming hot from the pan. "I'm testing something out tonight, so I've added a special ingredient to this batch."

"Oh good. Raven did have one of those days. She could use some..." Jason pantomimed a flippant gesture. It could have been taking a long drag or it could have been—

"Not that kind... A different kind of special..." Roy shot Jason and Raven a long once over. Something in the way he said special made the air around them begin to bristle with titillation, anticipation. "A few drops of...lavender extract..." His voice dropped another octave. And he began to blow on the bite while Raven and Jason watched his full lips. It seemed cooling the steam from the crepe had an opposite and equal reaction. As if each breath was fanning the flames rising between them, like a bellow into charred embers in the hearth of a fireplace.

"Let me know what you think of it." Gently, he fed her piece from his fingers and Jason leaned his face close to hers, like he was attempting to steal it straight from her lips. Just before the point of contact, Roy clicked his tongue playfully.

Almost like he was calling him off.

"If you want some you'll have to wait." Dazedly, Raven blinked at Roy. He shook his head of chin length crimson hair, half of it was up in a bun with the rest hanging in his face. "I'll be back with the rest." Teasingly, Roy waved the spatula like a stake to ward off his dark-haired, undead roommate.

"Jason..." The brunette inched nearer to her at the sound of his name. She kicked his stool with her foot so it swiveled further away. Ultimately, it only caused him to move even closer. "Aren't we in rare form tonight?" she sighed.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Jason insisted bemusedly, doing his best to appear impassive. "I'm always like this." He examined her wrist with his forefinger and thumb. "As for you... That office of yours must be working you damn near to the bone. Did you somehow manage to get tinier, Raven?" The left corner of his lips curled up.

She tore it away and glared at him, aghast. "Insufferable, patronizing," Raven muttered under her breath, nursing her wounded forearm. "Ass."

"But this ass speaks the truth," he raised an eyebrow loftily. "If you would just join our firm..."

"Your firm?" Purple orbs narrowed to slits. "Just because you guys are mercenaries for hire—"

"Mmm... We really prefer the term 'vigilantes,'" Jason punctuated with air quotes. "Actually, from a branding perspective, it's Heroes for Hire™—Roy's got a whole...thing..."

"Whatever you're calling your 'backwoods operation'." Raven's air quotes didn't disguise the disdain in her voice. "The point is, I like my non-profit just fine... And I am not tiny."

"Alriiight." Roy arrived with a huge ceramic serving dish full of crepes with powdered sugar dusted on top. "Eat them while they're hot. Raven..." He slid a plate over to her. "Eat up."

"I thought I would always get the first bite," Jason teased. Then quickly lunged forward, stopping short of Roy's smirk, hip cocked toward his. "What've you got for me, Harps?"

On a delay, the redhead drew back, as if he just remembered Raven was in the room. "Don't be greedy, Jay," he said at last.

The ebony haired man, raised an eyebrow, but began to unload fresh food onto his plate. Once every inch of real estate was covered in crepe, Jason started to attack with his fork.

"So, when have I ever been greedy?"

Was that besides the fact that his plate was loaded up with most of the food the archer had just cooked? And besides the fact that he hadn't really helped?

But then... neither had Raven. Unless licking the batter and 'testing out' a crepe or two counted.

"Well, Raven's barely eaten a crepe and you're drifting into seconds. Where's your hospitality? Shouldn't you share with our guest?"

"I can be hospitable..." He chuckled. "I'd rather just...share our guest."

Roy shot him a warning glare on his way back to the stove. Jason shrugged before closing in another crepe and filling his mouth with another forkful.

"You're amazing," Raven deadpanned.

"Aren't I? But I've got nothing on the food. I have to say, this is the best batch by far," he announced. "Roy, do you have any more of those blueberries you got from the farmer's market over the weekend?" Jason started to smirk at Raven. "Or strawberries? I know how much you enjoy them."

"Try the table," Roy yelled over his shoulder, mild irritation edged in his tone.

"Well..." Raven shrugged, her expression coy as she reached over for the blue container. "They are in season..." There were few things that could enhance Roy's crepes, except fresh berries. Raven puffed out her cheeks as she rifled through an almost empty berry basket. "And... there are only three left... You sure helped yourself," she accused heavily under her breath.

"I didn't see your name on them," Jason returned. "So it was fair game, like anything else in this apartment."

Raven folded her arms. "I thought Roy got them for me, didn't you Roy?" He glanced up at her as he moved around the open kitchen.

"Sorry, we're low, Rae," Roy said regrettably. "I should have picked up more. You'd think after a couple weeks, I wouldn't still be acclimating to having an additional mouth to feed. What can I say?"

"Yes, we're very sorry." Jason pinched her stocking-clad leg, eliciting a gasp.

Raven cut knife-sharp purple eyes at him before the redhead came around to her stool. Roy wiped a hand across the words Banging Redheads & Banging Brunches printed in a large black font on the apron.

Probably a Christmas gift.

And one for which Jason must have been responsible.

He ruffled the purple strands at Raven's crown with his spatula free hand. "I hope that's okay."

"Don't be ridiculous." She brushed the strings fastening the charcoal colored apron and tugged. "Now go take that off and come eat with us." Roy planted a kiss on the top of her head, and shuffled out of the kitchen.

"Hmm...I guess I could have blueberries..." Raven mused. "Now that I think about it, they'd really compliment the lavender. I don't know that strawberries would in the same way."

"Do you know that for a fact?" Jason took a small sip from his cup, eyes trained on her through the glass. "Or have you ever considered...both?"

With a startling scowl, Raven looked up from the melted whipped cream atop the remaining crepes on the granite counter. "Have you ever considered why I like Roy more?" She retorted. "It's this."

"Really?" And Raven pushed his stupidly handsome, smirking face away from her own. "Little bird, don't tease," Jason moaned, dragging out the last syllable. "I promise to be good, I'll share—I certainly don't mind sharing with Roy." She rolled her eyes, popping a blueberry in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

Jason was mostly euphemism on a good day, but this was different. He'd been dropping these odd hints all week. But Raven told herself it was another unexpected caveat about living here. She didn't think she should breach the subject or even read too much into them.

After all, she was only crashing with Jason and Roy for a little while longer.

This was purely temporary, until the super in her building got around to fixing the circulation unit in her water closet of a studio. Or that was what she told herself at first. She was quickly growing accustomed to the perks of living with them.

Being spoiled was... Well, it was nothing short of wonderful.

Gone were the days of scrounging up sad boxes of cereal for breakfast, schlepping together leftover takeout for lunch, or unearthing bags of nearly expired popcorn for dinner. Roy and Jason worked out a ton and ensured their fridge was always stocked. Even on the off-chance that it rained and the farmer's market wasn't open in the park so they could do locally-sourced organic.

That, and they could actually cook.

At a moment's notice, Roy could whip up an amazing French toast, or a hearty stew. If they were feeling wild he'd make them breakfast for dinner or vice versa. Even Jason's most experimental chili recipe could be redeemed by a few generous grates of cheese or a dollop of sour cream.

And clearly business was great, because their apartment was fantastic. It was spacious, but had all these homey touches, like a handcrafted breakfast nook Roy and Jason built together.

But tangible things aside, Raven found she actually didn't mind the company. So gone were the days of being alone.

The moments where he wasn't an insufferable tease, Jason loved attending their two person book-club. They talked books, trashy to classic and everything in between, often punctuated by an impromptu neck or foot rub.

When Roy wasn't working out, planning a job, or doling out heaps of domesticity onto her and Jason, he was a hopeless romantic. He reinvigorated Raven's secret love of rom-coms. But he also liked to learn from her. So he played chess, scrabble, even backgammon, and once in a while they were able to rope in Jason for monopoly. Roy was a very graceful loser at board games, but he was amazing when he got his hands around a deck of cards. And Raven was finding, she had a lot to learn from him.

But Raven's favorite nights were the ones where they could all just be. Listening to something old or indie in the background and talking until the three of them simply passed out.

The apartment just felt full—of fun, of food, of friends. Of laughter and love.

It was a wonderful life, but it was a shame it wasn't her life. Raven was a realist, she knew she'd have to go back.

But for now, she was going to enjoy every single second of it.